This Kiss (Made In Montana Book 12) (2 page)

Normally he was up for signing autographs and getting hit on by hot women. But with the finals a week away he’d been on edge since he hit Montana late this morning. After that bogus arrest in Wyoming and then hearing how fellow bull rider Tommy Lunt had busted his knee, foreboding had prickled the back of his neck.

He’d missed the finals himself because of injuries. Twice. Last year broken ribs and a punctured lung had sidelined him. Two seasons before that, it had been an elbow injury. So he had cause to be jumpy.

“Hey, Styles, ’bout time you showed up.” Kenny Horton stood at the bar with another bronc rider and three women, who all turned to eyeball Ethan.

He shook his head when Kenny motioned for him to join them. “Maybe later. I’m meeting someone.”

“Right behind you.”

At the sound of Matt Gunderson’s voice, Ethan grinned and turned around to shake his hand. “Glad to see you, buddy.”

“Same here. What’s it been...a year?”

“About that.” Ethan moved aside for a short, curvy blonde who’d just entered the bar. Their gazes met briefly, surprise flickering in her brown eyes. But then she brushed past him. “So, how’s retirement?” he asked Matt and shifted so he could watch the blonde walk up to the bar.

The seats were all taken. A cowboy jumped to his feet and offered her his stool. Shaking her head, she dug into her pocket. Her tight jeans didn’t leave room for much, but she managed to pull out a cell phone. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. He always checked, though it hadn’t done him any good last week.

Wendy hadn’t been wearing one when he met her at the Ponderosa Saloon last Saturday, or when she invited him to her ranch that night. That hadn’t made her any less married, and to a mean, rich son of a bitch on top of everything.

“Retirement? Shit, I work twice as hard for half the money,” Matt said with a laugh. “But yeah, it was time.”

That part Ethan didn’t understand. Matt had been the one to beat. Yet out of the blue he’d just quit competing. Talk around the tour was that his new wife might’ve had something to do with it. “So, no regrets?”

“Not a one.” Matt frowned. “You can’t be thinking of getting out—”

“Hell no. Now that you’re off the circuit, maybe I can finally win another title.”

“Right.” Matt laughed. “I seem to remember you leaving me in the dust more than a few times.”

“Never when it counted.”

“Man, you’ve had some bad luck right before the finals. I should’ve convinced you to drop out when we changed the date. You’re the main draw this weekend. A lot of people are coming to see you ride Twister, but I should’ve thought this through.”

“Come on, you probably figured I wouldn’t make it to the finals.”

Matt reared his head back, eyes narrowed. “What the hell’s the matter with you, Styles?”

Ethan grinned. “Just joking.” No way he’d admit that he had considered bailing because he couldn’t risk injury. But then he’d only be superstitious about bad karma or some other bullshit. “It’s a worthy cause. I’m glad to do it.”

Just before Ethan turned to check on the blonde, he caught his friend’s sympathetic look. Most rodeo cowboys started young and came from families of die-hard fans. Matt had been a casual fan who’d climbed onto his first bull at a late age, and yet he understood the pressure coming at Ethan from all sides. Winning another gold buckle wasn’t just about ego or satisfying a lifelong dream. He came from rodeo royalty. Both his parents held multiple world champion titles. Most of their fans were also his fans. A lot of expectations drove him to succeed.

The woman was still standing at the bar, guys on either side of her vying for her attention, but she didn’t seem interested. She slowly sipped a drink, checked her phone and then leaned over the bar to talk to the older woman filling pitchers of beer.

Ethan smirked to himself. Bending over like that sure wouldn’t discourage guys from hitting on her. She knew how to wear a pair of plain faded jeans. Her boots were brown, low-heeled, scuffed. And the long-sleeve blue T-shirt was nothing fancy. No, she sure wasn’t dressed to be noticed like the other women circling the room. Maybe she lived on a nearby ranch and had just quit work.

Damn, she was hot.

And familiar. Yeah, women were plentiful for a bull rider, and he was no saint. He also wasn’t the type to forget a name or face. It sure felt as though he’d run into her before. More than that, he felt this odd pull... The kind of pull that could get him into trouble. Which he did not need, especially not now.

Someone called out to Matt and he waved in acknowledgment. “We’re not gonna find a table or a place at the bar. Maybe we should head over to the diner. Unless you’re looking to hook up with that blonde.”

“What blonde?” Ethan asked, and Matt smiled. “That describes half the women in here.”

“I’m talking about the one at the bar you’ve been eyeing.”

“Nah, I’m not looking for company. I’m keeping my nose clean until the finals.”

“A whole week? You’ll never make it.”

“Probably not.” Ethan laughed and glanced back at the bar. “Is she local?”

Matt studied her for a moment. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, I’ll be damned if it isn’t the twins,” a voice boomed from the back room.

