Bull By The Horns [Wayback Texas]
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The Wild Rose Press
www.thewildrosepress.com
Copyright ©2008 by Mary Fechter
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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CONTENTS
Dedication
Praise for M.J. Fredrick
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
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Bull by the Horns
by
M. J. Fredrick
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Bull by the Horns
COPYRIGHT ©
2008 by Mary Fechter
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com
Cover Art by Tamra Westberry
The Wild Rose Press
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Yellow Rose Edition, 2008
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To Linda, who pushes me to be the best I can be
[Back to Table of Contents]
Praise for M.J. Fredrick
On Where There's Smoke
I found Where There's Smoke was a very well written story with not only hot love scenes but also hot emotions. That is what compelled me to make Where There's Smoke a Joyfully Reviewed title for April.
~Tanya from Joyfully Reviewed
This book is fantastic! Warning: It'll make you laugh, it'll make you cry, and you'll want to bash a few hard heads before it's over. I couldn't put it down until I finished it!
~Melissa from Simply Romance Reviews
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter One
"Aaron!"
The dark-haired imp broke from the herd of kindergartners and bolted. Lavender Prouty pushed her straight blonde hair out of her face and pivoted in pursuit. Controlling her class at the Yellow Rose rodeo arena was like herding cats. The children wanted to see every animal at once, and Aaron was determined to see the cows.
The extra fifteen pounds Lavender had put on since her grandmother started emulating the Food Network slowed her down—not that she'd ever been a match for a five-year-old. Aaron would be through the bars and astride a cow before she caught him.
A lean figure stepped between Aaron and the cow pen. Strong arms snatched him up, swinging him in midair so his squeal echoed off the metal roof of the barn. The cowboy tucked the boy under his arm and turned toward her, grey eyes twinkling beneath the brim of a straw hat.
"Nice moves. You could teach a quarter horse a thing or two,” he told the boy, then turned to Lavender. “This belong to you?"
His deep voice sent a shiver of female awareness down her spine. Low voices were definitely a weakness. But he moved closer, and his shoulder length brown hair swung back to reveal a young face. Of course, lots of the cowboys who came to town for the Wayback Rodeo were young. Why was she surprised? Worse, why was she disappointed?
She reached for Aaron and her bare arm slid along the cowboy's. His warm skin against her sensitive inner wrist almost caused her to snatch her hand away before she had a secure hold on the kindergartner. She anchored Aaron in front of her, both hands on his shoulders, and looked up at the cowboy.
"He's for sale. Cheap."
The boy squirmed.
"Maybe we'll get this nice cowboy to hogtie you,” she chided. “How's that?"
"Be happy to.” The cowboy played along, the corner of his mouth hitched up as he drew a length of rope from the back pocket of his worn Levis.
She loved Levis almost as much as she loved deep voices.
Aaron burrowed against her thighs—right, like she wanted the cowboy's attention THERE—as he cowered from the rope. Lavender crouched before him and gave him her sternest look, which, granted, wasn't all that stern. “The next time you get away from me or Mrs. Mainka, I'll let him do it. Now go on back with the class.” She set him in the direction of the rest of the class and her room mother.
The cowboy with the laughing eyes hadn't moved away. In her desire to be clever, she'd neglected to thank him.
"Thank you,” she said, a little breathless that he was so close.
"I'd rather herd cows than kids.” He stepped beside her to watch her class, who were envying some pigs their wallow in the mud. Mrs. Mainka was doing an admirable job of keeping the children from joining the swine and guilt tugged at Lavender for not giving her a hand. But the cowboy hadn't wandered off and she wasn't sure how to take her leave of him.
Or if she was ready to.
"Mm, yeah, kids have a way of figuring things out that cows never would."
He folded tanned muscular arms over his chest, drawing her attention to his half-buttoned shirt and smooth flat pecs. She curled her hand into a fist, surprised by the urge to touch. She hadn't allowed herself an urge in—well, it was too depressing to think about.
"Do you work here?” she asked to distract herself. Was that even the proper terminology?
His smile was lopsided, his teeth straight and white. “I'm here for the rodeo,” he acknowledged. “I'm Taylor Craig."
He held out his hand, and looked at her like he expected that name to mean something. She merely slipped her hand into his. It was less squeeze than caress, his thumb riding over the back of her hand, his touch lingering as if he could learn something from the shape of her hand before sliding away, along her palm. All the while, those grey eyes focused on her. She'd read Victorian novels about women wearing gloves to avoid intimate contact with a man's hand and had dismissed the idea as repressed. But now ... Heat crept up her throat and she knew her pale skin would advertise her reaction. She turned quickly back to her class but still couldn't walk away. What was wrong with her?
"Lavender Prouty,” she murmured.
"Lavender? Unusual."
"Yeah, that was my parents. Unusual."
