The Bull Rider Wears Pink (8 page)

“We won't judge you,” the buckle bunny
added. She waved at everyone in the room. “I'm sure we've all done worse.”

“I haven't,” Mrs. Goodwin
protested. She turned around and eyed the bunny's pink cowboy boots. The
registration woman certainly had the corner on righteous.

“I have lied,” John finally said as
everyone fell back into their chairs. Disappointment flowed through the room.
They were definitely looking for something better, juicer. John certainly had a
lot
better,
like that time he broke the nose of a drug
dealer to prove he was legitimate to the bikers. Then there was the occasion,
he got arrested, went to prison and posed as an actual prisoner so that he
could stay with the club and keep his ‘brothers’ safe while incarcerated. Not
even the guards knew he was undercover. “And I'll probably lie again,” he added
quickly but he had already lost his audience.

Mrs. Goodwin harrumphed. “A little
lie is nothing. I've stretched the truth plenty of times in the registration
line.” She folded her arms over her chest. “White lies, that's what most people
call being helpful.”

“Don't you get all high and mighty
with us,” the buckle bunny told Mrs. Goodwin. “You've said some pretty down and
dirty lies too. Like the time you told me Caleb Cooper wasn't with that smart
Asian girl but he was.” The girl stood up. “I made a fool of myself when I did
a pole dance in front of him.”

Cassidy hadn't heard anything about
a pole dance. She glanced at Kevin, she wasn't sure if she should cover his
ears. He was still typing so she decided to ignore it.

Mrs. Goodwin turned around with her
finger in the air. “Kelly Proctor when you asked me if I thought Caleb Cooper
liked you and not that concussion scientist,” her face started to get red, “I
told you he liked you because you couldn't stand to hear the truth.” Mrs.
Goodwin folded her arms over her chest. “It was for your own good.”

“Was she involved with my brother?”
Cassidy asked. She hadn't heard about Caleb with a buckle bunny. Caleb always
looked down on women like Kelly Proctor.

Mrs. Goodwin snorted. “She thought
she was, but she wasn't. He only had eyes for Carrie Wang.” The older woman
turned back to Kelly. “Sorry,” she said with an uncharacteristic shrug, “just
trying to be honest.”

Boy, oh boy that wasn't nice.
Cassidy looked to John to gain control of the group but he seemed overwhelmed
by this catty turn of events. Instead of dealing with the girl fight, he
continued talking. “For some of us, we are still living a lie.” He chomped on
his lower lip as he glanced at Cassidy. “While for others, we are free of our
lies. Right, Mrs. Goodwin?” He tried to smile but the joke didn't go over very
well.

Kelly Proctor got up, stomped to
the door and slammed it with a huff.

“Only death frees you of your lies,”
Mrs. Goodwin yelled at the door.

“Not exactly,” John said to Mrs.
Goodwin. “There are the little white lies you refer to,” he continued, his
voice shaking slightly. Cassidy was really hoping he'd tell the woman she
needed to get off her high horse but he didn't. “Then there are the big, life
changing lies that can follow you to the grave,” he continued. “For example
your family finds out you did something they didn't know about.” He glanced at
Cassidy again.

“But, we need to take responsibility
for our lies,” he added. “We need to ask those we have lied to for forgiveness.”
He put his hands out. “And...
sometimes
redemption
doesn't come immediately.” He smiled shyly at the group. “But it does come.”

Mrs. Goodwin raised her hand. “Now,”
she started, “are we talking about lying about putting decaf coffee in a loved
one’s cup even though he thinks it’s caffeinated?” She shook her head. “You
know my George can't sleep at night and I know it has nothing to do with the
cancer eating away at his body but everything to do with that caffeine he
drinks all day.”

John's face got red and his lips
moved as he tried to form an answer. But Mrs. Goodwin didn't give him a chance.
“Or are we talking about envy, greed, adultery, and murder.” She rubbed her
hands down the front of her blouse.

One of the South American's spoke
up. “I think God would want you do what you're doing.” The other, who Cassidy
knew to be Javier
Rojas
agreed with his friend. “You
are helping him. If you help someone then a lie is good.” He turned to John for
affirmation.

John nodded as he shifted on his
heels. Yes, John had lied to Cassidy to help others. And Cassidy had lied to
Kevin to help others. When did it stop? Could a person find redemption from a
helping lie? She had no idea. It was time for Cassidy to get back on a bull and
look for glimpses of clarity during her eight seconds in the ring.

