Sarah M. Anderson - One Rodeo Season

At least he hadn’t made it sound as if she should be sleeping with him. Even if she might have been dreaming about doing just that. Even though it hadn’t been real, none of it, an image of his mouth closing around her nipple flashed back through her mind. She shuddered. “I have a hotel room.”

He nodded. “Have you eaten today?”

“Yes.” She wasn’t quite sure when. “I know I had breakfast. Doughnuts.”

That got her another irritated big-brother look. “I’ll buy you dinner.”

“No,” she said quickly. “You don’t have to.” Dinner after the rodeo was something she’d always done with her dad. They’d make sure the bulls were secure for the night, and then hit a local diner or something. Lacy had always spent so much time with her mom, going to and from school, that those times with her dad had been special.

As nice as it was of Ian to offer, she didn’t want to replace Dad in that ritual.

Not that Ian knew that. “I know I don’t. But I want to.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. “Another time?” she said, because that seemed like something her dad would say.

Ian gave her a long look then, one she couldn’t hide from. Most people looked past her. She wasn’t a pretty woman—never had been, never would be. And she didn’t fit into anyone’s neat little box about how a woman should think or act. As a result, most people ignored her, which suited her fine.

But Ian? He did not ignore her. He didn’t look through her.

He saw her. God, it was unnerving.

Finally, he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“That’d be good.” She realized she meant it. She wanted to see him tomorrow. To see what he’d do in the arena, to see if he’d tip his hat in respect to her.

It had nothing to do with the dream.

“I’ll help you load the bulls up after the rodeo. That’s our deal,” he added before she could protest. “I keep my word.”

“You know that’s not normal?” The words were out before she could think better of them. She must not be as awake as she’d thought she was. “Most people don’t.”

Up until that moment, he’d kept a reasonable distance between him and the truck. He was fond of leaning against the driver’s-side mirror, she noted.

But when she said that, he leaned forward, his hands on her door, his face where the window would have been if it’d been rolled up.

For the first time, he entered her space. Not because he wanted to shake her hand and seal the deal, and not because she was in between him and a man who had it coming.

This wasn’t incidental. This was intentional. They were close enough to touch.

Close enough to kiss.

Her body tightened with awareness, taking the vague frustration leftover from the dream and making it painful. She heard herself gasp, but she felt as if she was holding her breath. His eyes were a deep, dark brown—maybe black. She couldn’t tell in this light. But they were intense—and focused on her.

Kiss me. Don’t. The two thoughts hit at exactly the same moment, swamping her in confusion. She couldn’t lean in and she couldn’t lean away. She couldn’t do anything but stare into those eyes and wonder what he saw when he looked at her.

When he spoke, his words were a quiet whisper that she somehow felt deep down in the very center of her body. “I’m not most people, Lacy.”

Then he was gone, leaning back and tapping his hand against the hood of the truck. “Get some dinner and some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He started to walk away, and Lacy blurted out, “Ian?”

He paused and turned back. “Yeah?”

“It was a good rodeo tonight.” No, no—that’s not what she’d wanted to say. Of course, she didn’t know what she wanted to say. Something that wasn’t bitchy or dazed, something that said that they were friends.

“I mean, you were good tonight. In the rodeo.” Ugh, that was not any better. “I mean...”

He saved her from death by embarrassment. “Thanks.” Then he was gone, walking off into the night.

Lacy fired up the truck. Dinner. She’d go get some dinner.

For the first time in a long time, she was hungry.

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