He still didn't move away, and now she was nervous. What did he want, exactly?
"Do you ride?” She hadn't made conversation with a cowboy before, had never wanted to. Heck, she hadn't been to the rodeo in years, though it opened every weekend. “I mean, what event?"
His smile went back to half-mast, almost self-deprecating. “Steer wrestling, this week."
She flicked her gaze to his. He had such gorgeous eyes. She dragged her thoughts back to the rodeo. Did cowboys ride in more than one event? Didn't they specialize? “This week?"
He lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, well, last season I tried calf roping, this year team roping. Not my sport."
"You still have the rope.” She nodded to the length he ran through his hands.
She perked up. Rarely had she met a man who admitted a weakness, especially a man this good-looking.
How long would he be able to keep those pretty teeth in the rodeo?
"So you like steer wrestling?” She considered his lean, muscular form. Those steer probably outweighed him three or four times. Heck, she probably outweighed him.
"Pretty well."
"Are you any good?"
"I have pretty decent timing."
What did that mean? From the glint in his eyes, she got that he meant it to be a double entendre. She stepped back, unaccustomed to the unwavering attention of a handsome man.
Handsome boy. He had to be in his early twenties, and she was thirty-four. So why was he looking at her like he wanted to eat her up? Her blonde hair was flying every which way and she was wearing a boxy school logo T-shirt. Admittedly her new jeans were cute, but that wasn't enough to spark the look in his eyes.
"My kids are getting away from me,” she said breathlessly, backing away, unable to believe she'd left twenty five-year-olds with her room mother while she flirted. She'd never done anything so irresponsible on the job. Or otherwise.
He followed her slowly, both hands in his front pockets, clearly reveling in her nervousness. “Would they like to come meet my horse?"
They'd moved too close to her class when he said it, and the children overheard.
"We want to see the horse!"
"I love horses!"
"Miss Prouty, we want to see his horse.” This last was emphasized with a tug at the hem of her t-shirt.
Yeah, she was great with the discipline.
"Honestly, these are ranch kids for the most part,” she grumbled at him. “You'd think they'd never seen animals before. I thank you for your offer, but..."
"Oh, but my horse is special.” He turned his charm on her class when she edged away.
Okay, let him try. Other than that whole Santa Claus/Tooth Fairy thing, five-year-olds didn't swallow BS easily.
Back in the safety of his comrades, Aaron issued the challenge with a lift of his chin. “Nuh-uh."
Taylor Craig matched his stance, eyes alight with humor. “My horse is the smartest horse in the world."
"No, it's not,” Aaron retorted, and was echoed by his companions.
Taylor stretched out a hand. “I'll bet you a dollar she is."
"Deal.” Aaron thrust his hand upward and Taylor shook solemnly.
Okay, low voices, Levis, and guys who liked kids and animals. Those were her weaknesses when it came to men. Lavender tore her gaze away as Taylor straightened and looked at her.
"Let's go, then.” He ambled ahead of the class, who followed, no herding needed.
Lavender exchanged a glance with Mrs. Mainka, who no doubt saw more than Lavender wanted her to, and they trailed behind the children.
Taylor shuffled to a halt in the stables in front of a breathtaking Palomino mare with a long silky mane and a wide white blaze.
"She's beautiful,” Lavender said, stepping in front of her class, focused on the horse.
"I have a thing for blondes,” Taylor said.
The teasing lilt in his voice drew her attention and he winked at her. She blushed and turned away. Why was he flirting with her? Or was she misreading? It had been a long time since someone had flirted with her. “What's her name?"
Taylor ran his hand down the side of the horse's neck. Lavender followed the path with her gaze, the long, strong fingers on the mare's throat. Lavender swallowed, feeling the caress on her own skin. The mare tossed her head, shaking out her mane.
"Angelina.” He reached over the stall door to hook a rope on the horse's bridle before he opened the door to lead her out onto the packed dirt aisle.
Mrs. Mainka guided the children back along the stalls on the opposite side of the aisle, out of the way.
"She won't step on them,” Taylor said. “She likes kids."
"She's not used to twenty at once. Sometimes I step on them."
He chuckled. “You want to see her trick?” he asked the children.
"Yes!” The chorus echoed off the metal roof.
To her credit, Angelina only swiveled her ears, but didn't flinch at the noise. Lavender met Taylor's eyes and smiled. He grinned back, then turned back to her class.
"I need a volunteer.” Without waiting for hands, he pointed to Esmi, one of Lavender's favorites, a quiet girl with a long dark braid, glasses and a serious round face. “Here, honey, you want to give me a hand?"
Apparently his charm didn't translate to five-year-old girls, because Esmi shrank back shyly. All the other students waved their hands wildly but Taylor wouldn't take no for an answer.
"Do you like horses, honey?"
Esmi shook her head and cowered against Lavender's thigh—right where she didn't want his attention. She rested her hand on Esmi's shoulder.