* * * *

That afternoon John watched Cassidy
unload groceries from her car. He should have helped her but he didn't. He just
wanted to watch her. She was built lean, with narrow hips and shoulders. Athletic
would be the best way to describe her. Turned-on would be the best way to
describe him.

After she reached into her trunk
and picked up four bags, two in each hand, she noticed him across the parking
lot. He nodded, she didn't nod back. He wondered what she thought of his sermon
that morning. Even though things got a little out of hand with the women he
felt he did a pretty good job.

With a heavy sigh and biceps
flexing she turned away from him and walked to her motel room door. She kicked
on it with her boot. “Kevin,” she yelled. “I'm out here with groceries.” She
shot John another dirty look, but it wasn't really dirty because he thought her
face was perfect. “They're sliding out of my hands,” she added when Kevin
didn't open the door. “Soon your orange juice is going to be all over the
pavement.”

Finally Kevin opened the door.

“What took you so long?” Cassidy
complained as she pushed a bag into his hand.

The teenager scratched his crotch
with his other hand. “I was sleeping,” Kevin told her. John laughed. He
remembered sleeping long hours when he was a teen.

“If you ever have a girlfriend,”
Cassidy advised her son, “don't do that around her.”

“What?” the kid asked taking
another bag from his mother.
“Sleep?”

“
Nooooo
.
The other thing
you did,” she moaned as she took one last dismissive glance at John. “With your
other hand,” she added. Then she slammed the door.

John pulled himself off his truck.
He needed to talk to her but he didn't plan on giving her advice on how to tell
her son to not scratch himself. Every guy needed that kind of gratification. He
walked over to her late eighties red Camaro. After deciding she should get a
new car, he pulled the last of the groceries out of the trunk and placed them
in front of her door. Then he waited for her to come out.

“I could have used your help about
five minutes ago,” Cassidy told John after she opened the door and stared at
him for a moment. The sound of the television flowed out of the room. “Didn't you
see all those groceries I was carrying?” She closed the door and stepped
outside.

“Sorry,” he replied. “I didn't
notice,” he added slowly. Which was a lie and she knew it. But it was a white
lie and it was okay.

He smiled. She didn't.

Instead, she picked up the last of
her bags and headed back inside. “See
ya
,” she told
him over her shoulder.

Yes, Cassidy Cooper could be tough
when she wanted to. He wasn't sure what she was mad at him about. “Did you like
my sermon?” he asked quickly and pathetically. He took a step toward her.

“It was fine,” she said turning
around. She gave him a scornful nod.

What the hell did that mean? Good
God, he'd worked hard on that sermon. Even waking up in the middle of the night
to edit a few lines he felt weren't right. “What do you mean by fine?” he
demanded to know. He shoved his hands in his pockets. He didn't want to get
defensive but— “I thought you were getting a little emotional while I spoke,”
he added.

“No, I wasn't.” She shut him down
fast. Her face got red. There was an opening here, John just needed to figure
out how to get through it.

He studied her for a moment while
she studied a planter with weeds growing out of it. “Did my words upset you?”
he asked gently. He had a feeling she liked the kinder, more awkward and eager
version of himself. John could feel his face flush. Jesus Christ, he never got
embarrassed, he wasn't sure what was wrong with him but he had a feeling it had
to do with the touchy feely approach he was using.

Plus, Cassidy Cooper wasn't used to
gentleness from John Risk. So of course, she shook her head, shutting John down
again. Shit, she wasn't making this easy for him. John rubbed his chin. “I've
got some Fig
Newtons
in my room.” He glanced at her
door. “Do you think you could take a few moments away from your son and come
over?”

He knew she loved the chewy
center
. She called them her comfort food. After a
particularly rough day with the bikers, she would go back to their room, eat an
entire bag, and then they would have swinging from the chandeliers sex.

“I don't want to fool around with
you.” she said suddenly. “I've got my son and…” She blushed. She was thinking
about those light fixtures too.

“We can talk,” John interrupted
trying to not sound too disappointed.

She didn't look reassured because
she knew John didn't have a very good track record when it came to talking.
Cassidy had tried often to talk to him but at the time John was so caught up in
his own head, he wouldn't let her. All he wanted to do was bury himself in her
and forget his worries.

“I promise,” he added.

“I've got to ride tonight,” she
told him, she glanced at her motel room door again. John could still hear the
television. The kid was fine in there.

