stared at her. “You hang on to it,” she said, shoving the hat at her friend.
Beth pushed it back, shaking her head and grinning from ear to ear. When the shrill sound of a pager pierced the noise of the crowd, Beth grumbled and slipped the beeper from her belt. “I have to answer this call,” she explained, standing and scooting past Jules to the aisle. “You stay here, and I’ll be right back.”
Jules jumped to her feet. “But—”
“It’ll only take a minute. Don’t move from that spot.” With a wave of her hand, Beth pushed her way through the still-cheering crowd and disappeared.
Jules watched her go before turning back to find herself staring down over the railing into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, eyes surrounded by thick, black lashes—lashes any woman would kill for.
Her heart stopped and her mind went blank.
“My hat, darlin’.”
The comment, uttered in a smooth, slow baritone, caused Jules to blink, but her mind still didn’t kick into gear.
Crinkles formed in the deeply tanned skin at the corners of the sapphire eyes. A lock of jet-black hair fell carelessly over black eyebrows. “If you really want it that bad…” he said with an Oklahoma drawl.
Her gaze dropped to the hat gripped in her hands, and her heartbeat kicked in, thudding against her ribs. Had he called her darlin’? Stunned into action, she shoved the hat toward him and shook her head.
He gave her a lopsided grin. “You sure?”
She felt her heart somersault before she nodded, still unable to utter a sound. What was happening to her? It wasn’t fear that had her heart suddenly racing.
“You okay, darlin’?” His deep voice was filled with concern.
Jules blinked and stiffened at the tingling sensation the sound of his voice sent along her nerve endings. She held the hat out to him with trembling hands. “If you’ll just take your hat…”
The cowboy took it from her, his eyes narrowing in a puzzled frown, and placed it on his head. Tipping the brim, which now shadowed half his face, he gave her a tight smile before turning to amble across the arena.
“What did you say to him?”
Jules spun around to see Beth working her way back through the retreating crowd. She took a deep, calming breath. “Nothing. I gave him his hat.”
Her friend reached her and frowned. “Is that all? He looked ticked off to me.”
“Of course that’s all,” Jules said. Adding a good-natured smile, she refused to let her inexplicable reaction to the man intrude on their time together. “You know, Beth, if we weren’t such good friends, this cowboy thing would be the last straw,” she teased. She nearly laughed at the irony in her choice of words. Since they’d arrived at the Ada, Oklahoma, arena, she’d seen enough straw to choke a herd of buffalo. And she’d thought straw was a staple of the show-jumping world! Rodeos even had that beat.
She’d thought a rodeo would be far different from hunter-jumping, but even the smells and sounds of the evening had brought back more memories than she’d expected. Seeing cowboys thrown from horses had only made it worse, even though Beth had warned her it might. At least no one had been seriously hurt.
“You’re sure you’re all right?” Beth asked, obviously worried.
“I’m fine. Really.” Noticing the crowd had thinned, Jules gathered her things and stood, relieved the evening was over.
Beth took her by the arm, her brown eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Let’s get going.”
“Where?”
Pulling Jules through the stragglers leaving the stands, Beth said with a wicked grin, “We’re going to a party.”
Jules smiled. She could handle a little quiet mingling and a glass of wine to clear the dirt from her throat, a place where she could relax and get her heart slowed to a more normal pace. It was obvious she needed this vacation if a cowboy could leave her tongue-tied.
TANNER O’BRIEN spotted the woman he’d seen in the stands with Beth Anders the minute he walked into the noisy bar. Country music played at full volume by a local band assaulted his ears, and multicolored lights flashed in his eyes as a throng of well-wishers and words of congratulations swamped him. And he still couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Walking across the wood-plank floor, he felt a friendly whack to his back and wordlessly accepted the praise that accompanied it with a smile and a nod, while someone else pressed a frosty mug of beer into his hand. Rodeoers and fans were one big family, no matter what part of the country.
He thanked, smiled and nodded his way through the boisterous crowd to a familiar face. Pulling up a chair, he straddled it. “Hey, Dusty.”
The cowboy sitting across the table shoved his hat back on his head with one finger. “That last ride looked like a piece of cake,” Dusty said around the matchstick in his mouth.
“Yeah, sure.” Tanner managed a weak smile. His thirty-three-year-old body ached with disagreement. Leaning closer, he kept his voice low. “You haven’t seen Shawn, have you?”
Dusty frowned. “Nope, not since your last ride tonight. He was hangin’ around behind the chutes and disappeared about the time they announced your win.” A quick grin replaced the frown, but the matchstick didn’t waver. “That nephew of yours giving you trouble?”
Before Tanner could answer, a female voice purred in his ear, “Will you sign my program?”
Deep cleavage framed by western fringe hit him at eye level, but he ignored the view. Buckle bunnies didn’t interest him much anymore. Taking the glossy sheaf and the pen she offered, he scribbled his name and handed it back without bothering to look up into her face.
Dusty laughed when she’d gone. “You’ve got a way with the ladies, kinda like you do with the broncs.”
Tanner shook his head and chuckled. “Bet I’m old enough to be her father.”
“Wouldn’t have stopped you that long ago.”
Tanner took a swallow of beer and considered the statement. “Yeah, but I didn’t know any better then.”
Unable to stop himself, his gaze swept the room, finally resting on the blonde from the arena. She was a looker, that was for sure.
When the wranglers had pointed her out to him after he’d tossed his Resistol hat into the stands, he’d felt a spark of interest. Old habits were hard to break, and he’d intended to get semi-acquainted with the little lady when he retrieved his hat. And he might have if she hadn’t turned up the chill factor. Cold, that was what she was.
“Friend of yours?” Dusty broke into his thoughts.
“No way.” And he didn’t intend for her to be, either. He wasn’t in the mood for a case of frostbite. Without looking at Dusty, he drained the mug, quenching his thirst but not his curiosity.
Dusty tipped his chair back on two legs. “She seems to be a friend
