And Then You Dare (Crested Butte Cowboys Series Book 5) (23 page)

When the technician called Dottie’s name, Bill stayed in his
chair in the waiting area.

“Come on Bill Patterson, this child is as much your
responsibility as mine,” Dottie winked at him.

In the exam room, the technician rubbed gel all over Dottie’s
belly and then ran a wand over the gel. A black and white image appeared on a
screen that was partially obstructed from Bill’s view.

The woman studied it for a few minutes, hitting buttons on a keyboard
near the screen, and then recording information on a chart.

“When was your last menstrual cycle?” she asked Dottie.

“I don’t quite remember. I think it was two months ago. I
didn’t think about it until the other day.”

Bill wished he hadn’t been in the room for this part of the
exam.

“Do you want to know the sex of your baby, or do you want to
wait?”

Dottie looked at Bill. He couldn’t tell whether she wanted to
know, or didn’t.

“I want to know. Don’t you?”

He did. But he still didn’t know if it was safe for her to be
pregnant. He hated to get his hopes up, and hers, if something happened. “I
think we should wait until after we talk to the doctor.”

Dottie’s eyes filled with tears, but she nodded her head. “I
understand.”

Bill’s heart was breaking into a million pieces. She looked so
full of joy just a few minutes ago, and now she looked crestfallen. Once again,
he’d been the one to cause her hurt.

The technician got out another instrument. “This will let us
hear the baby’s heartbeat,” she told them. She ran it back and forth over
Dottie’s belly and a minute later they heard a swishing sound.

“Is that it?” Dottie asked.

“Yes, it is,” smiled the woman.

“Oh Bill, that’s our baby.”

Tears spilled down Dottie’s cheeks. Bill squeezed her
hand, and prayed. He made a deal with God that day. If he’d watch over Dottie
and their baby, Bill would give up rodeo for good.

“I’ll be in Cheyenne in two weeks, and then Nashville
mid-August.”

“I’ll take it. And then come January, I want to fly someplace
warm, and have non-stop, sun-drenched sex with you for two weeks straight.”

“Straight?”

“Eating and sleeping will be the only allowable
interruptions.”

“You’re on Bullet. But don’t forget there’s a couple other
important weeks in rodeo in between.”

“That’s if I qualify.”

There were the Professional Bull Riders World Finals in Las
Vegas in October, and then the Professional Rodeo Cowboy Association National
Finals also in Las Vegas, in December. Tristan would be at both with Lost
Cowboy and the new McCullough lines. Bullet would be at both too. Even if he
didn’t qualify as a rider, he’d be there with Flying R Rough Stock.

It was unlikely Tristan would be able to see him in September.
She’d be showing at least two of the McCullough lines at the fall shows. Every
minute between now and then, when she wasn’t at one of the bigger rodeos, she’d
be working twenty hours days to have the collections ready.

“I’m gonna miss you so damn much,” he said for the hundredth
time.

“I’m going to miss you too, but we’ll both be so busy, the
time will pass quickly.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Nope.”

“That makes me feel a little better.”

Tristan checked the time on her phone. Her daddy and granddad
would be getting anxious soon. They were at the gate waiting to board the flight
that would take them back to New York. It was due to take off in twenty
minutes, and she wasn’t through security yet.

“Bullet, I
have
to go.”

“Just one more kiss.”

One more turned into ten, until Tristan finally pulled away
and ran in the direction of security. As it was she was the last person to
board the flight, and they held the door open because her father insisted she
was on her way. He wasn’t very happy with her the rest of the way home. Her
granddad just smiled and winked.

***

The initial pieces in the McCullough Cowgirl collection sold
out at the first show Tristan attended. Liv and Paige flew to New York to help
Tristan find factories able to expand production. It would’ve been easier if
they could outsource to China, or somewhere else overseas, but all Tristan’s
partners agreed that the brand would be made in America, or not made at all.

Bullet insisted that the only way to ensure his consecutive
streak continued was to talk to Tristan before and after each out. He’d ridden
fourteen bulls consecutively. Two more and he’d tied J.B. Mauney and Silvano
Alves, who had each ridden sixteen consecutive times.

As Buck Bishop predicted, Bullet would almost certainly
qualify for the PBR finals this month. If he did, competing at the NFR would be
a sure thing.

“Where did this guy come from? No one heard of him before this
year.” Tristan would hear the commentators ask when she’d watch the broadcasts.
“Not until Buck Bishop started training him,” they’d usually added.

She streamed every competition he entered on her computer. If
he knew he was on camera, he’d blow a kiss.

“You see me blow you a kiss tonight darlin’?” he’d ask. Her
answer was always yes, because she never missed watching him ride.

