And Then You Dare (Crested Butte Cowboys Series Book 5) (24 page)

He took her mouth with his, slow and deep. When she moaned
softly, he scattered soft kisses on her ribs, moved down and dipped his tongue
in her navel. He breathed deeply loving that her natural scent was overpowering
the smell of soap from her shower.

Tristan tangled her fingers in the sheets, and pulled at them,
as though she was pulling at him to hurry. He looked to the side, and saw the
reflection of their bodies in the mirrored closet door. “Look,” he told her.

When she did, she spotted the condom he left on the bedside
table. She ripped it open with her teeth, and handed it to him to roll on. She
came up on her elbows, but fell back when he moved over her.

Her broken cry echoed through the spacious hotel room when he
slid inside her. Her hands flew to his shoulders, the nails digging in as she
tried to urge him closer, faster.

“I take what I want, remember that.” Bullet kept his pace
slow, and even. Her body arched, and she turned her head to the side. “Look at
me Tristan. I need to see your face.” Her eyes met his, and her body shivered.
“That’s it darlin’. Come for me.”

Teeth clenched, muscles straining, Bullet held off as long as
he could, but seeing that look on her face, the one he was addicted to seeing,
he joined her.

He rolled onto his back and brought her up next to him.

“You’re such a cuddler,” she teased.

“Tristan, I…”

“Shh. It’s okay. We don’t have to talk right now.”

But he wanted to. When her eyes met his, right there, he knew
he’d never loved anyone the way he loved Tristan. Heart and soul. Forever and
ever. But she still wasn’t ready to hear it.

He had a few hours before he had to head over to Thomas and
Mack Center for the first round of bull riding. Maybe he’d close his eyes for a
few minutes.

***

He was snoring. She couldn’t believe it. Bullet never snored.
He sounded so cute. The more time she spent with him, the more she realized
she’d actually fallen in love with him. The time they were apart, the distance
between them, sometimes made her think she just missed him. But being with him
now, watching him as he slept so soundly, strengthened the feelings she
questioned.

Thinking about leaving at the end of the week, being apart
until December, she wasn’t sure how she’d be able to stand it. Maybe she should
invite him to her family’s Thanksgiving dinner. But he probably wouldn’t want
to be away from his family. And what about his kids? Surely he’d want to be
with them too. Tristan couldn’t ask that he take his children away from their
grandparents for such a special holiday.

Tristan rested her head back on his chest, and listened to his
heart beating. Soon it lulled her to sleep.

***

“Beep, beep, beep.”
Bullet woke and looked around
for his phone.
“Beep, beep, beep.”
He knew the sound would just
get louder the longer it took him to figure out where the hell he’d left his
phone.

Tristan rolled over. “What is that?”

“The alarm on my phone.”

She sat up in bed. “What time is it?”

“Three.” He had an hour to shower, shave, and get to the arena
for check-in. Oh, and he was also supposed to meet Buck Bishop fifteen minutes
early.

He leaned over and kissed her hard on the mouth. “In case you
haven’t figured it out, I love you Tristan.”

He turned around, went into the bathroom, and left her there.
Mulling over his words.

***

What reaction had he been expecting? Was he waiting for her to
join him in the shower and tell him she loved him too? Well he could wait until
the water ran cold. Unlike him, Tristan wasn’t a chicken shit. When she told
him she loved him, it would be when they were in bed together. Maybe she’d tell
him while they were making love. Maybe she’d tell him right after they finished
making love. Whenever it was she decided to tell him, she would blurt it out
and then get away from him as fast as she could.

Her phone was ringing. Bullet was still in the shower, or
shaving, or doing something. Whatever it was, he hadn’t come out of the
bathroom.

She found her bag where they dropped it by the hotel room
door, and pulled out her phone.

“Hi,” she answered quickly before it went to voice mail.

“Tristan, it’s Liv.”

“Hi Liv, how are you?”

“I’m good. Uh, by any chance are you with Bullet?”

“Why?”

“Well, there’s someone down here looking for him, and it seems
kind of important.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m in the lobby of the Thomas and Mack Center.”

Tristan told Liv they’d meet her there in a half hour. That
was as fast as she thought they could get there. When Bullet came out of the
bathroom, Tristan was dressed.

“What’s goin’ on darlin’?” He put his arm around her waist.

“Liv called. Somebody’s at the arena looking for you. She said
it was important.”

