Here For You, page 6
Wil immediately rode over to Lacey. “What’s wrong? Is she injured?”
Lacey didn’t look up. “She slipped going around the third barrel.” She wasn’t surprised that Wil immediately knew something was off when Lacey led Denver into the ring rather than riding her in to cool down. “I hate drawing the last position before they drag the arena. They’re, of course, dragging it now before Brittney’s run.”
“Not like we get a choice. Once they post the order of the competitors, it takes an act of Congress for them to change it,” Wil said, riding behind them and eyeing Denver’s legs. “At least it applies to everyone. Not even a princess like Brittney with all her daddy’s money can get them to revise it.”
“I know. But, damn, they should plan to drag the arena to even out the dirt before any of the top ten riders perform. Not just after every eighth or tenth competitor.” Lacey understood the reasoning behind peppering some of the best riders throughout the schedule but saving those at the very top until last. It ensured the crowd would mostly stay in their seats rather than come late or leave early. And if they didn’t have an audience, sponsors wouldn’t be shelling out dollars to advertise at the arena and on the clothing of the best athletes. But damn it all. “Those of us who’ve climbed to the top have too much invested to lose it all because of a slip that can put a horse out of competition.”
“You’re right, but if they dragged the arena for the top players rather than just at regular intervals, that would hardly be fair to the riders at the bottom, trying to work their way up.” Wil cocked her head, listening as the announcer introduced Brittney. “Denver looks sound from the back, but I’d keep walking her for another twenty minutes, then do some leg stretches.”
“You’d better get in there, or you’ll miss your run.”
“Yeah. I’m going. Dad and I have team roping tonight, but I’ll check with you before then to see how she’s doing.” Wil urged Pepper into a fast trot and disappeared into the arena entrance.
* * *
Lacey walked Denver around the grassy field behind the arena complex. It seemed every area except the arena floor was paved, and she was sure she’d find concrete there, too, under the tons of dirt hauled in for the event. This arena was also used for events ranging from concerts to basketball to knife and gun shows. The warm-up ring, of course, consisted of dirt, but it was filled with cowboys readying their horses for the roping and steer-wrestling events. So, even though the field was littered with trash, and a few of the city’s homeless had camped at the other end, it was the best footing for a horse trying to stay loose and not go lame by morning.
She could hear the crowd cheering and the low tones of the announcer’s voice over the speakers, but it was just faint white noise while she let her thoughts drift as she watched the ground for any sharp objects that could harm hooves.
Wil was a mesmerizing conundrum. While Lacey had been drawn to the dark-haired beauty since the first time she’d noticed her several years ago, she’d presumed Wil was one of those women privileged by wealth from birth. She’d also concluded Wil was part of the rich-girl social group because Brittney’s body language around Wil clearly indicated they were more than friends. She couldn’t blame Brittney. Wil was smoking hot. But associating with Brittney was a poor reflection on Wil’s character…at least in Lacey’s eyes.
As it turned out, she’d been wrong. So wrong. Wil had no respect for Brittney’s clique, and little for Brittney. Whether Brittney had lured Wil into her bed was none of Lacey’s concern, but Wil was adamant that the only relationship currently between them was horse business.
Lacey had been initially conflicted over Wil’s friendly overtures. But, damn, she was hard to resist and not at all the person Lacey had imagined. She was smart, considerate, fun, and indifferent to what other people thought. Wil’s dark looks, tall athletic frame, and startling blue eyes screamed sexy.
She put her hand to her own face to confirm a sudden realization. Yes. Wil also made her smile, as evidenced by the unbidden grin currently stretching her cheeks. As she and Denver completed their circuit of the field and neared the arena complex, the announcer’s voice boomed, clear and distinct.
“That concludes the first round of steer wrestling, folks. Todd Gentry is in first place, with Bret Saunders in a close second, and Donnie Rodriguez trailing in third place. But that could all change during the next two rounds this weekend, so make sure you come back to see how it shakes out. Until then, keep your seats, because team roping is next, and then the crowd favorite…bull riding.”
Team roping. Isn’t that what Wil said she and her dad are entered in tonight? Lacey turned toward the stable area. Denver showed no signs of lameness from her slip, so she should be fine while Lacey watched the rodeo competition for a few hours. Denver nickered when they passed the Riverses’ stall next to hers. A bay gelding answered, then thrust his nose against the steel bars that separated the top half of the wall between them. Lacey chuckled to herself. It appeared Denver had made a new friend and wouldn’t miss her at all. She smiled. So, she was free to go see how good her new friend was at roping calves.
* * *
Wil wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve and readied her lariat, the stiff rope easily forming a large loop in her right hand, while the rest of the rope was coiled in her left. Then she glanced at her dad on the other side of the steer chute as she backed Sip of Whiskey up for a running start when the calf was released. Since he was a master roper, he would be the heeler—the one who would lasso the calf’s back legs after Wil’s rope settled over the fake horns strapped to its head.
Cowboys had developed team roping to restrain a calf. Although it was still useful for catching and holding a wounded calf in the pasture, most modern ranches now herded the animals into safe, narrow chutes to brand and vaccinate them. Rodeos added the fake horns strapped to the calves’ heads to eliminate possible injury to the animal when roped around the neck.