Ethan and Matt exchanged glances. They both knew it was Tex, a bronc rider from Dallas. Though he wasn’t the only one who called them
the twins
. They’d joined the pro tour within months of each other, and in the beginning they’d often been mistaken for brothers. Ethan figured it wasn’t so much because they shared similar builds, or even because they both had light brown hair and blue eyes. It was their height. Six feet was tall for a bull rider.

“What are you boys doing standing there talking like two old women?” Tex yelled, a pool stick in one hand, an empty mug in the other. “Grab yourselves a pitcher and get on back here.”

“Guess he’s had a few,” Ethan said. Tex was quiet by nature. But after a couple of beers...

“He’d better be able to ride tomorrow,” Matt muttered, then turned when someone else shouted his name.

More people had poured into the bar. Ethan was willing to bet the place had reached capacity before the last ten customers had squeezed inside. And now that big-mouthed Tex had called attention to them, fans were approaching him and Matt for autographs.

They each accepted a pen and began scrawling their names. “You check in at The Boarding House yet?” Matt asked under his breath.

“An hour ago.”

“It’s not too late. You can stay out at the Lone Wolf. We’ve got a big house, trailer hookups. The inn’s overbooked, so the owner won’t have any trouble renting out your room. And my wife’s dying to meet you.”

“Hey, that’s right. You’re a married man now. Sorry I missed your wedding.”

“No problem. I warned Rachel there’d be conflicts no matter which weekend she chose.”

Ethan smiled as he passed the Safe Haven flyer he’d just signed to a middle-aged woman wearing a promotional Professional Bull Riders T-shirt from the 2010 finals, the year he wanted wiped from his memory forever. To be kept from the finals because of an injury was one thing, but to make it that far and then get hurt in the third round? Talk about fate landing a sucker punch.

This year nothing was going to keep him from the finals. Or from winning another gold buckle.

Nothing. Period.

2

S
OPHIE
SURE
WISHED
she’d known he was here in Blackfoot Falls for a rodeo before she’d left Wyoming. The event was a fund-raiser, so of course it wasn’t listed on the PBR tour. The whole town, which wasn’t saying much, since it was so small they had no traffic lights, was busting at the seams with rodeo fans. There was only one inn, a dude ranch twenty minutes away and a number of impromptu bed-and-breakfasts scattered around the area, all of which were booked. So was the large trailer park over thirty minutes away, not that a vacancy there would do her any good.

Somehow she had to get him alone. No clue how she was going to do it with so many fans clamoring for his attention. Those crazy people would string her up if they knew she planned to drag their favorite bull rider back to Wyoming.

The buckle bunnies worried her the most. Turning completely around so that her back was against the bar, she sipped her tonic water and watched the women practically line up, just waiting their turns to hit on Ethan.

She didn’t care one bit. If he had enough stamina to screw every last one of them, then God bless him. She was twenty-six, not a silly teenager anymore, and he no longer haunted her dreams. Though if he took one of those eager young ladies back to his room for the night, Sophie could have a problem.

It might mean she’d have to wait till morning to bag him. That left her a very narrow window before the rodeo started at noon.

Maybe she’d have to seduce him herself.

The thought sent a bolt of heat zinging through her body. A hurried sip of tonic water barely made it down her throat. He was still hot as hell. She’d be fooling herself if she couldn’t admit that much. Tall and lean with the perfect proportion of muscle, and those dreamy blue eyes... Good Lord.

Bumping into him when she first entered the bar had thrown her. She hadn’t been prepared at all. But the wig had done its job. Even up close he hadn’t recognized her, and now she was ready for him.

In the middle of signing an autograph, he swung a look at her and she shifted her weight to her other foot. Okay, maybe his gaze hadn’t landed on her but vaguely in her direction. Unfortunately her female parts couldn’t tell the difference.

Seducing him? That might have to take a few steps back to plan Z.

“Now, why are you sittin’ here drinkin’ alone, darlin’?” The same husky and very tipsy cowboy who’d offered her a beer earlier wove too close, nearly unseating the guy on her left.

She steadied Romeo with a brief hand on his shoulder. Boy, she sure didn’t need either of the men making a scene. “Are you here for the rodeo tomorrow?” she asked.

“You bet.”

“Fan or rider?”

He frowned, clearly affronted.

Sophie smiled, despite the wave of beer breath that reached her. “Better go easy on the booze if you’re competing.”

The younger cowboy sitting on the stool twisted around and grinned. “Yeah, Brady, you don’t wanna give those calves a leg up.”

Ah, they knew each other. Made sense, since they were both probably here for the rodeo. Sophie relaxed a bit, and while the two men traded barbs, she slid a glance at Ethan, who was still surrounded by women.

Oddly he didn’t seem all that interested in any of them. Not even the blondes. According to the articles and blogs she’d read earlier, his past three girlfriends had been blondes. Although it seemed he hadn’t stayed with any of them for more than a few months. Probably thought he was too hot for any one woman to handle. Or decided it was his duty to spread the hotness around.

