Calder Storm Read Free Page B

faintly apologetic, “Excuse me,” and Trey pivoted out of her path. His gaze tracked her as she slipped past him and headed for the parking lot. The dazed andrather avid look in his eyes was that of a man whose hunger was fully aroused.
    â€œYou look like you were just struck by a thunderbolt,” Laredo observed after the girl had disappeared among the parked vehicles.
    â€œSomething like that,” Trey murmured in admission, then turned back to them. “Who is she? Do you know?” He looked straight at Jessy.
    â€œNo one I’ve ever seen before,” she replied without hesitation.
    â€œMe either.” Trey tossed a last thoughtful glance toward the parking lot, then flashed Laredo and Jessy a grin. “She was sweet, though.”
    In the process Trey almost convinced himself he had identified the force of the attraction that had struck him so hard. Yet it didn’t explain the sudden surge of restlessness that flowed through him, leaving him with a vague feeling of discontent and unsatisfied needs, a sense of something missing. All of which he had experienced before, but this time the feelings seemed a lot stronger.
    Like always, Trey used physical action to sweep the uncomfortable thoughts away, his quick, long strides carrying him into the relative dimness of the motel lobby after he told Jessy, “I’ll bring your suitcase as soon I get my key.” He slowed only long enough to allow his vision to adjust from the sun’s bright glare to the interior’s fluorescent glow.
    The owners of a neighboring ranch were just collecting their keys when Trey arrived. That old edgy impatience surfaced again, even though his wait for the clerk’s attention was a short one.
    â€œTrey Calder,” he said to the clerk after a brief nod of greeting to his ranch neighbors. “My mother already signed in for me.”
    â€œSure thing, Trey. I’ve got your key right here.” The man pushed it across the counter to him.
    Trey laid a hand on it, then paused, something prompting him to ask, “That brunette who just left when I came in, can you tell me who she is?”
    The clerk shook his head. “Sorry, I must have been busy. I don’t remember seeing her.”
    â€œBlue eyes, five-seven or thereabouts.” Trey struggled to call up more specific details, only to realize that he had focused only on the deep blue of her eyes and the ripeness of her parted lips. “Her hair was long, I think,” he added, recalling the vague impression of its darkness framing her face.
    â€œGood-looking, was she?” The clerk smiled in understanding.
    Irritation rippled, but Trey wasn’t sure whether it was directed at himself or the clerk. Again he deliberately made light of his interest in the brunette. “You know she was.”
    He scooped up the key card and moved away from the desk toward the hall, again seeking to push the encounter from his mind.

Chapter Two
    T he rodeo grounds were a hive of activity. Few seats in the open-air grandstand were vacant, and unseated spectators—garbed in the almost-requisite boots, blue jeans, and cowboy hats—milled about the grandstand’s front apron, either doing a bit of socializing or standing in line at the concession stands. For the time being the bulk of their attention wasn’t focused on the arena. The collective sound of their voices created a steady thrum of background noise.
    Over the loudspeakers the auctioneer maintained his steady singsong chant while a big gray bull trotted loose in the arena, having dispatched the rider from its back. The bull’s breeding was mostly Brahman, as evidenced by its size, the distinctive hump on its back, and the pendulous dewlap that hung from its neck. After halfheartedly hooking a horn at a rodeo clown safely ensconced in his barrel, the bull trotted for the open gates and the holding pens beyond. As if on cue, the auctioneer brought his gavel