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A Cowboy's Claim
Marin Thomas
A DIFFERENT KIND OF HEROEveryone knows Victor Vicario—he’s the scarred loner who’s on his way to the National Finals Rodeo in Vegas. But no one knows about the guilt that drives him. And until he achieves his goal, there’s no room in his life for attachments.So when Vic is given temporary custody of his young nephew, he is torn. He can’t turn his back on family, but how can he look after a kid when he’s travelling the rodeo circuit? Then he runs into feisty barrel racer Tanya McGee and makes her an offer. She helps him with Alex, and he’ll pay her rodeo expenses. The problem is their little “family” starts to feel all too real.


A DIFFERENT KIND OF HERO
Everyone knows Victor Vicario—he’s the scarred loner who’s on his way to the National Finals Rodeo in Vegas. But no one knows about the guilt that drives him. And until he achieves his goal, there’s no room in his life for attachments.
So when Vic is given temporary custody of his young nephew, he is torn. He can’t turn his back on family, but how can he look after a kid when he’s traveling the rodeo circuit? Then he runs into feisty barrel racer Tanya McGee and makes her an offer. She helps him with Alex, and he’ll pay her rodeo expenses. The problem is their little “family” starts to feel all too real.
“What are we going to do about this?” Tanya whispered.
“Do about what?”
She stood before him—not close enough that they touched but close enough that he could smell her. Feel her breath against his skin. He clenched his teeth.
“You want me, don’t you?”
“We had an agreement. I pay your expenses on the road in exchange for your help with Alex. This wasn’t part of the deal.”
She moved her fingers south, grazing the waistband of his boxers. “What if we redefine the boundaries?”
He swallowed hard. Vic wasn’t sure how long he could let her touch him and not reciprocate.
“This isn’t part of the deal.” She nuzzled his ear. “It’s just...” She nipped his neck. “It’s whatever we want it to be.”
Vic spun, pressing Tanya against the door. Tanya’s tongue slipped inside his mouth and he forgot all the reasons this was wrong.
Dear Reader (#ulink_7a907f4a-92d1-509c-9f66-5afc699551b3),
I’ve been waiting to tell Victor Vicario’s story for a long time, and I hope you enjoy the final installment of the Cowboys of the Rio Grande series. All of the heroes in this series have had to overcome tough childhoods, but Victor’s journey was perhaps the most difficult.
I love including children in my books, because little ones have a way of teaching adults life lessons that might otherwise pass us over. When Vic is called home to take responsibility for a nephew he’d never met before, he has no intention of caring for the boy long-term. And no one is more surprised than Vic when a little boy who’s afraid to talk teaches him that letting go of the past is the only way forward.
I hope you enjoy Victor’s story, and if you missed the previous books in this series, A Cowboy’s Redemption (June 2015) and The Surgeon’s Christmas Baby (November 2015), you can find more information about these stories and other books I’ve written at marinthomas.com (http://www.marinthomas.com).
Happy reading,
Marin Thomas
A Cowboy’s
Claim
Marin Thomas


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
MARIN THOMAS grew up in the Midwest, then attended college at the U of A in Tucson, Arizona, where she earned a BA in radio-TV and played basketball for the Lady Wildcats. Following graduation, she married her college sweetheart in the historic Little Chapel of the West in Las Vegas, Nevada. Recent empty nesters, Marin and her husband now live in Texas, where cattle is king, cowboys are plentiful and pickups rule the road. Visit her on the web at marinthomas.com (http://www.marinthomas.com).
To my furry pals Bandit and Rascal, who have kept watch over me and my writing for the past fourteen years. You were snoozing at my feet when I sold my first book and you’re snoozing now as I write this. Thank you for blessing our family with your devotion, cuteness and love.
Contents
Cover (#u491af936-beef-5b44-83c6-9758e4dd683e)
Back Cover Text (#u2d563320-96c3-592a-a17c-a6ab20fb0528)
Introduction (#uda9e6255-5f51-552e-bd8c-2be5f791bef7)
Dear Reader (#u1b74b685-da32-5f83-ab5e-942a82a9632d)
Title Page (#u8efec9fa-7b35-5d5f-a371-7d4280bb5d50)
About the Author (#u2984e8e9-1b2f-576c-b1ef-4dc266a0d8e7)
Dedication (#u0cd8020d-a155-5122-853b-69352c289aaa)
Prologue (#uda9efbf0-2b96-5bf9-b5ca-440f4da94b91)
Chapter One (#u0010457c-2920-59df-aeb3-31796c912a0b)
Chapter Two (#u97754b95-d36e-5ae4-9752-12752abaed30)
Chapter Three (#ufd5c6077-3ba9-5a36-8383-4193ca04bd36)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#ulink_c0dd6784-2ad1-5c68-af81-ae722573cc51)
The wipers were no match for the torrential downpour pummeling the windshield. Victor Vicario strained to see the road ten feet in front of his pickup. After competing in the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo, he was tired, but it was a good tired. Pocketing a check for twenty-five thousand dollars had a way of easing his aches and pain.
He glanced at the boot-shaped trophy resting on the passenger seat. He’d find a UPS store tomorrow and mail the award to his former high school teacher Maria Alvarez Fitzgerald, who’d helped him earn his GED. After he’d announced his intention to join the rodeo circuit, she’d managed to keep a straight face when she volunteered to safeguard his trophies. No one, including himself, had believed he’d ever succeed in the sport. But over a decade later he was still chasing the one win that had eluded him.
The first few years on the circuit had been the worst—trying to do it all on his own. When he’d finally admitted he needed help, former world-champion saddle bronc rider Riley Fitzgerald took him under his wing and had taught him how to keep his backside in the saddle and win. Then Vic had gone out on his own and made a name for himself. The past five years he’d won or placed in the top three of most major rodeos—except the National Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas.
He refused to hang up his spurs until he won a national title.
This year would end differently—he felt it in his gut. He was thirty-one—young in mind, old in body. Broken bones, sprained wrists and horse kicks had taken a toll on him, but he was starting out a new season in the best shape he’d ever been. A lot of months and a lot of rides stood between Vic and the NFR in December. All it took was one nasty fall to wipe out a life’s worth of hard work, but he’d left Houston without a scratch and that was a good sign.
A vehicle with its flashers on came into view. He eased off the accelerator, thinking he should have sat out the bad weather in a motel room. But he wanted to make it to Beaumont tonight and then rest for a few days before he rode in the South Texas State Fair. He checked his side mirror before changing lanes.
The pickup and horse trailer sat on the shoulder—maybe a competitor from the rodeo. As he drove past he spotted the Red Rock Horse Farm logo on the pickup door. Tanya McGee—the feisty barrel racer who could hardly control her horse. She hadn’t competed in the Houston rodeo, but he’d seen her in the stands, watching her competition. Vic had never spoken to Tanya in person, but he’d noticed her auburn hair and eyes bluer than the New Mexico sky.
Since he didn’t socialize with the cowboys on the circuit, the only thing he knew about the pretty cowgirl was what he’d heard others say near the chutes. Tanya had been married to Vic’s competitor Beau Billings. Everyone knew Beau Billings rode more than broncs when he showed up at rodeos. Vic assumed Tanya had been attracted to Billings’s movie-star looks, but it wasn’t long after they’d married that the jerk began two-timing her. Billings was a womanizer in the worst way, and Tanya had done herself a favor when she kicked the cheater to the curb.
Vic pulled onto the shoulder in front of Tanya’s truck and turned on his flashers. He’d see if she was waiting out the storm or if she’d run into mechanical problems. He reached for his old Stetson and put it on to protect him from the rain, then stepped from his pickup. Tanya flipped on her brights and almost blinded him. He stopped at the driver’s-side window and she lowered it a couple of inches.
“Everything okay?” he shouted. When she didn’t answer, he said, “It’s Vic Vicario. You need help?” He wasn’t vain, but he had enough wins on his résumé that most rodeo athletes knew him by name.
The window lowered farther, the blowing rain pelting Tanya in the face. “The trailer has a flat tire.”
