The Heart Of The Game (17 page)

Whatever the reasons for her putting him off, he couldn’t ignore the devilish voice that urged him to do whatever it took to get to know her better.

On his drive back to San Francisco, he got to thinking about what Zoe had said about her dad. Having a spy for a father had made Cody more suspicious than he cared to be. But as he crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, still piecing together the comments she’d made, the voice he trusted nagged at the back of his mind.

Just about every aspect of Zoe tugged at him. And if he were to be honest, the Tavonesi clan and their close relationships had called up a disturbing longing he’d never known—a wish that he had a tight, loving family that had each other’s backs.

His sister’s plea that he give reconciliation a chance had hounded him. He’d let his anger drive him for so long that love of any sort seemed like a mostly forgotten dream. He’d become accustomed to his self-imposed exile. If it hadn’t been for Zoe stirring him in deep places he thought he’d successfully abandoned, he might’ve gone on for years comfortably forgetting the richness of the love he’d known before things had gone so very wrong. Maybe Kat was right. Maybe it was time to mend some of his own fences.

When he got home, he texted his brother and told him he’d ride in the rodeo. Talking about his rodeo days with Zoe had rekindled his love for the broncs. Hell, being around her had rekindled so much more than that.

He typed out a text to Zoe and told her he’d be out of town for a while. He also invited her to join him at Ryan and Cara’s place the next week. The afternoon was originally supposed to be just the guys doing hard-core batting practice, but Jackie, Alex’s wife, had decided to join them, as had Scotty’s wife, Chloe. The occasion was a perfect opportunity to hang with Zoe. His teammates’ wives could relate to Zoe—especially Cara and Jackie. Cara was an heiress who came from the high life and yet had settled down in Albion Bay with Ryan. Cody didn’t want to cop to the fact that Cara not considering Ryan’s working-class roots an impediment to their relationship had probably played a role in Cody’s invitation to Zoe.

He stared at the text on the screen and then clicked off his phone. He was
scheming
. Plotting. And what the hell was he doing thinking about impediments to long-term relationships? He hadn’t even had a
short
-term girlfriend in the past three years. Life in the minors had pretty much eaten up his focus and his time. He’d settled for brief hook-ups that never got in the way of his game.

His desire to steal a few more moments alone with Zoe had him clicking on his phone. He sent the text. He stared at the screen and told himself that no matter what came of the afternoon, the practice in Ryan’s batting cage would improve his game.

But for the first time in a long time, baseball wasn’t the primary force driving his actions.

Cody made his way down the cinderblock hallway of the Clark Fork Arena. Missoula had larger, more modern venues, but the classic arena was well suited to the down-home event Dylan had worked himself nearly dead to pull off. Though Kat couldn’t come, she’d made sure to fill Cody’s ears with news of every detail.

There was no mistaking the smells of a rodeo. Hay and dung and hairspray—the latter from the many teased-up hairdos of the female spectators. Rodeo gals. They were as in love with the sport as were their flannel-shirted, blue-jean-clad, Stetson-hatted husbands.

“You’re late,” Dylan said, crossing the men’s locker room in two long strides.

“Didn’t know Missoula had so much traffic,” Cody said.

Dylan clapped Cody on the back. “You’ve been away a piece—we have cars now too.”

Cody was glad for the weak joke. What exactly he’d planned to say to his brother after not seeing him for so many years, he wasn’t sure.

“Having you here is like having a new start,” Dylan said.

Then Dylan hugged him.
Hugged him
. Enveloped him in a great, bear-like embrace. Cody patted Dylan’s back and eased a step away.

“It’s good to be here,” Cody said, fighting the conflicting feelings fisting a wad of tension in his belly. The simple in and out visit he’d planned wasn’t feeling so simple anymore.

“I bet.” Dylan retrieved a canvas bag that held the first aid kit from a nearby locker. “You up for arena duty? I’m short a medic.”

“Sure,” Cody said. He’d come to help in any way he could. But it’d been years since he’d taped up bronc and bull riders, or in the worst scenario, kept them from moving while they waited for the EMTs and then helped to slide the injured riders onto stretchers. “But I might be a bit rusty on the procedures,” he said honestly.

“I doubt it. And Doc Raymond will be out there with you. It’ll all come back.”

