Wrangled by the Watchful Cowboy Page 5

  All her pent-up feelings spewed out in an eruption of words. “I like him, but I know I shouldn’t. And he only thinks of me as his friend’s baby sister that he has to protect. So the kisses didn’t mean anything. But everybody saw it, so they all think we’re dating. So even though we’re not dating, we need to break up. And if we break up, this other guy will ask me to the dance again, which is how this all started in the first place.”

  One skeptical eyebrow lifted, and Lexi blew out a long, slow breath. “I think I should make us some lunch. I have a feeling this is going to take a while.”

  Thirty minutes, one long story, and two sandwiches later, Lexi dabbed her mouth with a napkin and swiveled her stool to lean against the counter.

  “You’re right. You need the pickle toothbrush.”

  “I know,” Jess moaned. “It’s a mess!”

  “My gut feeling is you should tell Cord you like him. It might send him running. But who knows… maybe he’ll realize you’re more than Nick’s kid sister. Believe me, five years of age difference is no big thing.”

  “No, no, no! You’re supposed to help me not like him anymore. Then I don’t have to worry about having another relationship mess up my last year of college. And I won’t have to tell him anything.”

  “That’s true,” Lexi tapped a fingernail against her front tooth. “Plus, you said you don’t think you could live in a big city.”

  “I guess I could, if I had to. But I’ve been living in Dallas for a while now, and all I can think of is how much I love Sage Valley.”

  Lexi stared at her water glass, as if the answer were written on the ice cubes. “Sure sounds like Cord’s headed back to New York. He said Phantom Enterprises is his dream job.”

  “You were talking to Cord about his job?”

  “I’ve been told I’m nosy.” A grin danced onto her face. “He came by this morning to get some snacks for a weekend trip, so I grilled him.”

  “You see? That’s a sign from God we’re not supposed to be together.”

  “Maybe if he was with you, he’d change his mind.”

  “No, he’d be miserable, and it’d be my fault.”

  “But if you loved each other, you’d find a way around those things.” Lexi took a long swallow of iced tea. “I guess the question is this. Do you like Cord? Or do you love him?”

  “A few months ago, I thought I was in love with Parker. Then he broke the engagement. Now I don’t know what I feel.” Jess sighed. “It’s obvious I can’t trust my feelings.”

  “I don’t know, Jess. The way you talk about Cord is different. To me, it sounds like you’d be really happy with him.”

  “I’ll be happy, no matter what. I’m a Clark woman. My Nanna says we’re survivors,” said Jessica. “Cord’s the one I’m worried about.”

  “Why?”

  “Obviously, he’s the kind of guy who’ll sacrifice himself for someone else’s happiness. He moved across the country and risked losing his dream job so he could be with his family when they needed him.” Jess ticked off her points, finger by finger. “He’s doing all this stuff to help my grandparents, even while he’s working his other job online. He let my brother talk him into being my personal watch dog in addition to all his other responsibilities. He pretended we were dating, just to help me save face, even though he must’ve been embarrassed.”

  “You make some interesting arguments.” Lexi stood up, stacking their dirty plates. “But I still think you should be honest with Cord and let him decide what’s best for himself.”

  “What about my no-dating rule?”

  “Rules are made to be broken. Take a chance… tell him the truth.” Lexi wiped off the counter. “Or I can tell him for you.”

  “Not unless you want to be tortured again.”

  “I kind of like Baby Shark, now.” Lexi hummed the quirky tune as she carried the plates to the small sink.

  “You promised me—”

  “Just kidding. But he’s gone ‘til Monday. You might get your courage up by then.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “He wouldn’t say.” Lexi moved to the register and rang up a ticket for the toothbrush. “He bought two boxes of protein bars and a bottle of ibuprofen. Then he joked that his will was under his mattress in case he didn’t survive the weekend.”

  “I hope he wasn’t serious.” The hairs stood up on the back of Jessica’s neck. “What could he be doing?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m literally dying to find out.”