"Esmi loves horses. Don't you?” she urged the child.
"Esmi,” Taylor repeated. “I know she's big.” He glanced over his shoulder at Angelina, whose ears pricked forward, her focus on Taylor. “But she's the sweetest horse you'll ever meet. She'd never hurt you. All you have to do is stand. She'll do all the work. You want to try?” He held out a hand, his elbow resting on his knee, fingers tilted toward her, offering but not persuasive, so patient, reading the child so well.
Esmi put her hand in his. He straightened with a grin and led her to the horse. Angelina lowered her big head to inspect the girl curiously and Esmi scrambled back, tucking her arms against her chest. Taylor curved his hand over her shoulder and urged her forward for Angelina's inspection. Angelina widened her nostrils, then lifted her head. Esmi shuddered but held her ground. Taylor waited a moment to ensure she'd stay put, then walked the few steps to Angelina's head.
"Okay, I'm going to ask Angelina if you're a boy or a girl. She'll paw the ground twice if you're a girl and once if you're a boy. Got it?"
"Got it!” the class chorused.
Taylor released Angelina to rejoin Esmi. “Okay, Angelina. Is Esmi a boy or girl?"
Angelina lifted her front hoof and struck the packed earth twice. The children oohed. Esmi grinned and melted back into the class. Taylor beckoned to a boy, Michael, who took Esmi's place, his finger in his mouth. So Taylor was good at noticing the shy ones. Lavender tried not to be impressed.
Angelina repeated her trick accurately four times before the class grew restless, attention wandering.
So Taylor crooked a finger at Lavender. She picked her way through the class, wary of his intention. He wrapped his fingers around her upper arm. She winced in embarrassment as his fingers sank into the softness of her flesh. Like he couldn't tell from looking that she was a little on the fluffy side.
"Okay, Angelina,” he said when he had Lavender positioned where he wanted her. “Boy or girl?"
Angelina lifted her head and whinnied. The children screeched and covered their ears, like they weren't louder.
Taylor laughed. “See? She said, ‘Woman.’”
Lavender laughed, too. It had sounded like Angelina had said “Woman.” How often did he use that trick to pick up girls?
She patted the side of Angelina's neck. “Okay, children, we need to let Mr. Craig get back to whatever he needs to do to get ready for the rodeo. Tell him thank you."
The children did, then she did, quietly, not meeting his gaze, though she wanted to. He didn't move when she walked away—she was very aware of that—but didn't look back to see if he was watching her.
"Miss Prouty."
Now she had to turn back or appear rude.
"I hear Cranky Hank's barbecue is pretty good. Any truth to that?"
She smiled. “Not that there are a lot of choices around here, but yeah, it's pretty good."
"So what time is school out?” He nodded toward her retreating class.
"What?” He couldn't be asking ... could he? She certainly couldn't answer
the way she wanted.
He took a step toward her, letting out the lead rope so Angelina stayed back, his gaze intent on her. “I don't like to eat alone."
She just bet he didn't. He probably never had to. Except tonight.
"Thanks for being so good to my kids.” She backed away, though every nerve in her screamed to say yes. Her brain chided those eager hormones. He'll just leave you like everyone else. Is it worth it? To which her hormones, looking at his hands and his mouth screamed, Yes! But as always, Lavender listened to her brain. Easier not to get hurt that way. She turned from Taylor. “Good luck to you and Angelina."
"Miss Prouty, I'm asking you out to dinner,” he said, still pursuing.
Her face heated. Why her? She pushed back her hair self-consciously. He was handsome, and younger than her, enough that he was no doubt aware of it. And with her round face and ass, her straw-straight hair, well, she couldn't be his regular type. God knew he wasn't hers.
Even if he was, he'd be gone by Monday and she just didn't have the resources to be left again.
"Sorry, Mr. Craig."
The glint in his eyes dimmed at the regret in her tone. He touched the brim of his hat and turned away.
"Thanks again,” she was compelled to call after him, then hurried after her class.
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Taylor pulled his F-150 into the school parking lot just before three. Apparently school had just let out because little kids milled in front of the building. And there on the steps, arms crossed over her red T-shirt, blonde hair whipping in her face, stood Lavender.
He could have found another dinner partner—the buckle bunnies had descended on the fairgrounds even though the rodeo was two days out. But Jesus, since he was fourteen, females had thrown themselves at him. For a time, he'd eaten it up like sugar. And like sugar it had grown old, though not fast enough. Still, the effect was long lasting, and now a woman who shied away, who blushed when he looked at her, captured his attention. He hadn't known women did that anymore.
Chasing a woman for a change would feel good. With Lavender, he'd have that chance. He pushed open the truck door and got out slowly, watching her. He'd liked how she was with her class, liked her sense of humor, liked her shy smile.