Raymond had been doctoring rodeo contestants for as long as Cody could remember.

“The women’s event is already in full swing.” Dylan handed him the canvas bag. “There’ll be a short break, and then your event’s right after. And don’t mind the camera crews. I don’t have to tell you that they’re here to see you.”

A young woman with a clipboard raced into the room and up to Dylan.

“Mrs. McCormack’s here. We didn’t have her on the list. Of course we let her into the VIP area.” She clutched Dylan’s arm. “Make sure to get her to come to the reception. She could fund our whole program if she’s inclined.”

Cody didn’t miss her emphasis on the word
our
or the woman’s intimate manner with his brother. Maybe Dylan’s life was looking up more than Kat had let on.

“This is Mary Drake,” Dylan said, giving the woman’s hand a gentle pat. “She put this fundraiser together. Mary, this is my brother, Cody.”

“Like I don’t recognize our star,” she said with a beaming smile as she held out her hand to shake Cody’s. “Dylan gives me too much credit. He’s the one who came up with this event and went to heroic efforts to make it a reality. We have thirty-seven kids in the therapeutic riding program now. Tonight’s success will keep us going for another year.” She put her hand to the headset projecting from her ear, cupping it as her eyes went wide. “God, Ellis Brayton just arrived! He and Mrs. McCormack are like oil and water. I need to run interference.” She dashed off, not even bothering to wave goodbye. But from the way Dylan’s eyes followed Mary, Cody knew there was deep affection between the two. His baby brother had grown up in more ways than one while he’d been away.

“We’d better head out there,” Dylan said. “I’m not sure which is harder, riding broncs or dealing with the deep-pocket donors that Mary lassoed into coming tonight.”

Cody knew his brother would rather ride a bronc any day. God knew
he
would. Mrs. McCormack had never come to a rodeo, not even when her rebellious daughter won the women’s finals six years ago. He remembered that night better than he wanted to.

“See you on the other side,” Dylan said. He started to walk out of the locker room and then turned. “Thanks for coming, Cody. And not just for what your name meant for selling out this shindig. Having you here”—he raked a hand through his hair—“well... it means more than you might know.”

Cody was thankful that Dylan turned on his heel and headed into the hallway. He hadn’t known until then that it was his brother’s forgiveness he’d been seeking.

“Park your ass right here,” Doc Raymond said as Cody entered the ring. “The last lady rider is up next.” Like most old-timers on the circuit, Doc still called women
ladies
. Most of them didn’t bother to correct him. In his day, when he wasn’t stitching up unlucky would-be champions, Doc had ridden the toughest bulls the circuit could rustle up to throw under him. A three-time world champion bull rider, he’d taught Cody how to keep his seat, how to read bulls and broncs, and a few tricks for healing up when a ride didn’t go well.

Cody glanced around the arena. Dylan was right: the event was a sellout. A sea of Stetsons bobbed in every row up to the rafters. The PA system cranked up a Tim McGraw ballad, mixing the strains of the music with the roar of the crowd.

Cody crouched to the left side of the raised press platform and dropped the first aid bag to the ground. Ambulances were parked outside, but EMTs didn’t know half of what Doc knew about handling rodeo injuries. They’d take their cues from him if they had to.

When the announcer interrupted the song and announced the rider for the next event, Cody’s heart stopped.

There was no way that Beth McCormack was riding the women’s bronc event. She’d gone off to Europe to marry some British lord. Mrs. McCormack, Beth’s social-climbing mother, had been thrilled. Having her only daughter marry into the English aristocracy had suited her high ambitions for her only daughter way better than seeing Beth carry through with her plans to marry Cody. Mrs. McCormack had made it perfectly clear that in her eyes Cody would never be more than a local hick stuck playing for the Missoula Osprey farm team in the Rocky Mountain Baseball League.

It’d taken Cody a number of painful years to get over Beth breaking off their engagement. And the whole mess would’ve been a helluva lot easier if she hadn’t waited until the week before she was to walk down the aisle and marry Cody to tell him.

Beth had fallen hard for the English guy’s charm and sophistication. But all along Cody had suspected that the slick-mannered dude had needed Beth’s money more than her love. If she was back, riding the circuit, maybe he’d been right.

The thought brought him no pleasure.