The nearest exit was five miles up the highway—a drive that far on a flat tire with an undisciplined horse inside the trailer was a disaster waiting to happen. Tanya’s horse, an American paint gelding, was famous on the circuit and not in a good way. “I can change the flat, but you’ll have to take Slingshot out of the trailer. Can you keep him under control in this weather?”
Her chin jutted—as if he’d offended her—and then her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know.”
At least she was honest. The horse was faster than the wind but unpredictable. Slingshot had thrown Tanya the few times he saw the pair compete. Why she stuck with the renegade was anybody’s guess. “Will you be able to change the flat, if I hold on to Slingshot?”
“Maybe.”
“You can’t sit on the side of the road,” he said. “It’s too dangerous for you and the horse.”
She put on a baseball cap sporting a Denver Broncos logo, then got out of the pickup. She was short—maybe five-six if that. Vic topped out at six feet in his boots and he towered over her small, wiry frame.
“I’ll fetch my toolbox,” he said. “Wait until I get back before you unload him.” He returned to his pickup, grabbed the tire jack and a wrench and set the tools on the ground next to the flat.
“Watch out,” Tanya said. She unlatched the trailer door and stepped inside. Vic heard her speak to Slingshot as she backed him down the ramp. He stood ready to help, but she coaxed him to follow her into the gully along the highway without incident. “Okay, we’re good!”
As soon as she spoke, thunder rumbled overhead and the horse reared.
“You got him?”
Vic started down the incline but stopped when she held up a hand. “I’m not helpless.”
Tanya McGee was the furthest thing from helpless Vic had ever encountered. He changed the flat tire, moving as fast as possible. He’d just tightened the last lug nut when lightning sizzled across the sky. Tanya held on to the reins, but lost her footing on the wet ground and slid under the gelding. Vic scrambled down the embankment, falling on his butt once before reaching the pair. He took the reins with one hand and wrapped an arm around Tanya’s waist with the other, then hauled her out from beneath the belly of the beast.
The horse reared a second time. “Whoa, boy.” Vic wished he’d thought to put on his riding glove. The rope burned his hands as Slingshot pulled hard to get free. Tanya talked nonsense to the animal until he quit stomping his hooves against the ground.
Tanya and her beloved horse shared a bond, but it baffled him that she couldn’t control the animal in the arena. “Ready?” he asked, taking hold of the noseband while she grasped the reins. They escorted Slingshot back to the trailer, where he was more than happy to load and get out of the storm.
Tanya locked the door. “Thank goodness he didn’t bolt.” She’d lost her baseball cap, and the rain had plastered her hair to her face and her clothes to her body, leaving little to the imagination. She shoved the hair out of her eyes and caught him staring at her bosom. He considered apologizing, but what for? He didn’t care what Tanya McGee thought of him. Her gaze moved to the scar on his face—if he was scary-looking in the daylight, he must be terrifying in the dark.
“Get off the road as soon as possible,” he said. “The spare tire is in bad shape.”
“I’ll take the next exit.” When he made a move to step past her, she grasped his shirtsleeve. “Thank you, Victor.”
“Drive safe.” He waited in his pickup until Tanya pulled out in front of him and then he followed at a distance. She drove below the speed limit, so he didn’t bother turning off his flashers. When she took the exit to the Buc-ee’s Travel Center, he trailed her into the parking lot but remained in his pickup while she searched for a parking spot. She disappeared inside and he continued to wait—why, he didn’t know.
A few minutes later Tanya stepped outside, holding two coffees. She signaled him to come in, but he didn’t care to stand in front of her beneath the harsh fluorescent lights and watch her try not to stare at his scar.
He honked and then hit the gas and sped away.
As he merged onto the highway, he rubbed the thick knot of skin along the side of his face. The accident had happened eighteen years ago.
Accident. His wound hadn’t been an accident, but calling it anything else was too painful.
Chapter One (#ulink_a1eea1a4-ccc5-573d-b445-9742aa24a05e)
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Stampede Park in beautiful sunny Cody, Wyoming! We’re expecting record-breaking temperatures this first week of July, so be sure you’re drinking plenty of water. If you’re looking for a seat in the shade, we still have a few available under the Buzzard Roost.”
The grandstand took up one side, the rough stock and cowboys the other. The scent of greasy burgers, popcorn, cigarettes and sweaty bodies permeated the air until you got close to the chutes. Then the heavy stink of nervous bucking stock and the stuff that comes out of their back ends stole your breath—unless you were immune to it as Vic was.
Garth Brooks’s song “Rodeo” blasted through the loudspeakers for a few seconds. Then the announcer continued his spiel. “It’s been a wild start to Cowboy Christmas here in the cowboy state. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the term Cowboy Christmas...”
Vic paced behind the chute, where Snake Oil Willie waited patiently for him. Why did every damned rodeo announcer feel compelled to explain Cowboy Christmas to the fans? People wanted to see cowboys go head-to-head with the bucking stock—they didn’t care that this was the time of year cowboys ramped up their earnings to help them qualify for the National Finals Rodeo in December. Only the top fifteen cowboys made it to Vegas, and Vic intended to be one of them.
He was bone tired after his midnight ride in the Greeley Independence Stampede in Colorado, four hundred fifty miles away. He’d driven all night to get to Cody, and the five days before that he’d been in Pecos, Texas. As soon as he competed today, he was back in his truck heading to Red Lodge, Montana, sixty miles up the interstate where he was due to ride at three. Then he had to make it to the Round Top Rodeo in Livingston, one hundred twenty-three miles farther down the road, for his last go-round of the day. He’d taken first place in Greeley, and if he finished in the top three in his last two rodeos of the day, he could earn close to five thousand dollars.
“We’re fortunate to have a superstar among our competitors today. Victor Vicario is currently ranked twelve in the PRCA standings. He started off the year on a high note, taking first place at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo back in March.”
The din increased and Vic slipped farther into the shadows of the cowboy ready area. He didn’t care for all the attention that came with winning. As soon as he claimed a national title, he intended to disappear from the rodeo scene. If he never rode another bronc the rest of his life, that would be fine with him.
“Last year Vicario ended his season in fourth place at the NFR in Vegas and you can bet he’s aiming to return for another chance to win the title.”
Once the crowd quieted, the announcer mentioned other cowboys competing today. Vic blocked out the noise and drew his thoughts inward as he prepared for his ride. He recalled his best ride, which happened to be last year in Vegas. He imagined every detail right down to the smells of the bucking chute, the heat coming off Sun River Bay’s back and the sound of the gelding’s snorts. Once Vic completed the ride in his head, he opened his eyes.
He was first out of the gate in his event—fine by him. He intended to set the bar high and intimidate his competition. He could thank the barrio in Albuquerque for his cutthroat attitude. Vic hadn’t grown up on a farm or a ranch like most rodeo cowboys. He hadn’t shown a cow or a pig in the local 4-H fair. Instead, he’d spent his free time tagging public property, stealing sodas and candy from convenience stores, skipping school and pledging gangs.
“Vicario will be coming out of chute two on Snake Oil Willie. This bronc can two-step like nobody’s business.”
When the rodeo helper signaled him, Vic stepped into the open. No one wished him good luck on his walk to the chute. He was good at busting broncs, but the scar on his face and his brooding personality kept anyone from trying to be his friend. Sometimes the loneliness got to him, but it was a fitting penance considering his high school pal Cruz Rivera had spent twelve years behind bars because of Vic.
He climbed the rails and straddled the bronc. Snake Oil Willie’s muscles bunched beneath Vic’s weight, but the horse behaved. Vic had never ridden the gelding in competition and had heard rumors that good ol’ Willie was full of tricks once he escaped the chute.
Vic adjusted his grip on the thick rein attached to the horse’s halter, took a deep breath, then nodded to the gate man and braced himself for liftoff. As soon as the chute opened, Snake Oil Willie rocketed into the air. Instinct took over and Vic placed his spurs against the points of the horse’s shoulders then marked out. With his left arm high in the air, he squeezed the bronc’s withers and spurred front to back, keeping his toes pointing outward. The first few bucks were smooth and controlled, but then the bronc tensed beneath him and Vic relaxed his hold on the rein, trying to avoid a spin.