“Ain’t nobody as important as you right now darlin’.”

Clearly Bullet was feeling very amorous after his declaration
of love, but the tone in Liv’s voice worried her.

“I think it’s serious Bullet.”

“I doubt it, but if it’s botherin’ you, let’s get over there
and see who it is.”

***

Liv was alone when Bullet and Tristan walked in the front door
of the arena.

“Well,” he said. “I thought somebody was looking for me.”

Liv pointed in the direction of the hallway. “Do you know that
man?”

“Never seen him before in my life.”

“I don’t think he knows you either, but he’s been asking
everyone if they’ve seen you.”

“Huh. Well, only one way to find out.” Bullet walked over to
the man who was on his cell phone. “Hey mister,” he tapped the man on the
shoulder. “I hear you been lookin’ for me.”

The man pressed a button on his phone and dropped it in the
pocket of his jacket. “Are you Bullet Simmons.”

“The one and only.”

“Mr. Simmons, you’ve been served.” The man handed Bullet a
folded piece of paper.

“What the hell?”

At the same time the man went out the door to the parking lot,
Billy, Lyric and Slade walked in.

“What’s with him?” Billy asked Liv.

“Someone just served him with some papers.”

Billy walked over and took the paper out of Bullet’s hand.
Bullet stood completely still, a stunned look on his face.

“What the hell?” Billy repeated what Bullet had said moments
earlier, when he finished reading through the document.

“What is it?” asked Lyric.

“A subpoena,” Bullet answered.

“For what?”

Bullet turned and looked at Tristan, who hadn’t moved from
where she stood when they walked in. His eyes met hers, as though he was trying
to tell her something.

“My DNA.”

Tristan grabbed Liv’s arm, afraid she was going to topple
over. This couldn’t be happening. His DNA? There was only one reason she could
think of that someone would want his DNA. Bullet must have a third child out
there somewhere.

“Wait,” she heard Bullet say, but she was already through the
door. She raised her hand to hail a cab. When it pulled up, she recognized the
person getting out of it.

“Tristan? Are you okay?” asked Walter.

“I’m not,” she murmured, too stunned to explain, too stunned
to ignore him.

“Where are you going?”

“The hotel.”

When Tristan climbed in the back seat. Walter followed. “I’ll make
sure she gets there okay,” he explained to the driver, who looked as though he
really didn’t care.

***

“Let me see that.” Lyric pulled the subpoena out of Billy’s
hand and started reading out loud. “It’s for a paternity test.” She looked at
Bullet. “Do you know anything about this?”

“It’s gotta be wrong,” he told her.

“Why? I mean how can you be sure?”

“Look at the date.” Bullet pointed to the section that said,
“On or about…”

“Why do those dates sound familiar?”

“Pike Peak or Bust,” said Slade, who hadn’t spoken to that
point.

“Then he’s right!” shouted Lyric. “He couldn’t have been with
someone else. He was with us every night. And by us, I mean Tristan.”

“Not every night,” said Liv. “There was one night he wasn’t.”

Lyric first looked puzzled, then her expression changed.
Instead of looking at Bullet, she looked at Slade. “You wanna tell me what the
hell went on that night?”

“Lyric—”

“Stay out of this Bullet,” she snarled at him, and then turned
back to Slade. “You find some buckle bunnies to polish your buckles that
night?”

The fact that Slade didn’t answer, wasn’t helping Bullet’s
cause. He had a hell of a lot to drink that night, and there were bits and
pieces of it that he didn’t remember, but he was damn sure he didn’t have sex
with anyone. Not anyone. Not Tristan, and not anyone else.

***

1981

“It’s a boy,” said the doctor, who handed the baby to a nurse,
who wrapped him in a blanket and took him to the other side of the room. “I’ll
just get him cleaned up a little.”

Bill had witnessed heifers and horses giving birth, even a
goat, but watching his own dear wife suffer through labor was almost more than
he could bear. He’d held her hand, rubbed her back, and fetched her ice chips
and a cool damp cloth to soothe her brow.

“We have a boy,” Dottie beamed at him.

How could anyone look this beautiful, this happy, after what
she’d just endured? Bill didn’t know. She’d been his hero since the day he met
her, but today, Dottie was superwoman.

The nurse brought the little blanketed bundle back over and
handed him to Dottie. “Look Bill, isn’t he beautiful?”

