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The Rodeo Rider
Roxann Delaney
Tanner O'Brien had always kept his focus on two things: rodeo and caring for his nephew. So why was he distracted by one big-city gal who was in town for only a month? Jules Vandeveer was the opposite of everything Tanner was attracted to in a woman–but even her negative attitude toward bronc riders didn't make her any less appealing.Something hidden beneath her kindness to his young nephew made him want to help ease her pain–if only she'd let him. Penetrating Jules's tough exterior and winning her heart would require lots of getting-to-know-you time. And Tanner knew just the cowboy for the job….
“Jules, you owe me a dance.”
Amid the other couples, Tanner drew her into his arms on the dance floor. She swallowed hard at the warmth of his body so close to hers and prayed he didn’t notice her accelerated heartbeat.
“Relax, darling,” he whispered. “I don’t bite.” She looked up to see his gaze caressing her bare shoulders. Good gracious, she thought as her knees weakened. What that man could do with a look!
Trying to stay focused, she changed the subject. “How lucrative is bronc riding?”
“All depends on how good you are.”
“And how good are you?”
A spark of fire lit his eyes. “Good, darlin’. Real good.”
When the music stopped, so did their dance. Jules felt a twinge of disappointment. “Have a nice evening, darlin’,” Tanner said, and walked away.
Tanner O’Brien stirred her curiosity. But this was not the time to let attraction get the better of her. Then why did she find herself searching for him the rest of the night, hoping for another dance?
Dear Reader,
I love small towns. I love big cities, too, and even middle-sized ones. But having lived in a small town during my teen years and a bit beyond, then again as an adult, I can honestly say there’s something special about small towns that sets them apart.
When it came time to find a setting for The Rodeo Rider and Tanner O’Brien’s Rocking O Ranch, the fictional town of Desperation, Oklahoma, was born. Desperation is every small town in America, complete with quirky citizens, tales of the past and love always in bloom. Not only does Jules Vandeveer fall in love with Tanner, but she also falls in love with the town and the people who live there. I hope you’ll enjoy visiting Desperation, too.
Throughout 2009 Harlequin American Romance is celebrating American heroes with one book each month in the MEN MADE IN AMERICA miniseries. I’m excited that The Rodeo Rider is a part of a series paying tribute to the sexy American male!
MEN MADE IN AMERICA is only part of an even bigger event as Harlequin celebrates its 60th Anniversary. Congratulations to Harlequin, the writers, editors and especially the readers!
Best wishes and happy reading!
Roxann
The Rodeo Rider
Roxann Delaney
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Roxann Delaney doesn’t remember a time when she wasn’t reading or writing, and she always loved that touch of romance in both. A native Kansan, she’s lived on a farm, in a small town, and has returned to live in the city where she was born. Her four daughters and grandchildren keep her busy when she isn’t writing, designing Web sites, or planning her high school class reunions. The 1999 Maggie Award winner is excited about being a part of Harlequin American Romance and loves to hear from readers. Contact her at roxann@roxanndelaney.com or visit her Web site, www.roxanndelaney.com.
Special thanks to my high school friend Keith Woods, a real Oklahoma cowboy, for all his help with rodeo and arena information. Thank you, too, to all the cowboys and cowgirls who deal with the rigors and the joys of the rodeo life.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
Chapter One
“I’m not sure this was such a good idea.”
Jules Vandeveer didn’t realize she had spoken as she stared across the dirt-floored indoor arena of the Agri-Plex. From her front-row seat next to her best friend, she watched the cowboy in the brilliant blue shirt position himself on the back of a horse.
“We can leave if you’d rather not stay,” Beth Anders told her.
Jules was tempted, but strengthened her resolve. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, I need to do this.” She knew the dangers involved in any sport involving animals, but running away would not solve her problem. It was time to face her fears, and although she had trouble believing that anyone would be insane enough to make a career of tempting fate on the back of a bucking, twisting animal, she knew her reaction was based on those fears. “We’ll stay,” she said, determined to see this through.
Beth placed a hand on her arm, concern still in her eyes. “Hang in there. It’s nearly over. This could be one of the best bareback bronc rides of the night.”
