Ryder (Rope 'n Ride Series Book 2) (10 page)

“Joy’s on my team,” he called. “We don’t need a ghost batter.”

They all froze. Wynonna had jogged back in time to hear this, and her eyes shot flames. Good thing there wasn’t any dry brush around or they’d have to call in the smoke jumpers.

“Why’d you invite her?” Wynonna asked.

Joy didn’t move, just folded her arms. But he could tell by her expression that she was wondering the same thing. Hell, he’d hardly been thinking about the predicament of earlier that day—he just wanted her with him.

He glared at his sister. “You don’t really want to air this right here and now, do you?” He swept his hand out to the onlookers.

Wynonna hustled to third base. She was nearly as tall as he was, with a hotter temper and unlike him, almost never played by the rules. If they solved this issue right here on the field with thirty of their biggest fans as witnesses, she wouldn’t care.

“You know it was her,” Wynonna said.

“How could it be? She didn’t even know what was going on. All you did was tell her the guy’s name.”

“She must have Googled it and put two and two together.”

On the side, Joy jerked forward as if to come out and resolve this herself but Ryder’s instinct to protect her rose up. Wynonna was a force to be reckoned with when upset—like a fire tornado, singeing and destroying everything in her path. Not that he didn’t believe Joy had a will of steel, but he didn’t want things to start this way.

He wanted his family to like Joy as much as he did.

Placing his hand on his sister’s arm, he ducked his mouth toward her ear. “She had nothing to do with it. If you weren’t careful about being seen or overheard—”

“We were
very
careful,” she said in a low, intense way.

“So deny it all. Nobody has any proof.”

She turned her head aside, and all the skin on his neck prickled. He tightened his grip on her arm, and she wrenched it from him.

“Nobody has any proof, right?”
His mind galloped ahead, imagining sex tapes and incriminating Instagram pictures.

Wynonna met his gaze. Her eyes welled with tears, and this time his protective instinct kicked in full-blast.

“Oh fuck.” He took her in his arms and she rested her head on his shoulder, trembling with suppressed tears.

“What the hell’s going on? We playing ball or what?” West heckled.

“You just wanna score. Your team never wins,” Lane said.

“That’s because Ryder’s always out on third base hugging some woman. This time it just happens to be our sister,” Ridge drawled.

Ryder released Wynonna and twisted in time to see Joy’s back. Ramrod straight, her long ponytail swaying as if hardwired to her brain and running on volts of anger.

“Why would you say that?” Ryder took off after her. He didn’t give two fucks about the game or who saw him go after Joy. This could be his last chance with her. He wasn’t letting anybody screw it up.

“Joy!” he called.

She continued to speed-walk away from him, but his legs were longer. Throwing a desperate glance over her shoulder, she attempted one last sprint. He caught her around the middle and hauled her off her feet, dragging her between two parked trucks. One belonged to his biggest competitor.

“Let me go,” she huffed, kicking at him.

He planted her boots in the dirt and turned her firmly to face him, keeping hold of her. “What Ridge said back there—it isn’t true.”

Her gray eyes sparked with anger and something much deeper—hurt. But they also did something to him. “Do you know when you look at me that way it’s like you’re seeing all the empty spaces inside of me?”

She blinked up at him, her ripe red lips falling open.

“Dammit, Joy. I like you. Probably more than like. Don’t listen to a word my family says.”

She looked past him, and he twisted, expecting a camera. He wasn’t wrong.

“Shit fucking goddamn hell,” he muttered. It was the same guy who Ryder had attacked the previous day. He couldn’t do it again or he’d be off the show for sure. And he didn’t want to display that kind of behavior to the woman he wished to keep in his life.

Drawing a deep breath, he entangled his fingers with Joy’s and turned to face the camera guy.

“Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. I was out of line.”

The young guy nodded and smiled, obviously not holding a grudge. No doubt he thought this was a fun gig—filming a pissed-off cowboy who happened to ride bulls to supplement his income.