“I just want to talk,” he said
again, which everyone and their grandmother knew wasn't completely true.
Another white lie but at least he had Mrs. Goodwin's seal of approval.

“Why redemption?” she asked. She
looked up into the sun at him. He stepped to the right and blocked the light.
It would have been a lot more comfortable if they could have this conversation
in his room. “Do you really believe what you're saying?”

“Yes,” he replied quietly. “I do.”
He grimaced. “I just haven't gotten there yet myself,” he admitted. He knew
what she was thinking. Since he wasn't who he said he was, and he lied to his
congregation the entire time he gave that sermon, he had no right to talk about
redemption. Honestly, he planned to someday live by the words he exhorted.

“So what do you hope redemption
will bring you?” Cassidy prodded more. “When you find it?” They’d never had a
conversation like this in L.A.
Like he said before, they had sex.

“Peace,” John whispered. He knew
his words shocked her by the way she pulled her chin back. Her jaw also dropped
open. Confused and vulnerable, very attractive emotions on Cassidy Cooper's
beautiful face.

“Well, people like you and me, we
don't qualify for redemption,” Cassidy snapped. Her words surprising John just
as much as his did her. Holy cow, they were quite the pair. Two people carrying
around too many lies and just trying to get through the day justifying them.

“Hey, Pastor John,” that idiot

“Can we please go to my room to
finish this conversation?” John begged. Jesus, he was frustrated, some of these
guys acted like such imbeciles. “Or I'm going to have to deck somebody and that
wouldn't be very charitable of me especially on a Sunday.”

Her eyes snapped
to his—still suspicious.

“Just talk,” he reassured her
again. “I won't touch you,” he promised. He looked around. Another group of
bull riders was coming out of the restaurant, but they hadn't noticed John and
Cassidy yet. Logan
was among them.

Cassidy saw her brother too. “Okay,”
she said. “First let me tell Kevin where I'm going.”

Chapter Six

John's room smelled like shaving
cream and take out Chinese food. It was the same smell his house had back in
L.A. John really liked moo
shu
chicken. Cassidy
probably needed to introduce him to Rose Wang, Caleb’s mother-in-law. The woman
made the best Chinese food in the world. And if she decided she liked you, she
made it even better.

John threw his keys on top of the
television. With his hands on his hips, he looked around. “Sorry about the
mess.” He leaned over and picked up a pair of socks. Then he kicked his boxer
shorts under the bed and shoved jeans into his suitcase. Cassidy stood at the
door watching him.

They'd shared motel rooms plenty of
times in the past. But this was different. Instead of using a rented room to
relieve their tension in a mutually agreed upon physical way, they were going
to talk. Cassidy fidgeted with her hair. She wasn't sure if she knew how to
talk to John Risk.

After John was done cleaning he turned
to her. He rubbed his forehead. “Should we sit at the table or on the bed?” he
asked formally. “It doesn't matter to me,” he added eagerly, “wherever you're
more comfortable.”

“The table,” Cassidy said firmly.
The bed?
Was the man out of his mind?

John pushed a book called “Buddha
in Blue Jeans” off the table. Then he picked up his laptop and closed it. After
tossing a few paper coffee cups into the trash the table was clean.

He sat down and gestured toward the
chair across from him. “Please,” he requested politely. Slowly, Cassidy eased
herself down.

With his legs open, hands in his
lap and a lock of hair falling down his face, John looked non-threatening,
non-predatory and not even deceitful.
Just a plain old nice
guy, with a lovely smile and a need to please.

Unnerved, Cassidy didn't place her
purse on the floor, instead she settled it in her lap like a shield. She
crossed her legs,
then
uncrossed them. He was staring
at her and she didn't like it. She probably should have stayed in her room and
watched Kevin watch television.

“What?” she
whined.
She didn't mean to whine but it wasn't entirely her fault. If he brought her to
his room to talk, why wasn't he talking? She glanced at the bed. It was getting
harder to stay focused because this respectful version of John was making her
even more attracted to him, plus he picked up his dirty clothes, he never did that
before.

John placed one hand on the table
and shifted his shoulders. “If you don't think you can find redemption?” he
asked stiffly. “What about me?” He was referring to what she said earlier in
the parking lot. “I did a lot worse things than you.” He looked sad.

