And Then You Dare (Crested Butte Cowboys Series Book 5) (4 page)

Tristan heard the patio door, opened her eyes, and turned to
look.

“Uh, hi ma’am. Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was out here.”

“Hi. Um…I was just about to get out. If you wouldn’t mind
turning around, I’ll grab my towel.”

“You can stay, I’m happy to share,” he smirked.

“I’ve been in too long as it is. Now if you’ll turn
around—”

“You know, you look familiar. Have we met somewhere before?
Maybe another hot tub?”

“Very funny. No, we haven’t.”

“I think you’re wrong, we have met, I’m sure of it.”

“Listen, I’m a bit embarrassed by this, but I’m not wearing a
swimsuit. So again, if you’d turn around, I’ll leave.”

“Now what fun would that be?” he chuckled. “I don’t mind, I’m
not wearing one either.” The man rested his hands on the edge of the hot tub,
and when he did, his towel fell to the ground. “I’m Bullet,” he said. “And if
I’m not mistaken, you’re Tristan.”

“You aren’t going to turn around, are you?”

“Nope, I’m sure not.”

“Oh, to hell with it.” Tristan stood, climbed out around him,
and walked in the house, leaving her towel, and Bullet chuckling behind her.

***

Bullet climbed into the warm water. He couldn’t stop laughing.
On the other hand, that was a mighty fine looking ass he watched walk away from
him. He’d like to get a better look at the rest of the lady.

He leaned back and looked up at the sky. It felt good to be
back in Colorado; even if it was damn cold, the welcome was warm.

Lyric assured him the Flying R partners would help him and his
baby get settled. He’d been skeptical. It was one thing for the partners to
work their schedules around their wives and children. They were mostly family.
And he wasn’t a partner, he was a hand. He’d need to figure out how to make
this work on his own before they got tired of making exceptions and fired him.

He wished he’d grabbed a beer. He sure could use one right
now. No matter what his grandmother told him, he still felt guilty about Callie
killing herself, especially since he kept dreaming about her. He closed his
eyes again and wished leaving it behind him was as easy as it had been to leave
Oklahoma.

He jumped when he heard the sliding door open. He must’ve
drifted off, which was not too smart in a hot tub.

“I think you left this inside.”

As Tristan brought the baby monitor closer, he heard Grey
crying.

“Shit. Sorry.” Bullet got up.

Tristan turned her head away, and held out a towel for him.

“You can look. I don’t mind.”

“Just go take care of your baby,” she didn’t turn around.

“Your eyes still closed?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t tryin’ to steal a peek
at me goin’ inside, like I did of you.”

“Just go.”

“Thanks darlin’.”

“Not your darlin’.”

“Not yet anyway.” He closed the sliding door behind him.

***

Underneath the robe she found in the closet Tristan wore her
usual sleeping attire, sweatpants and a camisole. She’d also thrown a
sweatshirt on before she took the baby monitor out to the man in the hot tub.
May have been overkill in hindsight.

Every time she closed her eyes, there he was. She’d gotten two
glimpses of his nakedness. Of course she looked when he went inside. Instead of
wrapping the towel around his waist, he’d slung it over his shoulder. Arrogant
bastard.

The curve of his ass was enough to make her drool. He was
lean, and over six feet tall. How much over, she wasn’t sure. And every bit of
him was cut. Wide shoulders, strong pecs covered with dark chestnut hair that
trailed past his flat six-pack abs…and those arms…how would it feel to be
wrapped up in them?

Bullet’s piercing blue eyes
were surprisingly warm, and his smile could easily have convinced her to shed
her three layers of protection, and climb right back in the hot tub with him.

When he rested his hands on the edge of the hot tub, Tristan
couldn’t help but notice their strength. Hands of a boxer, her grandfather
would call them.

Her mom had been gone a
long time, since Tristan was fifteen, but she still remembered her words.
“Marry a man with strong hands, so when he takes yours in his, and tells you
everything will be okay, you believe it will be.” Her father had strong hands,
and she never doubted everything would be okay when he had her hands in his.

