The Bull Rider’s Keeper Read Free

same feeling she got when she fell in love with a painting and, later, the artist. She was unable to tear her eyes away.
    She pulled on her designer jeans and silky peach shirt. Slipping into her bejeweled flip-flops, she checked her messages. She texted a few responses to Brit back at the gallery. Brit had been her best friend in high school and now was more than an assistant. She swore the girl could read her mind. Hours spent together developing new shows and finding new artists had a tendency to do that to people.
    Her stomach growled, and she glanced at the office door. She just had to wait for her mother to stop holding court with her students so Taylor could get out of there. Looking out the large window, she watched the river winding past the campus. A few joggers were running the greenbelt. The shop had kept her too busy. She hadn’t been running in weeks; her body yearned for the release.
    Working downtown, Taylor never came to this part of Boise unless she was visiting or dropping off work from the gallery. Next year, if the gallery made it to the black and she had enough saved for a down payment on a house, she would consider buying in the nearby neighborhood. She’d need to see if she could find something far enough away to avoid the frat parties but close enough to walk to the campus for events. Or, maybe she’d buy a condo downtown overlooking the river. One good year with the gallery and she’d have her place.
    Her thoughts were still lost in possible real estate choices when she felt her mom’s touch on her arm.
    “Thanks for coming today. I don’t know what I would have done if you couldn’t have gotten away.” Her mom walked behind the old oak desk and slipped off her high heels, replacing them with a pair of ballerina flats. “I promised them a live model. How many times can you draw a bowl of fruit?”
    Taylor turned away from the window. “As good as you look, you could have modeled for the class.”
    Her mother laughed the tinkling laugh Taylor loved. “First Jesse Sullivan flirts with me, and now you’re being sweet? What happened? Is the moon blue?”
    “Face it, Mom, you’re still hot.” Taylor grabbed her Vera bag, slipping it over her shoulder. “I’ve got to get back to the gallery.”
    Her mom’s phone beeped with a text.
Here we go
, Taylor thought. The dean probably needed her to chair some black-tie charity event. Her mom read the message, then quickly keyed in a response, her fingers flying on the touch screen. Finished, she slipped the phone into her purse, and put her arm around Taylor.
    “Come, have lunch with us. Your dad is waiting at that little Mexican place you love.” Susan paused at the door to lock the office, jangling her keys. “You drive. He’ll take me home after we eat.”
    Taylor inwardly groaned. She’d assumed modeling for her mom’s art class had been the favor of the day. If they were having lunch with her father, well, that meant the world was ending. He never took time out of his day for family matters.
Please, don’t let it be the gallery,
she thought, throwing the wish into the universe. As she followed her mom, she couldn’t squelch the bad feeling growing in her stomach.
    No matter where Taylor parked, her car always drew a crowd. Today, several guys hung around it, checking out the interior and rims, and challenging each other on the engine size. When she climbed into the driver’s side, she heard one of the young men tell the group, “I bet she has a sugar daddy.”
    “Keep guessing,” she called back as she shoved the stick into reverse and backed out of the parking spot. She revved the motor and sped out onto the road, heading to the turnoff where the family-owned restaurant sat tucked into a side street, bordered by a residential area. Maria’s had been in business long before the current planning and zoning laws that frowned on the mixed-use concept came into existence. Her mom turned from staring out the open window to look at