Ray backed Rebel into place, nodded his readiness, and added a wink that helped Wil relax. She wasn’t normally nervous, but they hadn’t ridden together in competition since six months before the pandemic lockdown, and she might be rusty. She took a deep breath and nodded to the stockman. He opened the chute, and the young steer bolted for the other end of the arena.
Whiskey needed nothing more than a slight squeeze with Wil’s legs to set him after the calf. He knew his job so well, the reins gathered in her hand that held the extra loops of rope were extraneous. The gelding paced the calf while Wil swung the large loop of her lariat overhead. Her aim was true, and she yanked the rope tight when it settled over the calf’s hat of fake horns. Whiskey slid to a stop and backed up a few steps, a move that swung the calf around to face them and place his hindquarters in perfect position for Ray to lasso both hind feet as the calf kicked out. He pulled the rope tight to show both feet were ensnared, but released it with a flick of his hand so the calf never fell down or was actually stretched tight between the two horses.
Wil flicked her lariat loose, and the calf ran for the open gate where other ones stood waiting after their run. She grinned at her father. That had to be among the top three times, and their horses had performed perfectly. They weren’t interested in accruing points, but she was changing her mind about trying to win the competition. The Double R sure could use the prize money.
“That show of precision roping puts the father-daughter team from the Double R in second place and advances them to tomorrow’s round.”
An ear-splitting whistle drew Wil’s attention to the upper seats, where Lacey was on her feet and cheering wildly. She gave a fist pump when Wil smiled and waved.
“That’s a pretty cute cheerleader you’ve got there,” Ray said, tipping his hat back for a better look. “You know her?”
“That’s Lacey Bishop, one of the barrel racers.”
He nudged Rebel to walk alongside Whiskey. “Ah, the one you tried to woo with wood chips. I thought I taught you better. You give a girl flowers or candy, not wood chips.”
Wil affectionately pushed his shoulder. “You don’t know Lacey. She’s not the flowers type. She appreciates practical things for her horse’s stall more.”
“Women still like to feel pretty and cherished. Trust me.” Ray squeezed Wil’s shoulder. “You can give her wood chips for her horse, but also give her something nice for herself.”
“What do you know about wooing, old man?”
“I won your mother over, didn’t I?”
“She took pity on you.”
He laughed. “That’s probably true, but I still got the girl.”
Wil loved their teasing, and she was considering his advice. Although she doubted Lacey would appreciate flowers, maybe she’d like something else. But what? Ray was a great father, but she wished for the millionth time that her mother was still alive to help her navigate certain important aspects of her life. She’d have to think on this for a while, because Lacey wasn’t just any girl.
* * *
Wil lingered in Pepper’s stall, grooming her an unnecessary second time that day. With the first round of team roping over, they remained in second place. But there were two more rounds, and unlike the barrel racing, the team-roping prizes and points were awarded for the top three cumulative scores after the final round.
She smiled when she heard the door on Denver’s stall roll back, then turned to see Lacey also smiling at her.
“That was some awesome roping for a fancy cowpoke,” Lacey said.
Wil tried her best to look indignant. “Who are you calling fancy?”
Lacey pushed her hat back on her head. “The woman who wears a white shirt all the time and dares the rodeo dust to touch it.”
Wil laughed. “You think I can intimidate rodeo dust?”
“That and three-quarters of the men around here.” Lacey’s eyes shone with challenge as she propped against Denver’s side while the mare contentedly munched on a mouthful of hay.
Wil didn’t stop to think about what she was doing. She just went with her heart…or maybe it was her libido. But, damn, she was so easily sucked in by this woman’s flirting. She stepped into Denver’s stall and rested her hand on Denver’s rump, the angle almost trapping Lacey against her horse. “And what about the women? Do I intimidate them?”
Lacey hesitated, then lifted her chin. “Not this woman.”
Wil stared into her eyes, the brown of her irises so deep, inviting yet wary. Wil had her own doubts, but Lacey’s lips were a vortex, spinning her emotions and sucking her down to touch, to taste them with her own. Yet when she bent to drown herself in the softness of those lips, her father called her from outside the stalls.
“Wil, where are you?”
Lacey jerked back, making Denver snort.
Wil closed her eyes and sighed. Her father always did have bad timing, and she was beginning to believe it was on purpose. They normally would joke and laugh about his intrusion later, but it wasn’t funny this time. She’d never felt so drawn to someone. She didn’t understand why, but no woman had ever felt this important to her. “I’m here.” She stepped out of the stall and glared at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Just wondering where you were.” He smiled brightly.
Wil could tell he’d had a few beers. He wasn’t a big drinker, so it didn’t take but two or three to light him up, and she didn’t begrudge him an occasional buzz.
“I think I’m gonna turn in.” He yawned. “You coming? It’s getting late, and you’ve got breakaway roping first thing tomorrow.”
“I’ll be along in a few minutes, after I take a quick shower in the locker room to knock the dust off before I crawl into my bunk.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You hate public bathrooms.”