Not a chance—Snake Oil Willie was too smart. The trickster spun right, forcing Vic to move with him in the saddle or get thrown off. When the bronc straightened out, Vic waited for another buck, but the horse reared and he slid backward. With a surge of strength he clung to the saddle; then the gelding’s front hooves hit the dirt, jarring Vic’s spine. The bronc managed to buck twice more before the buzzer sounded. Vic waited for an opening to dismount. When he saw his chance, he dove for the ground and rolled away from the clashing hooves.
The pickup men escorted Snake Oil Willie out of the arena and Vic plucked his hat from the dirt. His gaze scanned the crowd on his way back to the chutes and he caught a flash of red. Tanya McGee. What was she doing here?
Maybe she came to watch you.
No way. He hadn’t run into her on the circuit since that stormy night outside Houston when he rebuffed her offer to have coffee at the truck stop. He made eye contact and nodded.
“There you have it, folks,” the announcer said. “Victor Vicario scored an eighty-nine and got the best of Snake Oil Willie!”
Vic retrieved his duffel and stuffed his gear inside. He swung the bag over his shoulder and headed to the nearest concession stand to buy a corn dog for the road. He had two and a half hours before his next ride in Red Lodge.
“Victor.”
Tanya. He stopped walking and waited until she caught up with him.
“Great ride.”
He nodded, tongue-tied. Why did the spitfire barrel racer shove him off balance with just a smile?
“I wanted to thank you again for changing the flat on my trailer,” she said. “Couldn’t have been an easy feat in that downpour.”
“Glad to help.” He rubbed the ache in his left shoulder. He’d clipped it coming out of the chute.
She shuffled her black boots, then zeroed in on his face. Maybe it was the glare from the sun, but her eyes appeared bluer than he’d remembered.
“Did you compete today?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I’m giving Slingshot a rest, hoping it will improve his disposition.”
Vic grinned before he remembered the action stretched the scar across his face, twisting the puckered flesh. “Slingshot is a handful.”
“I’m well aware everyone believes my horse would be put to better use making glue.”
Vic quirked an eyebrow.
“But I’m not giving up on him.”
He understood how difficult it was to throw in the towel and admit defeat. He’d been hauling around twelve years of I-don’t-give-up on his back. Tanya didn’t appear in a hurry, but he was at a loss for something to say. He wasn’t used to talking to women he respected. He only had experience with ladies after a good time and a quick goodbye.
“I came up here to look at a stud horse with my stepfather and we stopped to take in the rodeo.” She waved a hand toward the parking lot. “Where are you headed next?”
“Red Lodge and then later tonight, Livingston.”
She gaped at him. “You’re riding in three events today?”
He opened his mouth to ask when she planned to compete again, but she cut him off.
“Damn.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I was hoping to avoid him today.”
Vic followed her gaze—Beau Billings. “I’m hungry for a corn dog. Want to come with me?”
“Sure. Thanks.” Her smile flashed brighter than the hot sun and suddenly Vic’s Wranglers felt tight in the crotch. If he survived the craziness of the first week of July, he’d think about getting laid. Right now rodeo came before pleasure.
After they joined the line at the concession stand, Tanya said, “I wish he’d quit pestering me.”
“What’s your ex doing to bother you?”
She wiped the perspiration off her brow, drawing Vic’s attention to the smattering of freckles across her nose. She appeared younger than the twenty-six years listed in the rodeo program by her name. “He tells me every chance he gets that my horse is stupid.”
Vic chuckled and then sobered when she jabbed her elbow into his ribs. “Sorry.”
“It’s been three years since I divorced Beau and he still acts like he has a claim on me.”
He didn’t know the details of her and Billings’s breakup—only that she’d caught the jerk cheating. He wasn’t sure if she’d walked away from barrel racing because of the divorce or the broken leg she’d suffered in a car accident a few years ago. And he sure as heck didn’t know why she’d returned to the circuit on a stubborn horse like Slingshot. That Vic was interested in her situation at all surprised him even more.
“You’d think he’d have his hands full trying to please his harem of buckle bunnies that he wouldn’t have time to pester me.” She rolled her eyes. “The poor stupid women can’t see past his handsome face and sexy voice.”
That was one thing Vic didn’t have to worry about—misleading the ladies. His voice wasn’t sexy and neither were his looks.
They were next in line to order—both asked for a corn dog and soda and they shared a large order of fries. Tanya insisted on paying—to thank him for his roadside assistance. They returned to the stands to eat.
She sipped her cola, then asked, “What about you, Victor? Any ex-girlfriends or wives giving you grief?”
Was Tanya making polite conversation or did she really want to know if he was involved with another woman? “No exes or girlfriends.” Just him. Alone.
“So the rumors are true,” she said.
“What rumors?”
“That you’re a loner.” She snatched the fry out of his fingers. “When Beau and I traveled the circuit together, the only competitor he ever obsessed over was you. You got under his skin.”
“I barely know the guy.”
“Doesn’t matter. You bother Beau because he can’t figure out what you’re thinking.”
Half the time Vic didn’t know what he was thinking.
“You scare him and it’s not because of the scar on your face.” Her casual mention of his disfigurement took Vic by surprise. “Sure, the scar makes you appear intimidating and unapproachable, but there’s more to it than that.”
Really?
“Beau knows he doesn’t have your natural ability.”
Vic swallowed the last bite of his corn dog. “It’s not talent, it’s hard work.”
“Whatever you want to call it. Beau doesn’t have your smarts.”
Damn, Tanya was good for his ego.
“A lot of cowboys study the way you ride, but none of them, including Beau, has ever picked up on the way you hold the buck rein.” She smiled. “But I did.”
Learning that his competition paid close attention to his performances was unnerving. He’d rather believe the cowboys were just watching to see if he’d fall on his head. “What about the buck rein?”
“Most of the guys prefer a thicker, tightly braided rein and a full handgrip. But your buck rein is loosely braided and you hold it between your third and fourth fingers.”
“You’re very observant.”
“I know.” Her eyes sparkled. “I also noticed that you feed extra rein to the horse when his head drops too low.”
“Everybody has their own technique.”
“True, but the thick rein is less flexible.” She sucked her drink dry. “Beau tried to copy you, but he never got the hang of it. Now you’re just stuck in his head.”
“I had a little help early on in my career.”
“From who?”
“A friend.” He didn’t want to go into detail about his relationship with Riley Fitzgerald. Vic liked to keep his past private. No one needed to know he’d been raised in one of the most dangerous barrios in Albuquerque.
“Ladies and gentlemen, up next is Beau Billings!” A throng of women screamed the cowboy’s name and held up signs with their phone numbers on them. Vic found it amusing that Tanya appeared unfazed by her ex-husband’s fan club.
“What?” she asked.
He struggled not to grin. He hadn’t been tempted to smile this often in one day let alone one month since he suffered the injury to his face.
“Beau Billings hails from Sierra Vista, Arizona, and right now this cowboy is ranked number sixteen in the country.” The announcer’s voice echoed through the sound system. It was time for Vic to leave, but he was reluctant to say goodbye—a first for him. Tanya was the only woman in longer than he could remember who appeared relaxed in his company. It would be too easy to let his guard down.
Vic watched Billings prepare for his ride. He paced in front of the chute, his strides short and choppy. The man was nervous. He’d drawn a better bronc than Vic, so his chances of earning a higher score were his for the taking.
“Billings has been paired with Shake Down, a three-year-old gelding from the Dale Anderson Ranch near Big Piney. Let’s see if this cowboy can beat Vicario’s eighty-nine.”
Billings straddled the bronc, and Vic’s gaze zeroed in on the buck rein. The cowboy played with his grip and the horse grew nervous in the chute.
“He takes too long,” Tanya said. “You take ten seconds max.”
Obviously she’d been watching Vic perform for a while. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. The chute opened and Shake Down lunged into the arena. The horse landed awkwardly on his front hooves and Billings had to fight from the get-go to keep from being bucked off. The bronc couldn’t find its rhythm and Billings’s spurring was erratic—the perfect combination for a low score.
The buzzer rang and Billings jumped for safety. “Looks like Shake Down gave our cowboy a run for his money today. Let’s see what the judges think.” The crowd applauded, but the noise level had dropped noticeably. Rodeo fans knew the difference between a great ride and a mediocre one. Billings’s performance had been average at best.
