Susan Sleeman - Rodeo Standoff

She wished he’d walk away, but she supposed it was her fault that he remained so close. She’d all but taunted him into learning about her job, and now she would have to pay the price of his nearness.

* * *

Braden shook his head in disbelief. His first day in Lost Creek wasn’t even over, and he was approaching the second crime scene of the day. Craziness. He was on vacation with a little PR volunteering thrown in. Just a few days to attend the rodeo to help friends and enjoy time away from the rigors of being a homicide detective. But this? Tessa. The stolen bull. Not at all what he had expected.

She parked close to the yellow crime scene tape cordoning off the rustic rest area. A tall male deputy stood just inside the perimeter talking to another man who was clenching and releasing his hands. Braden figured he was King Slammer’s truck driver.

“My dad isn’t here yet. Something must have come up.” Tessa shifted to peer at Braden, fatigue dawning as if she was coming down from the adrenaline. “I suppose since you took my phone and proved how pushy you can be, it’s too much to hope you’ll wait in the truck for my dad to arrive.”

“Sorry about grabbing the phone,” he said sincerely. “I just didn’t think it was a good idea if you took off on your own, and I knew I didn’t stand a chance of convincing you on my own. Plus, I can help you here. I’m a detective, after all.”

She pointed at the men. “So is my brother Matt.”

“But is he a bull expert? Because if he is, I’ve never seen him at a competition. I can tell you if any evidence you collect regarding the bull is off. Can he?”

“Fine,” she said reluctantly. “You can come with me. Just don’t get in the way.” She hopped down and grabbed her equipment from the jump seat. She stacked several cases under her arm and looked like the weight or bulk, or both, might take her down.

He tried to take the largest case from her.

“Look.” She stepped back. “I don’t want to come across as ungrateful for your rescue—and for your ongoing offer of help. I am and will always be most grateful to you. I owe you my life.” Her tight rein on her emotions seemed to be failing, and she bit down on her lip as if she didn’t want to lose control.

“It’s okay to let go, you know,” he said. “Anyone who’s been through what you’ve experienced today would be shaken up.”

She took in a long breath and shifted her cases. “I’m good.”

She was simply acting as any law enforcement officer would in this situation, and he didn’t take it personally. “I always knew you were gutsy.”

“Always?” She eyed him, her gaze digging deep. “We just met.”

“I watched you compete plenty of times.” And watched you off your horse, too.

Her eyebrow went up, but before she could comment, her brother slipped under the fluttering yellow tape and jogged toward them, taking her attention. Tall, powerfully built, the guy didn’t look at Braden at all, and his concern tightened features closely resembling Tessa’s. She frowned as he kept coming.

Matt took the equipment cases from her, and she didn’t argue. He set them on the ground and pulled her into a tight hug. “Dad told me what happened. You could have been killed.”

“Don’t overreact. I’m fine.” She struggled to get free, but Matt held on.

Interesting. Braden didn’t expect her to put up the same stubborn front with her brother, but after the way she’d reacted to her father’s call, maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised. She acted like she had something to prove, even with her own family.

Matt let her go. “You’re not as tough as you always try to pretend.”

She sighed and glanced at Braden. “It’s not the easiest being the baby in a family of law enforcement officers.”

“So that explains your prickly barbs,” Braden said before thinking.

“Prickly?” Matt’s gaze traveled between them. “She’s usually pretty easygoing unless you try to get overprotective with her.”

“Guess that’s where I went wrong.” Braden looked at her brother and offered his hand. “Braden Hayes.”

“I’m Matt McKade.” He smiled as they shook hands. “Come to think of it, she’s the only sibling with red hair, and we used to tease her as a kid that she was adopted. She was pretty prickly about that, too.”

“I don’t need to stand here and be picked on when I have a job to do.” She scooped up her cases and marched off, but Braden saw a hint of a smile as she moved away.

Oddly enough, it pleased him to see she had a sense of humor and that she could take a little teasing—at least from someone she trusted. But he wasn’t here to decide if he liked her or her sense of humor.

“Mind if I hang around?” he asked Matt. “I’m a homicide detective with the Austin PD and a former bull rider. I might be able to help.”

“Fine by me,” Matt replied. “Not sure what Dad will say when he gets here about how long you can stay, though.”

If their family was anything like Braden’s, he had no desire to get involved in their family dynamics. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like to work on a law enforcement team with your siblings and father. An only child, Braden could hardly stand to be in a room with his parents, never mind working with either of them. Not with the way they bickered and snapped at each other so often that they ended up ignoring him unless they needed something from him. He’d grown up with broken promises and their many failed marriages, and he still had issues trusting people, much less counting on them to have his back. The only person he’d ever really trusted was his partner on the police force, and even then he’d had reservations.

He followed Matt to the crime scene under the shade of a majestic bald cypress. Getting out of the blazing sun that had dried up most of the Texas Hill Country this past month was a welcome relief. Tessa set down her cases by the curb, then came over to join them.

“This is King Slammer’s truck driver, Wyatt Adams.” Matt introduced Tessa and Braden.

“ The Braden Hayes?” Adams’s eyes widened. “Man, you’re like a legend. No one’s managed to ride Fearless Whizz since you retired. That last time sure was something.”

Braden cringed inside at the mention of his successful last ride. Successful at least in terms of the timer. But then he’d gotten his hand hung up in the bull rope, and once freed, he had been hurled to the ground and stomped on, resulting in a lacerated liver and broken ribs. “God was watching out for me.”

Adams shook his head. “No sirree. Your skill got you through. You were one of the best. How come you quit?”

“I think Braden would appreciate it if we stuck to the theft,” Matt said as if reading Braden’s mind. “Go ahead and tell them what you told me.”

Adams’s eyes narrowed, emphasizing deep wrinkles in his leathery skin. “Not much to tell. Pulled in here to use the facilities and take a quick catnap. When I came out, the truck and trailer were gone.”

“Did you leave the truck running?” Braden asked.

“Yeah, but I locked it. Carry an extra key just so I can.” Adams lifted his chin. “Diesels are hard on starters and batteries. Leaving it running means I have to crank it over one less time, extending the battery and starter.”

“Or did you just want the AC running to keep the truck cool for your nap?” Braden asked.

A sheepish look crossed Adams’s face. “That, too.”

Diesel truckers commonly let their vehicles idle, but if Adams had taken the keys, he wouldn’t have been in this situation unless someone hot-wired the vehicle, and Braden was having a hard time believing he’d risk the loss of an expensive bull for a more comfortable nap. “You’re in town awful early for a nine o’clock check-in.”