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The Bull Rider
Helen DePrima
This could be her toughest assignment yetHaving witnessed her father's death in a race-car crash, Joanna Dace can’t imagine getting close to anyone who risks his life for sport. But she can write about them. Keeping her professional distance lets her get inside anyone’s head without letting that person into her heart. Until she meets her latest subject—professional bull rider Tom Cameron. Tom has a quiet cowboy charm and a darkness beneath his rugged surface. It’s difficult to remember all the reasons she should keep her distance, but Jo has to try…unless it’s already too late.
This could be her toughest assignment yet
Having witnessed her father’s death in a race-car crash, Joanna Dace can’t imagine getting close to anyone who risks his life for sport. But she can write about them. Keeping her professional distance lets her get inside anyone’s head without letting that person into her heart. Until she meets her latest subject—professional bull rider Tom Cameron. Tom has a quiet cowboy charm and a darkness beneath his rugged surface. It’s difficult to remember all the reasons she should keep her distance, but Jo has to try...unless it’s already too late.
Finally it was Tom Cameron’s turn.
He eased down into one of the chutes near Jo’s seat, this time facing her. She could see his intense concentration as he wrapped the rope around his hand and settled his mouthpiece. The bull stood still as a statue except for its mule ears waving like antennae.
A slight nod and the gate swung wide. Gunslinger erupted into the arena with all four feet off the ground, changing direction in midair. Cameron still clung to the bull’s back, but off center so that the next spin shot him off like a rock out of a slingshot. He struck the metal panel directly below Jo’s section with a crash and lay still. The eight-second buzzer sounded.
Madison Square Garden went dead quiet. Someone’s cell phone brayed, harsh in the silence. Two men from the sports medicine team and one of the bullfighters ran to the spot where Cameron lay. Jo heard someone say, “Hey, Tom—can you hear me?” An indistinct response. “You want to walk out?” A grunt of assent and Cameron climbed to his feet. The crowd cheered as he left the arena supported by two of the medics.
Jo sank back in her seat.
Dear Reader (#ulink_3fca595a-366d-5ed5-9c1f-9a8fbd6d7948),
Thanks for joining me for the second book in the Cameron’s Pride series. I hope you’ll enjoy reading about Tom Cameron and his trials and triumphs both in and out of the professional bull-riding arena. I’ve done my best to take you into the heart of the competition along with journalist Jo Dace as she profiles an athlete involved in the most dangerous eight seconds in sports.
I’d love to hear from you if you enjoy The Bull Rider or if the story piques your curiosity about professional bull riding. Feel free to contact me at helen@helendeprima.com. Enjoy the ride!
Helen DePrima
The Bull Rider
Helen DePrima
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
HELEN DePRIMA grew up on horseback on her grandfather’s farm near Louisville, Kentucky. After spending a week on a dude ranch in Colorado when she was twelve, Helen fell in love with all things Western.
She spent wonderful weeks on the same ranch during her high school summers. After graduation she headed for the University of Colorado to meet the cowboy of her dreams and live happily ever after in a home on the range. Instead she fell in love with a Jersey boy bound for vet school. She earned her degree in nursing and spent four years as a visiting nurse in northern Colorado while her husband attended Colorado State University.
After her husband graduated, they settled in New Hampshire, where Helen worked first in nursing and then rehabilitating injured and orphaned wildlife. After retirement, she turned again to earlier passions: writing and the West, particularly professional bull riding.
To my husband for keeping my eye on the prize.
Acknowledgments (#ulink_b971bfcd-cd02-57de-8737-63341166c72d)
To my agent, Stephany Evans, for her encouragement and hand-holding.
To Dana Grimaldi for her deft editorial touch.
To my First Reader, Melissa Maupin, for her enthusiastic involvement and feedback.
To Earlene Fowler for her prayers and sanity.
To Will Georgantas for his interest and timely gift.
To Carrie Weir of Tennessee Children’s Services for the valuable information she provided regarding adoption procedures in her state.
And especially to everyone involved with the Professional Bull Riders who make this series a labor of love.