The cowboy, whose name was apparently Brady and who continued to stand too close, said something she didn’t catch. Shifting her attention to him, she wondered if a well-placed knee could seem accidental. “Excuse me?”

He turned his head to look at Ethan. “Okay, now I see why you’re being so uppity. You’ve already got your sights set on Styles. Figures.” Lifting his beer, he mumbled, “Damn bull riders,” before taking a gulp.

Oh, crap. Was she being that obvious? “Who’s Styles?”

Brady frowned. “Are you kiddin’?”

She shook her head, the picture of innocence.

“See, Brady?” Grinning, the other cowboy elbowed him. “She’s not snubbing you ’cause you’re a calf roper. I bet she’s got a whole lot more reasons than that.”

Sophie ignored the troublemaker. “A calf roper?”

“That’s right, darlin’. You’re lookin’ at a two-time champ.”

“So you’re one of those guys who chases the poor little calves and then ties them up?”

Brady’s boastful grin slipped. “It’s all for sport, darlin’, don’t you understand?”

“No, I don’t. Not at all.” She faked a shudder. “I always feel so sorry for the calves.”

Even the guy sitting on the stool had shut up and swiveled around to face the other way. Brady just stared at her, then shook his head and walked off.

Sophie hid a smile behind a sip of tonic and turned back to Ethan. He was watching her. This time there was nothing vague about it. He gave her a slow smile and a small nod. She had no idea what that was supposed to mean. Other than she might need something stronger than tonic water.

Her nipples had tightened, and thank God the room was dim, because her entire body blushed. He couldn’t have overheard her taunting Brady, not from over twenty feet away and with all the noisy laughter competing with the jukebox. And no way did Ethan recognize her.

He’d been a senior the year she started at Wattsville High, so he hadn’t seen her in eleven years. She doubted he’d recognized her even once since the day he rescued her. How many times had she taken great pains to be in the perfect spot, like the cafeteria or near the boys’ locker room so he couldn’t miss her? Yet he did, and with unflattering consistency.

A fan stuck a piece of paper in his face and only then did he look away from her. Her heart hadn’t stopped pounding.

“Sophie?”

She jumped so hard she nearly knocked over the waitress’s loaded tray.

The woman moved back. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Sophie, right?”

What the hell? No one here knew her. She nodded.

“Sadie asked me to give you this,” she said, inclining her head at the bartender and passing Sophie a piece of paper. “It’s a name and phone number. She said you’re looking for a place to stay tonight?”

Ah. Sophie smiled. “Yes,” she said, accepting the paper. “Thank you.”

“It’s a long shot. The Meyers have probably rented out their spare rooms by now. But Kalispell is only a forty-five-minute drive from here.” The waitress was already pushing through the crowd. “Good luck.”

Sophie sighed. She thought she was so smart, but she stank at this covert stuff. Using her real name had been a stupid rookie move. No matter how doubtful it was that Ethan remembered her.

She studied the scribbled phone number, then glanced at Ethan. Fortunately he was too busy being mobbed to pay her any more attention. Both he and the man with him gave her the impression they’d bolt as soon as possible. She’d be a fool to let Ethan out of her sight, but it was too noisy to make a call in the bar. She’d have to step outside and just stay close to the door.

If she were to find a room, she’d be shocked. But she had to at least try in case she was forced to stay till morning. Or, God forbid, until after the rodeo was over in two days.

It would be so much easier to grab him tonight and leave Blackfoot Falls pronto. She didn’t need his buddies interfering, because if they did, what could she do, really? And returning to Wyoming empty-handed wasn’t an option.

She thought back to her earlier idea. Coaxing him to ask her to his room might be her best bet. But not if she couldn’t get the damn jitters under control. Who was she kidding, anyway? There were several gorgeous women waiting for him to say the word. The only guy she’d attracted was one who roped and tied baby cows.

Hoping her half-full glass of tonic would hold her spot at the bar, she squeezed her way toward the door. The standing crowd was truly ridiculous, oblivious of anyone trying to pass, and forcing her in Ethan’s direction.

“Boy howdy, was I shocked to hear you’d be riding this weekend, Ethan! Aren’t you afraid of getting injured and missing the finals again?”

Sophie stopped. She turned and saw Ethan tighten his jaw. The people closest to him grew quiet and watchful.

The stout, ruddy-faced fan who’d asked the moronic question continued heedlessly. “I told the wife I figured you’d be too superstitious to take the chance, especially for no prize money.”

“It’s for a good cause,” Ethan said quietly.

“Don’t get me wrong, son. I’m glad you’re here. I’m looking forward to seeing you ride tomorrow.” The man rubbed his palms together, ignoring the blushing woman tugging at his arm. “I understand Matt Gunderson has raised some hard-bucking bulls.”