“I don’t want to use all the water in the trailer’s tank.” She looked away, knowing he’d see the small lie in her eyes. “We’re basically camping in a dirt parking lot since we got here too late for the few spaces that have electricity and water hookups.”
Lacey stepped out of Denver’s stall. “Uh, I got here early and do have water and electricity. You could use my shower.” Her face flushed pink. “Sorry to eavesdrop, but it’s hard not to hear a conversation just outside the stall.” She shifted her feet and shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans while silence hung in the air for a few seconds. “Hi, Mr. Rivers. I’m Lacey Bishop.”
Denver nickered and pressed her nose against the metal bars of her stall.
Lacey chuckled. “And this is my horse, Denver.”
Her dad glanced at Wil, and she saw he’d finally caught a clue. “I’m so sorry my daughter has forgotten her manners and failed to introduce us.” He held out his large, callused hand. “I’m Ray Rivers…Ray to you, Ms. Bishop. And I know who you are. Yes, siree. You guys are the blonde and the buckskin shoving your way into the barrel racers’ top ten.”
She shook his hand, a broad smile lighting her face. “That’s us. Hoping to push our way high enough for an invite to Vegas.”
“I have no doubt you’ll get there. That’s a fine horse. I wouldn’t mind chatting about her bloodlines when I’m not half asleep.”
Wil slapped him on the shoulder. “Off to bed, old man. I’ll be along soon.”
Ray harrumphed. “Not so long ago, I was sending you off to bed, brat.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Wil gave her father an affectionate one-armed hug and whispered in his ear before kissing him on his cheek. “Don’t forget your breathing treatment.”
He nodded to confirm he’d heard her but turned back to Lacey. “Ms. Bishop, would you join us for breakfast tomorrow at our camper? We eat early—six thirty—but I guarantee nothing in the hospitality buffet can touch my made-to-order omelets and melt-in-your-mouth biscuits.”
Wil smiled. “I can confirm that fact, if you’re interested.”
“Thank you, Ray,” Lacey said. “I never turn down a free meal, especially one that has me drooling already. But you have to stop being so formal and call me Lacey.”
“Can do. I’ll see you in the morning, Lacey.” He grinned, flashing teeth as white as his daughter’s. These people must have a great dentist.
“Good night, Dad,” Wil said.
“I’m going.” He strode out of the stable building, waving over his shoulder.
“He’s sweet,” Lacey said as they watched him leave.
Wil chewed the inside of her cheek, staring after her dad. “It’s been just me and him since my mom died when I was in high school. I’ve been worried because he got really sick with the coronavirus. He was in ICU on a ventilator for a week. He obviously pulled through, but the aftereffects are very real—depression, fatigue, brain fog. I’m scared to death he’ll come down with one of the variants and not make it through a second time.”
Lacey rubbed soothing circles between Wil’s shoulders. “Shouldn’t he be wearing a mask with all these people around?”
“I did insist he get vaccinated because they don’t know how long antibodies last in your system after you’ve had the virus, but he’s damned hard-headed about wearing a mask. He says Mom is looking after him from Heaven.”
Lacey seemed to suddenly realize she was stroking Wil’s back and quickly pulled her hand away. Wil decided it was best to ignore the withdrawal. She picked up the backpack that held her clean clothes and shower essentials. “I’ll take you up on that offer for a shower. I really do hate locker rooms.”
“It’s small and might be a tight fit, but you’re welcome to it.”
“Thanks. I’m used to being too tall for showers, but at least I know yours hasn’t had hundreds of people using it and doing God knows what in it.” Wil exaggerated a shudder.
Lacey laughed. “Come on, then.”
They walked companionably through the temporary village of horse trailers. Lights shone through the windows of some that included living quarters. People in dusty jeans and T-shirts lounged by an occasional trailer—most smoking or sharing a drink and quiet conversation. The younger, rowdy crowd were likely sowing oats at several of the Western bars in town. Lacey’s three-horse, slant-load trailer was ten years old but gleamed inside and out as though barely used. The little bathroom and shower were smaller than the Double R trailer’s but larger than Wil had imagined, given the efficiently compact living quarters.
“This is great,” she said to Lacey. “Somebody has taken very good care of this rig. It looks almost new.”
Lacey smiled, apparently pleased that Wil approved. “It belonged to my great-aunt, but she used it only a couple of times before my uncle died and she quit showing horses. It had been sitting in their barn for eight years when heart disease claimed her. The farm was double mortgaged and sold to pay her bills, but she signed the trailer over to me before she died.”
“That was lucky.” Wil set her backpack on the closed toilet. “I won’t be long.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Lacey said, chuckling. “The water heater holds only six gallons.”
Wil wasn’t concerned. Unable to stop thinking about the almost-kiss, she definitely needed the shower to be cold.
* * *
Lacey stepped outside to pace under the trailer’s canopy. Wil Rivers was in her shower right now—tall, beautiful, and naked. Lacey had seen and slept with plenty of naked women, but never in her trailer because this was her home. But, oh my God. Wil was the most stunning, interesting, intelligent, caring woman she’d ever met.
