Heidi Hormel - The Bull Rider's Redemption

“So when are you going to settle down and have babies yourself?” she asked—because it seemed like what she should ask, not because she was dying to know.

“Would need to find the right woman.”

Clover refused to think about why she was relieved to hear that.

Danny went on. “What about you or your brother? Any little Van Camps?”

“Knox, well... He’s Knox. I’m focused on my career and working with VCW.”

“No boyfriend? No fiancé?”

She shook her head. “What about you?”

“Between my business and being mayor, I just don’t have the time.”

“That doesn’t sound like you. You said you could always make time for the ladies.”

“I said that in an interview when I was twenty-one and just won a buckle. You kept up with me?”

She may have followed his career...a little. Anyone’s first real boyfriend would hold a special spot in their heart. “I lived in Texas. I didn’t have much choice but to follow you and everyone else I knew from bull riding.”

“Good recovery.” He laughed, his blue eyes bright with humor. “I’d better get going. I don’t want Mama piddling in the apartment.” He unfolded himself from the chair and she stood, too.

“It was good to visit,” she said like the Texas beauty queen she’d been.

“Same here.” He didn’t move and his gaze remained on her.

Clover’s breath quickened just a little. That old flush of heat and desire worked its way through her. How could this be, more than ten years after that summer? Danny smiled slowly as he put out his hand to shake hers. She grasped it, exquisitely aware of the calluses scraping her palm, making her stomach dance with desire. She pulled her arm a little toward herself, feeling the passion that simmered between them. Danny didn’t hesitate but stepped into her, keeping their hands firmly clasped and placing his mouth over hers. Her neck arched and her lips eagerly sought his.

Chapter Four

Cotton candy and popcorn. Clover. The taste of her hadn’t changed, taking him back to that summer. The heat and passion, the fear and uncertainty. His hand moved along her familiar and new curves. Every one of them fit into his palm just right, despite the frequent numbness that made the grip in his right hand uncertain. He took one more deep taste of her, then pulled away.

“I’ve got to go,” he said, turning and walking down the hill toward his apartment, where he’d find beer in the fridge and a dog waiting for him.

“Danny Leigh,” Clover yelled at him, losing her beauty-queen coolness. “Sticking your tongue down my throat doesn’t change anything.”

He waved his arm at her without turning.

“Way to go, Mayor,” a man standing in his front garden said, giving Danny a thumbs-up.

Danny hadn’t meant to kiss Clover. Maybe it was the past sneaking up on him. That was happening a lot since she’d come to town. Even when his friend and riding buddy AJ McCreary had moved to town, Danny’s time on the back of a bull had felt far away. He’d been able to put all of that behind him. Between being mayor, rehabbing houses and doing handyman work, he’d been content. He’d been busy—too busy to worry that he didn’t have much of a social life. Who needed that when he was so industrious, just like a worker bee. The ladies would always be there, he told himself.

Even better—with his sister Jessie and her husband, Payson, having produced the first grandchild, he was under less pressure to settle down. He could take his time and help his town be its best. Pepper and AJ had started changing Angel Crossing for the better with their community garden and farmers’ market. Stylish and affordable housing like he planned would encourage new residents to give the town a try.

Danny walked up the stairs to his small apartment, hoping that he wouldn’t find a mess. He ran through people who might want a dog and puppies. He was coming up with a zero. Mama wasn’t really big enough to be much of a threat to wild animals or intruders but was too big to be a lapdog. She was an awkward size and who knew what the puppies were.

Mama waddled to him as soon as he got in the door. The apartment looked as neat as it ever did. He put a blanket over her to hide what he was carrying in case someone squealed to his landlord. He carried the wiggling animal down the stairs and through the back lot, past the restaurant’s Dumpster. Once they reached a patch of low scrub, he put her down. The grass nearly hid her and her rhinestone collar and leash. She sniffed and quickly got down to business. He’d brought along a bag and would throw away what he had to in the Dumpster. She sat down, tired out from the very short walk. She couldn’t be too long from delivery, he thought. He vaguely recollected one of their dogs having puppies as a kid, but he only remembered how cute they were, not the lead up or the process of them being born. He’d call his folks for advice. Maybe they would want a dog to go with them on their travels. Plus, they had a ton of friends. One or more of them might want a puppy.

He carried the dog back to the apartment, where he fed her and gave her clean water. Then he dialed his parents and left a message.

He took a beer from his fridge and sat in his tiny living room with his laptop open and the TV on the Bull Riding Network. He rubbed at his numb fingers, the ones the doctor told him might regain feeling or not. Sometimes he was sure they were better. Then he’d go to pick up a glass and drop it. Still, he’d retired. He’d refused to regret that it had been an “injury” that took him out, not that he’d told anyone that. When he’d said he was retiring because he wanted to go out on top, none of his friends had questioned him.

“Friends in Low Places” sang out from his phone. It was an old riding buddy who was watching the same competition on TV. They were both sitting this one out—Danny because he was retired and Frank because he’d reinjured his foot. Danny was on beer three when they said goodbye. He considered going to bed and taking Mama out for her final potty break before the long night. Maybe one more beer then bed? Good idea.

He finished his longneck and went to get himself another, liking this slightly floating feeling. He was completely relaxed, not worrying about the dog—who really needed a new name—about his town or about Clover. Dang it. Her taste and curves popped back into his mind, and he tried to focus on the TV.

By the time the contest and another beer were done, he was ready for bed. First he’d take the dog out one last time. He didn’t want any accidents. Dang, it was a pain having a dog in a second-floor apartment. Fortunately, because it was dark and late, he didn’t need to bundle her up and carry her down the stairs. He could lead her with her sparkly leash. He went down the steps, the floating feeling continuing as he stumbled over a stone or two. Definitely time for this cowboy to hit the hay. Mama did her business fast. Danny started back to the apartment.

He got to the bottom of the stairs and Mama scrabbled toward the top, pulling on the leash. Danny meant to let go but his numb fingers didn’t work as well as they should and she jerked on his arm as he stepped up, pulling him off balance. Danny face-planted on the stairs and saw stars. He cursed as the dog darted to the top and barked at him.

He lay sprawled on the stairs, glad no one was nearby. He needed to catch his breath and check for damage. Not much. More pride than anything. He pushed himself up and Mama barked.

“Jutht a minute.” What the hell? He used his tongue to explore the hole at the front of his mouth. Son of a— The fall had knocked out the fake tooth he’d gotten as a kid after a spectacular crash on his minibike. Great. Nothing he could do tonight. He walked slowly up the stairs, the pain from the fall and the throbbing in his mouth telling him tomorrow morning would not be fun. Hell. He was a bull rider. Retired bull rider. Still, he’d lived through worse.