Bill was looking at the two most beautiful people he’d ever
seen in his life, his wife and his son.

“What should we name him?”

Tears ran down Bill’s cheeks, and he couldn’t speak. Dottie
held the bundle with one hand, and with the other, reached for Bill.

“It’s okay honey. I’m okay. And the baby is perfect.”

Bill looked up at the nurse who nodded her head. “He’s
perfect,” she concurred.

Bill closed his eyes and said a prayer. God had kept watch over
his wife and his baby. They were both okay. Better than okay, they were
perfect. He opened his eyes and looked up. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“I think we should name him William Flynn Patterson, Junior,”
said Dottie.

“That’s a right beautiful name sweetheart,” Bill answered.

He looked up again and closed his eyes. He’d never, ever
forget his promise. And he’d never, ever compete in another rodeo.

“I understand sweetheart,” her daddy said. “But you simply
don’t have a choice.”

“If I was sick I’d have a choice.”

Her father folded his arms. “You’re not sick.”

“Daddy, please. I can’t go.”

“I’ve said it once, twice, three times, and I won’t say it
again after right now. You have commitments Tristan. And you will honor them. I
don’t care if there’s one or twenty cowboys you don’t want to see at the NFR.
There are people counting on you to be there. And you will not let them down.”

They’d had this argument at least once a day for the last
week. Tristan tried everything she could think of to get out of going to Las
Vegas for the PRCA National Finals Rodeo. Her daddy wouldn’t hear of any of it.

It had been almost two months since she’d talked to anyone
from Flying R Rough Stock other than Liv, who promised she’d let everyone know
how hard Tristan was working to have more of the line ready to present in Las
Vegas.

If anyone else called, and Lyric and Bullet called often, she
ignored the call. If it wasn’t a number she knew, she ignored that call too.

After Liv explained what was in the subpoena, she never
mentioned the paternity test, or anything else about Bullet again. The only
thing she said was, “if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Every time the scene at the Thomas and Mack Center played over
in her memory, her humiliation grew. What a fool she’d been. To think she’d
been figuring out when to tell the lying, cheating bastard that she loved him.
What a ridiculous fool.

Walter rode in the cab with her back to the hotel, but she
wouldn’t let him walk in with her. She told him she was picking up her bags and
catching the next flight home.

“I told you there was something important about him you needed
to know,” he said as she was getting out of the cab.

Those words stuck in her head. When had Walter said that to
her the first time? Wasn’t it at Pikes Peak or Bust? From what Liv told her,
the woman said she had sex with Bullet that week. But didn’t all the guys go
out the day after Bullet fought with Walter behind the chutes?

It continued to nag at her,
and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t let go of it. Something wasn’t
adding up. The problem was, in order to get to the bottom of it, she’d have to
talk to Bullet, and that was something she wasn’t ready to do.

***

“Need a ride from the airport?” the text from Lyric said.

“Catching a cab,” she answered.

“Need to talk,” Lyric wrote back.

“I know.”

“Drink at 5 hotel bar.”

That worked. None of this was Lyric’s fault or doing, and
Tristan felt bad that she’d avoided her friend for the last two months. She needed
to apologize, and hope that Lyric understood why Tristan had been so distant.

Lyric was already at the bar and had a drink in front of her
when Tristan walked up.

“Hi.”

Lyric jumped off the stool and threw her arms around Tristan.
“God girl, I’ve been so damn worried about you. You look like shit, by the
way.”

Tristan smiled. Only Lyric could get away with telling her she
looked like shit, and Tristan would know she didn’t mean it in an insulting
way.

“What’re you drinkin’?”

“I think I could use one of your five-ingredient cocktails,
but that probably isn’t a good idea right now.”

Lyric motioned to the bartender. “Two shots of Makers,” she
told him. He nodded his head and went to get the shot glasses. “Wait,” she
added. “Better make that four.”

Tristan smiled. “What the hell, I don’t have any meetings
tonight. Might as well get lit up.”

“It isn’t his,” Lyric said after they both downed their second
shot.

“That really isn’t the point.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I can’t do this Lyric. I can’t be with a man who randomly
fathers children.”

“But it isn’t his.”

“Again, that isn’t the point. It could’ve been.”

“No, it couldn’t.”

