to the roll of therapeutic tape?” His last recollection was of it sailing out of his hand.
“In the dirt.” Mercer hitched his chin at the holding pen. “We’ll get it later when the coast is clear.”
The two wranglers had convinced Wasabi that his interests were best served back in the main pen with the other bulls and not causing trouble for them.
“My hat’s off to you, young man.” Doc Worthington eyed Shane’s leg. “You all right?”
“Fine.” He glanced at the crowd, which had shrunk to a small gathering. Good, Shane thought. His leg did hurt, and the fewer people who knew it, the better.
All at once, Cassidy rounded the chutes, passing her father and the vet on their way to the pen, and made straight for him. It was a nice change from her recent habit of avoidance. The expression of concern on her pretty face made him almost forget about the pain shooting up his leg.
“Are you okay?” she asked in a rush.
“Never better.”
“I’m serious, Shane.”
“He barely nicked me.”
She studied him critically, her eyes traveling from his head to his boots. “You’re limping.”
He grinned, he couldn’t help it, and lowered his voice. “I appreciate the concern, Cassidy. It means a lot to me.”
“Of course I’m concerned. You had a close call.”
“Any other reason?” He leaned in. A mere fraction at first, then more.
She abruptly drew back. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”
“I’m thinking you’re worried about me because you might like me a little.”
“Well, I don’t.”
His grin widened. “Could have fooled me.”
“I mean, I do like you. As a fellow employee.” Her cheeks flushed, and she tripped over her words. “And as an old friend.”
He’d flustered her, and though it shouldn’t, the thought pleased him. “Right.”
“You always had a big ego.”
“Matched only by my....” He let the sentence drop.
“Shane!”
“Confidence,” he finished with a chuckle.
“I guess you are okay. Don’t know why I worried.”
She spun and would have left him in the dust if he hadn’t grabbed her arm and pulled her swiftly to him.
“Thanks.” Lowering his head, he pressed his lips to her cheek, letting them linger.
The contact wasn’t much. Not as far as kisses went. No more than a light caress. Yet, it sent a shock wave coursing through him with the kick of a lightning bolt.
She must have felt a similar shock, for she let out a soft “Oh” and, for one incredible moment, melted against him. The next instant, she tensed. “I—I have to g-go.”
“Why, Cassidy?” He searched her face. To his surprise and concern, he noted fear in her eyes. “What are you afraid of?”
“Nothing.”
He wanted to contradict her, but this wasn’t the time or place. Not with her acting like a skittish colt and not with her father standing close by, watching the two of them like, well, like a father watches a man who’s just kissed his daughter on the cheek.
What would Mercer think if he knew of Shane’s attraction to Cassidy? He might approve. Then again, he might oppose it.
Maybe Shane should take a moment and step back from the situation. This job was too important for him to mess up right out of the gate.
The thrill of his encounter with Cassidy faded. Unfortunately, his attraction to her didn’t. Try as he might, Shane couldn’t stop staring as she walked away.
Then again, he wasn’t trying very hard.
“I sure appreciate the use of ole Skittles.” Shane tugged on the brim of Benjie’s too-big cowboy hat. “I know it’s rough sometimes, letting someone else ride your horse.” He lifted his daughter and planted her on Skittles’s broad back, then faced Benjie again. “Bria will treat him right, I promise.”
“It’s okay.” The boy kicked at the ground with the toe of his boot, leaving behind a large gouge in the dirt. “I can ride Rusty.”
Cassidy bit her lower lip to keep herself from speaking. She knew how much her son disliked riding the potbellied, swaybacked mule. Not because Rusty was mean or difficult or stubborn, as were many of his breed. But because he wasn’t a horse. That, in Benjie’s opinion, made him the object of ridicule from his peers. Like a kid forced to wear no-name sneakers while everyone else in school owned expensive, celebrity-endorsed athletic shoes.
Cassidy had been getting plenty of flak from Benjie this past school semester. He complained nonstop about his discount store footwear. The thing was, she didn’t have money to spare for nonessentials.
Her mother’s words came back to haunt her. If she told Hoyt about Benjie, she’d be able to collect child support from him. Possibly for the years since Benjie’s birth.
No, no, no. She wasn’t about to share, much less risk losing, custody of her son. And Hoyt would no doubt insist on some form of custody.
“You need a leg up, too?” Shane asked Benjie.
“I got it.” Nimble as a monkey, Benjie grabbed the side of the saddle and scrambled up onto Rusty’s back.
“Good job.”
Though Benjie would argue differently, Skittles was barely better than the mule. One of the arena’s oldest mounts, the horse’s slow, steady gait and docile personality made him perfect for a novice like Bria. Truthfully, Benjie was ready for a more advanced horse. But he loved Skittles and was loath to part with his pal.
“I want to go, Daddy,” Bria exclaimed gleefully and jiggled her turquoise cowboy boots.
A tad on the chubby side, she sported a generous mop of curly brown hair and an impish grin that reminded Cassidy a lot of Shane.
“Okay, okay. Give me a second.” Shane patted Benjie’s leg. “You want to ride in the arena or come with us to the round pen?”
“With you.” Benjie gazed longingly at Skittles, not at Bria, who was combing her fingers through the old horse’s stringy mane.
“If it’s okay with your mother.” Shane glanced at Cassidy, his green eyes twinkling.
She
