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
