A Cowboy's Heart Read Free

face.
    Clint leaned forward, the heaving, fifteen-hundred-pound animal moving beneath him. Fear in the guise of adrenaline shot through his veins, pumping his heart into overdrive. The bull calmed down for a brief moment, and Clint nodded.
    The gate opened, and the bull made a spinning jump out of the chute, knocking his back end against the corner and sending Clint headfirst toward the animal’s horns. With his free arm in the air, whipping back for control, Clint moved himself back to center.
    Eight seconds, and he felt every twist, every jump, everylurch. As the buzzer rang, Clint dived off for safety, not expecting the last-minute direction change that the bull added in for fun. Clint hit the ground, and the impact felt like hitting a truck. A loud pop echoed in his ears, and pain shot from his shoulder down his arm.
    The bull turned and charged at him. He rolled away, but he couldn’t escape the rampaging animal, its hot breath in Clint’s face and the hammering of its hooves against solid-packed dirt.
    That big old bull was face-to-face with him, pawing and twisting. Clint rolled away from the hooves and then felt a hard tug as someone jerked him backward, away from danger.
    The bullfighter yelled at him to move. Clint did his best to oblige, but his left arm hung at his side, useless. The pop he’d heard when he hit the ground must have been his shoulder dislocating.
    A blur of blue in front of him, and the bull changed direction to go after the bullfighter. Those guys were bodyguards and stuntmen, all in one package. Clint hurried to the side of the arena and the fence.
    As he held on to the fence, watching the bullfighters play with the overzealous bull, he caught a flash of blond. He turned and saw Willow Michaels watching from the corner gate.
    When he limped out of the arena, his eyes met hers for a split second and then she walked away. She wasn’t the first princess to turn her back on him. She probably wouldn’t be the last.
    Telling himself it didn’t matter didn’t feel as good as it usually did. Fortunately he had the throbbing pain in his arm to keep his mind off the blow to his ego.
    Medics were waiting for him as he walked out the gate. They offered help walking that he didn’t need. He’d dislocated his shoulder before, so he knew the drill. He just didn’t feel like talking about it.
    â€œWant some help getting in?” One of the paramedics motioned inside the back of the vehicle.
    â€œI’ll just sit on the tailgate.” He had no desire to climb, with or without help.
    â€œSuit yourself.”
    He leaned back and just as he started to close his eyes, Janie was there. She wore that “mother hen” look that he remembered from his childhood.
    It was a shame she’d never had kids of her own. But then he might have missed out on having her in his life.
    â€œIs it dislocated?” She nearly pushed the paramedics aside.
    â€œI imagine it is.” He managed a smile that he hoped wasn’t too much of a grimace.
    â€œDo you need to go to the hospital?”
    â€œI think the paramedics can manage.”
    Janie didn’t look convinced. She was five-foot-nothing but a force to be reckoned with. Funny how she hadn’t really aged.
    Not like his dad. His dad was barely sixty-five, but already an old, old man. His liver was shot, and his mind was going. Janie would always have her wits about her.
    â€œDon’t let him sit there and suffer.” She stepped back, and motioned the paramedics forward.
    She had no idea about suffering. The pain he had felt just sitting there was nothing compared to that moment when they yanked his arm and pushed it back into its socket. Working through it meant a serious “cowboy up” moment. He took a few deep breaths that didn’t really help.
    â€œThere, nothing to it.” One paramedic smiled as he said the words.
    â€œYeah, nothing to it.” Clint shrugged to loosen the