Rough Rider (Hot Cowboy Nights, #2)(6)

Favoring his left side, he pushed up into a sitting position and then slowly stood, pausing only long enough for the world to stop spinning. He rolled his shoulder forward and then backward, finding his agony had been almost completely alleviated. “Thanks.” He tipped his hat and made for the door.

“Hold on, cowboy,” Josh protested. “I’m not finished.”

“Then you’ll have to continue without me. Gotta go now,” Dirk shot over his shoulder. “My buddy’s up next.”

*

Dirk emerged from the med trailer on his own, albeit a little unsteady. Janice watched him out of the corner of her eye as she flanked the next two bulls. With his arms over his chest and one booted ankle crossed over the other, he leaned against the chute to watch the last two rides. It was a deceptively casual pose that might have fooled anyone who didn’t know him, but she could tell by his pallor and shallow breathing that he hurt far more than he was willing to show. A moment later, the medic brought him a sling, but he didn’t put it on.

“C’mon, Dirk,” she cajoled. “Don’t be a dumb-ass. Let me help you with that.”

“Don’t need it,” he growled.

“Then why are you favoring the arm?”

He released it instantly from his chest with a scowl.

“Please,” she cajoled. “No one’s gonna think less of you for wearing the sling. Everyone saw how that bull freight-trained you.”

“Need both arms. I promised Rachel I’d dance with her tonight.”

“Then she’ll need to make do with a one-armed two-step.”

“No good. She’s Miss Rodeo Montana and I’ve just won the All-Around. The sling’ll screw up the pictures. She’s already gonna be pissed enough about my face.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Janice snorted but then grimaced at the truth of it. His face really was a mess with a split lip and a nose swollen to half again its normal size.

Dirk shrugged. “The whole PR thing is her gig. I won’t ruin it for her.”

“Then just take it off for the pictures.”

His mouth compressed. “Thanks for the concern, Janice, but just let it be, will you? I already have a mother.”

“Sorry…I just…well, you know…”

He cocked a brow. “No. I don’t know.”

“I thought maybe we’d become friends is all.”

“A man can never be friends with a woman, Janice. Unless she’s a troll, there always reaches a point when the guy starts thinking about gettin’ into her jeans. It’s just how it is. You ain’t no troll, and I got a thing going with Rachel.”

Janice looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice the flames heating her face. “That’s not what I…but you’d never…” She stammered at the idea that he’d ever think of her in that way.

“No?” His gaze tracked slowly over her and his mouth kicked up in one corner. “Think again, sweetheart. By the way, I’ve noticed Grady sniffin’ around you. Be careful with him, Janice. He rides damn close to the edge sometimes.”

“What do you mean?”

His mouth moved, but the announcer’s blaring voice drowned out his reply.

“Next up is last year’s CNFR champion bull rider, Grady Garrison of Three Forks, Montana, coming into the short round on Rio Bravo.”

Janice grinned. “Speak of the devil…”

“Yeah,” he said. “And he’s about as much trouble.”

Janice grimaced. “Look, Dirk, I’ve been around long enough to recognize his type. Grady blows about as much hot air as a Chinook.”

His gaze narrowed. “Don’t be fooled. He does blow a lot of smoke, but his bad boy act isn’t an act, and he doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut either.”

Her temper flared. If Dirk didn’t want her, why shouldn’t she go out with Grady? A drink or two was no big deal. “You didn’t take my advice about the bull, why should I take yours?”

“Because you’re a nice girl, Janice,” he replied. “I’d hate for him to change that.”

On those parting words, Dirk tipped his hat and limped away to join some teammates, leaving a dull ache in Janice’s chest. “That may be,” she whispered to his back, “but it seems nice girls always finish last.”

*

Grady’s ride was the final event of the rodeo. He’d pronounced with his perpetual smirk that it was because they saved the best for last. Although Janice would like to have seen him pulled down a notch, he finished with another strong performance, riding and spurring his bull all the way to the whistle, and then dismounting with exaggerated panache for a score of eighty-eight points.

With the final scores called, the spectators slowly dispersed from the arena. While the rough stock contenders packed up their gear, Janice fell back into the dirty and mundane routine of sorting and penning her bulls for the next haul. Dirk had joined the others behind the pens where the cowboys exchanged good-natured ribbing and swapped stories about their respective rides.

“So you coming or not?” Grady surprised Janice from behind.

“Where?” she asked.

“To the party.”

“Oh, that. I said I’d think about it if you beat Dirk. You didn’t. You tied.”