“An eighty-five for Billings! Better luck next time, cowboy!”
Billings spotted Tanya and Vic in the stands and his scowl deepened. As much as Vic enjoyed Tanya’s company, it was time to part ways. “Thanks for lunch.”
“Sure. See you...somewhere.” Her smile was genuine—not flirty.
Good thing or he’d have been tempted to scratch his ride later in Livingston and spend the night in a motel room with Tanya.
* * *
TANYA WATCHED VIC’S backside disappear into the crowd. She’d spent thirty-five minutes with him, which was thirty minutes longer than she thought he’d put up with her. Vic was a loner and Beau wasn’t the first cowboy to have nothing good to say about him. But Tanya found his quiet personality a nice break from the braggarts on the circuit. And she’d felt a sense of camaraderie with Vic—her competition hadn’t exactly welcomed her with open arms, either. They’d given her weird stares and stilted greetings as if they wished she’d remained retired from the sport—not because she was any real threat but because of the attention she and Slingshot drew at the rodeos.
A car accident had ended Tanya’s barrel-racing career before she’d been ready to call it quits. She blamed Beau’s cheating for robbing her of that last season. It had taken months for her to recover from her injuries and put her failed marriage behind her once she’d signed the divorce papers. Now she was back on the circuit to say a final goodbye to the sport.
“What the hell are you doing with Vicario?” Beau walked—rather limped—toward Tanya.
Ignoring the question, she asked, “Did you sprain your knee?” Beau had been cursed with weak joints to go along with his weak morals.
“Don’t change the subject.”
Beau didn’t love her anymore—if he ever did. But he was a sore loser. He’d fought the divorce tooth and nail, suggesting marriage counseling, but she’d refused. Once a cheater, always a cheater. She made a move to step past him, but he snagged her arm.
“What’s with you and Vicario?”
“None of your business.”
“The man has ice in his veins, Tanya. You don’t know anything about him. Nobody does.”
“We’re divorced.” She planted her hands on her hips. “That means you don’t get a say in which men I choose to date, kiss or have sex with.”
Beau’s jaw dropped and Tanya cringed when she noticed the attention they’d drawn. Typical Beau—always making a scene.
“When are you and that dumb horse of yours going to call it quits?” Beau’s self-esteem grew when he made other people and animals feel worthless. “You and Slingshot are the laughingstock of the circuit.”
She’d listened to enough of his crap. Without a word—because Beau hated it when she didn’t fight back—she headed to the stock pens to find her stepfather. He intercepted her halfway there.
“Tanya!” Mason Coldwater was in his early sixties and she’d known him since she’d been a young girl. “We need to head home.”
“I thought you wanted to stay for the bull riding?” She followed him out to the parking lot and got into his brand-new Lincoln.
“Your horse is causing trouble again.” He started the engine and flipped on the air-conditioning.
“What has he done now?” she asked.
“Jumped the damned fence. Took forever for Raymond to catch him. And when he put Slingshot in the barn, the horse kicked the stall door down.”
“Next time I’ll—”
“There shouldn’t be a next time, Tanya.” After Mason merged onto the highway, he said, “You’re a horse trainer. Not a barrel racer anymore. I need you at the farm. Raymond’s not working out.”
Raymond Gonzales was the trainer Mason had hired to replace Tanya after she began rodeoing earlier in the year. “Ray has a solid reputation.”
“Come back to the farm and help Raymond. Then if you still want to compete next year, I’ll help you choose a decent horse.”
It wouldn’t matter how many Red Rock horses Mason offered her, he’d find an excuse to bring her back home. She understood his and her mother’s fear that she’d injure her leg again. The surgeon had warned that if she broke her left leg again, she might end up walking with a permanent limp. The rehab had been so painful that Tanya hadn’t given a thought to competing again until Slingshot had ended up at the farm. The stubborn horse had convinced Tanya that not only did he deserve a second chance to prove himself, but so did she.
Mason paid her a decent salary to train his Appaloosas, and she loved working with the horses. She especially loved the challenge Slingshot presented. It took a month at the farm before the horse’s difficult personality became evident, and then Mason had wanted to sell him. Tanya had talked him out of it and had worked tirelessly with the horse, but had made minimal progress. So she’d suggested that Mason allow her to work Slingshot’s kinks out on the circuit. Mason had been reluctant, but Tanya had persisted until he caved in.
“Slingshot’s getting restless,” she said. “He’s ready to compete again.”
“I think the damned horse doesn’t like being separated from you.”
“We have a love-hate relationship.”
“Maybe you should give him a different name.”
Slingshot lived up to his name and then some. He burst out of the alley and broke the barrier like a rock in a slingshot. The only problem was that his momentum made his turns sloppy and he sacrificed valuable seconds getting around the barrels.
“And he’s damned ugly,” Mason muttered.
The mud-brown horse had no markings, and if you saw him in a lineup with other horses, your gaze would skip over him. But Slingshot had heart—not even Mason could argue with that. The gelding came from a strong bloodline of barrel racers. His legs were straight with no bumps or scars—he hadn’t been in any accidents or mishaps—and he possessed a strong back and healthy hooves. Slingshot was built to run, but he was a mystery—just like Victor Vicario—and it was anyone’s guess which one would be easier to tame.
Chapter Two (#ulink_e5c80e75-0e47-5550-93ef-eb8a9bb3a8f5)
“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the women’s barrel-racing event at the JUAB County Fairgrounds here in beautiful Nephi, Utah.”
Tanya stood with Slingshot, waiting for her turn to enter the alley. She hoped the beast would behave today. She tugged his head lower and whispered in his ear. “Be a sweet boy out there. It’s okay if we lose, just don’t go rogue on me.”
“Hey, Tanya!”
She swallowed a groan. Samantha Martinez, the nineteen-year-old up-and-coming star of barrel racing, entered the line with her horse, Prince Charming. “Have you considered that maybe Slingshot misbehaves because he’s suffering from an undiagnosed injury?”
“You wouldn’t by chance be accusing me of abusing my horse?”
Samantha’s eyes rounded and she sucked in a fake gasp. “Of course not.” Then she shrugged her rhinestone shoulders.
What a little snot. A veterinarian had examined Slingshot and had given him a clean bill of health. The horse’s orneriness was all in his head.
“Sometimes it’s not the horse but the owner.” Samantha smiled. “Maybe Slingshot just doesn’t like you.”
Tanya’s gut coiled in a knot. She’d wondered the same thing but hadn’t had the courage to admit it out loud. What if she’d read Slingshot wrong and he didn’t want to compete? Hating Samantha for undermining her confidence, she said, “Don’t you have a prom to get ready for?”
The cowgirl jerked as if she’d been slapped. Jeez, the girl could dish it out, but she couldn’t take it. Tanya regretted snapping at the stuck-up princess, but darn it, her sureness was already lower than the water table in Death Valley.
“You and Slingshot ready?”
Vic stood behind the barrier gate that blocked off one side of the alley. He wasn’t smiling—he never did—but his eyes glinted with warmth. Ten days had passed since she last saw him in Wyoming, and not an hour had gone by that he hadn’t crossed her mind—sometimes more than once or twice. Dare she hope that he’d thought of her, too?
“I’m ready.” She smiled, her heart pumping faster. “But it’s always a crapshoot with my horse.”
“Did you make a practice run?”
She shook her head. Would he think she was nuts for giving up her time slot earlier in the day? She hadn’t wanted to take the chance that Slingshot would injure himself or throw her and knock her out of the competition this afternoon. “We’re trying something different.”
He didn’t comment on her decision, which she appreciated, since she’d already questioned it herself. “You’ve had a good run so far this month.” Who cared if Vic knew she stalked his schedule?
“I’ve been lucky.”
Lucky her fanny. Pure talent had pushed Vic upward in the standings. “You ready to bust your bronc tonight?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He winked.
Holy smokes, was Vic flirting with her? Another barrel racer’s name was announced and the rider took off down the alley. Tanya was next.
“Good luck.” Vic tipped his hat and disappeared.
Tanya pushed the cowboy out of her head and hoisted herself onto Slingshot’s back. He stamped his hooves and she patted his neck. “C’mon, big guy. Show Vic what you can do.”
