Getting Lucky (A Nugget Romance Book 5) (27 page)

“You’re welcome.” She couldn’t help asking, “Do you think you’ll put the whole Rosser ordeal in the story?”

“I don’t want to commit to anything, Tawny. Stories have minds of their own and I don’t know where this one will take me. What I do know is that the transplant and the cowboy camp will take center stage.”

“Thanks for being honest.” Tawny said her goodbyes and went back inside.

She had just enough time to bathe and get her and Katie dressed before dinner and the opening ceremonies. Another knock came and she was tempted to ignore it. Instead, she looked through the peephole, saw it was Lucky, and opened the door.

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready?”

“I’m ready,” he said, and came in.

Katie held up her outfit. “What do you think?”

Lucky gave her a thumbs-up and told her to hurry and get dressed. At this rate there was no bath in Tawny’s future.

“I’ve got to skip dinner,” he said. “They’re doing a press thing and a bunch of other garbage I’ve got to attend.”

“I understand,” Tawny said. “Go do your thing. We’ll be in the box watching you.”

“Okay.” He started to go, but stopped to say, “Thanks for coming. It means a lot to me.”

“Of course.” Tawny didn’t know what else to say.
Why can’t you love me the way you loved Raylene?

That night, after all the pomp and circumstance—more fireworks than the Fourth of July—Lucky managed to cover his bull for eight seconds, but his score put him in fourth place. Not exactly a confidence booster for a man who was already flagging. He tried to stay upbeat even though he’d lost a lot of that signature Lucky swagger.

The next night wasn’t much better, though he’d made it to the bell. By the fifth night, despite mediocre scores, he’d succeeded in making it to the sixth and final round. The playing field had been whittled down from thirty-five riders to fifteen. Lucky was somewhere in the middle. But if he could pull off a magical score in this round, and some of the other top riders got bucked off, he still had a shot at winning it all—the Built Ford Tough event and the world championship. The latter was based on the rider’s score from the entire season.

Before the night’s competition started, Lucky came to Tawny’s room. “Where’s Katie?”

“Your mom and Jake took her over to the arena to beat the crowds.” Tawny could feel the tension ebbing through his entire body. He wanted to win and he wanted it badly. “Come in for a second, I have something for you.”

She handed him a box and watched him pop off the lid. For a few seconds he just stared at the boots inside, a mixture of pleasure and confusion lighting his face. Then he gingerly removed one for a closer inspection, like he couldn’t believe it was the same boot from her studio.

“I thought you made these for someone else.”

She shrugged, embarrassed. “I made them for you after you won your first National Finals Rodeo.”

“That was seven years ago.” Before he’d started riding for the PBR. He cocked his head in question. “I don’t understand. Why did you say they belonged to someone else?”

She evaded the question. “I thought maybe they’d bring you luck tonight.”

“How did you even know my size?” He kept looking at the boots like they were a puzzle to him.

“You gave the ones you wore for your NFR championship to Cecilia to donate to the annual Nugget High Rodeo Team fund-raiser. I bought them.”

He scrubbed his hand through his hair, still looking confused. “Why?”

“So I’d know your size.”

“I mean, why did you go to so much trouble to make me boots when I didn’t even return your emails? Then when I saw the boots and said I wanted them, you lied. It doesn’t make sense.”

Nothing about my feelings for you makes sense.
“I’d originally planned to send them to you anonymously. A gift to an old friend. If you don’t want them—”

“Hell yeah, I want them.” He pried off his old boots. “I wanted them the minute I saw them. I still don’t get why you told me they were for someone else.” Lucky shook his head in bafflement, put them on, walked across the floor a few times, and did a couple of squats. “They feel great. But—” He stopped when he saw the bedside clock. “Shit. I’ve gotta run. You have a ride to Thomas and Mack, right?” He started backing out of the room. The opening ceremony was in less than twenty minutes.

“I’ll take the shuttle over,” she said.

“I’ll see you there, then.” He looked down at his feet with that mystified expression still on his face. “And, Tawny, thanks for the boots.”

The boots were nothing. She gave lots of people boots. But as he jogged down the hall to catch the elevator, she wondered if she’d given away too much of herself.

L
ucky kept looking down at his feet. Tawny bewildered him. Why would she go to so much trouble to make him a pair of boots and then keep them from him? Even more bizarre was why she’d made them in the first place.

A gift to an old friend
, she’d said.

They might’ve known each other their whole lives, but they weren’t exactly what Lucky would’ve called friends. Except for that night in the park, they’d barely said two words to each other. His mother had said Tawny used to follow him around like a lamb when they were kids, but Lucky had no recollection of it.

The only real memory he had of Tawny all those years ago was that one night. She’d been his shoulder to cry on and had been the one to suggest riding the rodeo circuit so he could someday make it into the PBR. And in thanks, he’d knocked her up and had forgotten her existence altogether.

Yet she’d still made him the boots. Went to the trouble of buying his old ones at a charity auction to get the size right.

