And Then You Dare (Crested Butte Cowboys Series Book 5) (21 page)

Bullet was riding like crap. He hadn’t covered the last seven
bulls he’d gotten on. No one really said anything about it. Bulls prevailed
over cowboys far more often than the other way around.

“You’ll get after ’em next time,” Bill would say at the end of
a buck-off. But then when he’d find a place to practice, Bullet would be the
one Bill was getting after.

Tonight they were in Colorado Springs, for the Pikes Peak or
Bust Rodeo. It was the first time Bullet would get on a bull at what he
considered his new “hometown rodeo.”

His parents, gram, sister, and most of the Flying R Rough
Stock partners were here with their wives. In total they had four boxes
reserved on the south side of the event center. Several of the Flying R team
was competing including him, and Slade Weston, who was predicted to do well in
the steer wrestling timed event. Unlike Bullet, he’d been in the money on
several of his recent outs.

Regardless of whether he covered his bulls tonight, or the
rest of the week, he’d be home for the next five days. He’d been on the road
pretty near non-stop since April, so the break was welcome. And unusual at this
time of the year, which was considered “Cowboy Christmas,” because of the
number of rodeos taking place. Competitors could potentially earn thousands of
dollars traveling from one rodeo to the next, virtually non-stop. The higher
they climbed in earnings, the better chance they had of being in the top
fifteen invited to compete in the NFR in December. Bullet had lost hope seven
bulls ago. He wasn’t feelin’ it tonight either.

“You give up before the bull’s in the chute you might as well
go home now.”

Bullet looked up to see Buck Bishop sitting on the back of the
bucking chute. No one told him Buck would be here, but it may have been no one
expected him to be.

“Yes, sir.”

“Where’s your head son?”

He shrugged his shoulders, but not because he didn’t know the
answer. He shrugged his shoulders because he didn’t want anyone else to know.

“Brought you some good luck.” Buck tossed a brown-paper
wrapped bundle at him, and walked away.

“What’s this?” Bullet shouted after him, but Buck didn’t
answer. He jumped down, and went around the corner to open the package. Inside
he found a pair of chaps. Buck gave him a new pair of chaps? What the hell? He
didn’t get it, but when he turned them over, he saw the tag. McCullough Cowboy.
Tristan. He ran back over to the rail and looked at all four boxes Flying R
reserved. If she was here, she’d probably be sitting with Liv. He didn’t see
either one of them.

“Lookin’ for somebody cowboy?”

Bullet turned and looked in the prettiest brown eyes he’d seen
in weeks. “Sure am darlin’.”

“How many times do I have tell you I’m not your darlin’?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you are?”

“I shouldn’t be back here.”

“I don’t give a shit.” Bullet picked her up and spun her in a
circle, right before he covered her mouth with his. “God damn, I missed you
girl.”

“Better watch your language around my daughter cowboy.” When
the man came around the corner, Bullet set Tristan back on the ground. “Hello sir.
I’m Bullet Simmons.

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Hugh McCullough, and Tristan’s
daddy.” The man shook Bullet’s hand, and winked at him.

“What are you doin’ here?”
he asked Tristan, hoping her daddy wouldn’t overhear him.

“I missed you too, Bullet.”
With that she put her arm through her daddy’s and the two walked in the
direction of the Flying R boxes.

“Do me proud since you’re
the first bull rider wearin’ McCullough Cowboy chaps,” she shouted over her
shoulder.

Bullet had to bend over,
put his hands on his knees and take a deep breath. Was he dreaming? He’d
certainly dreamt about seeing Tristan again often enough. Buck Bishop? The
chaps? Had to be a dream. Maybe he could keep it going and dream he covered his
bull tonight too.

***

After the first few days, and her anger receded, Tristan
started to miss Bullet. She thought about him when she showed her daddy the
designs she did for Lost Cowboy. When he came in her studio and saw her
studying them, he told her to use them for her new company, and launch a men’s
line at the same time she launched the women’s.

He misunderstood the longing he saw on her face. It wasn’t the
chaps she cared about, it was the cowboy she’d drawn them on.

When Lyric called and invited her to their gram’s ProRodeo
Hall of Fame induction, Tristan said yes without giving herself time to think
about it. When Liv called back and told her they were making a week of it by
having all the partners meet at the opening night of the Pikes Peak rodeo, she
agreed to that too.

