Karen Rock - Falling For A Cowboy

“Another great ten rounds. You gave the fans everything they wanted.”

Behind Hank, a tall, dark and handsome cowboy ambled out of the shadows. He moved with an effortless athletic grace she’d recognize anywhere, even in this dim light with her eyesight fading fast: Jared Cade, Heisman Trophy winner, Denver Broncos halfback and a member of Carbondale’s biggest ranching family. He planted his brown boots wide, hooked his thumbs through his jean’s belt loops and shot her an easy grin that gave her a ridiculous beat of warmth—he was her best friend, not a beau or anything...

“I hope so,” she replied, feeling her lips twitch up when Jared crossed his eyes at her earnest tone. She couldn’t quite focus in on the details of his face given her fatigue, but she knew those features by heart, sight unseen. “I just try to come out here and do my best every night. And, you know, I just got lucky.”

Jared rolled his eyes at that. They were both extremely competitive. They’d been friends since they’d met on the rodeo circuit in middle school, trading achievements like some kids traded baseball cards, always keeping score. They shared a hard-work ethic and drive to be the best. Number one. He knew, like she did, that you only spoke about luck, you didn’t actually believe in it.

She cleared her throat, shot Jared a stern, “knock-it-off” look and continued. “I had a good week and Harley worked great and he was real consistent for me. Real solid.”

“You’ve been riding him for...” Hank stopped a moment and whipped out a pad of paper from his back pocket.

Jared held up some fingers.

“Six years,” she supplied. A raindrop smacked the tip of her nose.

Jared waved his hand.

“Almost seven,” she amended hastily, reminded of when she and Jared had spied the rangy black-and-silver colt going cheap at auction and decided on the spot to train him together. They’d always made a good team, never letting the other quit or coast, never satisfied until they’d pushed each other to achieve top spots in whatever they pursued.

“It was so good to come back here and have another finals with Harley. It’s just unbelievable.”

Jared brought his fingers up to his temple and fake shot himself in the head, a grin the size of a dinner plate on his face. She could feel the matching one on herself. Good thing this last reporter didn’t have video since she must look like a total loon.

“Hey, you nailed it.” Hank stared at her a moment, momentarily flummoxed, then continued, “Final round. Did you feel any real pressure? All you had to do was keep him up.”

She laughed, despite the rain that’d now kicked in, steady wet mist.

“I don’t know about that. You know, I—uh—never even thought about it.”

Jared cleared his throat quietly, a scoffing sound, skeptical. True friends like Jared called you out and didn’t let you get away with anything...even trying to schmooze a reporter when you just wanted to kick off your boots and eat a pepperoni Hot Pocket.

“It was just kind of the same thing that goes through my head every night. Go fast, be tight, get around the barrels and try to win some money. That was my goal.” That earned her two thumbs-up from Jared. Little did he know her other worries—and he wouldn’t ever know them since it’d all turn out to be nothing.

She let go of a breath she didn’t know she held.

“I don’t really have any sort of thought process before I go in other than that.” The rain picked up now. Heavy drops pelted them. “I just knew that I needed to focus all day and think about what I needed to do in there. And that’s what I did. I focused.”

Jared made a circling motion with his index finger. Wrap it up. She gave him a slight head shake. She’d worked hard for this all year and she’d bask in the moment, even if she felt faint, the world growing dimmer. Was it getting even darker out? When she swayed slightly on her feet, she caught Jared’s quick, concerned frown and snapped her spine straight.

She couldn’t stand being fussed over.

“I didn’t hardly talk to anyone today. My mom and my friend were about the only two people I actually spoke to...”

It touched her that Jared had flown out to spend the week with her and help her prepare. They always gave each other pep talks before big games or competitions, sometimes tough, sometimes inspirational, sometimes just to make each other laugh and calm down.

Today, Jared had been full-on comedian, making her giggle whenever her anxieties about the race—and her eyesight—started winding her up. Several times she’d caught herself on the brink of confessing her concerns. Would he think less of her if he learned of her weakness? He didn’t know the girl who’d once been called four eyes and been teased so hard she’d spent her lunches hiding in her grade school bathroom.

And he would never know her.

That girl disappeared long ago. Amberley had spent her lonely childhood with her horses until she’d worked her way up into competitive barrel racing and become the winner whom Jared respected. Liked. And winners didn’t complain.

They got the job done.

“It just was one of those days when I needed to take it to myself and focus on what I needed to do.” Her look clicked against Jared’s for a minute. “And it scared me on the first barrel today. I knew that it was going to be tight, and I was thrilled we got around it.”

The rain fell heavier, in weighty splats, not that Hank seemed to notice. She shivered in her soggy shirt as he forged ahead with his next question. Would this interview end before she caught pneumonia? If not, her next interview could be from an ICU bed.

“And another world championship for Colorado today. What do they say about you up there in the Rocky Mountains?”

Jared mouthed something obnoxious—it had to be, given the wicked twinkle in his eyes—and she fought back a giggle. He was the worst.

“I don’t know what they’re going to say.” She earned an eye roll for that. “I hope I made them proud. I know I’m proud to be a Rocky Mountain rider. And I have to thank all of my fans today. They’ve been awesome. I love that they came down and cheered me on. It meant a lot.”

That, spoken directly to Jared, wiped the grin off his face and did something funny to his large, wide-spaced eyes, darkened them somehow. For a moment, she glimpsed the heartthrob her girlfriends gushed about, and it unsettled her. Sure, she recognized his attributes. Every female with a pulse appreciated his lean, square-jawed, gorgeous face, his towering height, slim hips, muscular torso and endless legs that turned a pair of worn jeans into a work of art. He had the kind of red-blooded American male good looks that made a gal want to salute and thank God for everyday miracles.

She wasn’t blind, despite her recent vision hiccup.

But she wasn’t stupid either. Fruit flies lived longer than Jared’s romantic relationships, if you could call them that. Conquests was more accurate a term. Their friendship worked because she inoculated herself against his lady-killer charms. The only woman to see the frog and not the prince. In fact, she preferred the goofy frog to the prince. Their friendship meant too much and she’d never want him in any other role, especially after losing the only other important man in her life, her dad, to cancer two years ago.

Nope. No way would she ever jeopardize their friendship.

She tore her eyes from Jared and peered at Hank through the steady curtain of water dripping off her hat brim.

“A 13.95 average through ten rounds.” Hank whistled. “Pretty neat day. Brings you that average title. How important was that to you?”

“You know, it was real important to me. Every contestant that comes here dreams of winning and that, of course, is one of my goals, and so to achieve it is huge. Though it’s surprising, I’ve worked really hard for this and I just have to thank everyone who’s helped me get here.”