it was better to refuel now and leave his options open tomorrow. Hell, he might even tackle some extra exercises the physical therapist had given him.
Leaning on one crutch for support, he was halfway through filling the tank when someone pulled up next to him. He nodded at the older man getting out of his battered pickup loaded with bales of hay. Landon realized someone else was in the truck when he heard the passenger door slam.
“Hey, aren’t you Landon Kincaid?” The scruffy blond kid coming around the bed looked to be in his midteens.
“Last time I checked.” Landon eyed the baggy jeans and the backwards baseball cap. Not the typical rodeo fan but he obviously followed the sport. A year ago the kid probably wouldn’t have recognized him.
After eight years of rodeoing, Landon had finally made it to the national finals last December. He hadn’t nabbed the title, but he’d gotten close enough that fans had taken notice. So had two major sponsors. And then Landon had gone and done something stupid.
“Hey, Gramps,” the boy said. “You know who this is, right?”
The man lifted the gas pump nozzle and squinted at Landon. “You gonna make it to the finals again?”
“I hope so. Or I’ll die trying.”
“Well, don’t do that,” the man said, chuckling. “You still got time. How much longer before they let you back on a bronc?”
“A couple weeks.” He heard a click, added enough fuel to round up to the next dollar and removed the nozzle. Forgetting about the crutch, he almost lost his balance.
“Is that what the doc says?” The man watched the crutch bounce off Landon’s truck and land on the oil-stained cement.
“Maybe three weeks,” Landon muttered.
“Everybody was shocked you got thrown, even the commentators.” The kid picked up the crutch and brought it to him. “Lucky that mare didn’t stomp your head. I heard she missed your ear by an inch.”
Yeah, tell him something he didn’t already know. “Thanks,” Landon said, opening his door and shoving the crutch to the passenger side.
“What happened? She get spooked?”
“Come on, Tommy,” the grandfather said, giving the boy a stern look. “Leave the man alone.”
Landon might’ve left things at that but the kid grabbed a squeegee from a bucket and started washing his windshield. “It wasn’t the horse, it was me,” he said, surprised by his candor. How many times had he been asked that question? And had always given the same answer...he didn’t know. “I guess I let my mind wander for a second.”
“Really?”
Hell, it wasn’t a guess. “Not a smart thing to do with thirteen hundred pounds of bucking horseflesh underneath you.”
“What were you thinking about?”
Landon snorted a laugh. “A girl.”
Tommy stopped scrubbing the windshield and stared. “You serious?”
Already regretting his words, Landon pocketed the gas receipt and said, “Thanks for your help, buddy. Appreciate it.”
“No problem.” Tommy hurried around to wash the other side. “You got an autographed picture I could have?”
Landon shook his head. Joining the winners’ circle had its drawbacks. “Tell you what. You ever come to a rodeo where I’m riding, you let me know and I’ll hook you up with free tickets.” He scribbled his cell number down, something else he never did and would likely regret.
“Wow. Thanks, dude.” Tommy stared at the piece of scrap paper.
“You don’t give that number out to anyone else, or no free tickets. Got it?”
The kid nodded. “How about a selfie?”
Landon wasn’t keen on those either, but it wouldn’t kill him. “All right. Just one.”
“With the crutches?”
“No,” he said in a tone that allowed no argument.
Tommy’s grandpa chuckled. “Come on, boy. Quit bothering the man and let’s go deliver this hay.”
Landon grabbed his Stetson from the passenger seat and settled it on his head. Tommy got his photo and after they shook hands, Landon slid back behind the wheel. He automatically massaged his thigh muscle. It throbbed from standing just those few extra minutes. Had to be the long drive. He was getting better every day. And every one of those days counted in a big way. He couldn’t afford to mess up.
A split second of inattention in the saddle had landed him on the ground, his leg broken in two places. All because he’d caught a glimpse of a woman he’d thought was Kylie sitting in the stands.
So much for his fast track to the finals in December. Oh, with his scores, he still had a good shot. But only if his leg healed soon.
He doubted Kylie had been keeping up with rodeo news. She wouldn’t know he’d been winning big. Or that he’d gotten hurt. He didn’t care about any of that stuff, though. What he didn’t want was her thinking he needed tending. Dammit, it was long past time Kylie understood exactly what he wanted from her.
Kylie took another peek at herself in the big round hand mirror sitting on the counter by the oven. She’d gotten ready at home but asked Kevin to pick her up at the bakery. If he’d thought it was weird he hadn’t let on. He seemed like a very nice man, or she wouldn’t have accepted his dinner invitation, but she still preferred meeting on neutral ground.
The new haircut Sally had given her had transformed her boring blunt bob to a medium shag, the layers highlighted with subtle streaks of warm caramel and dark gold. She still couldn’t believe that was her hair. Or that the woman in the mirror was her. She hoped the makeup wasn’t too much.
She still wasn’t sure about the dress. The low-cut neckline would’ve looked a lot better on someone bustier and the short length hitting her five inches above her knee stretched the boundaries of her comfort zone.
No, she would never have chosen this dress for herself. But Rachel hadn’t let her get away with anything conservative. There was even another dress that she’d insisted was perfect for Kylie, which was absolutely in no way even close to perfect, and yet it now hung in Kylie’s closet.
Rachel was something else. Kylie had never had a friend like her before. Come to think of it, she hadn’t had any close girlfriends. After she’d met Gary, it had been just the two of them, practically inseparable. Until he’d become obsessed with making a name for himself riding rodeo.
He’d wanted the big prize money, the gold buckle and, apparently, the many women who had no trouble undoing that buckle.
Someone knocked on the front door, despite the closed sign. Kylie checked the time. Too early for Kevin, who’d
