Clay (BBW Secret Baby Bear Shifter Romance) (Secret Baby Bears Book 4) (7 page)

“Somethings wrong,” she said.

Brianna saw it too. She clenched the metal barrier in front of them, her face lined with worry. “His foot is stuck in the rope,” she said, indicating the rope tied around the bull that Owen held onto, his grip. “They didn’t put it on proper. He won’t be able to get off. When he falls, he’ll drag against the bull. Why don’t the officials see it?”

She called to an official, but it was too late. Owen fell, but instead of rolling away like Dakota had seen in the movies, he flopped against the bull like a ragdoll. A bull fighter jumped into the arena to help, but the bull couldn’t be controlled. It bucked relentlessly, jerking Owen around, and there wasn’t anything anyone could do.

Except for Owen. In a flash, the rider was no more. In his place was a bear, a brown grizzly who easily broke through the rope and rolled away.

“He’s a shifter,” Dakota stated.

“Thank goodness he is,” Brianna muttered, relaxing, the danger over. “Otherwise, he would have been killed.”

Shifters were no secret. Humans had known about them for almost a century, but they were few and far between. To meet a shifter was rare. Many people never did.

Dakota had. She knew one very well, back home.

“I’m surprised shifters are allowed to compete,” she said, knowing their abnormal strength and instinct gave them an advantage over other athletes.

“It’s a sore subject. A lot of folk don’t agree with it.” Brianna spoke tensely, her focus on the pen where Owen had disappeared. Dakota could tell she wanted to go to him to make sure he was okay.

“Go,” she told Brianna. “I’ll be fine. I’ll wander outside and get some fresh air.”

“Thanks. I won’t be long. Meet me in front of the photo booth in an hour.”

“Sure. Sounds good.”

As soon as Brianna was out of sight, Dakota left the stadium for the brightness of the day where the sun blazed down on numerous craft stalls, food stands, and beer tents. Crowds of people pushed past her, enjoying the festivities. Wearing jeans and a red tank top that complemented her chestnut hair, she almost fit in, if not for her fair skin. She would tan, eventually, but until then, her paleness marked her as an outsider. It was a bad thing. A very bad thing.

Folding her arms around her, she headed for the bathrooms, but as she passed a beer tent, she was knocked to the ground by an impossibly tall cowboy with broad shoulders and arms that could tackle a dinosaur. With his golden eyes and sandy blonde hair, she found him good-looking, if he weren’t a stumbling drunk.

“Don’t come back without my money,” a portly man with bad skin called from the tent. “You owe me, Edward Tyrell, and I always collect my debts. I don’t care who your family is or what you are.”

In reply, Eddie picked up an empty beer bottle lying on the ground and threw it at the man, but his aim was miles off. “Bastard,” he muttered, kicking the dirt.

Vexed, Dakota stood from the ground and dusted the dirt off her knees. Her side ached. It felt as if she’d been attacked by a boulder. “Maybe watch where you’re going next time, yeah?” she admonished.

“Hey, you’re pretty,” Eddie said, ignoring her reprimand. “Wanna take a ride with a real cowboy?”

“Sure, tell me when you see one,” she returned, rubbing her arm. “I don’t appreciate being knocked over.”

Eddie frowned, genuinely concerned. “I knocked you over?”

“Didn’t you notice?”

His frown disappeared, cavalier once more. “I noticed how gorgeous you are.”

Unwilling to entertain him, she turned to leave, but Eddie quickly moved in front of her. “Let me make it up to you. I’ll buy you a shot.”

“You can buy three shots, and you can drink them yourself. I’m going home.”

“I’ll go with you,” he said, flashing her a perfect smile, the smile of a playboy, someone who treated life like it was a game of marbles.

Dakota wasn’t impressed. “You can go to hell, that’s where you can go.”

It made him laugh. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

She stepped away. “Don’t worry about where I’m from.”

He tried to maneuver with her, but in his inebriation, he tripped over his own feet and fell into a water trough, soaking him through. “Thanks!” he called, splashing his arms. “I needed a cool down. A girl as pretty as you had me all riled up.”