“Up next is Tanya McGee from Longmont, Colorado. She and Slingshot need to beat sixteen seconds to take over first place.”
Tanya would be happy with twenty-five seconds if Slingshot behaved. The arena attendant signaled and she tapped her boot heels. Then Slingshot raced down the alley and burst through the electronic eye that triggered the timer. They headed straight for the first barrel on the right. With one hand on the saddle horn, she sank deep in her seat, using the reins to guide him. She squeezed his flanks, holding her inside leg securely against his girth, giving him a focal point for the turn. Slingshot executed the turn perfectly and raced in the opposite direction toward the second barrel. She felt him ready himself a second too early and she held on when her leg scraped the barrel, which thankfully remained upright.
To complete the cloverleaf pattern, she and Slingshot raced through the middle toward the rear of the arena, opposite the entrance. Slingshot was going too fast to make the turn and Tanya pulled back on the reins, signaling him to slow up, but the stubborn gelding ignored her and took out the barrel before returning to the alley at an impressive speed.
“Well, folks, if Slingshot hadn’t hit that barrel he’d have clocked a time good enough for second place. Too bad a five-second penalty puts Tanya McGee and Slingshot dead last. Better luck next time, cowgirl!”
Tanya hopped off Slingshot. “Good boy.” She patted his shoulder, but he jerked his head away as if he knew they’d lost. Okay, fine. Be a jerk. She walked him outside the arena past the livestock pens until he cooled down. Then she hitched him to the back of her trailer next to his water and feed. “You rest while I watch Vic.”
Tanya had four days to make it to the Rockin’ Horse Ranch in Moriarty, New Mexico, for the Women’s Professional Rodeo Association barrel-racing event. If Slingshot didn’t place in the top three, Mason had warned Tanya, he’d no longer fund her rodeo expenses. She either returned to the farm with Slingshot or paid her own way on the circuit.
With her meager savings, Tanya might be able to compete through the end of July. If Slingshot turned around by then, maybe Mason would give the horse a third chance and pay the cost of their entry fees, gas and lodging for another month or two. She bought a diet cola, found a seat in the shaded section of the grandstand and waited for the saddle-bronc event to begin.
“Darcy, are you going to the Muggy Rim after the rodeo?”
Tanya eavesdropped on the three buckle bunnies sitting two rows below her. They were a walking advertisement for rodeo bling—rhinestone-studded blouses, belts and boots. Their fake fingernails glittered and even the blush on their cheeks sparkled. When they sat side by side, none of them stood out from the other. What did Beau see in these female zirconias? Didn’t the women realize they were being used? No real cowboy would bring home all that glitz to meet his mama.
“I don’t know,” Darcy said.
“If Beau Billings is going, I’m for sure gonna be there.” The only brunette in the group spoke.
“Beau is so over you, Sasha. Move on to another cowboy,” a dark blonde with purple eye shadow said. “Right, Darcy?”
“You two can fight over Beau,” Darcy said. “I want Victor Vicario. I love a mysterious man.”
“He scares me,” Sasha said. “He never smiles, huh, Heather?”
“Nope and I’ve always wondered how he got that scar on his face,” Heather said.
Darcy fluffed her platinum-blond curls. “There’s nothing I like better than a challenge.”
Sasha’s laugh grated on Tanya’s nerves. “If anyone can get Vic’s attention, you can, Darcy. I bet you get him into bed on the first try.”
Tanya’s stomach churned with jealousy and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from warning the woman away from Victor.
“Folks, it looks like we’re ready to kick off the saddle-bronc competition. We’ve got a handful of top-notch contenders this afternoon. The first cowboy up is Victor Vicario. Vicario is coming out of the gate on Sidewinder, a two-time national champion bronc.”
Tanya ignored the giggles and shouts of the buckle bunnies and focused on Vic as he prepared for his ride. He straddled the bronc and adjusted his grip. Then he looked up into the stands and Tanya sucked in a quick breath. Was he searching for her?
“Oh my God,” Darcy said. “He’s looking right at me.” She waved a poster with her name and phone number in black and pink glitter.
Vic dropped his head, then nodded and the gate swung open. Sidewinder spun wildly, but Vic rode the bronc like a walk in the park. Man and beast danced and sparred to the cheers of the fans. When the buzzer sounded, Vic hung on until he saw an opening and then launched himself at the ground. He hit the dirt, rolled twice and popped to his feet. The crowd went crazy.
“Scar or no scar, he can ride me anytime, any place,” Darcy said.
Tanya left the bleachers before she said something to the women that she’d regret. She made her way to the cowboy ready area, her eyes peeled for Vic.
“You looking for me?”
She turned and smiled. “As a matter of fact, I am.”
His glance skipped across her face before he locked gazes with her.
“Nice ride,” she said.
“Thanks.”
An awkward silence settled between them before she asked, “Do you have plans after the rodeo?”
“I ride at eight o’clock in Vernal tonight.”
The town was three hours north, and it was only one-thirty in the afternoon. Vic had time to eat before he hit the road. “Want to grab a burger at the Muggy Rim?” If Darcy and her friends saw Vic with Tanya, maybe they’d leave him alone and focus on another unsuspecting cowboy.
“Sure.” The tense set of his shoulders relaxed and Tanya read it as a signal that Vic wanted to spend time with her.
“I need to turn Slingshot loose in the corral before we leave. I’ll meet you in the parking lot in ten minutes.” Tanya hurried off to take care of her horse, telling herself that the only reason she’d suggested the Muggy Rim was that the bar was close by and not because she wanted to prevent Darcy from sneaking off to a motel room for an afternoon quickie with Vic.
* * *
VIC TURNED HIS pickup into the gravel lot of the Muggy Rim and parked near the front entrance. The rodeo was still in full swing and the majority of the cowboys and fans wouldn’t arrive until after the bull-riding event.
“Have you been here before?” Vic asked, the question breaking the silence that had accompanied them during the five-minute ride into Nephi.
“Once,” she said. “What about you?”
“A few times. Their burgers are good.” He got out of the truck and shut the door, then took a deep breath, hoping the fresh air would clear the lingering scent of Tanya’s perfume from his head. The earthy aroma made him think of dark corners, slow music and naked bodies pressing together.
Whoa. This wasn’t a date—even though he found her attractive and wouldn’t mind getting to know her better. The only reason he’d sought Tanya out at the rodeo was that he was lonely. He’d been lonely a long, long time—by his choice—and he couldn’t say for sure what it was about her that had drawn him into the open. No matter, nothing could come of his interest in her, because he couldn’t afford any distractions this season. He had too much riding on the line.
He opened the saloon door, and a gust of wind lifted Tanya’s hair off her shoulders, the long strands brushing his chest as she stepped past him. A wave of lust gripped his stomach. He’d inhale a burger and then hit the road before he did something stupid like ask her to dance.
“I don’t know about you,” she said, “but I’m starving.” She led the way to a table near the dance floor.
“What can I get you folks to drink?” A waitress wearing a black T-shirt with Muggy Rim printed in white letters across the front stopped at their table.
“I’ll take an iced tea,” Tanya said.
“Make mine a sweet tea.” He’d need the sugar to keep going the rest of the day.
“If you know what you want to eat, I’ll put your order in before I get your drinks.”
“Sure,” Tanya said. “Cheeseburger, hold the onions.”
“Fries?” the waitress asked. Tanya shook her head.
“I’ll have a double cheeseburger with everything. And fries.”
“Comin’ right up.”
Someone dropped a quarter in the jukebox and a Miranda Lambert song came on. Tanya glanced toward the dance floor, but Vic pretended interest in the baseball game televised on the TV behind the bar.
“I wish I had just a little bit of that winning streak you’re running on,” she said.
“All winning streaks come to an end eventually.” He hoped his streak ended after winning a buckle in Vegas later this year.
“So...” She peeked at him from beneath light brown lashes.
Alarm bells went off inside his head, and the cushioned seat beneath his backside turned to cement.
“Are you seeing anyone?” Her cheeks flushed pink.
“No one steady.” No one period. He didn’t want to give Tanya the idea that he was open to a relationship, but he was curious. “You?”
She shook her head. “Who’s got time, right?” A shadow covered her blue eyes. Then she blinked and it disappeared.
