Colt Granger walked in carrying his hat in his hands.
His sun-kissed hair surrounded that beautiful face of his. His crystal-blue eyes sparkled as a sheepish grin spread across his kissable lips. The man looked sexier than a cowboy had a right to. Helen desperately wished she’d worn something less comfortable. She tried to straighten out the collar on her pajamas.
“I wasn’t expecting company.”
“You look beautiful,” he said.
Sincerity crossed his face, making her uncomfortable.
“There’s room on this sofa if you want to join me.”
“I’d be happy to.”
Colt sat on the opposite end of the couch. Helen was dying to ask him all sorts of questions about how he was feeling about her news. She wanted to tell him she understood that her announcement must have come as a complete shock to him.
But most of all, she wanted to let him know she forgave him for walking away.
She wanted to share all of these things with him and more.
Aiming for
the Cowboy
Mary Leo
MARY LEO grew up in South Chicago in the tangle of a big Italian family. She’s worked in Hollywood, Las Vegas and in Silicon Valley. Currently she lives in San Diego with her husband, author Terry Watkins, and their sweet kitty, Sophie.
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For Indie-Elise, the absolute sweetest grandbaby I could ever hope for. And to her loving and dedicated parents, Jocelyn and Paul, who are simply the best mom and dad ever!
Contents
Chapter One
The hoots and whistles from the crowd in the stands at Horsemen’s Arena in Las Vegas should have been enough to give Helen Shaw the adrenaline rush she needed to jack up her excitement for the coming event. But it wasn’t.
As she and her horse, Tater—a honey-colored Nokota she had purchased from Colt Granger two years ago—made their way out to the main arena, Helen’s stomach brutally pitched, reminding her that something was definitely off this evening.
“Shoot ’em dead,” her teammate Sarah Hunter yelled as Helen passed her. Sarah’s ride would be coming up after two more riders competed.
“You, too!” Helen yelled back to her. They were on the same team, but they competed individually, which was the reason why Helen liked the sport so much. Even though they were competitors, everyone in the equine sport acted as if they were all part of one big extended family, which was something Helen needed at the moment, a friendly reminder that she would be all right.
Instead of focusing in on her game, Helen was busy gulping down deep breaths of rich animal-scented air, trying to calm her overactive stomach. The familiar smells of horse stalls usually quieted any nerves she might have, so she didn’t understand the growing nausea.
What could she have eaten to cause such a reaction in her stomach? Yes, she was nervous, but she’d checked and rechecked everything: the braided rein felt steady in her hands; her two single-shot Cimarron .45s were loaded with black powder and secure in their double front rig; her royal-blue cattleman-type hat sat snug on her head; the custom-made, matching blue leather chaps hung easy on her legs; and the lapis lazuli flower pendant her friend Colt had given her for good luck felt a little like his warm kisses around her neck.
She was ready to take on this moment. If she won, she would move on to the next regional championship event for cowboy mounted shooting in the fall. Something she’d been working toward for the past three years.
Tater slowed to an easy canter as they made their way through the metal gate. Helen could hear the pop-pop-pop from the male competitor in front of her as he fired at the target balloons from his mount. An announcer rattled on about the cowboy’s time and his abilities in the usual jumble of garbled words that large arenas’ PA systems seemed to produce.
Then, in an instant, the crowd whistled and cheered as Helen and the cowboy