The noise coming from
upstairs the next morning sounded as though she was the last one awake. In a
house full of ranchers, rough stockers, and toddlers, Tristan guessed everyone had
been up for hours. Maybe she would’ve been better off staying at a hotel. That
way when she slept in, she wouldn’t feel as guilty. She pulled out her phone to
check the time. Seven? She was feeling guilty about sleeping until seven?

She’d go for a run, but Liv
warned her yesterday that she should give herself time to adjust to the
altitude.

“We’re at 10,000 feet,” Liv
told her. “Don’t be surprised if you get winded walking up the stairs.”

Someone upstairs was making
breakfast, and it smelled really good. And coffee. Tristan pulled her
sweatshirt over head, and went in search of the heavenly scents.

***

He should go out and help with the morning chores. Lyric
offered to keep an eye on Grey a couple of times. When she pinched his shoulder
and whispered that he should consider earning his keep, Bullet knew he couldn’t
put it off any longer.

“You know how long that Tristan lady is staying?” he whispered
back.

“Oh, no. No way. You aren’t goin’ down that road. She is
strictly hands off to you bro.”

“Why’s that?” And since when did Lyric tell him what to do, or
in this case what not to do?

“She’s gonna be partnerin’ with Flying R and we don’t need any
of your drama landin’ on her.”

Bullet had several responses for his sister, backed by a
temper fueled by the buttons she was pushing, but he kept his mouth shut.

When he got a glimpse of Tristan coming up the stairs, he
closed the door he’d just opened.

“Good morning everyone,”
she muttered. The sound of sleep that lingered in her voice filled him with
lust. He stood back and watched her. She was tall, almost as tall as he was,
with long, dark, brown hair, and big brown eyes. She was thin, but curvy,
womanly. Her movements were graceful, and gentle. She reached up to open the
cupboard Liv pointed to, slowly taking the cup from it, and then turning to
fill it with coffee.

Bullet closed his eyes and imagined wrapping his arm around
her waist as she did, sweeping her hair to the side, and nibbling on the nape
of her neck. He’d trail kisses from her hairline to her shoulder—

“Dude, weren’t you headed outside?” Lyric barked.

“Yeah, yeah. But I don’t want to be rude and leave without
saying good morning to Miss Tristan.” Bullet walked over to where she stood.
Her knee was bent just slightly, one bare foot rested on top of the other. He
loved bare feet. Her perfectly-manicured toes were painted a reddish-orange
that made him want to lick them, one by one.

“I hope you slept well after your visit to the hot tub.” Her
cheeks pinkened just slightly, so he leaned in. “Good morning sweetness,” he
whispered so only she could hear.

“Ouch!” he gasped when someone slapped the back of his head.
He turned around. Bree stood behind him. Her arms were folded in front of her,
but she was smiling.

“He tried to charm the pants off me the first time I met him
too.”

“When was that?” he grinned.

“The morning you were sleeping naked on my sofa.”

“Ah,” smirked Tristan. “Evidently naked shenanigans are part
of your regular repertoire.”

Bullet put his arm around Bree’s shoulders. “You’re givin’ me
a bad name with the lady. Now tell her the truth. You ain’t never seen me
naked.”

“He’s right. I haven’t actually seen him naked.” Bree looked
from Bullet to Tristan. “Wait. Have you?”

***

Tristan took a sip of coffee, weighing her words. “Yes, a
couple times.” She added a shoulder shrug to suggest it wasn’t any big deal.
She set her coffee on the kitchen counter, and opened the refrigerator door,
hoping he didn’t notice how her hands shook.

“Did I hear your sister say you were headed outside?” Tristan
turned back around and looked into the blue eyes focused directly on her brown
ones. He didn’t just stare, his eyes penetrated hers, as though he could read
her mind through them.

“What’s the plan for today?” interrupted Liv.

“I’m waiting to hear from my
father. Besides that, I’m compiling a list of competitors we’ve targeted in the
past, but didn’t have enough capital behind us to interest them.”

“I can help with that,” suggested Lyric.

“I was hoping you’d offer. Maybe you and I can put our heads together
and see if there’s anyone you can suggest that we haven’t taken a look at yet.”

“I can add someone to your list,” said Bullet. Tristan had
almost forgotten he was there. That’s how she got when she started thinking
about business. It consumed her.