Lucky made it into the arena just in time to have his name called out for the introductions and to announce which bull he’d drafted. Tonight he chose Whole Lotta Shaking. He’d wanted Moocho Dinero, a bull so rank that only a few had managed to ride him. The kind of bull that if he didn’t kill you, would win you high scores. But Luiz, the Brazilian rider in first place, had drafted Moocho.

Riders were scored based on their form, their position on the bull, and how much they spurred during their eight-second ride. The ranker the bull, the higher the score. Lucky had ridden Whole Lotta Shaking before, and while he was a spinner, he was no match for Moocho Dinero.

And Lucky would need the best ride of his life to win.

Although he’d hoped to make history tonight, he supposed he should be happy for getting as far as he had. The first five rounds, he’d left the arena feeling dead on his feet. The only thing keeping him going was Tawny. He wanted to win it for her, since the PBR had been her idea in the first place. A dream that had changed his life.

A few times during the week, while dropping down into the chute, he’d glance at her front-row box and wait for her to look his way. Her lips would curve up and her face would flush . . . And that was all the encouragement he needed.

Tonight, he was at the bottom of the lineup, so he stood by the back pens with a few other cowboys, stretching. Squats for the hamstrings and quads. Every so often he’d move closer to the chutes to check out the scoreboard and gaze over at the Rodriguez box. Tawny had finally gotten there. Her hair was down and she wore a pretty red sweater. God, she was beautiful. Katie sat next to her, watching the spectacle.

“Nice boots,” Tuff Johnson said. He was in third place and could easily take the competition. All he needed was for Luiz to get bucked off and the cowboy in second place to get a so-so score.

“Thanks. My girl made them.” Lucky didn’t know why he’d said that. Tawny wasn’t his girl.

“No kidding.” Tuff lifted Lucky’s pant leg to get a better look at the design. “You see these?” he called to Clint Rafter, one of the event’s announcers.

“Nice,” Clint said. “Where’d you get ’em?”

“My girl, Tawny Wade, professional boot-maker, Nugget, California.” He knew Clint would talk about the boots during Lucky’s ride. Like every other sport, the announcers were always hungry for personal nuggets to add color to their commentary. Good. This was definitely the crowd for drumming up publicity. Tawny deserved it. Her boots were works of art.

Lucky glanced over at the box again. Tawny was laughing at something Jake said. He liked when she laughed. She caught him watching her and gave a little wave. He crooked his finger at her to come over to where he was standing. She motioned that she didn’t have a pass. He crooked his finger again.

She made it as far as security. Lucky stepped in and told the arena staff that she was with him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing. I just wanted to know what you were laughing about.”

“You called me over here to ask me what I was laughing about?”

“And to see you.” He grinned. “Why’d you make me the boots, Tawny? Did you make them for the same reason you’re making Brady boots?”

She absently straightened the collar of his protective vest. “No. On yours I put a ridge on the heels for your spurs.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Don’t you need to bounce up and down or something?” A lot of riders warmed up that way just before they climbed into the chute.

The chute boss waved Lucky over. “Gotta go,” Lucky said.

“Lucky—” Tawny started, then seemed to reconsider what she wanted to say. “Just don’t kill yourself.” She headed back to the box and Lucky headed to his chute.

There were only four of them left. Six of the fifteen had been buck-offs and one had been disqualified for touching the bull with his arm during the ride. The other two had scored in the eighties, still leaving the field wide open.

Luiz was up next. He tossed his bull rope to the gate man, who threaded it underneath Moocho Dinero’s chest. Luiz mounted the bull and nodded his head. The bull went charging out of the gate as the crowd roared and the music blared. Lucky watched, holding his breath. His instincts told him that Luiz would cover his bull the full eight seconds, and so far it was a hell of a ride.

He gazed over at the Rodriguez box and even from a distance could see Tawny frowning. The buzzer went off and Luiz dismounted as fast as he could while the bullfighters distracted Moocho. Lucky stared up at the board. A score of 89.5 flashed, and Lucky’s stomach dropped.

Tuff was up next. His scores had been the best in the first four rounds, but suffered when he got bucked off in the fifth and freight-trained—run over—by the bull, landing in the emergency room with a broken jaw. Lucky could tell he was hurting.

“Good luck, Tuff,” Lucky called to the cowboy as he mounted up.

The gate opened and the crowd went crazy. Everyone loved an underdog. His bull started spinning and then changed directions. That’s when Tuff went down the well, hanging over the side of the bull. The bullfighters sped out, fearing that Tuff would get tangled up in the bull rope, dragged, and trampled. But Tuff managed to free himself and got as far away from that rank son-of-a-gun as fast as he could. No score for Tuff. But the crowd cheered him anyway.

The fourth-place cowboy was instantly disqualified for a slap. His free hand—not the one used to hold on to the bull rope—grazed the side of the animal. That left Lucky.

He looked up at the board again, did a few quick calculations in his head: 95.5. That’s what he needed to win it all. To make history. It was pretty much like needing a miracle.