In just a few days, they’d be in Las Vegas for a whole week.
They both had work to do, her presenting her line, and Bullet riding bulls, but
they’d spend every night together.

***

Lyric offered to pick Tristan up at McCarran Airport since
Bullet had a mandatory riders’ meeting. Later that afternoon, she’d scheduled a
press conference for Tristan to talk about the success of the new line to the
rodeo media.

“You’ll have time to see him in between,” Lyric told her
without Tristan needing to ask.

“Thanks. I hoped I would.”

“You two gettin’ pretty serious?”

“I think so.” It was hard to say they were serious, they
hardly saw one another. But once January rolled around, they could take some
time to figure out where they wanted their relationship to go. It wouldn’t be
as though things would change much once the rodeo season kicked off again in
the spring, but there were plenty of other couples who figured it out,
including most of the Flying R partners.

“Speaking of which,” said Lyric. “I heard a rumor that Bullet
was going to be offered a buy-in.”

“From who?”

“I got my sources.”

Tristan guessed it had to be Billy that told Lyric. “Does
Bullet know?”

“Nope. They’re makin’ him the offer at the end of the week,
here in Las Vegas.”

“Will he be able to do it?”

“You mean financially?”

“Basically. Is it bad of me to ask?”

Lyric laughed. “Who’s gonna judge you girl? Me?”

Tristan laughed too. Lyric said whatever she thought, asked
whatever she wanted to ask, whenever she wanted to.

“He’ll be able to do it. Bullet’s loaded.”

“Since when?”

“You haven’t been keepin’ track of his earnings so far this
year, have you?”

She hadn’t. He’d tell her where he ranked each week, but they
hadn’t talked about the money he’d won. Not to mention the additional
sponsorships he was being offered as he climbed higher in ride earnings.

“Speak of the devil.”

Tristan turned thinking
Lyric was talking about Bullet, but instead she saw Walter Harris near the
luggage carousels.

“Why does he keep showin’ up? He didn’t come close to
qualifyin’ this year.”

Tristan didn’t know. She stopped paying attention a long time
ago. She hoped he’d keep walking, and not notice she was there.

“Tristan, I thought that was you.”

Something was different about him. He wasn’t as cocky, and he
didn’t look so good.

“Walter, are you ill?”

He didn’t answer right away, and Tristan thought he might just
ignore her question and walk away.

“I been busy,” he said finally. He glanced at Lyric. “You
still with her brother?”

“Your damn right she is—”

“Look, uh, Lyric…that’s your name, right?”

“Yeah, that’s my name.”

“Could you give me a minute with Tristan? It’s important.”

There was something about the tone of his voice, and the way
he looked, that made Tristan feel sorry for him. She could take five minutes to
talk to him. “It’s okay Lyric.”

Lyric shook her head and glared at Walter. “I’ll be right over
here,
watchin’.
”

“What’s going on?”

Walter reached out to touch her, but Tristan backed away. “I
hate that you won’t let me touch you,” he sighed.

“It’s your own fault.”

“I know it is. But Tristan, I’m not lyin’ when I say I want
you back. It’s more than that. I need you.”

“You don’t need me, you don’t need anyone. Permanent that is.
Rodeos are full of women willing to give you just about anything you
want—”

“It isn’t what I want. It’s what I need. Ever since we broke
up, I can’t get a decent ride for anything. You were my good luck charm
Tristan. When we were together, I rode better than I have any other time in my
life.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am. I need you to give me another chance.”

“Walter, I can’t. And I don’t want to. There was a time you
had my heart, but you stomped on it, and threw it away. There’s no going back
for us.”

“Tristan, I’m in trouble. I piled up some debt thinkin’ I’d be
able to make it up once rodeo season kicked in again. I haven’t been able to…”

“I’m sorry you’re in trouble, but that isn’t my fault, or my
problem. If you’re in debt, get a job. Most bull riders have a day job Walter.
You always thought you were above it, but clearly you’re just as human as the
rest of us.”

When Tristan walked away, he grabbed her arm. “Wait.”

She jerked it away from him. “Keep your hands off me.” The
hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and bile burned her throat.

“You heard her,” Lyric stepped between Tristan and Walter.
“Keep your filthy hands off her.”

Walter leaned in as close to Lyric as he could get. “You and
your brother can’t keep me away from her forever. His world is about to come
crashing down, and when it does, I’ll be there for her.”

Lyric backed away, but didn’t turn or take her eyes off Walter
until she was several feet from him.

“What was that about? What did he say to you?”

“If I’m not mistaken, he just threatened Bullet.”

“What did he say?”

“That Bullet’s world was about to come crashing down.”

“Don’t pay any attention to him. He’s in some kind of trouble.
Debt. He thinks I’m his good luck charm or some other ridiculous nonsense.”