“It’s fine, dude.” He held out his hand, and Ryder gave it a hard shake. With all smoothed between them, the camera guy said, “There was word that the first event is starting early. Something to do with a time slot screw-up. Calhoun circle is in five minutes.”

“Crap. Thanks for letting me know.”

As if understanding he shouldn’t press his luck and stick around to film more interaction between him and Joy, the guy walked away. At least she hadn’t signed a consent to film form. Any footage couldn’t air. But anything recorded could wreak hell on them later. He prayed Wynonna wouldn’t be caught in something terrible, but her tears spoke volumes.

Ryder squeezed Joy’s fingers and looked into her eyes. He hadn’t been lying earlier—she could see into him more deeply than anybody in his life.

“Come to the circle with me.”

She shook her head and withdrew her hand, leaving him feeling cold and empty. “Coming to the ball game was a big enough mistake. I won’t interrupt the circle.”

“Please.” His voice was rough. He snatched her hand back into his. “I want you there, Joy.”

“Why?”

He skimmed his finger over her cheek, and she nuzzled his hand like a lost kitten. Did she even realize what a dead giveaway her body’s reactions were? “I want you there,” he repeated.

When she moved enough to skim his finger with her lips, he couldn’t take it another minute. He yanked her against him and kissed her.

* * * * *

For three solid minutes Ryder explored her mouth. She went on tiptoe and her arms had a mind of their own as they spun around his neck. She didn’t know what to believe when it came to rumors of Ryder’s womanizing, but right now she wasn’t denying herself the pleasure of kissing him.

Especially when her own flavors lingered on his lips. A shudder gripped her, and he held her tighter, hitching her against his erection.

“If I had two extra minutes, I’d have you right here against the side of Yank’s truck.”

“Yankee Carter wouldn’t be too happy to hear you took me against his truck. He’s been trying to get me into his bed for two years.”

Ryder stared down at her for a long heartbeat, the passion cooling in his eyes and hardening to jealousy. “He can’t have you. Shit, we’ve gotta go. How fast can you walk?”

“As fast as you.” He was already taking off, and she kept pace, though she had to jog a little.

He shot her a playful glance. “I was hoping you’d say you couldn’t keep up, because I was gonna throw you over my shoulder and carry you.”

She almost moaned at the thought. What spell did he have on her? She never lost her head over a man. Reason always prevailed. But with Ryder, she threw caution to the wind and watched it scatter like dandelion fluff.

In two minutes of flat-out run-walking, they made it to the stables. The Calhouns were all gathered already, and Ryder let go of her hand and jumped into the ring. They bowed their heads.

Joy watched Channing, Buck’s wife, do the same and ached to be standing in the circle. Buck’s partner was there too, along with his little girls. One hurled herself at Ryder’s thigh and hugged it tight. Then she slid down to sit on his boot.

Buck said a small prayer, and they all repeated the words, “For you, Dad.”

When Ryder looked up at Joy, she hoped he didn’t see the tears in her eyes. His expression changed in a blink—going from intense to happiness. He swung his leg upward, launching the little girl seated on his boot. She clung for dear life, and he did it three more times before ending the “ride.” Her sister was next.

Joy could barely look away from the moment, but she felt a stare on her. Wynonna.

Drawing a deep breath, she walked up to the woman. “I’m not responsible for that news feature. I’m sorry you’re being hurt by it.”

Wynonna gazed at her for a minute. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be watched at all times?”

She’d gotten the impression that Wynonna loved the spotlight, but maybe she’d figured wrong. She opened her mouth to say no and stopped. Nodding, she said, “My father is very protective of who I’m hanging around with. He doesn’t like cowboys or want me with one.”

Wynonna arched a long, auburn eyebrow. “Doesn’t he know about you and Ryder?”

Pushing out a breath, Joy answered, “Not yet. He’s bound to find out if I don’t break things off.”