“Yep. I heard the same thing.” Ethan’s jaw clenched again, then he smiled and moved back a little. “I sure hope all you folks are generous to Safe Haven. They take in a lot of animals who otherwise wouldn’t have a chance of surviving. Any donation you’d like to add to the price of the ticket would be appreciated.”

Unable to listen anymore, she shouldered her way to the door. No, she told herself.
Uh-uh.
She could not, and would not, feel sympathy for Ethan. As he’d said, Safe Haven was a good cause. He’d volunteered to ride. Great. Good for him. He wasn’t letting superstition spook him. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t drag his ass back to Wyoming. He’d broken the condition of his bail by taking off. And clearly he didn’t care at all about screwing her and Lola out of the money they’d posted for his bond. Sure, they had his motor coach as collateral. But until they could sell it, they were on the hook for a lot of cash.

Finally she made it outside. The biting cold November air nipped at her heated cheeks. She drew in a deep breath and immediately started coughing from all the cigarette smoke.

She turned to go the other way. Great. Smokers overran the sidewalk. She refused to stray too far from the door in case Ethan left, so she ducked behind a silver truck. No doubt he was anxious to get away from the stupid questions. And who could blame him?

The lighting was poor. She dug out her phone but could barely make out the number on the crumpled paper. Using the Bic app on her cell to see, she memorized the seven digits, then called. And promptly got the no she’d expected. Disconnecting, she sighed.

“No luck, huh?”

Sophie knew that voice. She slanted a look at Ethan, who stood on the sidewalk, his hands stuffed in his jeans pockets.

He wore a tan Western-style shirt, no jacket. His broad shoulders were hunched slightly, against the cold, she imagined.

“You must have me mixed up with someone else,” she said, reminding herself to breathe. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“No?” He studied her a beat longer than she could manage to keep still. Thankfully he stepped back when she slipped between him and the truck to return to the sidewalk. “I thought maybe we had,” he said, shrugging.

She shook her head, held her breath. “Nope.”

Jeez. Of course he didn’t recognize her. Or really think they’d met before. It was a pickup line guys used all the time.

“You’re looking for a place to stay tonight,” he said. “Aren’t you?”

That stopped her again. “How do you know that?”

“The waitress.” His intense stare wasn’t helping her nerves, so she moved into the shadows. “I asked her.”

Sophie huffed a laugh. “And of course she told you, because...” She closed her mouth. Because of that damn sexy smile of his, that was why, but this was what Sophie wanted, to get him alone, so she’d better lose the attitude.

“Because she’s my buddy Matt’s sister-in-law,” he said, and glanced over his shoulder when the door opened and raucous laughter spilled out into the moonlit night. “Hey, how about we go someplace else? Get away from the bar.”

“Sure.” She tried not to seem too eager. Or irritated. Picking up a woman was this easy for a guy like Ethan. Just a look, a smile, and he was all set. She moved closer to him. The Boarding House Inn, where she knew he was staying, was within walking distance. “What did you have in mind?”

He looked both ways down Main Street. “How about the diner? Shouldn’t be too crowded.”

“The diner?”

“Is that all right? We can cross after this next truck.”

“Um, sure. I guess.”

Glancing at her, he asked, “You have somewhere else in mind?”

A diner?
Okay, she was officially insulted. “I was thinking someplace more private,” she whispered, linking arms with him.

Surprise flashed across his face. His eyes found hers, then he lowered his gaze to her lips. “I’m Ethan.”

“I know who you are.”

“And you’re Sophie?”

So stupid. She nodded, promising herself that after this, she’d stick to her desk job. At least her name hadn’t triggered his memory. If he were to remember anything, it would probably be the pesky twerp who’d kept popping up in the weirdest places half his senior year.

The door to the bar opened again and they both turned. A tall brunette and her blonde sidekick walked out, scanning the groups of smokers.

The moment their gazes lit on Ethan, he tensed. “Let’s go,” he said, and draped his arm across the back of her shoulders. “Mind walking? It’s not far.”

“Fine.” She huddled close, soaking in the warmth of his body and trying to decide if it would be too much to slide her arm around his waist.

He walked at a fast clip, and with her shorter legs she had some trouble keeping up. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll slow down.”

She saw her green Jeep parked at the curb just ahead, and two things flashed through her mind. She needed the handcuffs she’d left in her glove compartment, but she couldn’t stop for them because of her Wyoming plates. If he knew the Jeep was hers, he could easily put two and two together.

“Cold?” he asked, pulling her closer.

“What?” She realized she’d tensed. “A little.” Checking random plates, she saw a variety of out-of-state vehicles from Colorado, Utah, even an SUV from Wyoming. It was worth taking the chance. She really, really needed the cuffs. “Could we stop a minute?”