The pick-up riders circled the arena and then stationed their horses on either side of the chute gate. One of them recognized Cody and tipped his fingers to his hat. Two judges wearing striped vests stood at the ready.

He hoped Beth had her feet in place. She’d been a great rider, but every once in a while she’d pushed the limits of the mark out rule, especially with her right foot. If she didn’t have both feet properly placed when that bronc moved out of the chute, points would be deducted from her ride. And having points deducted for form had always pissed her off.

The announcer blared on about Beth’s recent run at the women’s championship. But as the chute opened, Cody tuned everything out and focused on her.

The bronc reared, and Beth held her position, successfully marking the horse out like he’d taught her so many years before. But then the bronc’s front legs came down hard, and he bucked his back legs so high they nearly made a vertical line. To Cody’s horror, Beth shot out over the bronc’s head and hit the dirt.

He grabbed the first aid bag and leapt up. If the bronc’s hooves had missed Beth’s head, they’d missed it by a fraction of an inch. Cody couldn’t see her clearly as the pick-up riders grabbed the reins of the bronc and led him to the other end of the ring. One thing about broncs: some of them, once they discharged riders, were as tame as lambs. Cody thanked God Beth’s ride was one of those. He ignored the shocked voices of the crowd as he and Doc ran toward where Beth lay motionless in the red dust of the arena.

Blood trickled from her forehead. Cody opened the first aid bag and grabbed the compression bandages.

“Her neck’s all right,” Doc said, moving his hands from the back of her skull.

Cody leaned in, pulled her into his arms and took the bandages from Doc. Suddenly, Beth’s body jerked with a spasm. She opened her eyes, squinting into the glare of the arena lights.

And then she looked at Cody. And blinked. “Heard you’d be here.”

“This is no time for socializing,” Doc huffed.

She batted away the compression bandage and wiped some of the blood from her forehead with her sleeve.

“For goodness’ sake, I just got thrown.”

“You’re a damned lucky young lady,” Doc said. The waver in his usually metered voice told Cody that he too had thought the horse had stomped her skull. While Cody held her, she let Doc examine her head and neck.

“Satisfied?” Beth wriggled out of Cody’s grasp and crossed her arms. Doc rocked back on his heels and grunted out a yes.

Cody scooped an arm under Beth’s shoulders and helped her to her feet. She waved to the crowd and shot them a broad smile. The crowd cheered. Seeing that she was okay, people in the stands took advantage of the break and headed for the beer and food tents set up outside.

“You’ll be icing that right away,” Doc said as they reached the side of the arena.

“Sure. Right after I have a word with this cowboy.”

“Right after, then.” Doc knew better than to argue with Beth. He trundled off, muttering that he needed something stronger than a beer.

“Doc’s right, you should ice,” Cody said in the calmest tone he could. He leaned against the metal door to an empty chute and calculated all the possible ways to remove himself from a damned awkward situation.

“I didn’t even hit hard,” Beth said, touching her hand to her forehead. “It’s an arena scrape. You should recognize one when you see it.”

He’d always liked her pluck. If she’d been born into a different family, they might’ve made a good couple.

“Up to your usual?” she said. Seeing the question in his eyes, she added, “Rescuing damsels in distress.”

He heard the invitation under her teasing words. And knew in that moment that what he’d once felt for Beth didn’t come close to the intense, stirred-up feelings he had for Zoe.

“
Riders
. Rescuing riders. Doc roped me into it.” He hadn’t meant to sound so frosty.

She crossed her arms and held her elbows in tight, watching his face. “I can take a hint. What’s her name?”

“Name?”

Beth smiled, but her eyes remained cool. She lifted a brow. “Whoever she is, she’s a lucky girl. Let’s hope she’s smarter than I was. That she knows a good man when she sees one.”

He hadn’t seen Beth in years, but she could still read him in an instant. The ability was one he respected—hell, he’d built a career reading ballplayers. But evidently her keen perceptions had failed when it came to the English guy. She turned to leave, and he put a hand out to stop her. Just because he’d rebuffed her attempt to reconnect didn’t mean he didn’t care.

“You’re still a special, wonderful woman.” He meant it kindly, but his words sounded flat.

She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Save the flattery for your bronc, cowboy. You might need to charm him.”