“I hear you fainted yesterday,” his dad said as Morgan hit the fast track across the corral toward Chet.
He’d had Jolie’s fainting spell on his mind since it had happened. Something was up with her, and he figured the last place she needed to be was running up and down this arena trying to throw a yearling on its back with her bare hands. Of course she lived in a world where she took her life in her hands every time she got into that kayak of hers and plowed through raging white water and over ridiculous waterfalls that weren’t meant for humans to fall over, much less charge over on purpose.
And to think he’d been the one to introduce her to it. Little had he known she would fall for it and become one of the best. When he’d taken her kayaking as a kid, it had been slow, easy river runs, nothing life-threatening—
He stopped his thoughts in their tracks.
Jolie wasn’t his concern anymore—hadn’t been since the day she’d walked away, choosing kayaking over him.
“What’s up?” he growled, reaching Chet.
Nudging his Stetson off his forehead, Chet met Morgan’s look with frank brown eyes. “Thought the love and admiration was about to start piling up knee-deep to a giraffe over there,” he drawled sarcastically, then pointed at one of the steers. “This ’un here’s got a bad leg. Thought you’d want to pull it from the event.”
That was no-nonsense Chet. Said what he wanted and moved on. Morgan almost grinned. Chet wasn’t one to get in another person’s business—giving him his support by saying what he just had meant a lot to Morgan.
Morgan studied the limping steer. “Yeah, take him out.”
“Will do, boss.” Chet nodded to one of the other cowboys working the gate to open it up. He and Morgan flanked the steer to send him through the gate, and one of the other cowboys herded him toward a separate pen.
“Time to get ready for some fun.”
Chet nodded. “Sounds good to me.”
Watching him head off to gather the men, Morgan knew Chet had his back. That was more than he could say about his own family. Although maybe his brothers’ affection for Jolie could come in handy. She might not want to tell him about the fainting episode, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t tell Rowdy or Tucker. Regardless, Morgan was determined to find out what was going on, whether Jolie wanted him to or not.
Chapter Five
The familiar scent of dirt and cattle filled the air as Jolie tried hard not to watch Morgan. It was an almost-impossible feat—the man had gotten only better-looking in the past six years. His black hair curled out from under his hat, just whispering against his blue button-down. The color made his eyes look darker than ever. And he was in his element as he strode back and forth inside the arena with Rowdy and the other cowboys getting everything set up for the mugging.
“I got trampled by a cow one time. That’s why I’m afraid to go out there,” Sammy was saying to Jolie. He’d been shadowing her since she’d arrived at the arena. Something about the kid spoke to her, and she wondered why he’d gravitated toward her. She couldn’t help thinking that it was the fear eating him up that had drawn him to her. Maybe on a subconscious level he recognized a kindred spirit of sorts.
Because she had fear eating her up, too.
And it irritated the dickens out of her. So much so that despite almost no sleep, she’d dragged herself out of bed and made it to church on just one cup of coffee. Her night had been awful, to say the least—just plain terrible.
It had started with thoughts of Morgan—specifically, the feel of his arms around her and the beat of his heart in her ear. Those sensations kept her awake half the night. When she’d finally fallen asleep, the nightmares arrived. Why, oh, why had she thought coming home would help ease them?
They hadn’t eased one iota.
Instead, they’d come as hard as ever, if not more so. Always the same, she was trapped in a raging vortex, upside down and fighting to make it to the surface. Always ensnared and struggling for her life.
Somewhere in the wee hours of the morning she’d given up trying to sleep and lay covered in sweat, tangled in sheets and worn-out. In the month since the accident, this had become the norm. Usually she turned to her Bible, searching for comfort and peace. Even though peace had been elusive, she knew God and only God had brought her up out of that watery grave.
A person would think that if she knew God had yanked her out of that murky water, there would be no reason to be full of fear from her toes to her roots—but she was. And she didn’t know what to do about it.
“You’re scared?” According to Morgan, Sammy was prone to exaggerations so she wasn’t sure what to make of his remark about being trampled, but she certainly recognized fear when she saw it. And it was like a flashing red beacon in his eyes.
He nodded. “Scared bad.”
“That’s totally understandable. Did the cow hurt you very badly?”
His gaze slid left, then back toward the four-foot-tall steers. “Broke my leg. My dad, he took real good care of me, though. And my mom.” He paused, gulping. “She cried, it scared her so bad.” He sighed wistfully. “They loved me so much they hated to see it happen.”
Heart slam!—Jolie was suddenly desperately grateful for her parents’ love and affection. She wanted to hug the child close—and at the same time do bodily harm to his parents for giving him up.
“I’m sure they did.” Jolie wondered if he even realized he’d said “loved” in the past tense. “You remember that anytime you need to talk about them, or anything that scares you, you can come to me. If you want to,” she added.
A half smile appeared that was one day going to make female hearts stop.
What a cute kid. And what a tough road he’d traveled. As had most of these boys.
A steer broke from the pack at the end of the arena and ran full tilt down the inside of the fence right in front of them.
Sammy’s head swung fast as he followed the black blur. Then immediately he turned back to her. “Are you really going to get out there?” he asked, his brows bunched in concern.
Jolie bit back a laugh. After all she’d faced in her kayak, a few half-pint cows didn’t scare her. Not that she’d dare tell Sammy that.
“You bet I’m getting out there!” she exclaimed. “It’s fun. If you learn how to do it right, even small people can flip a steer.” He didn’t look convinced at all. “You can do it, Sammy. It’s all in the technique.”
“We’re going in two groups,” Morgan called. Joseph clamored over the rail and jumped from the top rung to the ground. Instantly five more boys bailed over the rails and sauntered to join Joseph.
Jolie sure hoped she still had it—she hadn’t run around an arena after a steer in years. It hit her that if she hoped to get Sammy to participate at all today, she needed to go in the first group and lead by example. She climbed the fence and dropped to the ground on the other side.
“No!” Sammy yelped, grabbing hold of her shirt sleeve through the railing as if he feared he would never see her again. “Please don’t go,” he implored her.
“It’s going to be all right, Sammy. I promise. You’ll see, sugar,” she urged.
Adrenaline was flowing through her, a feeling she relished. She gave Sammy’s hand one last reassuring pat, then pulled away. She had never let fear hold her back—until the accident. But today, there was nothing inside the arena that remotely frightened her.
Matter of fact, she felt more alive than she had in a long time. Pure fun was what she called this.
It had been too long.
With