How to Kiss a Cowboy (31 page)

Suze wasn't supposed to be walking much. She wasn't supposed to be driving, either. So Sierra's offer to take her along when she and Ridge drove some of the kids to the Rooftop Rodeo in Sheridan over the weekend offered just the opportunity she'd been looking for.

She'd get out of the house and even out of Wynott. She'd get to be outside all day, in the stands. And she'd get to see Brady ride. Maybe she'd even get to see him and apologize. She doubted it would do much good, but she'd feel a little better if he only knew how bad she felt.

The Phoenix House van was almost full when Ridge pulled it into the turnout.

“Hey, lady, you can have the front seat if you want,” Isaiah said. He was sitting beside Ridge, but as Suze approached, he slid to the ground and waved her into the minivan with a courtly gesture.

Suze slid into the seat. “Thanks. Hi, Ridge.”

He just looked at her, his expression stony. Ridge was always quiet, but she was pretty sure she was feeling some heavy-duty waves of hostility emanating from his gray eyes.

Normally, Ridge seemed to like her. She wondered what Brady had said to him.

Sierra, who was sitting in back with the boys, moved over to make room for Isaiah.

“That was nice, Isaiah, but you shouldn't call her ‘Hey, lady,'” Sierra said gently. “You know her name.”

“It's okay,” Suze said. Ever since she'd heard Isaiah defend her claim on Brady as “my lady,” she'd accepted the name. “It's something we got worked out.”

If Isaiah hadn't offered the front seat, she'd have had to ask. Her ankle still gave her trouble, and the knee on the same leg got sore if she sat for a long time. Soon Isaiah would be calling her, “Hey, old lady.” And she'd have to answer.

Actually, she'd answer to anything the kid wanted to call her. Isaiah had been a godsend. Having him around was like having a mischievous sprite in the house. Unfortunately, mischievous sprites were known to eavesdrop occasionally, and he'd overheard Suze and Earl talking about their newly defined relationship. But his frank appraisal of their new situation made them both laugh.

“So he's not the guy that knocked up your mom,” he'd said. “That doesn't matter. He's still your dad, 'cause he does all the dad stuff.”

Suze and Earl had laughed, and the tension in the house had ebbed a little bit, as it did every time Isaiah was there.

Sierra introduced Suze to all the kids. Teresa's little munchkins were there, along with Sierra and Ridge's boy, Jeff. Then there was a beautiful brown-eyed, olive-skinned boy named Frankie who was wearing the most disreputable-looking Panama hat Suze had ever seen; a chunky, cheerful kid named Carter; and a new boy, Adam, who seemed a little overwhelmed by the energy level in the van.

As Ridge jockeyed the van over the potholes and corrugated concrete of Wyoming's country roads, Suze felt free for the first time since the accident. She watched a center-pivot irrigation system creep slowly across a farmer's field like a huge robotic centipede, and saw two horses running in a pasture, nipping at each other as they galloped over the prairie. She saw livestock trucks hauling cattle, and hay trucks bearing huge round bales that sagged over the sides of their flatbeds.

The only thing that spoiled her pleasure was Ridge's unfriendly presence. He only grunted in response to her efforts to make conversation, and she caught him staring at her with a grim expression once when they stopped for a light.

As they neared the rodeo grounds, she saw more and more pickup trucks, all of them driven by men in cowboy hats. Sure, there was the occasional pickup with a “Stupid Boy, Trucks Are for Girls” bumper sticker, but rodeo was still a man's game.

Unless you were a barrel racer.

“Is it going to be hard for you to just watch?” Sierra asked.

“No. It's such a treat to get out of the house today, I won't mind at all,” Suze said. “I'm going to drink beer and gorge on fair food, and have myself a good time.”

Sierra grinned. “Sounds like a plan. I'll join you.”

“You can't drink beer,” Isaiah said indignantly. “That would set a bad example for all these little kids.”

Despite the fact that he was only a year or two older than the rest of the kids, Isaiah had always referred to them with a hint of scorn as “little kids.” He evidently considered himself a miniature grown-up, and at times his odd blend of wisdom and gravity made him seem precisely right.

But he certainly had the energy of a kid. No sooner had Ridge pulled into a parking space than he was out of the van, opening Suze's door and practically dragging her out of the front seat he'd offered so kindly a few hours earlier.

“Come on, lady. Let's go. I want nachos and some of that beer.”

Suze was beginning to regret her mention of alcohol. “I don't really drink beer, Isaiah,” she said.

It was true. She'd only drunk beer once, and that had led to her first night with Brady. She shivered at the thought.

“You okay?” the boy asked.

“I'm fine.”

“You gonna come with us to see Brady?” he asked.

“I don't think so.”

His dark brows lowered over his eyes, and he scowled. “Well, are you gonna cheer for him?”

“I sure am.” Suze smiled. “Louder than you, I bet.”

“No way.” Isaiah puffed out his chest. “Nobody cheers louder than me!”

“No, I'm the loudest,” Carter said.

“No, me.” Frankie joined the fight, and they argued about it until Sierra let out a piercing whistle.

