rose to his throat, only to plunge toward his boots in a dizzying freefall, and he knew he had to avoid her.
A woman like this could be dangerous, could easily use her wiles to trap him just as his mother had done to his father. Three children later, she had pulled out, lock, stock, and barrel, taking up with some other man who offered her the stars. Thought of that bitter betrayal could still make bile rise in Travis’ throat. A long time ago he’d made the promise to himself that he had no intention of becoming a useless hulk of a man like his father. Narrowing his eyes, he pressed his firm lips to a thin line, determined not to think about her but to focus on what had brought him here—a job, and the chance to ride again.
“Are you through staring?” The woman standing beside him blushed and looked toward the cattle winding their way into the chutes.
“Sorry, Miss…” He hesitated at her name.
“Beebe, Glory Beebe,” she repeated and flopped the magazine open. “Here he is.”
He glanced down at the huge dun-colored bull in the photograph. “That’s your bull?”
Glory Beebe cut him a heated glance. “Yes, that’s my bull. He’s got some of the finest bloodlines. We breed our rodeo stock to produce champions.”
Travis’ glance was drawn to the list naming the bulls and heifers used in the breeding program. “These are some great bulls,” he murmured, reaching for the magazine. She let him take it and uttered another soft sigh of defeat.
“Not that he’ll notice.” She nodded toward John Parker.
Travis glanced over at the rodeo stockman as she took a step toward the rail. Parker’s dismissal must have stung; still, half of him couldn’t help but agree that breeding bulls for the rodeo belonged to men.
Her voice drew him back to the conversation. “Look, you don’t have to stay with me. I can manage on my own. I’ve been raising bulls all my life. One day, someone will notice.” She reached to pull the program from his hand.
“Naw, I got nothing better to do.” Easing back, he took a step and leaned his good hip against the rail. Staring out over the cowboys making ready in the ring for the upcoming events, he repeated what he’d heard earlier, without looking at her. “So, you raise cattle?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“What do you raise, just Brahmas?”
She shook her head. “Along with the Brahmas, we have Herefords, and Angus beef cattle, with a few Quarter Horses mixed in.”
They both turned their attention to the ring and watched a cowboy on a nice buckskin shake out a loop as he rode around the ring.
Her next words astonished him.
“I saw the accident in Portland.”
He glanced back at her, and she dampened her lips, then took a breath. “I’m glad to see you’re up and about. It would be a shame to lose a good rider.”
Her voice soothed the tension away like a summer’s wind, all soft and fresh, making his skin pucker in its warmth. Travis could have sworn the arena suddenly brightened. “Getting better every day, ma’am.” He tipped his hat to her and placed it on his head. “I appreciate the compliment, and I hope to be back riding before the end of July.” There, he thought, that should squash any thoughts to the contrary with these men standing around overhearing our conversation . Curious to see her reaction, he snuck a gaze in her direction. Instead of adoration, he was surprised to see a brow rise in doubt.
“That would be good news,” she agreed. “I must admit, I didn’t think the doctors would clear you so soon or that you’d be back that fast.”
Damn her to cut through the bull and get to the point. He ignored the realization that she spoke from the heart. Somewhere deep inside he found that a woman like Glory could also break his defenses faster than an eight-second ride.
He let the silence fill the space between them. It felt awkward, and uncomfortable, as if everyone standing around heard her challenge and knew he was hedging on
A woman like this could be dangerous, could easily use her wiles to trap him just as his mother had done to his father. Three children later, she had pulled out, lock, stock, and barrel, taking up with some other man who offered her the stars. Thought of that bitter betrayal could still make bile rise in Travis’ throat. A long time ago he’d made the promise to himself that he had no intention of becoming a useless hulk of a man like his father. Narrowing his eyes, he pressed his firm lips to a thin line, determined not to think about her but to focus on what had brought him here—a job, and the chance to ride again.
“Are you through staring?” The woman standing beside him blushed and looked toward the cattle winding their way into the chutes.
“Sorry, Miss…” He hesitated at her name.
“Beebe, Glory Beebe,” she repeated and flopped the magazine open. “Here he is.”
He glanced down at the huge dun-colored bull in the photograph. “That’s your bull?”
Glory Beebe cut him a heated glance. “Yes, that’s my bull. He’s got some of the finest bloodlines. We breed our rodeo stock to produce champions.”
Travis’ glance was drawn to the list naming the bulls and heifers used in the breeding program. “These are some great bulls,” he murmured, reaching for the magazine. She let him take it and uttered another soft sigh of defeat.
“Not that he’ll notice.” She nodded toward John Parker.
Travis glanced over at the rodeo stockman as she took a step toward the rail. Parker’s dismissal must have stung; still, half of him couldn’t help but agree that breeding bulls for the rodeo belonged to men.
Her voice drew him back to the conversation. “Look, you don’t have to stay with me. I can manage on my own. I’ve been raising bulls all my life. One day, someone will notice.” She reached to pull the program from his hand.
“Naw, I got nothing better to do.” Easing back, he took a step and leaned his good hip against the rail. Staring out over the cowboys making ready in the ring for the upcoming events, he repeated what he’d heard earlier, without looking at her. “So, you raise cattle?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“What do you raise, just Brahmas?”
She shook her head. “Along with the Brahmas, we have Herefords, and Angus beef cattle, with a few Quarter Horses mixed in.”
They both turned their attention to the ring and watched a cowboy on a nice buckskin shake out a loop as he rode around the ring.
Her next words astonished him.
“I saw the accident in Portland.”
He glanced back at her, and she dampened her lips, then took a breath. “I’m glad to see you’re up and about. It would be a shame to lose a good rider.”
Her voice soothed the tension away like a summer’s wind, all soft and fresh, making his skin pucker in its warmth. Travis could have sworn the arena suddenly brightened. “Getting better every day, ma’am.” He tipped his hat to her and placed it on his head. “I appreciate the compliment, and I hope to be back riding before the end of July.” There, he thought, that should squash any thoughts to the contrary with these men standing around overhearing our conversation . Curious to see her reaction, he snuck a gaze in her direction. Instead of adoration, he was surprised to see a brow rise in doubt.
“That would be good news,” she agreed. “I must admit, I didn’t think the doctors would clear you so soon or that you’d be back that fast.”
Damn her to cut through the bull and get to the point. He ignored the realization that she spoke from the heart. Somewhere deep inside he found that a woman like Glory could also break his defenses faster than an eight-second ride.
He let the silence fill the space between them. It felt awkward, and uncomfortable, as if everyone standing around heard her challenge and knew he was hedging on