“Is your ex making it tough for you to date?” He wasn’t an expert on relationships, but he was a guy and he knew firsthand that guys could be jerks.
“Not in the way you mean.” She opened her mouth to explain, but the waitress appeared with their drinks.
“Food should be up in ten minutes.”
Against his better judgment, Vic prompted Tanya to confide in him. “I’m a good listener if you want someone to unload on.”
“I don’t want to bore you with the details.”
“Nothing about you is boring.” Damn. Like an inexperienced poker player, he’d just shown his hand. Tanya was too easy to talk to and he hadn’t had a meaningful conversation with anyone in months. Each day he spoke to numerous people—convenience-store clerks, rodeo personnel and waitresses—but they were just words.
“Beau said he’d always dreamed of marrying the girl next door.” She sipped her tea. “Then after I caught him cheating—which I later came to find out was actually the fourth buckle bunny he’d slept with behind my back—he admitted that I wasn’t exciting enough for him.” She snorted.
Holy hell. Beau Billings was a bigger fool than Vic first believed. Tanya McGee didn’t have a buckle bunny body, but that didn’t make her any less hot in Vic’s eyes. “His loss.”
“Thanks.” She blew out a soft sigh. “Beau’s a sore loser. At first he tried to talk me out of filing for a divorce, insisting we should start a family. That being a father would keep him grounded.”
Family. The word made Vic nauseated. His only brother died years ago, killed by police during an armed robbery. Vic’s older sister by one year had committed suicide after she was raped by a gangbanger and discovered she was pregnant. His younger sister by ten years had gotten pregnant at seventeen and ended up in jail for prostitution, leaving his mother with custody of her only grandson. “Do you want kids?”
“Not with Beau, that’s for sure.” Her gaze softened. “But yes, someday I’d like to have a family of my own.”
Vic didn’t care to talk about family—he hadn’t had a good experience with his. “I thought Slingshot might come through for you this afternoon. That horse can run.”
“I’m not crazy for thinking Slingshot has it in him to win, right?”
“Maybe after a year of competition he’ll get his legs under him.”
“I wish I had that long,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
Tanya nodded to the waitress heading their way with the food. After they were left alone, she said, “If I don’t win in New Mexico, my stepfather’s pulling his support. But I’m not ready to give up on Slingshot yet.”
“Then keep competing.” He bit into his burger, taking a small bite so his chewing wouldn’t distort his face, not that Tanya ever stared at his scar—it was as if she couldn’t see the puckered flesh dissecting his cheek.
“Easy for you to say when you place in the money at every event.” She waved a hand before her face. “I’m not throwing in the towel yet. I have enough in savings to last through the end of the month if we don’t win next time.”
“What did you do between your divorce and returning to the circuit?”
“I train Mason’s Appaloosas.” She snuck one of his fries and dipped it into the circle of ketchup he’d poured on his plate. “I consider myself a good trainer, but every technique I’ve tried with Slingshot has backfired.” She swallowed another bite, then said, “I worry that it’s me. That Slingshot doesn’t want me riding him.”
“Why do you think that?”
“He’s the first horse I’ve competed on that someone else worked with first.” A tiny wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows. “Maybe he’s still attached to his previous trainer.”
Vic checked his cell phone. He still had plenty of time to get to the Dinosaur Roundup Rodeo. “Where in New Mexico are you and Slingshot headed?”
“Moriarty for the WPRA barrel-racing event. What’s next after Vernal for you?”
“Steamboat Springs, Colorado, tomorrow afternoon, then Laramie, Wyoming, that night.”
“July’s a busy rodeo month, but what do you normally do between competitions the rest of the year?”
“Rest.” Vic used to spend time with Riley and Maria Fitzgerald at the Juan Alvarez Ranch for Boys in New Mexico, but when they hired Cruz as a wrangler after he got out of prison, Vic hadn’t had the guts to visit. Instead he hid out in cheap motel rooms and surfed the web or read the stash of books he carried on the road with him.
The bar was filling up. If he left now, he could catch a catnap in his truck before his next ride.
“Vic?”
He swung his gaze to Tanya.
“Ask me.” She tilted her head toward the dance floor.
He shouldn’t.
She smiled. “It’s just a dance.”
What could it hurt? One dance and then he’d leave. He stood and held out his hand. Her fingers slid across his palm and he fought the urge to hold her prisoner and never let her go. He found an open spot on the floor and Tanya snuggled close as if they were regular dance partners—make that lovers.
He placed his hand against her lower back and she pressed her palm to his chest. The floor was too crowded to move more than a few inches in any direction, so they stood in place, their hips swaying...bumping and oh man. Tanya’s warm body and soft curves put his willpower to the test. If he closed his eyes he could imagine they were alone in a dark room instead of standing in a crowd of sweaty bodies.
“It’s been forever since I’ve danced.” Tanya’s confession ignited a slow burn inside him. He tightened his arms around her. She felt small and vulnerable, which made it all the more impressive that she could handle a horse like Slingshot.
“Have you ever been married, Vic?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Never came close?”
“Nope.”
Her fingertip touched his cheek and he jumped inside. “Is it because of the scar?” She leaned back and looked him in the eye.
He admired Tanya for asking such a direct question. “I’ve never given much thought to the future.” Marriage had never been on his radar. Since he’d been nineteen he’d had one goal—winning a national title. He couldn’t move forward with his life until he put the past behind him.
“Mind if I cut in?” a feminine voice interrupted them.
Tanya stiffened in Vic’s arms a second before she smashed her breasts against his chest. The feel of her sent a rush of blood straight to his crotch. Then she bumped her pelvis—intentionally—against his erection before acknowledging the interruption.
“I’m Darcy.” The buxom blonde batted her butterfly lashes.
Vic opened his mouth to decline Darcy’s offer, but Tanya beat him to it. “No can do, Darcy.” Tanya’s fingers bit into his arm. “We were just leaving.” She stared at him. “Right, Vic?”
Tanya’s eyes flashed—from anger or desire, it didn’t matter. He was leaving the bar with her. “We’re out of here.”
Tanya stepped forward, but Darcy blocked her path. “Where are you leaving to...if I may ask?”
Tanya slid her arm through Vic’s. “Somewhere more private.”
Darcy’s eyes widened. “You two are sleeping together?”
Vic waited for Tanya to set Darcy straight, but instead of denying the accusation, she dragged him through the crowd and straight out the door.
After they got into the pickup, she spoke. “Vic?”
He stared out the windshield afraid to look at her. Afraid to see in her eyes the same yearning he was positive showed in his. “What?” He forced the word past his lips.
“I know you have another ride tonight, but I’m going to ask anyway.”
He stopped breathing.
“Do you want to get a motel room with me?”
Chapter Three (#ulink_056baece-022b-5617-a79d-641b4637185d)
There were a thousand reasons why he and Tanya shouldn’t get a motel room—the most important being that he had another go-round waiting for him in Vernal. But when he stared into her blue eyes, he couldn’t remember why that ride was important. He started the engine and drove three miles to an out-of-the way motel no other cowboys would stay at for the night.
When he pulled up in front of the office of the Sweet Dreams Inn, there was only one other customer—a red Mustang parked outside room 7. He’d ask Tanya one more time, hoping mostly for his sake that she’d change her mind. But before he voiced the question, she’d opened her door and with one boot on the pavement she said, “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”
Nothing short of a bullet through the heart would stop him now. “You want to wait here while I register for a room?” Tanya wasn’t like other women he’d shared a motel bed with. She might care if someone recognized her. Thanks to her ex-husband’s wild ways, she’d already been the victim of gossip, and he didn’t want people talking bad about her because of him.
She shook her head and got out, then came around the hood and slipped her fingers through his. “I’ll go in with you.”
Five minutes later the motel manager handed Vic a plastic key card with the number 4 on it. The walk to the room took ten seconds. His attraction to Tanya convinced him the sex would be great—better than great—but it was what happened after they made love that worried Vic. This could only be a one-night stand. He couldn’t afford to lose focus on his goal, and it would be too easy to become preoccupied with Tanya. He slid the card through the lock and opened the door.