In a matter of seconds, animal and rider burst into the open. The horse bucked, reared and twisted in an attempt to dislodge the man. With one arm waving above his head, the cowboy hung on with the other.
When horse and rider gyrated closer, so did the dirt and dust they stirred up. Jules escaped any particles that threatened to invade her eyes and mouth by bending to reach for her bag under the seat. Over the noise of the crowd, which had now come to its feet around her, she could hear the horn signal the end of the eight-second ride, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
Before she could collect her wits, something struck her bent head and fell to her feet. Afraid to discover what it might be, she dared a glance and saw a black cowboy hat.
“Where did this come from?” She picked up the hat and stared at it as she straightened. Gingerly holding the dusty object, she looked to the arena where the last rider stood waving at the cheering crowd—hatless.
“Hang on to it,” Beth said over the din.
Jules stared at her. “You hang on to it,” she said, shoving the hat at her friend.
Beth pushed it back, shaking her head and grinning from ear to ear. When the shrill sound of a pager pierced the noise of the crowd, Beth grumbled and slipped the beeper from her belt. “I have to answer this call,” she explained, standing and scooting past Jules to the aisle. “You stay here, and I’ll be right back.”
Jules jumped to her feet. “But—”
“It’ll only take a minute. Don’t move from that spot.” With a wave of her hand, Beth pushed her way through the still-cheering crowd and disappeared.
Jules watched her go before turning back to find herself staring down over the railing into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, eyes surrounded by thick, black lashes—lashes any woman would kill for.
Her heart stopped and her mind went blank.
“My hat, darlin’.”
The comment, uttered in a smooth, slow baritone, caused Jules to blink, but her mind still didn’t kick into gear.
Crinkles formed in the deeply tanned skin at the corners of the sapphire eyes. A lock of jet-black hair fell carelessly over black eyebrows. “If you really want it that bad…” he said with an Oklahoma drawl.
Her gaze dropped to the hat gripped in her hands, and her heartbeat kicked in, thudding against her ribs. Had he called her darlin’? Stunned into action, she shoved the hat toward him and shook her head.
He gave her a lopsided grin. “You sure?”
She felt her heart somersault before she nodded, still unable to utter a sound. What was happening to her? It wasn’t fear that had her heart suddenly racing.
“You okay, darlin’?” His deep voice was filled with concern.
Jules blinked and stiffened at the tingling sensation the sound of his voice sent along her nerve endings. She held the hat out to him with trembling hands. “If you’ll just take your hat…”
The cowboy took it from her, his eyes narrowing in a puzzled frown, and placed it on his head. Tipping the brim, which now shadowed half his face, he gave her a tight smile before turning to amble across the arena.
“What did you say to him?”
Jules spun around to see Beth working her way back through the retreating crowd. She took a deep, calming breath. “Nothing. I gave him his hat.”
Her friend reached her and frowned. “Is that all? He looked ticked off to me.”
“Of course that’s all,” Jules said. Adding a good-natured smile, she refused to let her inexplicable reaction to the man intrude on their time together. “You know, Beth, if we weren’t such good friends, this cowboy thing would be the last straw,” she teased. She nearly laughed at the irony in her choice of words. Since they’d arrived at the Ada, Oklahoma, arena, she’d seen enough straw to choke a herd of buffalo. And she’d thought straw was a staple of the show-jumping world! Rodeos even had that beat.
She’d thought a rodeo would be far different from hunter-jumping, but even the smells and sounds of the evening had brought back more memories than she’d expected. Seeing cowboys thrown from horses had only made it worse, even though Beth had warned her it might. At least no one had been seriously hurt.
“You’re sure you’re all right?” Beth asked, obviously worried.
“I’m fine. Really.” Noticing the crowd had thinned, Jules gathered her things and stood, relieved the evening was over.
Beth took her by the arm, her brown eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Let’s get going.”
“Where?”
Pulling Jules through the stragglers leaving the stands, Beth said with a wicked grin, “We’re going to a party.”
Jules smiled. She could handle a little quiet mingling and a glass of wine to clear the dirt from her throat, a place where she could relax and get her heart slowed to a more normal pace. It was obvious she needed this vacation if a cowboy could leave her tongue-tied.