“What you need are some manners, little brother,” a man said, joining them on horseback. He was tall, like Eddie, but he had dark hair, and he was much bulkier, thick around the shoulders, built to rule. “You okay?” he asked Dakota.

“I’m fine,” she told him, nervous with so much attention on her. She wanted to slip away, but she saw no easy way to do so, not with a man on horseback and a drunk in a trough staring at her.

He turned his attention to Eddie, full of authority. “I’m leaving now. You’ll be in charge. You know what that means.”

“I know,” Eddie grunted, displeased.

“Try to stay sober while I’m gone. The clan will be looking towards you for protection. They need a leader. Don’t be reckless.”

She could tell there was more the man wanted to say, but he wouldn’t in front of her. She wasn’t insulted. She had her secrets too.

“Safe journey, brother,” Eddie bid, half-sarcastic.

“Protect them,” the man said once more, and then he rode off.

The confrontation had sobered Eddie. She could tell he was humiliated. Feeling sorry for him, she offered him her hand and helped him out of the trough. “Who was that?” she asked.

“Holden, my saint of a brother,” he answered, wringing out his hat. “I hate the way he speaks to me.”

Surprised by his confession, she set her hand on his arm, comforting him. “It’s his way of looking out for you. That’s what siblings do. They take care of each other. Even shifters.”

She’d known Eddie was a shifter from the moment she saw him. Only shifters had golden eyes as deep and compelling as his were. It was one of the traits that set them apart.

“It doesn’t scare you that, underneath this sinfully attractive body, I’m a bear?” he asked, resuming his charm.

“No,” she answered. “It doesn’t scare me. I’ve met shifters before.”

“Like who?” he asked, intrigued.

“A friend.”

He laughed. “You’re mysterious. I get it. Is there anything about yourself you are willing to tell me?”

She couldn’t walk around West Texas ignoring the natives. It would only draw suspicion, so she played along. “Tell me more about you first.”

“I’m a middle child. Not much responsibility on my shoulders. No one to prove myself to, except the bull I sit on when I ride. Got a lot to prove to him.”

“Until now.”

“Yeah, til now,” he said reluctantly.

“You don’t want to be the leader of your clan.”

“Would you? There are things happening in the shifter world, unsettling things. I can’t protect my brothers from it any more than I could protect myself.”

It worried her as much as it did him. “What things?”

“Nothing you have to worry about, darling,” he said, perking up, a fresh wave of his intoxication coursing through his blood. “Wanna dance?” Before she could stop him, he scooped her up into his arms and spun her around.

She protested, outwardly annoyed, but a secret side of her enjoyed it. Eddie was brazen, and he was sexy, especially when he wasn’t acting like a drunken fool. His robust charm took away some of the misery of being on the run. She demanded he set her down, but part of her wished he wouldn’t let go.

He set her back on her feet. “You’ve just made a new friend here today,” he said. “Feel free to call on me anytime, but when you do, I prefer you wear lacy–”

The intercom cut him off, crackling around them. “There has been a change in the schedule. The Tyrell Clan will no longer be competing in today’s events. All riders have been moved forward accordingly.”

“Who the hell decided that?” Eddie growled, outraged. “Sorry, darling, but I gotta go.” Moving fast, he planted a playful kiss on her cheek. “Until next time.”

“There won’t be a next time!” she hollered after him, confused.

A fugitive, Dakota wanted nothing to do with handsome cowboys or their pretty words. She wanted to stay hidden in the shadows, away from Eddie and his recklessness, but she also very much wanted to dance with him again. She was a fugitive, but she was also a woman.

“It’s the heat,” she decided, speaking out loud. “It’s consumed me.”

Chapter Two

The next day, Brianna rode. She was magnificent. She handled the bull like a queen. Sitting in the front row of the stadium, next to the press, Dakota was in awe of her new roommate. A lot of talent had been showcased in the arena, and most of it belonged to Brianna, who wore white chaps with jade beading to match her hat, her signature look.