“Let’s go find my brother.”

***

Bullet waited by the front entrance to the hotel, hoping this
was the way they’d come in. Every time a cab approached, he looked to see if
Tristan and Lyric were in it. He wished he could’ve been the one to pick
Tristan up at the airport, but he would’ve been disqualified if he missed the
riders’ meeting.

Another cab drove up to the valet. It looked to Bullet as though
only one person was in it. That wouldn’t be them. He was about to turn away,
when the door opened and out stepped Walter Harris. The one guy he never wanted
to see again kept showing up.

He expected a confrontation, but instead Walter acted as though
he didn’t see Bullet. Fine by him. A few minutes later, when the cab Tristan
and Lyric were in pulled up, Bullet forgot all about seeing the guy who was
fast becoming his nemesis.

Bullet opened the door and offered his hand to help Tristan
out of the car. When she took it, electricity sizzled between them as it
usually did.

Tristan dropped her bag on the ground next to the cab, and put
her arms around his neck. Nothing felt as good as having her next to him, body
to body. It had been almost six weeks since the last time he saw her, and his
body reacted instinctively. He hoped Lyric wouldn’t mind if they went straight
to the room he had reserved.

“Hi,” he breathed her scent. Soft, like baby powder. Deep,
soft brown eyes. Soft breasts. Soft thighs. Her softness in contrast to his
hardness. One whiff of her scent and he wanted to lead her straight to bed.

“Hi,” she smiled.

“It’s so damn good to see you. And feel you.”

“You too.”

“Think Lyric would mind if we…”

“Not at all. Look.” Tristan pointed near the door. Slade
Weston was walking toward Lyric with the same look on his face that Bullet had
a few minutes before.

“We have a lot to talk about,” he said in the crowded
elevator.

“We do?”

“
Yes,
we do.”

Bullet led the way to the room, but kept turning around to kiss
her. The fourth time he stopped, she asked him how much further it was. He
looked at the numbers on the door, and realized they passed it. They both
laughed, but the heat between them didn’t dissipate.

Bullet opened the door and dropped her luggage. “You can
unpack later.”

“I’d like to take a quick shower. You know, the plane ride…”

“Uh. Sure. Okay.” She was probably tired from traveling, and
here all he could think about was her naked and him inside of her. She was here,
with him, they had four days ahead of them. He would be patient.

He stretched out on the bed, and kicked off his boots. He took
off his socks, and shoved them into his worn cowboy boots. He unbuttoned his
shirt, but still felt uncomfortable. He wanted to unbutton the top button of
his jeans, but then what would she think?

He stood and shoved his boots in the mirrored closet, where he
couldn’t miss his own arousal in the reflection. He stretched out on the bed,
and turned on the television, hoping the din of a mindless infomercial would
distract him from the sound of running water in the bathroom.

The water stopped. And Bullet stopped breathing, waiting for
the sound of the door opening. Would she wrap herself in the hotel robe he’d
seen behind the door? Would she step out of the steamy room already dressed?

When she finally opened the door and rounded the corner, her
sweet body was wrapped only in a towel. Bullet groaned, and Tristan let the
towel drop to the floor.

She hadn’t taken the time to dry the dewy wetness that beaded
on her skin. Bullet stared at her, unsure whether he dare move, and break the
spell of her standing, naked, before him.

“Stay where you are,” she told him as she strolled toward the
bed, seating herself on the mattress, her hip next to his.

“Are you, uh, hungry or anything?”

Tristan rested her hand on his bare chest. “No. Not hungry.
Why don’t you take this the rest of the way off?”

Bullet leaned forward and shrugged his arms out of the shirt
he’d left unbuttoned.

Both her hands came forward, resting on his shoulders, easing
him back. They trailed slowly over his abdomen, to the waistband of his jeans.
When she leaned against him, and brushed her cheek against the line of hair
that ran from his navel to where her hand rested, he groaned again. “Tristan…”

Without a reply, she unsnapped his jeans. Bullet shuddered as
her touch skimmed over his boxer briefs. “Time to take these off,” she made a
hungry sound.

Bullet wrapped his hand in her hair. “Wait.”

“I don’t want to wait Bullet.” She lifted her head to look at
him, her dark brown eyes soft, but heavily lidded.

“Let me get these off.” Bullet pulled his jeans and briefs
down in one swoop, and tossed them aside.

He caught her around the waist, and turned her until she
rested against the mattress where he’d been moments before. “God damn woman.
What you do to me.” He moved over her until he could feel her naked skin
against his.

“Bullet.”

Moments ago all he could see in his mind was a frenzy, getting
inside her as quickly as he could. Now, he wanted to take his time, make her
feel as desperate for him as he felt for her.