She also asked if she could bring her daddy and granddad
along, who, of course, were welcome. Tristan had talked about little other than
the Flying R partners, and the cast of characters that surrounded the rough
stockers. Her father said the next time she got together with them, he wanted
to go along and meet this infamous group in person.

Little did he know he’d also be meeting Mark Cochran from the
band bearing his name, Caleb Simmons from Satin, and Ben Rice from CB Rice. He
hadn’t heard of the last band, but he knew the Rice boys were the main partners
behind Flying R, along with the Pattersons.

“I used to listen to Cochran and Satin all the time.”

Tristan and her granddad both raised an eyebrow.

“What? I did. Every time I could I’d change the radio station from
country music to rock. And then as soon as I’d see your granddad headin’ toward
the barn, I’d change it back.”

Tristan was so happy to be back in Colorado. She’d spent the
last couple months working twenty hour days in order to get the first pieces from
her new collection ready for fall release. It helped keep her mind off the
state and the people who lived in it that she missed so much.

It didn’t matter how hard she worked, Bullet was on her mind
all the time. One minute she was sure she made the right decision ending things
between them, the next she missed him so much, she’d pick up her cell phone to
call him. Each time she talked herself out of it. She’d only feel worse if he
didn’t answer. Then she’d wonder if he was with another woman. She wondered
that anyway, but would’ve more if he didn’t answer his phone.

She watched him climb up the back of the chute. He was easy to
find amidst the other cowboys. He was wearing the chaps she designed. He looked
over, caught her watching, and tipped his hat in her direction.

“We both have cowboys ridin’ for us tonight,” Lyric slid into
the seat next to Tristan left empty when her daddy went to get them another
drink. “Good to see you here.”

“Better to be here,” she smiled at Lyric. “I missed you.” She
turned her head and looked in the direction of the bucking chutes. “All of
you.”

“He’s been ridin’ like shit.”

“I know.”

“How?”

“RodeoChat.”

“Right on girlfriend,” Lyric high-fived her. “I knew it.”

“Which cowboy are you watching tonight?”

“You know me Tristan, I watch ’em all, but the one whose time
I care the most about is a bulldogger.”

“Which one?”

Lyric rolled her eyes. “Slade Weston, but I bet you already
knew that.”

“Yeah, I kinda’ figured.”

“Wait until later and we get a jam goin’ wherever we end up
celebratin’. That man has a voice as smooth as silk, and the songs he
writes—damn, they’re good.” Lyric fanned her face and her cheeks turned
pink.

Tristan liked seeing her this way, for two reasons. One she’d
liked seeing Lyric so happy. Two, if Lyric was distracted by Slade, she
wouldn’t be paying so much attention to Bullet and her.

***

Bullet put on his protective vest, kissed the tips of two
fingers, and touched them to the spot he saw on his chaps where Tristan
embroidered her initials. It would have been easy to miss, but when he was
removing the McCullough Cowboy tag, something in the detail caught his eye. It
was a small heart, and the initials “TdM.” He couldn’t wait to ask her what the
“d” stood for. When he did, she’d know he found her little love note.

“Where’s your head now?” asked Buck, who Bullet hadn’t seen
sitting on the back of the chute.

“This bull is mine.”

Bullet didn’t lie. After a near-perfect eight second ride,
Bullet’s score came in at eighty-eight.

“Eight for eighty-eight,” he overheard Buck say to Bill. The
two men were all smiles when Bullet walked back behind the chutes. When he
glanced over to the box, Tristan blew him a kiss.

“Dottie used to do that,” mused Bill. “Always made me feel
like I was on top of the world.”

“I know that feeling,” Bullet smiled.

“Hell Bullet, when you break a losing streak, you go all out,
don’t ya?” joked Bill.

“It’s his career best,” answered Buck, who seemed to be
studying another bull rider. “Come on up here Bullet, I want you to see this.”

Buck and Bullet sat on the back of the chute and studied the
final five bull riders. With each rider Buck asked Bullet to tell him what the
cowboy did right, and what he did wrong.

“You should do this every time you enter a bull buckin’, even
when you’re practicin’. Watch the guys who aren’t riding well just as much as
you watch the earnings leaders.”