The boys fell immediately silent and stood waiting for whatever she had to say.

“Nobody is going to be loud,” she said. “We are going to be polite and kind to each other and the people around us.” She swept the little crowd of kids with her eyes, then ducked down to their level. “You know why?”

“'Cause we're secret agent men from the planet Zorg and revealing our true identities could cause discovery and
death
!” the boys shouted in unison.

“Okay, let's go.” Sierra led the way, with the boys doing some sort of awkward Igor walk behind her. Evidently, that was how secret agent men from the planet Zorg got around.

Once the kids were absorbed in the menu at the concession stand, Sierra moved over to stand by Suze.

“You sure you don't want to see Brady?”

“I'm sure,” Suze said. She and Sierra had become friends, just as Suze had hoped, and she'd confided in Sierra about everything from her harsh words to Brady to her discussion with Earl and Gwen. “Just seeing him ride'll be nice.”

“He's loved you for a long time,” Sierra said. “One fight can't have made that much difference.”

“I hurt him one too many times,” Suze said. “I think he's over me.”

Sierra's smile was serene, as if she knew better. “I doubt it.”

But Sierra hadn't seen Brady's face that last day, when Suze had accused him of everything from courting Sierra herself to lying about his involvement with Teresa. He actually hadn't looked hurt. He'd looked cold, as if he'd shut down his emotions for good.

That was one reason she'd wanted to come to the rodeo. She wanted to see him ride with his usual abandon, and watch his fancy dismount. Incredibly, she wanted to hear that joyful whoop of his again, in some context other than her own accident. Surprisingly, she felt like it would be healing to see the old carefree Brady, without their troubled relationship shackling his good humor.

She loved him. That would never change. It was trust that was the problem—trust, truth, and forgiveness.

What a mess her life had become.

Once the boys had spent their grubby, creased dollar bills on a selection of gloriously unhealthy rodeo food, Sierra sent them up to their seats with Ridge.

“You take them, okay?” was all she had to say. The man was a saint.

“You really got lucky with Ridge,” Suze said as they sat down at a picnic table to eat their hot dogs.

“Brady's his brother,” Sierra said with a knowing smile. “You could get lucky too.”

“Brady's nothing like Ridge, though,” Suze said. “Ridge is so quiet and responsible. Brady's the anti-Ridge.”

Sierra sighed. “You have a point.
Quiet
isn't a word I'd use to describe Brady,” she said. “Although he did take responsibility for what he did to you.”

Suze nodded.

“And you know, Brady was raised by Bill Decker, just like Ridge and Shane,” Sierra said. “He lives by the Code of the West, just like they do.”

“I'm not sure what part of the code applies to our relationship,” Suze said wryly.

“It applies to life, though. Think about it. Brady's honest. He's tough but fair. He rides for the brand. And he's loyal as the day is long.”

Suze nodded. All those things were true.

Except, wait. The first one wasn't. He wasn't honest.

“He lied to me, though,” she said.

“People do.” Sierra sighed in a put-upon big-sister sort of way. “Don't take this wrong, but you haven't had a whole lot of experience with love.”

“I know.” Suze flushed. “I've only slept with three guys.”

“I don't mean sex.” Sierra laughed. “I mean
love.
With your mother gone and your father the way he is, you never had it growing up. It's no wonder you don't know it when you see it now. And it's no wonder you have trouble trusting people.”

“I don't know,” Suze said. “I spent a lot of time with animals. That'll teach you about love.”

“Unconditional love,” Sierra said, nodding. “Kids are good for that too.”

They ate for a while in silence, watching the people flow around them.

“I'm not sure I'm right for Brady,” Suze said. “I do care about him. So much. But I think maybe it's best if I let him go, and I care enough to do that.” She finished off her hot dog and crumpled her napkin. “I'm not here to talk him into taking me back or anything. I just want to see that he's okay. And then, somehow, I'll move on.”

She wasn't sure how she'd do that, but that wasn't Sierra's problem. It was hers. All hers.

As soon as Suze and Sierra got back to the stands, Sierra started checking on the kids, handing out napkins, and gathering up trash. Meanwhile, Ridge sat stonily at the end of the row, staring down at the day sheet that listed the cowboys and indicated what horses they'd ride.

Sierra took one look at him, and asked, “Ridge, what's wrong?”

He handed her the day sheet. “Brady drew Tornado.”

“You're kidding.”

“Isn't that the horse that rolled over on you and messed up your hand?” Isaiah asked. The kid was always direct, Suze thought.

Ridge just nodded. Suze knew he'd had to give up rodeo when a bucking horse threw him and rolled over on him, damaging two vertebrae in his neck and causing nerve damage in his riding hand. He couldn't hang on to a basketball, let alone a bucking rope.

“Maybe Brady'll get revenge for you,” Isaiah said. “Maybe he'll whip out a gun and shoot that sucker dead!”

“Yeah!” chorused Teresa's kids. Suze was starting to see some hero worship in their eyes when they looked at Isaiah. Next they'd be trying to get the kid to marry their mother and make an honest woman of her.