“85.25,” the announcer cheered when Brianna was bucked off. “Not her best, but a good score nonetheless.”

“A damn good score,” the reporter next to Dakota said, tapping away at his tablet.

In the arena, Brianna modestly waved her hand to her fans and disappeared behind the pens. She wasn’t tawdry. She didn’t need gaudy showmanship to prove she had talent. People loved her as she was.

Dakota had no interest in the other bull riders, so she went outside to the craft stalls until it was Brianna’s turn to ride again. It had been difficult to persuade her to return to the rodeo. A fugitive didn’t play giddy-up for strangers, but she couldn’t tell Brianna that, especially when she was so adamant. With the women competing, she’d wanted Dakota there to watch. It’d be a long morning as each woman made her way through the rounds, leading up to the championship round after lunch. The women weren’t the main event, the men took over again in the evening, an injustice that irritated Brianna.

I’d be angry too
, Dakota thought as she wandered through the stalls, admiring the quality of the handmade crafts.
It’s brave to put yourself out there like that, to risk judgment and harassment to do what you know is right. I’m not brave, not like that. I never will be.

If she had a slice of the courage Brianna had, she wouldn’t be hiding in West Texas, far from her sins. She would have confronted her mistake.

A blanket in a stall caught her eye. Knitted with beige wool, the motif had apples on it, all lined up in a row. It reminded Dakota of her childhood. Every summer, she and her brother used to pick apples in the orchard outside their house. She’d climb to the tallest branches of the trees and shake the apples down to her brother, who would catch them in a blanket, using it as a net. The bitterness of apples made her sick to her stomach, but she loved picking them.

“Would you like to buy it?” the vendor asked, a short woman with a crooked nose. “I’ll wrap it up nicely for you.”

“No, it’s too painful,” she answered, but she wasn’t able to set the blanket down. After everything that had happened, she wasn’t sure she’d ever see her brother again. No one knew the number to her burner phone or where she had gone. She had simply disappeared, a shadow in the night.

A much larger shadow than her own crossed in front of her. “You planning a picnic?” Eddie probed, startling her. “I know a bakery that makes apple tarts so good your mama will cry.”

Dakota quickly folded up the blanket and set it back in its place. “No, no picnics,” she said hurriedly, hoping he would leave, fully aware of how desirable his tanned body was. The bulk of his arms alone sent pleasant shivers down her spine. She didn’t trust herself to make good decisions when Eddie was around. She had to protect herself. A hot night in the sack wasn’t worth her risking her freedom.

“So is Dakota your actual name, or is that where you’re from? Cuz I hear it snows a lot up there, and you’re as white as an artic bunny.”

“Where did you learn my name?” she asked, throwing her guard up as high as it would go with his golden eyes studying her, trying to drag her in. She was a reasonable woman, but reason couldn’t battle temptation, not in this heat.

“So Dakota is your name. I thought for sure Brianna was pulling my leg. I’m glad you found your way back to the rodeo. Now I can redeem myself.” He held his hand out to her. “Come with me. There’s something I want to show you, to make up for yesterday.”

It was a sincere request. Dakota like Eddie this way – sober and genuine. She never would have accepted his hand in his drunken arrogance, but she accepted it now, knowing it was a mistake. For so long, she had been scared. In Eddie’s presence, despite him being a stranger, she felt safe. He would protect her, even if he didn’t know what he was protecting her from.

They circled the stadium, away from the crowd, until they reached a barnyard that, according to the signs posted around the makeshift pens, was closed to the public. The animals belonged to the men and women of the rodeo.

As Eddie led her past a muddy pen filled with noisy pigs, some the size of a small pony, she asked, “We’re allowed to be here, aren’t we?”

“I am,” he teased, tightening his grip on her hand. “Don’t run off, darling. We’re almost there.”

Leaving the pigs behind, they entered a stable filled with rows of horses, the roof sheltering the animals from the blaze of the sun. Eddie stopped in front of an oatmeal Thoroughbred, its coat so light it was almost white.