Boot Scootin' Secret Baby

Still, he’d always thought if he’d worked hard enough and achieved enough he could overcome those obstacles. He’d once believed that if he could earn enough to buy a little spread and take care of Alyssa comfortably he’d prove himself worthy of her love.

Today, because of his hard work and the fact that bull riding meant big money, he’d earned a tidy nest egg and then some. With bull riding’s corporate sponsorship, like tennis or NASCAR racing, these days a name rider drew six figures a year. And Cub wasn’t just a name rider, he was the name rider. He’d met that goal and then some.

And yet, Alyssa was marrying someone else and threatening to run him off her ranch, not even willing to speak to him without an appointment.

He threw the towel across the room.

Every muscle from his neck to his belly clenched as he fought back a wave of regret. Last night when she told him she was marrying again, he’d have given every damned dime he’d ever earned to go back to the last morning he’d woken up with that woman in his arms.

“And do what?” he asked the steam-blurred image in the mirror. The heel of his hand squawked against the glass as he swiped away a circle to see himself clearly.

He would still have left—to earn the money needed to buy a ranch. But this time, he’d wake his wife up to explain it all to her, to make her understand. He hadn’t done it the first time because he knew she’d be mad at him for breaking his promise. His life experiences had taught him that anger meant hatred, disgust, rejection. He hadn’t thought he could survive getting those things from Alyssa.

Besides, as the husband, wasn’t it his place to make the decisions? To do what he thought best for Alyssa? Her notion of getting a job in a local diner to pay the bills was an affront to his manhood—it was saying outright that he couldn’t take care of his own. He’d already been down that road in his life and he wasn’t going there again. So starting an argument about something he would take no argument over was just senseless.

And as soon as he’d left, her parents had rushed in to verify what she’d probably suspected all along—she’d made the biggest mistake of her life by putting her faith in him. Poor kid. His actions and the confirmation of her own parents had made her feel a total fool and a failure.

He dragged one knuckle over his freshly shaved cheek. They’d probably both be better off if he hopped in his truck and drove away right now, just forgot about Summit City Rodeo Days and the bull he’d come to do battle with.

He hadn’t protected her from unhappiness then, hadn’t been the man she needed him to be, beat-up as he was inside and out. He wasn’t any better now—worse, if you counted only the physical toll his profession had taken on him. No amount of money he made would change that fact.

But he wasn’t riding for money these days; he was riding for his own brand of honor—to go out on top and have something he didn’t walk away from when it didn’t want him anymore. And he was under contract to make those rides as part of a much publicized duel, five rides to see who was better, man or beast, scheduled almost a full year ago by a high-dollar sponsor. To walk away would mean financial ruin and public humiliation.

His future hung in the balance against those two rides. Alyssa Cartwright wasn’t going to take that away from him, too.

He dressed quickly and, just before he walked out the door, donned his trademark hat, pushing it down low over his eyes.

The hotel lobby bustled with rodeo people and the usual hangers-on. More than one lady with faded makeup from the night before and a look of rumpled satisfaction about her smiled at him. He nodded to them but did nothing to encourage any hopeful “buckle bunny” as they sometimes called the rodeo groupies. Despite that, one big-haired gal with gilded boots, leopard-skin fringe on her denim jacket and short skirt dashed up to him, her arms open wide.

He dodged left and what was surely meant as a big wet kiss on the lips glanced off his cheekbone.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he muttered, disguising a quick duck of his head as a nod.

“I can’t believe it. I kissed Cub Goodacre,” the woman cried to a gaggle of similarly dressed gals, who all hooted and high-fived her like teenaged boys in a locker room.

“It’s the hat.”

“What?” Cub jerked his head up only to find himself face-to-face with Alyssa’s fiancé.

“Your hat.” The man gestured with one finger toward his own bare head. “It’s a stroke of genius.”

“It is?” Obviously, he thought, narrowing one eye at the fellow who looked as if he’d just stepped out of some slick western-wear catalogue instead of off the range, Alyssa had snagged herself a loon.

“Of course it is, man.” He chuckled as if they were old pals sharing an inside joke. “Why, you walk into a room and everyone knows at a glance that Cub Goodacre has arrived. Heads turn, folks whisper.”

“Like to think that has something to do with my accomplishments, not my headgear.” He threw back his shoulders to give himself height. This man of Alyssa’s stood an inch or so over him and that didn’t make Cub like him one bit better.

“Your skill on the bulls is legendary, Cub...can I call you Cub?” He smiled.

Cub figured if a rattler could smile, that would be just about what it would look like.