  “I’m dying.” Cord groaned as he limped into the arena on the morning of day two. “Literally dying. Every inch of my body hurts. I must be bleeding internally.”

  Several of his classmates expressed similar opinions, but their instructor had zero sympathy.

  “Three things in life are certain.” Manuel Lopez held three gloved fingers up, pacing in front of the group of young men as he spouted philosophy like a college professor. Except this professor wore cowboy boots, chaps, and a single glove, as did each of his eight students. He continued his diatribe, counting off the so-called certainties. “Death. Taxes. And the fact that you will be thrown from every bull every single time you ride. Pain is part of the game, gentlemen. Get used to it.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” Cord muttered from his position, leaning against the wall, his bottom too sore to sit on the bench.

  “Mr. Dennison…”

  Cord cringed, attempting to shrink to invisibility. Why hadn’t he kept his big mouth shut?

  “Thank you for volunteering to go first today, Dennison,” said Lopez, with a congenial smile. “We’ll do one more round of warmups on Bully,” he said, ambling over to the mechanical bull they’d been practicing on, a headless barrel with no resemblance to an animal. “Then it’s on to Hurricane.”

  Right on cue, the live bull snorted in his stall across the arena, sending a shiver of apprehension down Cord’s back. It hurt to fall off a mechanical bull, but at least he hadn’t had to worry about being gored, kicked, or stepped on.

  “What’s the first rule of bull riding?”

  Cord answered in unison with his classmates, “Never take your eyes off the bull.”

  “Very good. Cord, come on out here.” Lopez patted Bully’s back. “Once again, let’s go over what to do when you get hung up.”

  Cord’s mouth went drier than it had when he first saw Jessica. The idea of having his hand caught in the rope, to be dragged and stomped by a furious bull, was terrifying. After a day of lessons on a bucking barrel, Cord’s respect for both Nick and Mason had doubled. Either that, or he’d decided the men were insane for pursuing the dangerous sport.

  So what does that make me?

  An idiot. All his fellow students were below the age of twenty-one, still young enough to feel immortal. Cord was old enough to know better, yet here he was, trying to prove his bravery at the ripe old age of twenty-seven.

  Cord climbed on top of Bully and grasped the bull rope with his right hand. Then he rolled off to his left, a move which automatically twisted his hand under the rope.

  “Good,” Lopez nodded. “You know how to get hung up. But now what?”

  “I stay close to the bull’s shoulder and watch his head.”

  Another nod. “And that’s easy to do when it’s a motionless Bully, instead of a 1500-pound twisting, bucking bull. What next?”

  “I either jump up and throw my right elbow over the bull, or I find the rope tail with my left hand and push it over the top to untwist my hand.”

  Justin, one of the more outspoken students, said, “Or wait for the bullfighter to grab the rope tail for you.”

  Cord knew the bullfighters would risk their lives to save a bull rider. Without the seemingly fearless bullfighting crew, the riders might not make it to safety.

  “The bullfighters will rescue you if you’re hung up.” Lopez gave Justin a measured look. “Eventually. Of course, you might get trampled by then.”

  This elicited a round of snick
ers.

  “Not me,” said Justin, with a laugh, pointing at Cord. “I was talking about Grandpa.”

  “Very funny,” said Cord, who’d accepted constant teasing from the younger guys. “Just for that, I’ll let you borrow my razor… when your beard comes in.”

  “Ooooo! Burn!” Lighthearted laughter rippled through the group.

  “Back to business,” Lopez cut in. “I want everyone to practice these techniques with Bully bucking and turning. Then we start the rounds with Hurricane. Rotate through as many times as you like. If anyone makes it to eight seconds, dinner’s on me.”

  The boys whooped their excitement at facing their first real bull. All except Cord.

  Lopez leaned close, lowering his voice. “Listen, Cord. If you don’t want to ride Hurricane, I totally understand. Like I said before, your height’s going to make it harder to balance. Six feet is pretty tall for a bull rider.”

  “That rider from Australia is six foot two,” Cord said, stubbornly. “I’ll fall, just like the short guys. Then I’ll run. I was a sprinter in high school.”

