Rough Rider (Hot Cowboy Nights, #2)(33)

“Thanks, man,” Reid replied. “Let me know if you ever get out to Southern California.”

“Thanks. Maybe I’ll do that one day. I’ve always had a hankering to see the Pacific Ocean.” Dirk tipped his hat. “Stay safe, OK?”

“Ditto, ése,” Garcia replied. “You’re the one riding those badass bulls.”

*

Janice had looked forward to Cheyenne Frontier Days every July from as far back as she could recall. Frontier Park was the cowboy version of Disney World with its grand parades, Old West Museum, Indian Village, and giant carnival midway where she’d often eaten enough cotton candy and funnel cakes to make her puke. As a kid, it had been a magical place, but now that she was one of the myriad invisible people behind the scenes, the enchantment had pretty much worn off.

At eleven o’clock it was already hot as Hades, which only magnified the reek of manure. The stock pens swarmed with flies and bawling cattle, and the arena choked Janice’s throat with dust. Looking out on the crowds, however, her chest expanded with a sense of pride to be part of it all. Rodeo was a pure American tradition that she hoped would never die out. Although the sport was struggling elsewhere, the stands in Cheyenne were packed to capacity and anticipation permeated the air with the announcer’s booming proclamation that the grand entry was about to begin.

A moment later, the audience rose to their feet with wolf whistles and thunderous applause as the drill team entered the arena at a mad gallop that generated enough wind to send their banners flapping and snapping. Janice climbed on top of one of the panels for a better view. The team split into pairs, performed an intricate pattern, and joined up again in the center in a tight militaristic formation. What followed was a highly synchronized drill performed to a medley of patriotic music. The crowd’s excitement and the sense of nationalism never failed to make her own pulse race.

A few minutes into the drill, Grady appeared beside her at the bull pens. She thought it odd that she’d seen no sign of Dirk. He usually dropped by with coffee, but for the first time in almost a month of traveling together, he hadn’t materialized.

“Who’d you draw today?” she asked absently.

“Death Wish,” Grady replied.

“Not one of mine. Know anything about him?”

“Yeah.” He grinned big and bad. “He’s my kinda bull. Twenty outs and no rides…yet. I’ve been aching all year to ride that nasty motherf*cker.”

“You really do think you’re something, don’t you?”

He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “The stats don’t lie, Sweet Cheeks. I’m hot shit right now.”

Janice shook her head with a snort. “What about Dirk? Who’d he draw?”

“Hell if I know. Ain’t seen him. He was already gone when I woke up.”

“Strange he hasn’t come around.” She wondered where he was but then remembered who had walked into the bar last night. Had he and Rachel left together? The idea that they might have made her heart sick. She still couldn’t help asking. “Any idea where he is?”

“After who showed up last night?” Grady echoed her own thoughts. “I think we both know the answer to that. In case you’re wondering, they hit the dance floor together after you left.”

She was doubly glad she hadn’t hung around. The thought of Dirk and Rachel melded together on the dance floor made her chest ache.

At the end of the drill routine, the rodeo queens entered in a dazzling spectacle. Janice couldn’t help scanning the long line of glittering cowgirls for Miss Rodeo Montana. Although there were other blonds and palominos in the parade of beauties representing every rodeo organization in the union, Rachel Carson was impossible to miss.

The queens formed a circle around the periphery of the arena with the reigning Miss Rodeo America taking center stage with the American flag. The crowd rose once more for the national anthem. It always drew a lump into her throat, but today Janice’s emotions were reeling for another reason.

Grady had doffed his hat and was holding it over his heart in true-blue cowboy fashion. When the music ended, he shoved it back on his head and then leaned against the panels. He reached into his shirt pocket. “I got a pair of tickets for Chris LeDoux tonight.”

“That’s great. I figure he might have sold out with this crowd.”

“Wanna go?” he asked.

“You’re inviting me?”

“Yeah.” Grady grinned. “You might even call it a date.”

She regarded him in genuine surprise. “Why me?”

For weeks she’d kept Grady at bay, laughing off his sexual innuendos and halfhearted attempts to coerce her into bed. She wondered why he still had his sights set on her when he had his pick of so many others. Maybe it was just the challenge? The fact that she kept saying no?

He kicked at the dirt. “Maybe I got a hankering for a change.”

She laughed. “A change from what? Your steady diet of buckle bunny?” He was one of the best bull riders on the circuit and women flocked to the chutes after every one of his rides.

He grinned. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. There’s still plenty of me to go around. So, you wanna go or not? He’s only doing a few engagements. You might never get another chance.”

She leaned back to consider him, resting one booted heel on the bottom rung of the corral panel. The offer was mighty tempting. Chris LeDoux was one of the most beloved names in rodeo and she’d been raised on his music. She still hesitated. “Is there a hitch?” she asked. This was Grady after all.