The Bull Rider's Homecoming

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“All right. I’ll be fast.” She gave him a pert look over her shoulder as she started for the door. “Try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

He found himself smiling again as she disappeared inside. Less than five minutes later she came back out the door, wearing a denim skirt, a red shirt, Western boots and silver beads. Somehow she managed to look both cute and sexy. The tiny smudge of apricot colored paint on her wrist only added to the package.

“You are fast,” he said as they started across the lot.

“One of my many mother superpowers. I learned to dress on the fly as I averted disasters here and there.”

“Broken water pipes?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of spilled milk.”

Trace escorted Annie into the Shamrock, stopping at the bar long enough to order a draft for Annie and a sparkling water for himself while Annie claimed a table.

“Thankfully the music hasn’t started,” she said as she adjusted her chair. “Which means we can hear one another.”

“Makes for better conversation,” Trace agreed. And he was hoping for better conversation. All of his meetings with Annie had been strangely awkward up until now.

Annie smiled a thank-you as the server placed the beer and water on the table. She met his eyes and he said simply, “I’ve had two drinks and I’m driving.”

The corner of Annie’s mouth tilted and he thought she was going to say something about him showing remarkable common sense for a bull rider, but instead she said, “It’s going to be strange going home to a quiet house.” She lifted her beer and reached over to tap his glass lightly with hers. “Thanks for helping me delay the moment.”

“Anytime.” He meant it.

Annie took a small drink then set the mug down as a young guy in a Western shirt approached the table. “Hey, Annie,” he said, barely sparing Trace a glance. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Her expression became polite but cool as she said, “I haven’t been out in a while. The kids keep me busy.”

The guy turned his attention to Trace, smirking a little before he looked back at Annie and said, “Good thing there’re no women with big purses here.”

Annie smiled sweetly up at him. “Cody, have you met Trace Delaney? He’s watching Grady’s place.”

The kid’s mouth fell open as he recognized Trace’s name, but before he managed to say anything, Annie said to Trace, “Cody rides bulls. Does pretty good, too.”

“I, uh...” Cody had gone red now that he realized who exactly had been walloped by Shelly. He pushed his hands into his back pockets then pulled them out again. “Good to meet you. I didn’t recognize you. Probably because I didn’t expect you to be here. In Gavin, I mean.” He shoved a hand at Trace, who took it gamely. “I only ride on the local level. Nothing like...yeah.” He shifted his weight. “Any chance you might be interested in going to Hennessey’s practice pen? Maybe give some pointers?”

“Will there be any women with big purses there?” Cody went even redder at the jab and Trace felt kind of bad for him. “I might be able to find some time.”

“Thanks. That would be...great. Thanks.”

“See you around,” Annie said gently and Cody took the hint, heading back toward the bar where his small group of friends waited.

“You play hardball,” Trace said once Cody was out of earshot. The kid had definitely been territorial about Annie, but the feeling was not reciprocated. Annie looked more annoyed than anything. The color was high in her cheeks and her full mouth had tightened again. He felt a strong urge to do something about that. Annie needed to relax a little.

“Cody is the little brother of one of my high school friends, and has had a burning crush on me forever. Even the twins didn’t slow him down.” Annie focused on her hands before bringing her blue gaze back up to his. “That sounds kind of vain, doesn’t it? But it’s the truth.”

Trace smiled. “Nothing wrong with speaking the truth.” And he could totally understand the kid having a long-lasting crush on Annie.

She settled back in her chair. “Here’s a bit more truth... It feels kind of unreal sitting here and having a beer instead of racing home—even with the girls at Danielle’s.” She took another small drink, then put the mug down. “If you weren’t a friend of Grady’s I wouldn’t be.”

He’d gotten that idea earlier, when she’d agreed to go for the drink.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t go out much.”

“Homebody?”

“Exhausted,” she said candidly. “To conserve energy, I rarely stray from my normal routine, which consists of kids, work, kids.” She smiled at him then gave her head a small shake as if suddenly realizing how small her world was at the moment.

“Their father doesn’t help?”

She raised her eyes. “I haven’t seen their father since before they were born.”

Okay, then. “That’s pretty far out of the picture.”

“He sends checks quarterly. Automatically, through his bank.”

Trace knew from his own experience that checks weren’t enough. Not even close. But Annie wasn’t ill, as his mother had been, and her life did appear to revolve around her girls.

Annie smiled ruefully and echoed his thought. “You’ll have to forgive me if I talk about my kids a lot. They’re pretty much the center of my universe.”

“Maybe it’s good to focus on yourself every now and then.”

“Voice of experience?” she asked drily.

“Touché.” He reached out and touched her hand, barely aware of the action until he felt her silky skin beneath his palm. “And don’t get me wrong—I’m all for putting your kids first. My mom tried to do that, but she was too sick to do it well. She died when I was fourteen.”

“I’m so sorry.” Annie drew her hand back in a smooth motion as soon as he lifted his.

Was she afraid he’d touch her again? It had been meant as a friendly gesture, but the contact had sent an unexpected jolt of deep awareness surging through him. He wondered if she’d felt it, too, or if he was the only one feeling this strong pull. Life would probably be simpler that way, and, frankly, he couldn’t read her.

“Where did you go after she died? Relatives?”

“My father’s place. He was kind of a distant relative.” Her eyes widened at his response, and Trace sucked in a breath. That had sounded awful and he hadn’t asked her to have a drink with him to rehash his past...or hers, for that matter. “I didn’t have a lot of contact with him before that. I barely knew the man when I moved to his ranch.”

“That had to be rough.”

He smiled as carelessly as he was able. “It got me into bull riding, so no regrets.” Except for never really knowing the guy who’d given him his name.

“Your dad taught you to bull ride?”

He managed not to snort at the idea of his father spending that much time with him—or his stepmom allowing it. “The neighbor taught me. I used to go hang out there...long story.” One he didn’t feel like telling, so instead he smiled, watched as her gaze traveled over his face, wondered what she saw there. A winner? A loser? A guy who considered his father a distant relative? In many ways he was all of the above, but when he’d asked Annie to have a drink with him, he hadn’t expected the conversation to take this route. Judging from the speculative expression on her face as she studied him, neither had she.