Rodeo Dreams. Sarah M. Anderson

he was done. His body couldn’t take another season of hitting the ground. The single, nightly Percocet he limited himself to didn’t seem to be taking the edge off the pain anymore.

      He was tired. Tired of sitting here, being unknown and invisible. Tired of scraping by at the whim of bulls. Tired of being the father figure to those kids when they never listened to him anyway. Tired of fighting Red over everything.

      The boring, comfortable life he’d passed on so many years ago—a nice house, a piece of land to work, a good woman to come home to, and maybe some kids riding the fences with him—seemed better every day.

      While the shortest distance between two points was a straight line, there was no line between Travis’s here and now and that fantasy. The house had gone with the farm. And women? Women wanted more than what he had to offer. They wanted someone who stayed home, helped with the kids. They wanted romancing. And Travis? He didn’t have that in him. He followed the rodeo.

      His mind flashed back to that Indian girl—rather, that Lakota woman—in her underwear. She was beautiful, strong and determined. He wondered if she was like that in bed, too—but hell, who was he kidding? After their argument, he’d be lucky if she didn’t sic that dog on him. Not exactly the best way to sweet-talk a pretty woman.

      But he couldn’t pull his thoughts away from her. Over and over, he replayed the way she had looked at him when she’d asked him to believe in her. It wasn’t possible that she’d been admiring his body. Was it?

      No. Gorgeous young women—smart and athletic to boot—did not admire a man like him. It just didn’t happen. If anything, she was probably gauging whether or not sleeping with him could help her get what she wanted.

      His fantasy was going to stay just that—a fantasy. He’d made his bed long ago. Now he just had to spend the rest of his life lying in it.

      The doors whooshed open for the first time in nearly two hours. He knew the odds that the customer had come to see the formerly famous Travis Younkin were slim, but he still put on his good smile and got ready to talk up tonight’s rodeo.

      But nothing got him ready for what walked in.

      “Travis?”

      He noticed the hair first. Pinned back near her temples, the rest fell long and loose down her back. He could just see the tips of each strand swaying beneath the soft curve of her hips.

      Swaying, because she was still walking toward him, every step sending out a soft tap-tap-tap from her rust-red boots. Real boots. On a real cowgirl.

      Hell, June Spotted Elk herself had just walked in.

      He tried to smile. “Hey, June. You in town?”

      Was she blushing? It looked good on her. “Oh, yeah. I got into Mesquite yesterday. Needed to pick up a shirt for tonight and some rosin. I think Jeff ate mine.”

      She was lucky that was all that hellhound had eaten. “He do that a lot?”

      “Only when I don’t run him enough. He’s out in the car if you want to say hi. He’s really a sweetheart—when he doesn’t think I’m in trouble,” she hurried to explain when she saw the look on his face. “You’d like him. Even Mitch thought he was passable.”

      She’d been hanging out with Mitch? How the hell had that happened? Surely if Mitch had picked her up at the bar last weekend, he would have been bragging about his latest true love to the guys. Just like always.

      “Really?” was all that came out.

      She hesitated, like she wasn’t sure what to do next. Well, that made two of them. “Listen. I know you’re not happy with me riding, but I do have my permit, and I appreciate that you helped with my bull rope. Mitch didn’t get it tight enough.”

      “Sure. No problem.” Sounded like Mitch had gotten something tight enough.

      She smiled. “Been busy today?”

      “Not really.” That smile was real pretty on her. It made him want her to keep talking. Which had to be why he said, “The only other guy who came through thought I was selling boots.”

      “Ouch,” she agreed. “How long are you in for?”

      “Another forty-five minutes.” A new thought occurred to him. If he asked her to dinner, then he could keep an eye on her. Maybe keep her away from Mitch and clear of Red. Then he could try to talk some more sense into her. “You got dinner plans?”

      Okay, now she was definitely blushing. It had been a long time since he’d made a woman blush, and for a brief second, he felt more...real than he had in years.

      “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. You’ll probably spend the entire time trying to convince me my place is somewhere barefoot and pregnant, and I’ll get all hot under the collar and have to try not to lose my temper again.”

      He was offended that she thought he was nothing more than a Neanderthal. “I never said that.”

      “Oh, I know.” She was still smiling, like maybe she was flirting, but it hit him wrong. “But you thought it.”

      “I can’t win with you, can I? I bet if I told you that you had to breathe, you’d stop just to prove me wrong,” he snapped. “I noticed you didn’t come here to get a damned helmet.”

      “Lay off, Travis,” she said, bristling before his eyes. And suddenly, they were right back where they’d left off a week ago. “I’ll let you know if it ever becomes your business.”

      As if on cue, his shoulder began to throb, probably because he was tensing up. Breathe, he told himself. Stay loose for tonight.

      She sure as hell wasn’t staying loose. Even though several feet separated them, he could hear the tension in her voice. “I heard you tried to convince Mort to throw me out, even after he showed you my permit. You might have mentioned that part to me, you know.”

      “Well, I didn’t think mentioning that I thought you got it under false pretenses would be the smooth thing to do, J. But now that you bring it up...”

      “Save it for the bulls, Travis,” she said, storming out without her rosin.

      All he could do was watch her stomp away.