Jeannie Watt - The Bull Rider's Plan

“Bedroll in the back of my truck.”

Gus held up a finger before moving away to take an order from an old guy in a cowboy hat. He drifted back toward Jess and said, “Take my camper. I’m not using it. I’m just too lazy to sell the thing online.”

“That would be...great.” It would certainly beat the bedroll in the back of the truck, which was how he and his brother had operated during the three years on the Montana circuit before Tyler went pro and their parents sold the family ranch and moved to Texas. At that point, Jess realized that neither he nor Tyler would have a place to live if one of them didn’t get a full-time job and keep the home fires burning. Tyler hadn’t really needed home fires, because he was rarely at home. When he finally did come home for a spell, he’d moved onto a neighboring ranch and had become engaged to the owner.

That had been a turning point. That had been when Jess decided that maybe he did have enough money in the bank. That he was only responsible for himself, which was an odd feeling for an identical twin.

“When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow afternoon for Union City.”

“Come by and see the camper tomorrow morning. If it’ll work, take it.”

“I’ll pay you—”

Gus leveled a deadly look at him. “I don’t think you will.”

Jess simply nodded. He’d pay something if he used the camper, but he’d wait until he got back rather than argue with Gus now. He continued to stand at the bar, talking to Gus as he drank. Across the room, Talia smiled at him and raised her glass in a small salute. He smiled back, thinking it might be time to make his move. But before he could push off the bar, a small crash at the other end made his head jerk around.

Emma Sullivan’s wide gray gaze came up from the mess of broken glass and beer on the bar. She instantly started apologizing to Gus’s uncle Thad, who was standing only a few feet away.

“I’m so sorry. That guy bumped into me.” She began stacking the smaller pieces of glass onto the larger pieces as she attempted to clear the mess.

“No harm done—or there won’t be if you stop trying to pick up the glass,” Thad said sternly.

“Sorry.” Emma pulled her hands to her chest, holding her fists against the blue-gray sweater she wore. Her eyes came up again and this time she zeroed straight in on Jess. Her lips parted as she recognized him, then she looked over her shoulder at the door.

Excellent. Unless he was misreading the signs, Emma, his late best friend’s little sister, had had too much to drink.

He set down his whiskey. “I’ll be back,” he said to Gus. Just as soon as he made certain that Emma wasn’t alone.

“Jess,” she said as he approached. She attempted to sound offhand, but the end of his name came out just slurred enough to confirm his suspicions.

“Are you here with someone?” he asked, reaching out to take her elbow as someone jostled her from behind, making him think that her story about the guy bumping her was true.

“Watch it,” he growled. The guy turned, half ready to defend himself until he saw the deadly look in Jess’s eyes. He gave a grunt and moved a few feet away. Jess turned back to Emma. “Are you here alone?”

“I came with Jonesy, but I haven’t seen her in a while. I think she might have left with someone.” She spoke the last part in a stage whisper that had Jess rolling his eyes.

A table close to them emptied and he gestured toward it. “Sit. I have to get my drink.”

Drawing in a breath, he headed to the other end of the bar, retrieved his whiskey, which he might as well enjoy, because it might be his last drink of the evening, and headed back to where Emma sat with her elbows on the table.

“What’s going on, Em?”

“My drink spilled when that guy bumped me.” She gave him an encouraging look. “I could use another.”

“I’m not buying you a drink.” He refrained from saying she’d had too many, because nothing brought out the fight in Em like being told she couldn’t do something. Or that she had to do something. Something about being one of the youngest members of a large blended family. Her stepmom had her hands full raising a lot of kids, but that didn’t keep her from trying to control every move they made.

She tightened one corner of her mouth, which was wide and full and frosted with shimmery stuff. He used to tease her about her mouth being too big for her face, but he’d been wrong. She’d finally grown into that smart mouth of hers. It looked...good. And the corners were once again drooping.

“Selma is driving me crazy,” she suddenly blurted, as if needing to explain why she was in the Shamrock alone, having a few. “I need to get married to get her off my back.”

Jess downed the rest of his whiskey and considered ordering another. Across the room he saw Talia flirting with another guy, then turned his attention back to Em. “Are you thinking about getting back with Darion?”

“No.” The word came out flatly. Adamantly. Her broken engagement would stay broken. “But that’s not slowing Selma down. If she doesn’t quit hounding me, I’m going to—” she moved her hands back and forth in a gesture of frustration “—do something.”

“Wait a minute. She wants you to patch things up with Darion?” Which wasn’t the same as Darion wanting to patch things up.

Em leaned closer and he was suddenly aware of the crisp floral scent that was so her. He remembered how she smelled because she spent so much time hanging around him and Len, driving them crazy when they were younger, wanting to be part of whatever they did because Len was her “real” brother. Her full brother. And now he was gone.

“She wants me to wear the freaking dress that she paid too much for.” She lowered her voice for another stage whisper. “As if I asked for it. For the record, I did not. I wanted the five-hundred-dollar dress, but she liked the other one.” Emma leaned closer still and her long reddish-brown hair brushed over his arm like a whisper of silk. “She wants to impress the neighbors. Outdo Marilee’s wedding. Since I’m the only girl in the family, I’m the only shot she has.”

“Come on, Em. She isn’t going to encourage you to get married just so she can pour money down a wedding rathole.”

“Oh, yeah?” She sank into her chair. “Well, she can’t get her deposits back. The money is already poured.”

Jess gave his head a shake. “Not much anyone can do about that.”

Emma’s expression brightened. “Maybe you can take Darion’s place? Just for a while? Fake wedding? Keep Selma happy?”

“I’d rather take a bullet in the leg.”

Emma’s mouth drooped again. “I had a feeling you’d say something like that.”

“Nothing personal, Em.”

“Yeah.” She leaned back in her chair and started surveying the room, as if trying to pick out another husband prospect.

“Do you want a ride home?”

A look of horror crossed her face. “No.” She cleared her throat, trying to sound nonchalant as she said, “I’m no longer staying at home.”

“Then where?”

“Starlight.”

“The motel?”

“Howard lets me park my truck in his garage.”

Howard had been one of Em’s friends in high school, but probably wasn’t on her mother’s radar because he was kind of shy and retiring. “Mom knows I’m okay because she stops to see me at work, but I won’t tell her where I’m staying. I’m one step away from blocking her number, too.” She gave a small snort as she stared down at the table. “I’m surprised she hasn’t tailed me.”

Jess knew from growing up with Len just how intense Selma could get when she was on a mission.

“How do you know she hasn’t?”