  “A long time ago,” Lopez reminded him.

  “I’m not quitting.”

  Lopez stared at him, his gaze so intense Cord couldn’t look away. He must’ve finally seen what he was looking for because his mouth twisted in a crooked smile. He put his hat back on, then slapped the side of Cord’s helmet, knocking it askew as he turned away. “Buckle your strap.”

  With fumbling fingers, Cord fastened his helmet in place, while his teacher reached into his pocket.

  Lopez waved a business card in front of his face. “You should take my fall class in Colorado.”

  Cord’s already racing heart jumped up a notch. “You really think I can be a professional bull rider?”

  “Not a chance!” Lopez’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Besides being a decade too late, I’m afraid you don’t have the natural talent.”

  “Then why should I take your class?”

  “Because you have what it takes…” Lopez paused and tapped the card in Cord’s frozen fingers. “You have the guts to be a bull fighter.”

  Cord’s eye dropped to read the words, printed in bold letters, “Colorado Rodeo School: Professional Bullfighter Training.” The card burned his fingers like a hot coal.

  “You’ve got me all wrong. I’m not even sure I can make myself get on a bull when he’s pinned in a chute.”

  “You’re afraid, and you should be. But you’ll do it.”

  “That’s because I’m depending on my speed to get away from him when he bucks me off.”

  Cord had done his research before coming to the class. An internet article had explained how Lopez had retired from bull riding to become a bullfighter, supposedly inspired by another bullfighter who was critically injured saving Lopez from almost certain death. Cord had shuddered at the story, certain an experience like that would’ve convinced him never to step foot in an arena with a bull.

  His father would’ve done it, though. He’d been fearless, even as a kid. Uncle Dave had told Cord at least fifty times how his dad had spotted a copperhead snake just before Dave stepped on him. As he’d yelled and pushed his younger brother out of the way, he’d been bitten by the venomous snake, leading to a two-week stay in the hospital.

  But Cord was nothing like his heroic father. “There’s no way I could run toward an angry, bucking bull.” He tried to hand the business card back to Lopez.

  “You could do it if you had to.” Lopez shrugged and pushed Cord’s hand back. “Keep it, in case you change your mind.”

  Cord slid the card into his back pocket, determined to throw it away at his earliest opportunity.

  6

  “You’re really going through with this?”

  Cord’s weekly conversation with Finn had centered more on the upcoming rodeo than his progress on the new software program. With his right arm in a sling, Cord could only use his left hand to steer as he made his daily commute to Sage Valley Ranch.

  “I can’t back out.”

  “You rode a bull. Haven’t you already proven yourself?”

  “It’s something I have to do.” Cord’s chest was so tight, he could barely breathe. Could he really tell someone how he felt without breaking down? “Because of my dad.”

  “Was he a rodeo bull rider?”

  “No, but he was a real cowboy. Tough as nails. He never criticized, but I think he was disappointed when my best friend was in rodeo competitions and I wasn’t.”

  “He had to be proud of you,” said Finn. “Look what you’ve accomplished.”

  “He didn’t express his emotions a lot. I think he was proud, but kind of disappointed I didn’t want to be a rancher, like him.”

  “You’re still grieving. You should be careful making lifechanging decisions.”

  “I will.” Cord’s throat felt like someone had their hands around it, squeezing with all their might. With a force of will, he bundled his sudden emotions and pushed them back inside—the guilt, the grief, the self-reproach.

  Every decision he’d ever made was suspect. The time he’d lost with his father while living in New York the last nine years filled him with regret. What choices would he have made if he’d known his dad was going to die so young? For the most part, he couldn’t go back and redo his life decisions… except for this rodeo.

  “I can’t help wondering what might’ve happened if I’d stayed closer to home. I feel like I ran away from everything Sage Valley represented. Riding in this rodeo is me facing it head on.”

  “Taking the proverbial bull by the horns?” asked Finn.

  “Ha! I guess so.”