How could Lyric be so sure? Was it because Bullet swore he
didn’t have sex with anyone else that week? Or did Slade come to his defense and
swear Bullet didn’t hook up with any women the night they all went out and got
drunk? What about the rest of the Flying R partners, were they willing to vouch
for Bullet too? It didn’t matter if they all swore on a stack of Bibles.
Tristan was done with Bullet. She couldn’t trust him, and she couldn’t be with
someone she didn’t trust.

“Oh God, not him again.”

Tristan looked where Lyric motioned. There was Walter Harris,
and to her shock, he looked even worse than the last time she saw him.

“You keep turnin’ up like a bad penny. Or shit on the bottom
of my shoe,” Lyric said to him.

“I’m not here to see you.” Then he looked at Tristan. “Can we
talk?”

“I’m sorry Walter, but I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“You’re back with him? How could you be? You swore over and
over again that you couldn’t forgive my infidelities, but he gets some whore
pregnant and you just look the other way?”

“This isn’t any of your business Walter.”

“I can’t believe this. I never dreamed you’d forgive him.” He
turned and walked away.

“Does that strike you as odd?”

Lyric looked at Walter. “That? Yep.”

“No, not him. What he said. ‘He never dreamed I’d forgive
him.’ Isn’t that a weird thing for him to say?”

“To be honest with you, I think the guy is as dirty as they
come. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out someday that he set this whole thing
up to get you away from Bullet. Problem is, there’s no proof.”

“And what about the girl? Why would a woman claim someone is
the father of her child, if she knows he isn’t?”

“I don’t know, but I’m gonna make you a promise right here and
now. By the time the last gold buckles are awarded this week, I’m going to get
to the bottom of this.”

***

“He’s ridin’ great,” Bill told Buck. “But otherwise, it’s as
though the light went out.”

“Damn mess.” Buck shook his head. “Has he found out anything
yet?”

“Nope, but he said somethin’ about gettin’ the results in
January.”

They thought he couldn’t hear them, but Bullet could. Their
voices carried to where he sat on the back of the chute waiting for his turn to
get on the back of a bull. He rode by rote. No emotion. No excitement. His
nerves were icy steel. Part of him hoped he’d buck off, because then maybe he’d
feel something.

He was loading broncs to bring them to Las Vegas a couple weeks
ago, and cut his hand good on a sharp piece of metal on the trailer. He watched
the blood pour from the wound, but couldn’t feel it.

Billy, Jace, even Ben tried
to talk to him about the paternity test, but he didn’t have anything to say on
the subject. He may have been drunk that night, but there’s no way he had sex
with the woman accusing him. It had been months since he had sex with anyone
other than Tristan McCullough. A fella may be able to forget having sex when he
was doing it with randoms every night of the week, but once you committed
yourself to one woman, it wasn’t something you’d forget.

He rode. He didn’t buck
off. He waited for his score. Robotically. Eighty-two points. He walked through
the back of the arena to gather his gear.

He heard someone talking on a cell phone. “It didn’t matter to
her.” He recognized the voice, and the man speaking. Walter Harris. He went
back around the corner, out of sight, to listen to more of the conversation.

“You have to make sure the test comes back with him as the
verified father.” Silence. “What’s it gonna cost me?” More silence. “You better
make damn sure your cousin gets the samples switched.” Another long pause.
“Yeah, well, as long as she don’t show up here, we’re all good.”

He had to find Lyric. If anyone could find out who this woman
was, Lyric could. If they didn’t, Bullet was going to get slapped with a
paternity suit that would seal the fate on the rest of his life. Tristan would
never believe it was rigged and he wasn’t the child’s daddy.

***

Tristan rode the elevator alone from the twenty-second floor
to the nineteenth, where it stopped. She closed her eyes and leaned back
against the wall. She opened them again, when she didn’t hear anyone get on.
She looked up, and Bullet stood in front of her.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said. The elevator doors started
to close, and both reached out to stop them.

“Get on the elevator Bullet,” she told him, and then folded
her arms in front of her.

“How are you?” he asked once the doors closed.

“I’m okay. How are you?”

“Okay. I guess.” Bullet reached over and hit the emergency
stop button. “That isn’t true, I’m not okay.”

“Bullet—”

“No Tristan, I need to say this. You may not believe me, but I
swear on Pearl and Grey’s lives that what I am about to tell you is the God’s
honest truth.”

When he told her what he overheard in Walter’s conversation,
she believed him. She might not have if she didn’t have her own suspicions. She
didn’t admit it out loud though.