“Great, Cub,” the man went on, seemingly taking Cub’s lack of any response as overture to everlasting friendship. “Now, as I said, your skills speak for themselves and that hat and the strong, silent cowpoke persona you’ve cultivated, well, they speak for your professional image.”

Cub didn’t like this fellow. Did not like him at all. “But let me ask you this, Cub, who speaks for you?”

“I speak for myself.” Cub flicked his hat up off his face with one sharp pop of his thumb and forefinger. “May not come out as gussied up and slick as your words, mister, but I’ve done fine so far.”

“Have you, Cub? Have you really?”

The false concern rang like a rusted cowbell in Cub’s ears.

“Do you realize,” the man rushed on, “that with your reputation and talent you are one hot property?”

How could Alyssa have fallen for this two-bit hustler? Something was not right about this. Still, Cub reminded himself, it wasn’t his place any longer to protect Alyssa from foolish choices. That was this fellow’s lookout now.

The man narrowed his eyes in presumed familiarity. “You know, my friend, if you would just capitalize more on your current celebrity, you could be a very wealthy man.”

Cub shook his head and started to walk on. “I do all right just as I am.”

The man stepped back to keep himself directly in Cub’s path.

“Oh, I’m well aware of your considerable winnings these past few years.”

“You are?” Cub stopped.

“Got the stats from the National Rodeo Riders Association and frankly, Cub, you are underutilizing your earning potential.”

“I am?” He didn’t want to listen but the weasel had him hooked.

“Let me tell you, with the proper management to get you endorsements, better sponsorship, maybe a spot in a country music video, next season, you could be pulling down at least twice what you made last year.”

“Next season?” Cub huffed out a humorless laugh at the notion. “I’m sorry, buddy, but—”

“Crowder.” He thrust his right hand out. “Shelby Crowder.”

Cub eyed the man’s offered hand. He didn’t want to accept the gesture but his lifelong cowboy way of doing things wouldn’t let him slight a man he held no founded grudge against. When his palm met Crowder’s he gripped it tighter than the reins on a ton of loco bucking bull.

To his credit, Crowder didn’t wince. He did ease out a little sigh of relief when Cub turned him loose, though. Then he dove right back into business. “Look, there’s no use beating around the bush, Cub. I’m fully aware of your past relationship with Alyssa and I want you to know...”

“Shelby? Cub?” Alyssa’s voice carried across the bustling lobby.

Both men paused and turned toward her. The sight put a rock in Cub’s belly. She was still as beautiful in the morning light as she had been three years ago. It wasn’t lost on Cub, though, that this morning her easy smile and the flush of her cheeks was for the man standing beside him, not for Cub. He stole a glance at Crowder from the corner of his eye.

Head bowed, the other man seemed far more intrigued by his pager than the woman approaching them. Weaselboy sure was taking this whole awkward situation lightly, Cub decided. If the roles were reversed and Crowder were the ex-husband, a stampede wouldn’t draw Cub’s eye from Alyssa. Something was not right about this at all.

He let his gaze swing from Crowder’s nonchalant attitude to the overly sweet, yet almost panicked expression on Alyssa’s face. Something felt definitely crooked about this relationship and Cub figured he knew a way to bring the truth to light.

“What in mercy’s sakes is going on here?” Whatever it was, Alyssa surmised in a heartbeat, it wasn’t likely to be good for her.

Last night, she’d sent Cub on his way before he could meet Shelby and discover her lie. She hadn’t even mentioned the wild story to Shelby because the whole thing was so embarrassing. Besides, she had intended to clear it all up when she spoke to Cub later today. Of course, she thought that would be much later today.

She stopped beside the two men waiting for her in the practical elegance of the hotel lobby.

Somehow, she’d always pictured Cub staying in cheap out-of-the-way motels, or perhaps even sleeping in his truck as he went from rodeo to rodeo. The lonely, desolate drifter stereotype certainly suited her image of him much better than thinking of him staying in the best hotels, the places swarming with buckle chasing beauties. She should have at least considered, she scolded herself, that a rider as successful as Cub would be at this hotel, where she and Shelby were meeting potential clients this morning.

“Have you two been chatting long?” she asked, gripping her spanking new briefcase over her western cut jacket. She hoped neither of them could hear that rapid thrumming of her heart hammering against the faux alligator case.

“Actually—” Cub very gently placed the point of his boot on top of her shoe, stopping the feverish tapping toe of her pump. “Your...friend, here, has been trying to sell me your management services.”

“My management services?” She blinked, struggling to imagine what Shelby had in mind, while her real attention drifted downward to the place where Cub’s foot touched hers. Such a simple thing and yet it sent a tingling heat surging upward through her body, making it difficult to concentrate on the conversation.