The king-size bed beckoned, but his boots sank into the sidewalk as if it were made of wet concrete. Tanya’s fingers squeezed his right biceps and then she stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss against his neck. Her warm breath puffed across his skin, propelling him forward. He shut the door behind them and flipped the locks.
He didn’t bother with the lights.
* * *
A HEAVY WARMTH pressing against her backside woke Tanya. It took a fraction of a second for her to remember she was at the Sweet Dreams Inn with Vic. The room was pitch-black, only a sliver of light spilled beneath the closed bathroom door. She’d asked Vic to turn on the bedside lamp after they tumbled naked onto the mattress—she’d wanted to gawk at every inch of muscle—but he’d distracted her with kisses and touches and she’d lost herself in their lovemaking.
She’d seen through his tough act. He wanted her and others to believe he wasn’t self-conscious about the scar on his face, but he was. If he didn’t care about it, he’d smile and laugh and not stop himself when the action stretched the puckered flesh, pulling one side of his mouth down.
She made a conscious effort to look him in the eye when they talked, but it was difficult to ignore the ugly mark. She could only imagine how painful the wound had been, but was reluctant to ask how he’d gotten it for fear he’d push her away for good.
Vic stirred, his hand moving from her belly to her breast. His thumb flicked her nipple and she exhaled a soft sigh.
“If I tell you something,” she whispered into the dark, “promise you won’t get a big head?”
He pressed his mouth to her neck and nibbled her skin. “Promise.”
“On second thought, never mind.”
He sat up and rolled her onto her back. She could only make out the shadow of his face as he loomed over her. “You can’t leave a man hanging like that.”
She wished she could see his eyes. “Rodeo’s already given you a big ego.”
“If that’s the way you feel, then...” His mouth trailed kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, then lower...lower... Her back arched and she moaned. She knew it was wrong to think of her ex when she was in bed with Vic, but Beau had never spent much time pleasuring her, and Vic acted as if he couldn’t get enough of her. The sensations he aroused in her were powerful and humbling.
He kissed his way up her body and then brushed the hair from her eyes. “What we’re you going to tell me a few minutes ago?”
“I can’t remember.” She curled against him.
“Guess I’ll have to do this all over again.” His mouth latched onto her breast.
“Wait,” she cried out in defeat. “I haven’t caught my breath yet.” She could feel his smile against her stomach. “Okay, fine. You’re amazing in bed.”
“Amazing? That’s it?”
He kissed her—a tender caress that led to more kisses on her nose, cheeks and forehead. This gentle side of Vic was a surprise and she savored every touch and whispered word.
“My turn.” She pushed him off her.
A silent chuckle rumbled through his chest, but it didn’t last long.
* * *
VIC WOKE AT 6:00 a.m. to snoring sounds coming from the other side of the bed. Tanya rested on her back, her arms and legs spread wide as if she’d been making snow angels on the mattress. Watching her filled him with longing. He’d missed his ride in Vernal last night but being with Tanya had meant more to him than winning his next rodeo. More than was good for his sanity. Tanya was an easy woman to be with and the first woman in forever he could be himself with.
But the timing was wrong. Hell, the timing might never be right. Once he won the national championship buckle later this year, he’d retire from rodeo. Tanya only knew him as a broncbuster. When he hung up his spurs for good, she might not care for the new Vic—whoever he turned out to be. He’d be a fool to lose his heart to her when he’d end up disappointing her down the road.
This was the end of the line for them. And as much as he wanted to make love to her again before he drove her to the fairgrounds to pick up Slingshot, he didn’t dare. Tanya had already worked her way beneath his skin, and it wouldn’t take a whole lot of effort on her part to blaze a trail straight to his heart. Thank God he had a lot of rodeos and a lot of miles ahead of him to shake off her memory.
He slipped from the bed, covered Tanya with the sheet, then took a shower and threw on a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt. After tugging on his socks and boots, he stepped outside to check his phone messages—three voice mails from Maria Fitzgerald. An uneasy feeling crawled up his spine. This couldn’t be good news.
“It’s Maria, Victor. Call me as soon as you get this message. And I don’t care what time it is.”
“It’s Maria again. Please call me. It’s important.”
“Victor, if you don’t call me soon, I’ll send Riley looking for you.”
Damn it, he should have checked his messages before they left the Muggy Rim. He pressed the number 6 on his speed dial. Maria answered on the first ring.
“Are you driving?” she asked.
“I’m standing next to my truck. What’s going on, Maria?”
“I have bad news.”
Vic’s mind raced through the people employed at the boys’ ranch and wondered who had been hurt or who was ill.
“Judge Hamel contacted me yesterday. Evidently I’m the only one who has your cell number.”
“What’s the bad news?”
“It concerns your nephew, Alex.”
Vic had never met his twenty-one-year-old sister Natalia’s son. He hadn’t set foot in Albuquerque in over six years. The last time he’d spoken to his mother—maybe seven months ago—she had custody of Alex because Natalia was sitting in prison convicted of prostitution. “What happened?”
“A neighbor found Alex wandering around the parking lot at night in the apartment complex where he and your mother live. Vic, your mother’s gone. Vanished. The police have no idea what happened to her. They think she might have been abducted.”
Abducted? Yeah, right. Vic’s legs grew weak and he locked his knees. He knew what had happened to his mother. She’d left Alex to go buy drugs and had probably gotten high and never returned to the apartment. Or maybe she’d overdosed and was lying on a dirty mattress in some abandoned house in the barrio.
Vic’s head spun and he slid down the side of the truck until his butt hit the asphalt. His gut twisted with anger and resentment as he envisioned his mother shooting up heroin or smoking crystal meth until she passed out. “Where’s Alex now?” The nephew he’d yet to meet must be terrified.
“The New Mexico Children, Youth and Families Department placed him in a state-run facility while they search for your mother. But, Vic?”
“What?”
“Judge Hamel said even if they find her, Alex won’t be allowed to live with her anymore.”
“Where will he go?” Natalia had had over a year left on her sentence.
“Judge Hamel isn’t sure, but she suggested it would be best if you returned to Albuquerque and took temporary custody of Alex. He’s too young to be in a group home with older kids, but they have no other option right now.”
“Custody?” Exactly what did that word entail?
“I know rodeo is important, but Alex needs you.”
“Alex doesn’t even know me, Maria.” As for rodeo, hell yes, it was important. No one but him knew the real reason he’d committed himself to the sport all these years. He’d come too far now to walk away.
“You’re all the family Alex has left.”
“What am I supposed to do with a four-year-old?”
“He’s almost five.”
Hell, he couldn’t even remember his nephew’s birthday. “There’s no way they’ll grant me custody of a kid that age. I’m on the road every day and I live out of motel rooms and my pickup.”
“Temporary custody, Vic. Only until they find a better place for Alex.” After a short pause Maria said, “Judge Hamel has already vouched for you. CYFD is waiting for you to pick up Alex.”
Vic glanced longingly at the motel door, wishing he could crawl into bed with Tanya and forget all the ugliness that existed in the world—his world. He closed his eyes, and his mother’s face flashed through his mind. She’d brought him into the world and she’d made him pay for it every day. He believed he’d finally put her and the barrio behind him for good, but her drug addiction was a stark reminder that he could never outrun who he was.
“Come to the ranch,” Maria said. “Riley surprised me with a trip to Hawaii and we leave tomorrow, but you and Alex are welcome to stay in the main house. Alex will enjoy playing with the twins and Cruz’s daughter, Dani.”
Vic had a string of rodeos he needed to compete in to pad his earnings and secure a spot in this year’s NFR. As for bunking down at Maria and Riley’s place—no way.
“Judge Hamel’s working with CYFD to find Alex a home by the end of August at the latest.”
“Alex will have to come on the road with me.” Vic’s mother had made his life miserable for so long, and he refused to let her latest drug relapse rob him of his goal.
“If you’re determined to keep rodeoing, then drop Alex off here. I’m sure Cruz’s wife, Sara, will be happy to look after him until Riley and I return.”
Sara might be fine with the arrangement, but he doubted Cruz would approve—not after Vic’s family had brought him nothing but trouble. “I can swing it if it’s only for a few weeks,” he said.
“I’m glad to hear you say that. I knew you’d do the right thing.”
