The Cowboy's Accidental Baby. Marin Thomas

chute as Spin Demon sprang into action. Gunner gripped the rope with his left hand, keeping his right arm high in the air next to his head. After the third buck his hat flew off and his dark hair whipped around his head.

      Spin Demon did everything in his power to toss his rider and Lydia marveled at Gunner’s pure athleticism as he hung on. Go, Gunner, go. When the buzzer sounded, she stuck two fingers into her mouth and let loose a shrill whistle.

      Chantilly and Maisy spun on their bench, but Lydia ignored their stares and watched Gunner’s dismount—more of a fall than a leap to the ground. The bronc trotted out of the circle and Gunner swiped his hat off the dirt, then waved it at the stands. His smile froze when he spotted Lydia.

      “Looks like Gunner Hardell finally made it to eight. How about another round of applause for the cowboy.”

      Instead of returning to the chute area, Gunner walked across the dirt and stopped in front of the bleachers. “Lydia!” he shouted and then flung his hat. She snatched it as it sailed between Chantilly and Maisy’s heads.

      “Nice catch.” He winked, then walked back to the chutes, where the other cowboys congratulated him with backslapping and fist pumping.

      “Who are you?” Chantilly asked.

      “Lydia Canter.” She beamed, proud of herself for catching Gunner’s hat—not that she cared about impressing the women.

      “We’ve never seen you at a rodeo before,” Maisy said.

      “I’m visiting from Wisconsin.”

      “Wisconsin?” Chantilly grimaced. “How do you know Gunner?”

      “He works for me.”

      “Doing what?” Maisy asked.

      “Anything I ask him to.” She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing when their mouths dropped open. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to have a chat with my employee.”

      Lydia pulled up short when a tall, brawny man stepped into her path.

      “Ma’am, you ain’t allowed behind the chutes.”

      “She’s with me, Rawlins.” Gunner strolled toward Lydia, wearing his usual grin. It was impossible to stay mad at a man who smiled all the time.

      “Congratulations.” She handed him the Stetson.

      He plopped it on his head. “Thanks.” He removed his spurs, then stuffed them into the duffel bag along with his rope and bronc saddle. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”