Lucky handed his bull rope to the gate man while the stock contractor adjusted Whole Lotta Shaking’s flank strap. He climbed into the chute and put on his glove. After his wreck in Billings, Lucky had vowed to wear a helmet and face mask. But not tonight, he decided. He didn’t want the extra weight. Still woozy from the transfusion, he didn’t want anything encumbering his vision either.

From the chute he could see Katie standing at the railing for a bird’s-eye view; and Tawny, who probably didn’t want to block the people behind her, straining from her seat to see him better. He looked down at his boots as he mounted up and gripped the bull rope.

“For luck,” he said out loud and nodded to the gate man to let ’er rip.

Whole Lotta Shaking leapt out of the gate, spinning, bucking, and jumping. The bull shook Lucky so hard that he didn’t know if he’d temporarily blacked out. That’s when everything started to move in slow motion. Even as the bull violently bucked in one direction, then briskly switched to another, Lucky felt like he was floating on air. And then it struck him like a bull’s-eye. He loved Tawny. He loved everything about her.

The way she fretted over Katie . . . over him. Hell, even her damned independence had started to grow on him. The woman took care of business . . . the people she loved. But did she love him?

In the hazy background, he heard music blaring and splinters of Clint’s commentary. It was like being underwater and grabbing bits and pieces of a conversation each time he came up for air. “Custom made . . . Tawny Wade . . . Nugget, California . . . Lucky’s hometown.”

He tried to find her in the crowd, but Whole Lotta Shaking kept changing course. He looked down at his boots and saw himself spurring the bull. Until that moment he couldn’t recall doing it. It was like he was on a cloud.

Somewhere in the distance he heard a buzzer go off, saw people come to their feet, and watched as their hands went up in the air. The fog cleared, and Lucky used his free hand to release his riding hand from the rope, then flung himself off, as far away from the bull as he could get.

Every spectator in the Thomas and Mack Center was standing, watching the instant replay on the Jumbotron. The cheers were so loud he could barely hear himself think. All he wanted to do was find Tawny. He would’ve missed his score if the crowd hadn’t sent up a roar of approval. Ninety-seven flashed on the board.

Before Lucky could get to Tawny, he got caught up in a swell of cowboys dumping water over his head. A few of them hoisted him up on their shoulders and carried him around to thunderous applause.

Someone from the PBR brought Katie, his mom, and Jake into the arena, but he didn’t see Tawny anywhere. Amid all the hoopla he couldn’t ask where she was. Cameras flashed in his eyes, reporters stuck microphones in his face, while officials presented him with his belt buckle and world champion cup. He’d done this three times before, knew the routine, but somehow it seemed overwhelming. Like he’d lost something critical.

“Where’s Tawny?” he managed to whisper in his mother’s ear.

She pointed to the box where a lone figure, with tickertape in her hair, stood cheering. “She wouldn’t come down with us. Said she wasn’t family. With everything happening so fast, I didn’t have time to drag her.”

He tried to pull away to get to her, but a group of reporters swarmed him. He nudged his mother to take Katie back to the room. “I don’t want her to get sick.”

An hour later he fended off a straggling TV reporter and made a quick getaway. When he got back to the hotel he found everyone in his mother’s room. “What are you all doing in here?” he asked, worried that maybe Katie had had a relapse.

Jake popped a bottle of champagne and everyone shouted congratulations. Katie threw herself at him.

“I’m so glad you won, Daddy.” He kissed her on the top of her head.

“Where’s your big trophy?” Cecilia asked.

“Pete got it for me, along with my check.” A million bucks.

Jake passed around glasses of champagne and everyone toasted Lucky. Tawny smiled but stood in the background, acting like the proverbial outsider.

Lucky drained his bubbly and grabbed Tawny’s hand. “You mind if I borrow her for a minute?”

Before anyone could answer, he pushed Tawny out the door, made a beeline for his room, jabbed the card key in the door, and corralled her.

“What’s going—?”

Before she could finish, he smothered her mouth with a kiss. “Why’d you make me the boots?”

“Seriously?” She tried to pull away, but he boxed her in against the wall. “I make lots of people boots.”

“Do you keep them for seven years?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, I had a silly crush on you. Big whoop.”

“How ’bout now, Tawny? Do you have a crush on me now?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Why didn’t you come into the arena with everyone?”

“I didn’t belong. It was for family. And I kept thinking that maybe a part of you wished Raylene was there.”

“No, Tawny. Ever since you pushed your way into my trailer, it’s only been you. I’m in love with you.”

She jerked her head up. “Did that bull gore your brains and make you crazy?”

“Crazy in love with you.” His lips curved up. “So I guess I owe that bull.”

She had tears in her eyes. “I thought you couldn’t forgive me for keeping Katie from you.”

“Can you forgive me for never contacting you after that night? For never making sure you were all right? Because if you can, so can I.”

A funny sound came out of her throat and he wrapped his arms around her. “Do you have something you want to tell me?”

“I love you, Lucky.” It was a whisper.

“I can’t hear you.” He held her out from him so that he could look into her green eyes when she said it.

“I love you, Lucky.”