  “If you’re determined to do this, I’ll support you. And… I’m coming to watch.”

  It was times like these Jess really missed having her roommate to talk to. Why did Laurel have to be on a mission trip this summer in a remote area of Zimbabwe, of all places? Why couldn’t she have picked a place with cell and internet service?

  Lexi’s advice to share her true feelings plagued Jess, repeating itself like a tolling bell in her mind. But Jess didn’t trust her fleeting emotions. She preferred to keep a safe distance until she knew this was something more than infatuation. No use ruining a perfectly good friendship.

  With no one else she wanted to spill her guts to, Jessica attempted to handle the issue on her own. She rehearsed an untold number of possible scenarios in her mind. Late into the night she held imaginary conversations with Cord. By the time she arrived at breakfast Monday morning, she felt ready to face him and maintain her composure in front of her grandparents. Of course, the real discussion couldn’t take place until they found a place to speak in private, but she’d even practiced those dialogues so she could speak her mind without letting her emotions clog her brain.

  She waited for Cord to appear, chewing her biscuit slowly so her plate wouldn’t be empty when he arrived. But nothing could’ve prepared her for the moment when Cord stepped foot through the kitchen door. Her guts rolled like the ocean as she took in his injuries.

  “Cord!” Nanna gasped, a fist raised to her open mouth. “What happened to you?”

  He sank slowly into a chair at the table, as if his pockets were stuffed with raw eggs. His dark-framed glasses did nothing to hide a black and purple eye. A swollen lip accompanied the scratches on his face. His bandaged right hand protruded from a sling. Altogether, he looked like he’d had a fight with an eighteen-wheeler.

  “You should see the other guy.” His chuckle turned into a wince, and he sucked in a sharp breath. “Ow. It hurts to laugh.”

  “You were in a fight?” Jessica tried to slow her racing heart, pressing a hand on her chest.

  He shook his head, flinching again. “No, that was a joke.”

  Her grandfather peered over the top of his paper. “Did you get in a wreck?”

  “I might as well confess, since I can’t hide it.” Cord’s sigh was long and heavy. “I was practicing for the rodeo.”

  “O
h my gosh,” Jess exclaimed. “Did you break anything?”

  “Dislocated my right shoulder. Sprained some fingers. Other than that, it’s mostly bruises. I might’ve broken a few ribs,” he said, as if his injuries were no big deal. “Nothing that’ll keep me from riding in the ranch rodeo.”

  “Is that why you’re wearing glasses today?” asked Nanna.

  “Yeah. This eye can’t handle a contact right now.”

  “You know, Cord… maybe you shouldn’t compete in the ranch rodeo.”

  Nanna took the words right out of Jessica’s mouth. But Cord’s hurt expression made her glad she hadn’t expressed the sentiment.

  “Bull riding is a rough sport,” he said, jutting out his chin. “Injuries are part of the game.”

  “He’s right,” said Bucky, once again buried behind his newspaper. “That’s bull riding for you.”

  Unbidden images rushed into Jessica’s head. Cord, bucked into the air and falling to the ground in a heap. A wildly bucking bull landing with both hooves on Cord’s back, snapping his spine.

  Gruesome! What’s wrong with me?

  Though she’d always loved to watch bull riding in the past, her imagination was going haywire. The possibility of Cord getting trampled by a thrashing bull had her stomach threatening to expel her freshly eaten biscuit. Suddenly, she needed some air.

  “I’ve got to go,” she mumbled, leaping to her feet, her chair legs scraping the tile floor.

  “You didn’t finish eating,” said Nanna.

  “I’m full, Nanna,” she said, scrambling to open the door. “Thanks for breakfast.”

  “Wait,” Cord’s voice called as she slammed the door shut, but she ignored him, sucking in lungsful of fresh air until her queasy gut calmed.

  How could she be so upset about Cord in a bull riding competition, after watching her own brother compete for years?

  Must be this stupid diet I started. Too much spinach. Not enough chocolate. My system’s totally out of whack.

  She jumped as the door opened behind her and Cord limped out.