Contents
COVER (#uac16ff94-e0d9-50ec-b567-0b2151360a22)
BACK COVER TEXT (#u8a732a79-1a93-58e2-bade-a60f32a6153f)
INTRODUCTION (#u1fa5ed41-ee05-5378-b4de-f5e9abea4460)
Dear Reader (#ulink_95c3fc22-f25e-5045-8c36-41fd891dd492)
TITLE PAGE (#uf4332123-6cae-580d-8c98-62843a8080dc)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#uea73ec9e-127c-525e-a8a3-877f7eba5eef)
DEDICATION (#ua111d288-e1e3-56c0-b529-5006aacc1dd7)
Acknowledgments (#ulink_5c4f5504-b579-5abb-972c-f11654a7bcf8)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_b003975b-d019-5f26-ad2f-a87490970070)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_0c605a82-1d9e-5c3b-a57c-be7bd4c7b21f)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_3b853d1b-eef6-5c13-bcb8-0d6245fdfc20)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_67d3d201-d662-592f-85de-3f4ed21e2806)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_1697e525-03d0-500d-ba77-8be938165276)
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_bc3c7608-a04d-540f-970f-d3e73c635556)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_856175b5-6411-54cd-84ab-a554dff3ed3c)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_114fc85a-18fc-532c-81e6-cc98e401e715)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
EXTRACT (#litres_trial_promo)
COPYRIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_c04f8b9f-f3ec-5358-a3c7-3d7fa168e01d)
MADISON SQUARE GARDEN had gone cowboy crazy this Sunday in January, with wall-to-wall boots and jeans, denim jackets and wide-brimmed hats. Joanna Dace reflected with wry amusement that her black turtleneck, leggings and ankle boots marked her as a newcomer to the sport of professional bull riding.
A plump blonde wriggled into the third-row seat next to Jo’s and smoothed the fringes on her red satin shirt. “Aren’t these great seats? My husband says get the best you can buy—that’s your Christmas present.” She patted the knee of the burly man seated next to her.
“Whatever makes you happy, babe,” he said with a grin.
“So who’s your favorite rider?” she asked Jo.
“Well, I...”
“Me too—I love ’em all. I hope you don’t mind if I jump around and yell—I wait all year for this. Just kick me if I get too noisy.”
A raucous horn sounded while Warning flashed on the advertising banner boards.
Her new friend tapped her arm. “You’d better cover your ears now if you don’t like it loud.”
Jo obeyed as the lights went down. Men with fuel cans traced a pattern in front of the bucking chutes and then darted away. Jets of fire shot up accompanied by ear-splitting explosions as flames spelled out letters in the dirt. More pyrotechnics and then the announcer’s shout: “Hello, New York City! This is the one and only PBR!”
* * *
“HEY, TOM—A GAL grabbed me up on the concourse. She wants to meet you.” Deke Harkens fished in his shirt pocket. “She gave me her card.”
Tom Cameron buckled on his plain blue chaps without looking at the card. Women often sent bull riders phone numbers and hotel keys, sometimes underwear. He wasn’t interested—not now, not like that, never again.
“Wrong Cameron,” he said. “Luke’s the bunny wrangler.”
“Nope, she said Tom Cameron. And this one’s no buckle bunny—at least she’s not dressed like one.”
“She say what she wants?”
Deke shook his head. “Just she’d like to meet you. You want to grab a look? Brown hair, late twenties, I guess—third row, right next to the chutes.”
Not the cheap seats. Tom adjusted his belt and stuck the card in his pocket. “Maybe after the event.” Bad luck to plan beyond his next ride.
A claxon sounded in the arena. He settled a black Stetson over his brows. “Showtime.”
He followed the other cowboys through the echoing corridors under the Garden and mounted metal stairs in darkness to the center pedestal above the bucking chutes. When the spotlight blinded him, he raised his hat to the sold-out arena as the announcer intoned, “Ladies and gentlemen, the current number-one bull rider in the world—Tom Cameron!”
He stood in place during the introduction of the bullfighters, including his brother, Luke; the invocation imploring protection for the riders and the bulls; and then the national anthem sung by an army sergeant with a powerful baritone. When the lights came up, he climbed down and headed toward the locker room, stopping when a woman’s voice called his name.
“You’re leading in the event, Tom.” The color commentator thrust a microphone in his face. “Will you pick Gunslinger again in the championship round?”