Doing the right thing should help Vic feel better, but all it did was make him detest his mother more. “Where do I find Alex?”
“When you arrive in Albuquerque, call Judge Hamel and she’ll give you the address of the group home where Alex is staying. I’ll text you Judge Hamel’s number in case you don’t have it.”
“Sure.”
“Victor?”
“What?”
“Judge Hamel said she’d let me know when and where they find your mother.”
Right now he couldn’t care less if they ever found his mother. “Thanks.”
“I’m sorry, Vic.”
He disconnected the call. A few seconds later his phone beeped with a text message—Judge Hamel’s phone number.
He glanced between the room door and his phone. He wanted so badly to stay with Tanya. Maybe it was a good thing he’d gotten the call now about Alex. At least he could walk away from her, before all his problems caused her grief. He climbed to his feet and went to the motel office, where he paid for another day—in case Tanya didn’t wake up before the checkout time.
Then he returned to the room and fumbled his way in the dark to the nightstand, where he scribbled a note on the pad of paper and left it along with fifty dollars in cash to catch a cab to the fairgrounds. This wasn’t how he wanted to part ways with Tanya, but maybe it was best she learn now that she was better off without him.
He set the key card next to the note, turned the lock on the door and left.
* * *
TANYA GOT OUT of the cab behind the fairgrounds near the livestock pens. Most of the animals had been loaded and hauled off except for a handful of horses used by the rodeo workers. She paid the driver, then shut the door and went over to the corral where Slingshot munched on hay. He didn’t look her way when she called his name. Go figure—he hadn’t missed her at all.
“About time you showed up to get your horse.” A man walked out from behind a flatbed trailer loaded with leftover hay bales from the rodeo.
“I had some business to take care of,” she said, refusing to think about Victor abandoning her at the Sweet Dreams Inn. The cab fare he’d left for her was a slap in the face.
“I’ll get him loaded ASAP.” She walked across the lot, each step pounding into the pavement harder than the previous. She’d never been more humiliated and hurt in her life. When would she learn that rodeo cowboys were all the same? The bigheaded lugs only cared about their next ride.
She’d been a fool to believe last night had meant anything to Vic. That she’d meant something to him. She hopped into her pickup, then backed up to the corral gate and opened the trailer doors. “Mind if I take a few of those bales off your hands?” It would save her time if she didn’t have to stop at a feed store. Besides, the sooner she left Utah, the better.
“Take as much as you want. The rest is going to the humane society.” He motioned to Slingshot. “You need help?”
“No, thanks.” She entered the corral. “C’mon, big guy.” She took his lead rope, surprised when he followed without protest. Once he was secure in his trailer stall and she’d loaded the hay, Tanya took off.
Moriarty, New Mexico, was ten hours away and she had two days to get there. She’d contacted a mobile-home park weeks ago and received permission to use one of their pads to park the truck and horse trailer. They had public showers, free Wi-Fi, a washateria and, according to the owner, an acre of grass for Slingshot. The daily rate was more than she’d budgeted, but she needed to do her laundry.
If the camping site was a hellhole, then she’d call one of her stepfather’s friends in the area and ask if she could camp out on their property for a day or two. She was nothing if not organized and she’d mapped out an entire season of rodeos after the first of the year. But the one thing she hadn’t planned on was Victor Vicario taking off on her before she woke up.
She hadn’t gone to the motel room with him expecting anything to come of their night, but she’d held out hope their time together might turn into a... Relationship wasn’t the right word, because Vic was a loner. Fling maybe? She and Victor were bound to cross paths from time to time the remainder of the summer and she’d hoped they’d become friends—friends with benefits. She hadn’t realized how lonely she’d been since she joined the circuit.
For the millionth time she went over the events of last night in her head but couldn’t figure out what she’d done or hadn’t done that had caused Vic to bolt without saying goodbye.
Maybe he was worried you’d make last night out to be more than just sex.
She couldn’t remember every word they’d whispered to each other in the dark, but she was certain she’d never uttered anything threatening like I love you.
Her brain told her to move on, but her heart wasn’t ready to give up hope. There had to be a reason he left in a hurry, but they didn’t exchange phone numbers, so she had no way of getting in touch with him. Maybe it was best if they didn’t run into each other for a while. By the time they crossed paths again, she might be ready for his apology.
* * *
“THANK YOU FOR getting here as soon as you could, Mr. Vicario,” Renee Leonard said as she searched through the folders on the desk.
He would have arrived an hour ago if he hadn’t first had to stop by the police station and speak with the cop investigating his mother’s disappearance. Officer Darrel Andrews claimed a neighbor phoned 911 at 10:00 p.m. to report a little boy walking alone in the parking lot. When the cops arrived, they discovered his mother’s apartment door wide-open. There were no signs of a robbery and Officer Andrews believed Vic’s mother might have taken off sometime the day before, but Alex wasn’t talking to anyone. Vic wasn’t surprised his nephew refrained from speaking—the kid must have been terrified at being left alone in the apartment.
Andrews said he’d be in touch as soon as they had any new information, but considering his mother’s history of drug abuse, it was anyone’s guess what had happened to her. He shouldn’t even think it, but the thought crossed his mind anyway—it was probably better for Alex if his grandmother was never found.
“Before I have Martha bring Alex into my office,” Renee said, “I wanted to go over a few things with you. Are you considering applying for legal custody of Alex?”
Legal custody? “No.” Vic had nothing to offer a kid like Alex. He’d step up and do his duty until they found a proper foster home for his nephew but nothing more.
“Alex is experiencing a lot of different emotions and you shouldn’t take his actions or reactions to you personally. Just let him express himself however he feels comfortable. In a few weeks you need to get him to a therapist who will help him process his feelings. I’m sure he’s wondering where his grandmother is and why she left him.”
This sounded like a lot more than just babysitting the kid for a short while.
“If you’re worried about the cost of therapy, the state will cover his sessions. There’s a clinic that works with children right down the street from here.” Renee handed him a business card.
“Alex’s birthday is September twenty-seventh, which is past the cutoff date to enroll him in kindergarten for the fall. He’ll need to wait one more year before he goes to school. There are lots of pre-K programs he could attend and we can help you find one. It’s important that he socialize with other kids.”
Renee had no clue what Vic’s life was like or that he was too busy chasing a title to socialize himself. Maybe the woman thought rodeo was Vic’s hobby.
“These are Alex’s medical records.” She handed Vic the paperwork. “A list of his immunizations. He had a checkup with a pediatrician two days ago and the doctor said there’s no physical reason for Alex not to be speaking.” Renee picked up a kid’s backpack from the floor by her chair and handed it to Vic. “Some clothes, a few books and parenting pamphlets that might be of help.”
The only thing of use to Vic right now was finding a home for his nephew.
Renee texted on her phone and a moment later another woman walked into her office. “Martha,” Renee said. “This is Alex’s uncle, Victor Vicario. Victor, Martha is in charge of the group home Alex was placed in.”
Vic caught the wince Martha tried to conceal when she saw his scar. “I’m sure Renee told you that Alex hasn’t said a word since he was brought to the group home. Several of the children have tried to engage him in conversation, but he ignores them.”
Poor kid.
“He doesn’t eat a lot and he’s underweight for his age, so be sure to offer him snacks between meals. He may not tell you he’s hungry, but you should encourage him to eat.”
“How has he been sleeping?” Renee asked.
“He hasn’t woken with nightmares. But if he does, just reassure him the best you can. He’s not combative and he doesn’t pick fights with the other kids but...” Martha rubbed her brow.
“What?” Vic asked.
“He stares out the window all day yet refuses to go outside and join the other kids in the yard.”
Was Alex waiting for his grandmother to come get him? Vic began to sweat. He wanted to help his nephew, but the kid deserved better than an uncle he’d never met and spending most of his day in a pickup. Alex needed specialized help—help Vic wasn’t qualified to give him. He looked at Renee. “How long did you say it will take to find him a permanent foster home?”
“Foster homes are never permanent. We have good people who sign up to take children in, but life is full of unexpected surprises and sometimes they have to send the child back to us. We’re hoping that this won’t be the case for Alex. He needs stability in his life right now, but we can’t guarantee him that.”

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