Cassidy looked around. She didn't
know John felt bad about the work. He was always stoked when he discovered
evidence or broke up a drug deal. She also didn't know he had started hanging
up his bath towel. She could see it through the bathroom door folded nicely on
the rack.

“You don't deserve forgiveness
either,” she told him. Yes, she sounded harsh but she was struggling with this.
“Maybe the bad things we did were for the greater good,” she added, “but they
were still bad.”

For example, forcing
gang members to turn into rats by using family members as leverage.
Bear in mind, the people John was manipulating were murderers, drug dealers, and
money launderers
however,
their wives and children
were not.

“We all deserve forgiveness,” he
said quietly as he leaned over and lifted her purse off her lap. “That's what I
believe now.” He put it on the floor next to her chair. “Every religion I've studied,”
he gestured toward a stack of books on the nightstand.
Islam for Dummies
sat on top of a Rick Warren book. “Believes in
redemption,” he added softly.

“No,” Cassidy replied. “We don't
deserve it.” She flipped her hand back and forth between his chest and hers.
Honestly, she didn't mean for him to look at her chest but he did anyway. “We
did too many bad things.” Good God, John had always worshipped her small
breasts and she loved him for loving them. Especially in L.A.
with all those silicone enhanced women.

“What did you do that was bad?” He
demanded to be told. “There are a number of drug dealers, gun runners, and
pimps behind bars because of your work and you saved that girl.” He amended his
words. “Yes, it was on my back but you still saved her.”

“I'm not talking about that,”
Cassidy insisted even though he was finally acknowledging that Cassidy was
right when she intervened in that situation. But still, she reached for her
purse. She tried to pick it up but he held on to the strap on the other side...John
always held on. He was one of the most stubborn men she knew besides her
brother. Dammit, that was another thing she liked about him.

“What are you talking about then?”
he asked. His forehead rolled up.

“Nothing,” Cassidy replied. She
shook her head and took a grab at her bag again. “It's personal,” she explained
after a moment. She added, “And...
it's
something I
don't want you to know about.” She tried to sound like Caleb when he was in a
peevish mood, everyone stayed away—except someone like John.

Maybe it had to do with his
divinity training or maybe it was because he finally took her advice and
decided to join the human race, but John wasn't going to leave her alone until
he figured out what she meant. For a moment he looked puzzled,
then
he didn't. The man was not stupid. “This lack of
forgiveness has something to do with your kid,” he suggested. “Doesn't it?”
Then he smiled like the preacher he was playing because he knew he was right.

Cassidy shook her head, which John
took as affirmation of his theory. He slapped his hand on his thigh and yelled
out. “Holy hell I'm good.” He smiled that goofy smile again. “I know you think
I'm not good with this touchy feely stuff but I've changed.” He leaned in
closer to her. “So tell me what’s happening with the kid. I promise I will
listen.”

“His name is Kevin,” Cassidy
reminded him peevishly. Okay, she was still having a hard time getting her mind
around John Risk taking such an enthusiastic interest in her problems, her
family or even in her life.

John ignored her and gestured with
his hand for her to talk.

“You wouldn't care if I told you,”
she countered. Honestly, it wasn't worth it to tell John about her heartache.
The last time she told him her
feelings,
he fell
asleep on the couch and didn’t wake up until eight the next morning.

“I've changed,” John argued gently.
“After you left L.A., I started watching
reruns of Oprah in the afternoons while my leg healed.” He blew out air between
his teeth. “That woman is all about validating and listening.”

Did every man in her life watch
Oprah? Along with Logan and Caleb, John could start a men's Oprah club. “You're
enlightened,” Cassidy commented dryly.

“I wouldn't call myself the Dalai Lama,”
he replied putting his hands up. “But I'm slightly enlightened.” He grinned. “Come
on,” he encouraged her, “spill the beans.”

“Okay,” Cassidy conceded. She took
a breath. Honestly, she didn't have anything to lose. If he shut her down, they
wouldn't have to go through this exercise again. “I'm a horrible mother,” she
told him.

“No, you’re not horrible mother,”
he shot right back.

Right, that was the other
possibility. He'd say something stupid thinking he was being helpful. She
shouldn't have brought up any of this with him. Forget her purse. There wasn't
much money in it and she'd get it from him another time. She stood to leave,
John reached for her arm.

“Okay, okay,” he panted. “I didn't
handle that very well. I'm supposed to say…” he scratched his head as he
muttered under his breath, “Holy cow arresting a resisting drug dealer is much
easier than listening to someone you love talk about their problems.”