“But you like my brother.”

She shot a wild look past Wynonna at Ryder. He seemed to be engaged in a discussion with West. Was she imagining that his ear was cocked just right to catch her answer?

“I’m taking a risk by being here, aren’t I?”

Wynonna smiled, and Joy felt as if a weight had been eased off her shoulders.

“Does this mean you believe I didn’t have anything to do with your news story?” Joy asked.

As if uncommitted to a decision, Wynonna shrugged. “Don’t know what to believe. But I do know I’ve never seen Ryder this happy, and I don’t think it has anything to do with Cheyenne.”

* * * * *

The walls of the chute didn’t just rattle when the bull Ryder had drawn brushed against them. No, the steel practically splintered as it violently tried to unseat Ryder from its back before the horn blast.

Joy wrapped her arms around herself and watched from her father’s VIP seats. The Calhouns were a few seats away, leaning over the rail, hooting and hollering to cheer Ryder on. Even the little dark-haired girls were hooked around their middles and allowed to lean as far out as possible, small hands stretching.

“He’s got one hell of a prime bull. That thing should be in the PBR.” Her father’s low drawl filled her ear. Admiration sounded in his tone—she knew he’d been heavily pursuing Ryder as his next prodigy. He had high hopes for Cody and Tucker, but he was far from awestruck as he was with Ryder.

She fixed her stare on Ryder’s back. The number twenty-seven swam in her vision, and she realized she’d quit breathing.

Dragging in a deep breath, she waited what felt like a full minute but in reality was a second or two. The horn sounded. The chute opened.

And Ryder lurched forward on the back of the meanest bull she’d seen in a long time.

She couldn’t stop the cry from escaping her. She hung over the rail like the Franklin girls.

The animal whipped right and then left. Ryder was far from a helpless rag doll, though. God, he was sheer beauty up there, and her body loved it. Her nipples hardened and the ache between her thighs that hadn’t vanished since early this morning when she’d come all over his fingers came to life again.

“Ryder! Ryder!” The crowd had given up on using the name Calhoun, because there were too many of them. The whole world was in love with the family.

And Joy was more than a little smitten.

She cupped her hands over her mouth as Ryder was pitched forward. His head dipped too far but he righted himself.
Probably using those amazing steel abs of his.

“Damn fine,” her father was saying.

Ryder compensated for the bull’s three-sixty spin and simultaneous wild buck. The eight-second buzzer sounded, and he tossed his hat off his head before his boots had even hit the ground.

“Fantastic. That’s gotta be a ninety-two on the scoreboard,” her father said.

The Calhouns were going wild. One of the little girls nearly escaped her father’s grip and toppled headfirst into the arena, but he hauled her back up by the waist of her pants.

Joy glanced up to see Ryder coming right for her. Her heart skidded out of control. What was he going to do? She wanted to back away but the seat hit the backs of her knees and there was no place to run, hemmed in by her father’s big body and another on her right.

Ryder’s gaze struck her and seemed to peel the clothes right off her body. If they were alone, it would have. She’d be standing here naked as a jaybird and burning for him.

She swallowed a huge lump in her throat as he veered to the side and high-fived each of his family members and the posse that was part of the Calhoun crew. Cameras got in his face but he grinned and let them record the moment.

The whole crowd seemed to fall silent, waiting for the score.

Joy didn’t know where to look—at Ryder’s handsome face or the digital numbers. She swung her gaze away from the board to see Ryder wasn’t even looking at his score. He was looking at her.

Her heart gave a violent somersault as the crowd erupted.

They tore their gazes from each other to look up at the two little numbers that would easily keep Ryder Calhoun in the top runnings of the PBR—ninety-two point five.

“Boy’s just earned himself a damn good paycheck.” Her father applauded for Ryder as if Cody and Tucker didn’t matter at all. But he excused himself to move past Joy and head down to the chutes because Cody was riding sixth.