Sarah M. Anderson - Rodeo Dreams

The passenger removed his cowboy hat. The dark hair, the carved jaw—was that the Brazilian?

June watched in shock as the Brazilian leaned over and apparently kissed the heck out of someone. That someone was kissing him right back. She could only see the back of the Brazilian, but hands were everywhere as the two threw caution to the wind.

What little she knew of the guy said he wasn’t the kind who made out in the front seat of a Bronco in a parking lot. She knew she shouldn’t look, but she couldn’t stop. The kiss went on and on. And on.

She looked away to blot out the hot and heavy next door, and found herself thinking about the glimpses she’d had of Travis Younkin unbuckling his pants behind a see-through gate.

Not that she’d seen much—all the guys wore compression shorts underneath their jeans for support—but still, he’d been a whole lot closer to naked than he had been when the jeans were up. She’d seen the tail end of a wide, raised scar just below the bottom of his shorts. It’d made her hurt for him.

Despite the scar, he’d still had the kind of Wrangler butt cowgirls sang songs about. His legs were muscled, the tight bike shorts highlighting each curve—and bulge. Not that she was the kind of girl who stared at bulges. Not for very long, anyway. Just enough to know that he bulged in all the right places. Combined with the intense way he looked at her and that near-beard he wore? If she wasn’t so mad at his overbearing, Travis-knows-best attitude, she’d be forced to admit that the man was hot. Well, he’d always been hot. But now he carried a certain amount of smolder about him. She wondered if he even realized how attractive he was. Probably not. He hadn’t acted like a man who knew he could turn a woman on with one focused gaze.

Luckily, the chances of someone forcing her to admit that Travis Younkin still had it were slim and none. She couldn’t let her appreciation of the hotter things in life distract her. And she wouldn’t. She needed to ride to earn enough money to get off—and stay off—welfare, but more than that she wanted to prove she was good enough to ride with the big boys.

That she was good at something.

Finally, the action in the Bronco broke up. When the Brazilian turned to put his hat back on, she hoped to hell she was invisible. That didn’t stop her from watching the Brazilian in her rearview mirror as he walked into Apollo, next to—

Next to a tall, gangly cowboy?

Mitch?

Mitch Jenner?

June spun around in her seat, wondering if her eyes had crossed too far, but the image didn’t change. Two cowboys were walking into Apollo. They weren’t touching—they didn’t even look like they were talking, which was much more par for the course.

The Brazilian? And Mitch?

“Jeff, you stay put,” she said as she shoved her laptop back into her bag and crammed it under the front seat. Within seconds, she was out of the car, trying to look casual as she checked out the Bronco. The Brazilian had left the window down, and it was obvious there was no one else in there.

The Brazilian. And Mitch. Making out in the Apollo parking lot. And then acting like they hadn’t.

What the heck was she supposed to do now? If this were common knowledge, it would be common enough that she’d know it. After all, she knew that the Preacher was married, and that wasn’t nearly as scandalous as gay bull riders.

Her mind still reeling, June found herself walking into the coffee shop. She would have that third cup of tea. Heavy on the milk.

“Hey, Girlie!”

“Mitch! The Brazilian! Funny meeting you here.”

The Brazilian was watching her closely. Had he seen her sitting in her car?

“He likes to get here early, scope out the arena, get the lay of the land,” Mitch said, nodding to the Brazilian and answering the wrong unasked question as he ordered two black coffees. “Do the tourist thing. Buy postcards for the folks back home.”

“So, you two are travel buddies?”

“Sure,” Mitch said, still as casual as could be. “I’m trying to teach him English, but he don’t learn so good. I think he’s got a lousy teacher, though. What about you? You’re here early.”

That was a nice redirection. “Finishing my senior year online. I’ve been working on a paper.”

“And Apollo has Wi-Fi? Smart.” He reached over and playfully tapped her forehead, but then his finger trailed down the side of her face. Was he flirting? “You’re one smart cookie, Girlie.”

Girlie? Cookie? Maybe Mitch had a thing for Bogart movies.

The Brazilian tapped Mitch with the tip of his boot. She barely caught the movement. “Oh, yeah. He wants to know where you learned to ride,” Mitch said, dumping four sugars into his coffee. The Brazilian left his black.

Mitch got all of that from the nudge of a boot?

“On this ranch on the edge of the reservation where I grew up. Just some crazy kids with a whole lot of cattle to keep tabs on.”

“Ah, an organic cowgirl. I bet you run some mean barrels, too.”

June blushed. “Well, actually...”

Mitch looked her up and down, his eyes moving so slowly that June felt heat flush her cheeks. “So, if you’re an all-around cowgirl, what are you doing here riding bulls? I understood that there was a lot of money in barrel racing.”

That question. Again. It was always some version of, What’s a nice girl like you doing on a bull like this? She narrowed her eyes. “This is who I am and I don’t have to apologize to anyone for that, you know?”

Neither man moved. She saw the look that passed between the two of them. Then the Brazilian’s gaze darted out to the parking lot.

“So,” Mitch said, as he moved to a table by the window, “where are you parked?”

It was true. Mitch and the Brazilian were a couple. “The Crown Victoria out there. My mutt Jeff’s in the back. He’s my traveling partner.”

“Your mutt Jeff? Mutt and Jeff? Cute, Girlie.” He still sounded normal, but his eyes had an edge that said secret, loud and clear.

She needed to get this train back on track—and fast. Mitch and the Brazilian were the closest thing she had to allies right now. She couldn’t undermine that support. “Hey, just so you know, I really appreciated your help last week. I don’t think Travis would have let me on that bull if you two hadn’t backed me up.” She knew she still would have gotten on Hallowed, but thanks to Mitch and the Brazilian she hadn’t had to force the issue. “You said you’d seen me ride?”

Mitch appraised her for a second, his mouth still smiling and his eyes still not. After a quick glance over at the Brazilian, he followed her lead. “Last summer, I broke my arm in a few new and interesting places. I went home to Wyoming to heal up and spend some time with my momma.”

She’d been in Wyoming in August. “At Cheyenne?” Just some local rodeo, but five other women had shown up, ready to ride. The closest she’d come to a real competition yet.

“Couldn’t stay away, cast or not.” He snickered. “Downright painful to watch all those amateurs out there being bucked off fifth-class bulls in three seconds. I could have won that one, hands down.” He sighed wistfully. “I remember you. You and those other girls—on the same bulls. You made the eight seconds in both the long go and the short go—one other girl made six, right?” June nodded in appreciation. She was flattered he remembered. “You don’t forget a name like Spotted Elk,” he added.

“Can you believe I only got three hundred and fifty dollars and the hotel room for that? The winning guy went home with fifteen hundred dollars, and I had a better score!” Frustration bubbled up again. She was just as good as the men, but was always paid a fraction of the purse.