Falling For A Cowboy
Read Falling For A Cowboy Online
Authors: Anne Carrole
Previously published as
Re-ride at the Rodeo
through The Wild Rose Press
Copyright ©2008 by Carol
Aloisi
Cover Art by Rae Monet
Formatting by
www.formatting4U.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author at [email protected]. This book is a work of fiction. The, names characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author
’
s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual persons, living or
dead,
is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
For more information on the author and her work, please visit
www.annecarrole.com
ISBN: 978-09885616-0-1
Love Western Romances
Table of Contents
One
“
There he goes,
ladies and
gents. Tyler Wright has done it.
An
eighty-five
.
That
’
s
about
as good as it gets
,
”
the announcer blared over the loudspeaker.
The
cheers from the crowd were
deafening
,
but Dusty didn
’
t care to notice. She
’
d heard it all too many times before
.
Since the start, j
ust about any
weekend from Ma
rch
to November
, it seemed, she
’
d been
at the
r
odeo
a
rena
.
First
w
atching
from the stands
.
Now as
barkeep
handling the beer sta
ll
.
There
was no escaping the
r
odeo if you lived in
Langley
.
It was the only game in town except for Friday nights at the high school field
during football season
.
It was
also
a
major source of the town
’
s revenue
.
One way or another, if you lived in
Langley
,
you were connected to the
rodeo
. She
was
connected in more ways than she cared to count
.
More ways than she cared to remember.
The
musty
odor
s
of horse an
d hay wafted through the walkway
, competing with
the
scent
s
of spicy
tacos
and
refried beans
emanating
from
Rico
’
s food stand next door
.
Her stomach rumbled
,
a
remind
er
it
would be a while
until closing time.
Tucking
in
a strand of blond
hair that had lo
o
se
ned
from
her
bun
,
Dusty
wiped down the
scarred
Formica
counter with
a
damp
gray rag
. She watched the few patrons who had left their seat
s
to use the bathroom and tried to guess their stories
.
It was a game she played to help with the boredom
.
The old man and the young boy
exiting
were probably grandpa and grandson
.
The two
noisy
towheaded adolescents
entering
were most likely
brothers.
Few people had ventured
from their seats
since
the final go-round for
s
addle
bronc
was up and
that was a particular favorite with the
Langley
crowd.
Once or twice a summer
, the rodeo extended over the whole weekend to pull in the tourist trade
.
Friday night
the
qualifying go-rounds
were held
for everything but barrel racing and bull riding
.
Today, Saturday,
the final
s
for those events
would be held
with qualifying for bull riding the
evening
closer
,
and Sunday afternoon
were
barrel racing and bull riding finals
.
Local
rider
Tyler Wright had
just
scored big
for the home crowd
.
After
the final
bronc
had been ridden, they
’
d come pouring out for refreshments before the bull riders took their turn
.
Life was nothing if not predictable in
Langley
.
“
Holy cow, folks.
That was some ride from n
ewcomer Clay
Tanner
.
He
’
s
posted a
n eighty-seven
on Miss Popularity to slid
e
into first place
.
What a night
…
”
A
nnouncer
Adam
Gree
ne
’
s
voice
faded into
the din of applause
.
Eighty-seven
?
Even she had to admit that was a good score
.
And Miss Popularity was a rank
bronc
.
That cowboy had some grit.
But grit
alone
was not enough to make it in this world
.
She knew that from
personal
experience.
A
hot
breeze
blew
wisps of
hair around her face and into her eyes. She
smoothed them
back, trying to tame the
fine
strands and grateful for nature
’
s air conditioning because even the West Texas wind
could
die in the heat
.
She
lined up the plastic cups and
began to squirt beer from the tap into the
m,
a few drops landing on her
.
She always smelled like beer after a night at the rodeo
.
Once the standings
of the riders
were
called
, she
’
d have her hands full keeping up with demand if she
hadn
’
t
prepare
d
.
The
r
odeo crowd liked their beer
. N
o doubt the
Beehive Saloon
would
pack them in
again tonight
after the competition was over
.
Fifteen minutes later she was serving the last man in line
.
An impatient
son
-
of
-
a
-
gun, he clicked and clucked and drummed his fingers while she poured his drink
.
The announcer was already calling for the first bull.
“
Here.
”
The barrel-chested cowboy
slammed down a five dollar bill
.
“
Keep the change,
”
he growled a
nd
hustled back to his seat, gulping the beer as if he
’
d just come off the trail
.
She
rang up the sale and slid the change into
the
pocket
of her worn denim skirt
.
Something to be said for impatience.
A few people scurried by,
Coke
and popcorn spilling from their hands. Dusty
wiped
the perspiration from her face and stole a look at her reflection in the shiny metal of the fountain.
She hated wearing her hair up
.
It was long and
wavy
,
and
when
clipp
ed on top of her head
,
it was heavy. She squinted at
her
blurry image and
readjusted
the loosened
clip
.
“
Personally, I
’
d take it down.
”
The unfamiliar voice was rich and husky
,
its deep timb
r
e sen
ding
a little shimmer through her.
T
aking time to get the
clip
right, she turned around. A tall, lean cowboy with slate-blue eyes
was giving
her the once-over
.
H
is lips curved
into an
unexpected
smile
. The sexiest
she
’
d seen in awhile.
A
long while.
S
taring into those clear blue orbs framed by
dark
lashes
,
too thick to be wasted on a man
,
threw her a little off-kilter,
l
ike her knees would give out any second. Years of being a waitress had taught her how to school her features into an expressionless stare
,
even as his gaze traveled from her face to her waist and back up again
. He lingered
at her small chest for an extra split second
.
About all
the attention
most men thought it was worth.
“
How many?
”
she asked in her most business-like voice
.
No way would she let him see he
’
d had any
e
ffect on her
.
That handsome boyish face
,
shaded by a black Stetson
,
no doubt had left countless broken hearts along the way and was used to unbalancing women
.
He wouldn
’
t get any satisfaction from her.
“
How many times have I taken down a woman
’
s hair?
”
That smile became lopsided. Those eyes sparkled
.
And her heart skipped a beat.
Damn he was
hot
. Slim
hipped
and nicely formed
,
h
e
was too tall to be a rodeo rider
.
The most successful ones topped out at
5
’
10
”
, most were shorter
,
like her father had been.
Had to do with
the
center of gravity or something.
Between her mother and father, she was lucky she
’
d
made it
to
5
’
4
”
herself. But
t
he
stranger
no doubt had something to do with the
r
odeo and that was enough to make her not interested.
She fought the smile forming on her lips
at his question
.
No need to encourage.
“
How many
beers
?
”
she said
,
emphasizing the last word.
She
slapped
a napkin onto the counter ready to do more.
“
Just one
.
I
’
m celebrating. Alone it seems.
”
He gave her a
“
feel sorry for me
”
look
.
She didn
’
t.
“
What
are you celebrating
?
”
she said
,
knowing she shouldn
’
t be continuing the conversation
,
but curiosity was often the bane of her existence.
She filled a plastic cup and placed it on the napkin.