“Who’s that?” nudged Lyric. “As if I don’t know.”

“I’m a perfect fit,” he smiled directly at Tristan.

“A perfect fit for what?” He wasn’t seriously suggesting Lost
Cowboy sponsor him, was he?

“Come on. Look at me.” He waved his hands up and down his body.
“Just think how good your gear will look on me.”

Tristan almost laughed out
loud. Yeah, he’d look great in it. All of it. But there was so much more they
took into consideration before they asked anyone to wear their brand. She
didn’t know much about Bullet, but from what she’d seen so far, he was exactly
the kind of cowboy they wouldn’t sponsor.

Bull riders had a bad rap to begin with. Many on the rodeo
circuit thought they were arrogant assholes. And for the most part, they were
right. Their arrogance was part of what drove them. If they didn’t have their
heads one hundred and fifty percent into bull riding, if they weren’t the same
percentage confident in their ability to cover their bull, they didn’t have a
prayer. It was as much man against himself as it was man against beast. If a
rider had an inkling of doubt in the few minutes before he got on the back of a
bull, he might as well walk away before the chute opened.

Bullet had a lot on his plate. His wife just died. He was
responsible for raising his child, who Tristan doubted was more than a year
old. What kind of man got on the back of a bull when they were a single parent?
One who didn’t embody the principles of Lost Cowboy, that’s the kind.

Even setting that aside, there was so much more. What happened
last night told Tristan everything she needed to know to scratch Bullet off her
list, not that he was on it in the first place.

“Players need not apply” should be stamped on her forehead.
Not just for her brand, but for her too. While he tempted her on a physical
level, Tristan knew she’d never actually succumb to him. Never.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-four ma’am.”

He tipped his hat when he said it, the one her daddy would
never have worn in the house.

Too old on one level, too young on another. If he hadn’t made
his mark as a bull rider by now, chances were good he wouldn’t. Her guess was
he didn’t have enough time to get to practice pens. He’d never make any of the
cuts without practice. In the world of bull-riding, he was middle-age.

And for her on a personal level? He was three years younger
than she was. And ten years less mature. He was a baby. A baby with a baby.

When she poured the cream into her coffee, her hands no longer
shook. Bullet lost his charm, on a number of levels.

“Sorry cowboy, I wish you the best of luck out there.” Tristan
looked at Lyric. “Give me a half hour to check in with the office, and get my
notes together?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Tristan went downstairs without looking back.

***

“I’d say you’ve been dismissed.” Lyric said to her brother.

Yeah, he sure had, and it stung. He could read the thoughts as
they ran through her mind. Not good enough. That’s what it boiled down to. He
wasn’t a good enough bull rider for her brand, and he wasn’t a good enough man
for her. He saw the light turn off. It was that quick.

Bullet went outside without another word. What had he been
thinking anyway? The last thing he had time for was a woman. Even on a
temporary basis. He kicked at the dirt, furious with himself for not being able
to keep his head on straight.

It was way past time for
him to grow up. He had a child, and not just one.

Bullet walked into the barn
and started mucking out a stall. If all else failed, a stall always needed
mucked.

***

1961

Instead of staying in the bunkhouse with the rest of the
cowboys, Clancy told Bill he’d have a room in the main house with him and his
brother. Clancy was building a second house, and when it was finished, they’d
both move in there. Clancy’s brother, Clive, was getting married and soon his
wife would be living on the ranch full-time as well.

Bill figured that was the main reason Clive had been looking
for a partner in the dude ranch. There were times during the year that he and
his mama and sister rarely saw his daddy. Running a ranch was hard work, even
if you could afford a lot of help.

As far as he knew, Clancy hadn’t married yet either. “You got
kids?” he asked one night, thinking that might be easier to ask than if he had
a wife.

“Nope. Not that I know of anyway,” Clancy winked at him.

“So no wife either?”

“Nope. No wife either.” Clancy stood and poked at the fire.
“Here’s the thing. Women like the idea of a cowboy. They want to catch ’em,
kind of like a wild horse. Soon as they got ’em caught, they wanna tame ’em.
Soon as they got ’em tamed, they don’t want ’em anymore, so they go off in
search of another cowboy.”