TANNER O’BRIEN spotted the woman he’d seen in the stands with Beth Anders the minute he walked into the noisy bar. Country music played at full volume by a local band assaulted his ears, and multicolored lights flashed in his eyes as a throng of well-wishers and words of congratulations swamped him. And he still couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Walking across the wood-plank floor, he felt a friendly whack to his back and wordlessly accepted the praise that accompanied it with a smile and a nod, while someone else pressed a frosty mug of beer into his hand. Rodeoers and fans were one big family, no matter what part of the country.
He thanked, smiled and nodded his way through the boisterous crowd to a familiar face. Pulling up a chair, he straddled it. “Hey, Dusty.”
The cowboy sitting across the table shoved his hat back on his head with one finger. “That last ride looked like a piece of cake,” Dusty said around the matchstick in his mouth.
“Yeah, sure.” Tanner managed a weak smile. His thirty-three-year-old body ached with disagreement. Leaning closer, he kept his voice low. “You haven’t seen Shawn, have you?”
Dusty frowned. “Nope, not since your last ride tonight. He was hangin’ around behind the chutes and disappeared about the time they announced your win.” A quick grin replaced the frown, but the matchstick didn’t waver. “That nephew of yours giving you trouble?”
Before Tanner could answer, a female voice purred in his ear, “Will you sign my program?”
Deep cleavage framed by western fringe hit him at eye level, but he ignored the view. Buckle bunnies didn’t interest him much anymore. Taking the glossy sheaf and the pen she offered, he scribbled his name and handed it back without bothering to look up into her face.
Dusty laughed when she’d gone. “You’ve got a way with the ladies, kinda like you do with the broncs.”
Tanner shook his head and chuckled. “Bet I’m old enough to be her father.”
“Wouldn’t have stopped you that long ago.”
Tanner took a swallow of beer and considered the statement. “Yeah, but I didn’t know any better then.”
Unable to stop himself, his gaze swept the room, finally resting on the blonde from the arena. She was a looker, that was for sure.
When the wranglers had pointed her out to him after he’d tossed his Resistol hat into the stands, he’d felt a spark of interest. Old habits were hard to break, and he’d intended to get semi-acquainted with the little lady when he retrieved his hat. And he might have if she hadn’t turned up the chill factor. Cold, that was what she was.
“Friend of yours?” Dusty broke into his thoughts.
“No way.” And he didn’t intend for her to be, either. He wasn’t in the mood for a case of frostbite. Without looking at Dusty, he drained the mug, quenching his thirst but not his curiosity.
Dusty tipped his chair back on two legs. “She seems to be a friend of Beth Anders.”
“Good for her.” Tanner gave in and glanced at the blonde one more time. She sure was easy on the eyes. Long, golden hair twisted into a fancy braid. And those eyes. Green as prairie grass in the spring. He couldn’t stop thinking about them, until he remembered how they’d turned cold and how her voice, when she’d finally spoken, had an icy edge.
When she looked up in his direction, he glanced away, right into the eyes of Beth Anders, who waved him over.
A snort of laughter from across the table cut through the noise of the tavern. “Go do the gentlemanly thing and say howdy to the ladies,” Dusty urged.
Tanner groaned, but reluctantly hauled himself to his feet. “Yep, best get it over with. Beth will give me an ear-blistering the next time she comes out to the ranch on a vet call if I don’t.”
Tanner took his time crossing the crowded room. When he reached the table where the two women sat, he tipped his hat at the pretty brunette. “Evening, Beth,” he said, and then managed a brief nod in her friend’s direction.
“Hi, Tanner,” Beth greeted.
He stayed focused on the vet and avoided the blonde seated across from her. “Where’s the professor tonight? That fiancé of yours needs to keep an eye on you.”
“Michael called just at the end of your ride. But hey, great ride! Another win! You ought to be well on your way to that gold buckle.”
He shrugged. Praise always made him uncomfortable. “I drew a good horse.”
“That’s what you always say,” she said, laughing. “And luck must have had something to do with where that hat of yours landed when you tossed it.” She glanced at the blonde and back again.
He caught the hint and risked a look at her friend. “Yeah,” he agreed. The blonde’s interest was riveted to the middle of his shirt, the crease of a frown between her high, arched brows.