“I couldn’t have done it Tristan. I know I didn’t handle it
very well, but when I told you I love you, I meant it.”

“I know.” She sighed and looked at the floor.

Here she was, at her own crossroad. Bullet’s reputation was
such that no one was overly surprised when he was served with the paternity
subpoena. That reputation was borne from the way he lived his life. Even with
her, sex was the way their relationship began. From the first time she saw him
in Liv and Ben’s hot tub, she wanted him. Somewhere along the way, it had
turned into more.

“Can we talk? I mean really talk?” Bullet pleaded.

Tristan reached forward and hit the emergency button again,
and the elevator continued its descent. When it came to a stop in the lobby,
she didn’t disembark. She pressed the number twenty-two.

“We can talk in my room.”

“But we need to talk Tristan. Nothing else.”

She rolled her eyes and smirked at him. “Yes Bullet, I’ll try
my hardest to keep my hands off you.”

“I don’t know about tryin’ your hardest,” he smiled.

***

He smiled. It had been so long since he had, and God, it felt
good. Once he started smiling, he couldn’t stop himself.

“What’s so funny cowboy?” The smirk hadn’t left Tristan’s
face.

He couldn’t stop himself. He had to touch her. He put one hand
on her waist, and hesitated. When she didn’t back away from him, he put his
other arm around her shoulder and pulled her in close to him.

Her body was taut, but she didn’t resist. She even rested her
head on his shoulder.

“I missed this so damn much. Just holdin’ you against me.”

“I missed it too Bullet.”

No buts. She didn’t say “but.” He had no idea where her head
was, but he was about to find out.

Tristan’s room was much bigger than his. She had a suite. The
furniture in the outer room was covered in McCullough Cowgirl and McCullough
Cowboy clothing. There was a garment rack that held more. “You got a fashion
show you’re doin’ or something?”

“Yes. Not something. We have a fashion show scheduled this
afternoon.”

“How come you didn’t ask me to model for you?”

He was joking, but Tristan looked serious. “I wasn’t sure it
was a good idea for us to be together.”

“Really? I mean you actually considered it? I thought you’d
have professional models.”

“No, the clothes are going to be worn by NFR competitors. The
show is a fundraiser for the Justin Cowboy Crisis Fund.”

He looked around the room until he saw the chaps. “You got
anybody wearin’ mine?”

“I only made one pair of those Bullet. Those are custom, and
won’t be available for sale.”

“You gonna do more custom work? I mean can fellers order
custom chaps from your company?”

“I guess so. It isn’t something I’ve thought much about, but
the professional cowboys would want something custom, not something off the
rack. It’s a good idea Bullet. Thank you.”

“Then I guess I need to be in your show after all.”

“Oh yeah? Do you have them with you?”

“C’mon Tristan, they’re my good luck charm. Why do you think
I’m ridin’ so good?”

Tristan bristled. “Let’s talk Bullet. About something else,”
she snapped.

“Wait a minute. What just happened? What did I say?”

Tristan explained her run-ins with Walter Harris, and how he
told her he needed her because she represented luck to him. Whenever the
comparisons between the two men came too close, she couldn’t help the
irritation she felt.

“There’s a difference. I said the chaps were my good luck, not
you.”

She smiled again, and punched his arm.

“Let’s talk.” Bullet motioned toward two chairs by the window,
and helped Tristan move the clothing out of their way.

“Since we saw each other at Pikes Peak or Bust, I’ve been wantin’
to have this conversation with you. I put it off then, and I can’t put it off
any longer. I don’t know if it woulda helped or hurt what happened in October
with the subpoena, but I know this. I’m not ever gonna lie to you about
anything ever again. Even if the truth is hard to tell, or even if I’m gonna
hurt your feelings, I’m not gonna tell you any lies.”

“You sound like Lyric.”

Bullet laughed. “That’s the thing with her. We may not like
what she says, but we always know Lyric is tellin’ the truth. I wanna be more
like that.”

As uncomfortable as it was for them both, Bullet told Tristan
everything he could think of about his past. All of it. The fact that he’d
never been faithful to Callie, the dares he took from his buddies when they’d
go out drinkin’, even how one night he’d had sex with three different women.

“I’m not proud of any of it,” he told her. “But if the day
comes that we’re together and someone from my past decides to tell a story of
what we did one night that we were out drinkin’, I don’t want to feel as though
I have to hide it from you.”