Rodeo Dreams. Sarah M. Anderson
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He was offended that she thought he was nothing more than a Neanderthal. “I never said that.”
“Oh, I know.” She was still smiling, like maybe she was flirting, but it hit him wrong. “But you thought it.”
“I can’t win with you, can I? I bet if I told you that you had to breathe, you’d stop just to prove me wrong,” he snapped. “I noticed you didn’t come here to get a damned helmet.”
“Lay off, Travis,” she said, bristling before his eyes. And suddenly, they were right back where they’d left off a week ago. “I’ll let you know if it ever becomes your business.”
As if on cue, his shoulder began to throb, probably because he was tensing up. Breathe, he told himself. Stay loose for tonight.
She sure as hell wasn’t staying loose. Even though several feet separated them, he could hear the tension in her voice. “I heard you tried to convince Mort to throw me out, even after he showed you my permit. You might have mentioned that part to me, you know.”
“Well, I didn’t think mentioning that I thought you got it under false pretenses would be the smooth thing to do, J. But now that you bring it up...”
“Save it for the bulls, Travis,” she said, storming out without her rosin.
All he could do was watch her stomp away.
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