Bullet could feel his body leaning in the direction of the box
where Tristan sat. It was almost as though there was a magnetic pull between
their bodies. What Buck had to say was more important though. He looked around
the chutes and could see visible envy on the face of every other rider. Buck
Bishop was in the house, and he was coaching Bullet.

“Are you Bullet Simmons?” one of the cowboys shouted over to
him.

“Yep. Who’s askin’?”

The cowboy walked over the chute where Bullet and Buck were.
“I’m Walter Harris,” he reached up to shake Bullet’s hand.

Huh. Walter Harris. The name didn’t sound familiar to him. And
if Buck knew him, he wasn’t in the mood to say hello. He didn’t even look the
cowboy’s way.

“We have a mutual friend,” said Walter.

“That right? Well, I’ll tell you. I’ve got a hell of a lot of
friends here tonight.”

“This one’s pretty damn special though.”

“Oh yeah?” Clearly this Walter fella was talking about a lady.
“What’s her name?”

“Tristan McCullough.”

Was this the asshole that turned her heart forever black
toward bull riders? Given his smirk, Bullet would lay odds it was. What the
hell did he want?

***

“We’re goin’ back out to Billy and Renie’s tonight. Pretty
quiet out there, not to mention the only neighbors are here with us anyway,”
Lyric told her.

Tristan wasn’t sure her daddy and granddad would be up for it.
Although her father had confessed listening to Cochran and Satin earlier. Maybe
he’d be all for it.

“I’m Lyric and Bullet’s grandmother. Everyone calls me Gram.”

“Hugh McCullough Senior,” Tristan’s grandaddy answered. “That
one there belongs to me.” He pointed at Tristan. “And you aren’t gonna believe
this, but everyone calls me Gramps.”

“I don’t know about you Gramps, but I’d just as soon sit on
the porch and listen to sounds of the prairie tonight.”

Tristan’s granddad smiled. “Sounds perfect to me.”

Lyric volunteered to take them to Bullet’s place, but Bill and
Dottie insisted they come with them. “It doesn’t get much better than sittin’
on our deck and enjoying such a beautiful summer night,” said Dottie.

Tristan looked around, but hadn’t seen Bullet since the rodeo
ended. He would go to Billy’s, wouldn’t he? Since his parents would be there.

“Where’s Grey?” Tristan asked Lyric.

“Bullet took him to stay with Callie’s parents for the week.
They miss him like crazy, ya know? Wait. Do you know who Callie is?”

“Grey’s mother. I know Lyric.”

“Oh good. That would be a downer of a story to have to tell
you tonight.” Lyric pointed toward the barns. “Look there. You think there are
any finer lookin’ cowboys at this rodeo? I sure don’t.”

Slade and Bullet were walking toward them. Each had their own
unique swagger, and Lyric was right, there wasn’t likely anyone better looking
than the two of them here tonight.

“Who’s that?” Lyric pointed in a different direction. “I ain’t
lookin’ right now, but if I was, that cowboy would be on my dance card
tonight.”

Tristan looked over and squinted. Who was that? He looked
familiar…
oh no.
“Uh Lyric, let me tell you, Slade Weston
has everything goin’ on, and that man has nothin.’”

“Really? From here he looks pretty damn hot.”

“He may be hot, but it’s because he spends all his time in
hell.”

“Huh?”

Tristan looked away. “That man is the devil Lyric. Stay as far
away from him as you can.”

“I see.”

“Yeah, you do.” Tristan didn’t need to explain further. Lyric
got it. The man they were talking about was Tristan’s ex. Fortunately Lyric
didn’t ask his name. It occurred to her that Walter hadn’t ridden tonight.
Tristan opened up her program and looked at the bull riding page. His name
wasn’t on it. Odd. What was he doing here if he wasn’t riding?

***

Bullet knew Tristan had seen Walter, but he wouldn’t
acknowledge he’d spoken to him. Best to pretend the guy didn’t exist. He was
pretty sure Tristan was thinking the same thing. The look of disdain she had on
her face when she watched Walter Harris head toward the barn immediately turned
to a smile when she saw Bullet. “That’s what I like to see,” he said.

“What?”

“That beautiful smile. Those eyes that draw me in and make me
want to look at nothin’ else for the rest of my life.”