What? Did he just say
love?
Cassidy could feel her face contort into something not very attractive. But she
needed to be given a break because the word love expressed by John Risk was
never something she thought she'd hear, even in passing. John loved finding the
bad guys and throwing them in jail, not another person.

“What?” she whispered. She needed
to clarify because he didn't mean it the way he said it. He was just playing
with her. After all the man was a master at deceit.

“Love,” he said firmly. “Yes, I
love you, I'll own up to it.” He pulled her over to the bed and made her sit
down. “What the hell do you think I’m doing here dressed like this and acting
like an idiot?” He gestured toward his chest. “I wanted to be near you, I
wanted to find you.”

Near her?
Find her? Cassidy didn’t know how to interpret his words. Plus, the bed smelled
like him which wasn’t helping with her ability to think clearly. Feeling
overwhelmed Cassidy knew she needed a moment so she turned to the wall.

As she looked at a long crack in
the plaster she decided his words were probably a pitiful attempt on his part
at being a human being. He didn't mean he loved, loved her, he was just saying
it to keep her in his room and get naked with her.

John reached for her hands. “Can
you give me a break here?” he pleaded, “I'm trying.” He wrapped his fingers
around her chin and turned her toward him.

Cassidy looked at her lap. If she
gazed into his blue eyes, all would be lost. With a shake of her head she
reminded herself that she didn’t want to sleep with him because their
relationship never had an emotional connection, it wasn’t one of friendship and
compassion. It was a means to an end both professionally and personally and she
wasn’t looking for that anymore.

“When you said you were a terrible
mother?” he asked. He climbed off the bed and got on his knees in front of her.
“I was supposed to nod?” He did just that with a lot of animation. “And provide
encouragement with my body language.” He shifted his hips toward her knees
which seemed more lecherous than supportive, but of course Cassidy's body
responded. After all, he just said he loved her.

“You're creepy,” Cassidy suggested
lamely trying to take things down a notch. But it didn't work. She was already
thinking she loved him back. Maybe they could build a fulfilling relationship
with compassion and trust.

“I'm putting it all on the line
here,” he moaned. “Please.” He bowed a little at her. “Explain to me why you
think you're a horrible mother?” He squeezed her thigh.

Cassidy looked into his kind eyes.
She was searching for something that would tell her to push his hands off her
lap, get up and go back to her son. Something that would say
,
it is a very bad idea to get involved with John Risk again. Or something that
would indicate John was playing with her because that would most definitely get
her out the door. But there was nothing, just love, support, and maybe a tear
in the corner of his eye.

“Come on,” John cooed. “Tell me.”
He lifted his hand and pushed a piece of hair out of her mouth.

“I left Kevin with my brothers
while I worked undercover with you.” The words rushed out of her. “I feel
terrible that I abandoned my son. He should have had his mother. Raising him
should have been my priority not catching the Highwaymen and their old ladies.”

John nodded. Cassidy could tell it
took a lot out of him to not interrupt.

“And you know the worst part?”
Cassidy moaned. Her eyes searched John's face for some kind of censure, but all
she saw was compassion. “I had to lie to my family about what I was doing. I
didn't want them to get involved or worry.” She shook her head. “That is why
there's no redemption in this world for me.”

He lifted her hands to his face and
kissed her knuckles. “What did they think you were doing?” he asked gently.

“They didn't know I was a cop,”
Cassidy replied. She looked down at their hands clasped under his chin.
His had scars and calluses while hers showed recently acquired
nicks and cuts.
Bull riding was not kind to a manicure. “I told them I
was in rehab and that was why I needed help with Kevin.” She looked away. “Besides
being a recovering drug addict, the story got out of hand and they thought I
appeared in porno movies too because I couldn't find work as an actress and
they couldn't figure out what I was doing for a job.”

“And the Highwaymen were involved
with Naughty Films,” he suggested. He was still talking softly as he moved up
to the bed. “It was a misunderstanding,” he said shifting closer to her. “I'm
sorry,” John added. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her
against his chest. “You sacrificed a lot for our work.”

“Now my son thinks the worst of me
and most of the time is mortified by me.” Cassidy knew she was talking way too
fast and much too loud but John's kindness had gotten her gushing. “Even though
I was trying to do something for 'the greater good', I can never forgive myself
for leaving him.” She tried to lift her hands to put air quotes around the
words 'greater good' but didn't have the energy.