“Our management services,” Shelby corrected. “A client like Cub Goodacre could provide the kind of financial anchor we need for our business to stay the long course.”

“A client? Cub?” She clutched the case like a life preserver and gave a breathy laugh that didn’t fool a soul. “I’m sure he wouldn’t be interested in a small-potatoes management firm like ours. Would you, Cub?”

“Gee, I don’t know.” He stroked his chin, his eyes downcast as though he were truly considering it. “I was always partial to potatoes.”

Not funny, she warned with a glance, sensing he was up to something.

He lifted the toe of his boot from her pump, situating it so that the sides of their legs kept in contact.

Her entire body stiffened but she did not move away from the warmth of his nearness. “What I meant was, I don’t think we’re ready to handle Cub.”

His gaze met hers from under the shadow of his hat. He cocked one eyebrow and his mouth lifted on one side. “I don’t know, Alyssa, I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have handling me.”

She wet her lips. Her fingers caressed the smooth, textured surfaced of her briefcase. “I’m...we’re not prepared for that, Cub. You’re just...too big.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

His husky growl rattled down her spine and created tremors low in her body.

The images and sense memories ambushed her from every direction. The musky scent of their shared bed. The golden light of the sunset streaming on their naked bodies that first time. The insatiable aching deep within her that only the hard, rhythmic power of this one man could ever slake.

A film of sweat dampened the back of her neck; her eyes could not quite focus on anything but Cub’s face, Cub’s incredible body. She swallowed and brushed her hair back with one limp hand.

“It’s...it’s not...bad,” she murmured. “Not bad. But—”

“Are you kidding? It’s terrific!” Shelby reached out to slap Cub on the back, but one cutting glare from under that hat brim made the taller man pause mid-gesture and settle for a light jab in the air. “It’s terrific. Does this mean you’ll consider signing with Crowder and Cartwright?”

“Hell, no.” It came more as a chuckle than a curse or an outright rejection.

“No?” Shelby ran one hand back through the waves of his dark red hair. “But can’t you see the advantages of—”

“Don’t push this, Shelby,” Alyssa whispered, hissing out every s through clenched teeth. “The man said no and that’s it.”

The look on Cub’s face told her that her new assertiveness took him by surprise. And she felt surprise in return that he did not seem put off by the change in her.

Buoyed by the moment of quiet personal triumph, she angled her chin up and straightened her arm to put her briefcase at her side. “We have clients to meet, Shelby.”

“Yeah, I suppose we do,” Shelby muttered. Giving Cub a terse nod, he added, “Nice to meet you, Goodacre. If you should have a change of heart—”

“Alyssa will be the first to know,” Cub finished for him.

“I’ll talk to you later,” she told Cub, hoping the air of aloofness would keep him from seeking her out before she was ready to deal with him.

“Guess you will, ” he replied. “Providing I ain’t too big to talk to you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and contemplated some scathing remark but the sharp, steady beeping of Shelby’s pager intruded.

“Good gosh, Alyssa, this is it.” Shelby spun on his heel and almost ran straight over her in his rush to get to the hotel door.

“Are you sure?” she asked, stopping his flight with an upheld hand. “Remember last time, it was just a desperate plea for Chinese food.”

“Oh, I’m sure all right. I mean she is eight days overdue already and—” He checked the beeper clipped to his belt, then put his hands on Alyssa’s shoulders to gently move her aside. “I can’t have this discussion now, Alyssa. I have to go.”

“But what about our meetings?” she asked her partner’s back.

“You can handle the meetings. I have complete faith in your abilities.” He reached for the silver bar handle on the swinging door.

“But what if I mess up?” Panic strangled her voice.

“You won’t.”

“But what if—”

“You won’t. You’ll do fine.” He shoved open the door and glanced back, a great, big, goofy grin on his handsome face. “I’m the one should be worried, partner. After all, it’s my wife about to have our first baby.”

A whoosh of air and Shelby was gone.

Alyssa’s fingers wound around the briefcase handle until her nails dug into her palm and her knuckles throbbed. What was she supposed to do now? Could she really get out there and pitch the business all by herself?

A wave of nausea hit her, her stomach churned like boiling oil and her skin grew cool and clammy. She did not want all this responsibility to rest on her shoulders just yet. She wasn’t ready and if she failed...

A big hand clamped down on her shoulder, disrupting her misgivings and misery.

Cub. He’d heard the whole exchange. Just when she thought things could not get any more complicated or any more difficulties crop up between her and her dream of independence, the man gently turned her to face him.