Sierra gave Isaiah a look that would freeze a fire. “That would be totally inappropriate, Isaiah. As was your comment.”

When they'd come back from the concession stand, Sierra had sat down on the far end of the line of kids, so that she and Ridge would act as bookends. But now, with a quick glance at Suze, she moved down the line and sat beside him, taking his hand. The two of them stayed silent, almost motionless, but Suze could see Ridge relaxing simply from his wife's presence.

That was the kind of relationship Suze wanted—quiet, unspoken, and deep.

Again, words that didn't describe Brady.

And yet, he was the man she wanted. The man she loved—quietly, unspoken, and deep inside her heart.

* * *

Suze couldn't help watching for Brady. As the cowboys lowered themselves carefully onto big bucking horses twitching with nerves, she listened for his name. Her ankle was throbbing with every beat of her heart. She'd foolishly worn a normal boot on her bad foot as well as her good one, and if she didn't take it off soon she'd have to cut it off.

A tussle in the chutes drew her eye. Six or eight cowboys were trying to help a rider mount a horse who clearly wasn't planning on being ridden today. The animal lunged and reared, then stood just long enough for the cowboy to lower himself onto its back before it slung itself sideways, slamming the cowboy's leg into the rough boards of the chute.

The horse leaned against the chute, pressing the cowboy's leg against the unforgiving wood.

“He's going to get hurt before he even gets out of the chute,” Suze heard Ridge grumble.

“That's Brady?” She leaned over so she could talk to Ridge. “That can't be Brady. This is the bareback riding. He doesn't do that.”

“He does now,” Ridge said. “Tornado's a bareback horse. Guess my little brother's got a death wish. Wonder why.” His gray eyes fixed on Suze, expressionless. A taut muscle pulsed in his jaw and Suze realized why the kids behaved so well around him. You didn't mess with Ridge Cooper. Or his family.

“All right, everybody, you might want to watch gate five,” the announcer said. “That's Brady Caine, getting ready to ride Tornado. That horse has never been ridden yet, and you can see he's not planning to take Caine for a pony ride today!”

Suze wished the announcer would shut up. He yammered on, announcing the next cowboy, but she barely saw the bronc burst out of the chute and toss his rider almost immediately. Somersaulting off the horse, the rider landed on his very attractive cowboy butt, then hopped to his feet and waved to the crowd.

Suze glanced down at Ridge, who was hunched forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hand. His pale gray eyes were fixed on chute five, where Brady had managed to get himself into position and was hammering his hand into the rigging.

“Aaaaand now for Brady Caine on Tornado!” hollered the announcer. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the horse that dang near killed another Decker Ranch cowboy last year. Ridge Cooper hung up his spurs after Tornado rolled over on him in a wreck. Now Caine's here to take his revenge. Those boys are like brothers, ladies and gentlemen. So,
do
you
think
he
can
ride
him
?”

The announcer's voice rose to a frantic pitch on the last words, and the crowd roared. Half of them wanted Brady to give them a good wreck, but the shouts of “No!” were practically drowned out by the Phoenix House kids, stamping on the bleachers and hollering for Brady.

Suze was shouting encouragement too, until Brady glanced over his shoulder and tipped his hat for the kids. Then she shrank back down in her seat, hoping he hadn't seen her.

“Eleven rodeos and twenty-two tries, this horse has never been ridden,” the announcer continued. “And now—
whoa, there he goes
!”

The gate swung open and the horse reared up for a heart-stopping second, nearly tumbling over backward before plunging into the arena. The shaggy paint horse hit the dirt with his front hooves in what had to be a tooth-jarring landing for Brady.

And then the dance was on. The big horse plunged and kicked, leaped and sunfished, twisting his body so hard his belly turned toward the sky. He spun into Brady's riding hand and then reversed, almost throwing Brady off balance.

Almost. The cowboy wrenched himself upright through pure strength of will, his legs never losing the rhythm of the ride as he lifted his free hand high.

Suze knew eight seconds could seem like a long time when you were in the saddle getting your insides pureed, but she'd never realized how long it could take when you were in the stands, praying for it to end safely for someone you loved. She found herself leaning forward with her hands clenched in her lap, chanting “please, please, please,” over and over as Brady's body whipped forward and back, forward and back, like a willow branch in a wild windstorm. He was strong, she knew he was strong, but Tornado's power was legendary.

“That's an even-Steven matchup of cowboy and bronc if I ever saw one,” the announcer said. “Brady Caine's been on a winning streak these past few weeks, and it looks like he's going to…”

The announcer's words were drowned out by the roar of the crowd as the horn sounded.

He'd done it. Brady had ridden Tornado.

Suze waited for the fancy dismount, but apparently Tornado had taken everything Brady had, because he tumbled from the horse in a graceless nod to gravity. From where Suze was sitting, it looked like he'd landed on his head. She stood, along with half the crowd, waiting for the cowboy to move.

Please
move. Just move. Please. Please.

She found herself mumbling the words aloud again as a sort of prayer as she watched Brady lie in the dirt of the arena, still as—well, a lot stiller than she wanted him to be.