Almost A Bride (Montana Born Brides) (7 page)

“
Lunchtime. She said she was going to go for a run, then maybe go out on the bike. I was thinking we could get takeout for dinner, but she hasn’t answered any of my calls or returned my messages.”

Which Reid knew from personal experience was unusual for Tara.

“She didn’t say anything else? Mention anything else she might want to do or go?”

There was a pause and he could almost hear Scarlett thinking on the other end of the phone.

“The only other thing I can think of is that she said she wanted to try the mechanical bull at that place near the train line.”

Reid was pretty sure he hadn
’t heard properly. “Did you just say mechanical bull?”

“
That’s right. What’s the name of that bar on the north side of town, the one with the broken neon sign?”

“
The Wolves Den.”

He stood, unable to stay seated.

“That’s the one. They’ve got a bull there, right?”

“
I have no idea.”

He hadn
’t hung out at the Den since he’d first started to drink. Unlike Grey’s Saloon and some of the other places in town, the Den was all about getting hammered and it attracted an ugly crowd.

“
Maybe I should go over there and check. Just to put my mind at ease,” Scarlett said.

Reid had a vision of Scarlett walking through the door at the Den in her usual get
-up of tight T-shirt and snug, hip-hugging jeans. There’d be drool on the bar within seconds, and the queue of guys who’d insist on buying her a drink would form to the left.

“
Why don’t I do a drive by, see what I can see?” he said.

“
You don’t have to do that.”

Yeah, he did. There was no way he was going to be able to concentrate on a freaking baseball game with pictures of Tara fending off drunken idiots or sliding off her brand new motorbike bouncing around in his head.

“I’m heading over that way anyway,” he lied. “I can duck my head in.”

“
Well, okay, then. Although I’m going to feel pretty stupid when it turns out she’s gone into Bozeman to shop or something.”

He
’d much rather Scarlett feel foolish than any of the alternatives his imagination was throwing up. That was the problem with being a cop—he had seen too many bad things over the years.

He pulled on a pair of jeans, put on his boots and shrugged into a T-shirt. Tucking his phone into the back pocket, he took the stairs two at a time. The
GMC fired up with a dull roar and seconds later he was shooting up the driveway, gravel spurting beneath his tires. It was only a short drive into town, and he navigated his way from the well-lit center to the less-illuminated industrial sector north of the train line. The Den’s neon sign had lost its N years ago, and the neon blue made everything seem gray as Reid turned into the parking lot. There were a handful of motorbikes parked near the stairs to the bar, but none of them were red Suzukis.

He pulled out his phone to call Scarlett, then hesitated when he caught sight of the roof of a black pickup tucked into the corner. Tara had a black pickup.

He cruised up the aisle until he could see the number plate.

Yep, Tara
’s.

Feeling like he
’d slipped down the rabbit-hole, he parked the GMC and headed for the entrance.

If anyone had asked Reid, he would have said The Wolves Den was the last place he would ever find Tara Buck.

But apparently he was wrong.

It
was a Friday night and the place was crowded, people standing three or four deep at the bar. The mechanical bull was on a raised platform in the rear corner and clearly visible from the front entrance. The rabbit-hole feeling intensified as he spotted a slim, athletic figure astride the bucking beast, her blond hair whipping back and forth in the air as the machine tried to toss her.

He mouthed a four letter word and started pushing his way through the crowd, his gaze glued to Tara
’s jerking, swaying body. If she came off...

The bull was becoming more and more belligerent, spinning wildly now, throwing her back and forth. Tara had one hand high in the air, the other white-knuckle tight on the strap
—and she was laughing and whooping like a good old cowgirl.

A crowd had formed around the safety barrier, cheering her on. Mostly men, Reid noted sourly. And who could blame them? Tara
’s blue tank top clung to her breasts and torso, while well-worn denim hugged her thighs. She looked wild and a bit dangerous and a lot sexy as she rode the bull like a rodeo champion.

The bull slowed, only throwing out the odd flick here and there to set Tara swaying. Finally it stopped entirely, and the crowd let up an almighty roar as Tara punched the air.

“Goddamn, you did it, girl,” a tall cowboy said, stepping forward and lifting her off the bull.

She was laughing, pushing her hair off her face, her eyes shining. Someone passed her a beer and she chugged half of it down before lifting it high in the air in a triumphant salute. When she lowered it, one of the guys stepped in to top her drink up from a pitcher, filling it to the brim.

Reid muscled his way to the front of the crowd.

“
Tara.”

Her head swung round. It took her a moment to register him, then her face split into a big, beaming smile.

“Hey! What are you doing here? You just missed my big ride. Four in a row, no falls,” she said. “Everyone’s telling me it’s a new record.”

“
This girl can ride,” the tall cowboy said.

Tara
’s hair was tangled around her shoulders, her tank top low-cut enough that he could see the shadowy valley between her breasts. She looked Playboy-bunny good—pretty, sexy, fun.

And more than a little drunk, unless he missed his guess.

“Ready to go five for five, sweetheart?” a husky guy behind her asked.

The crowd cheered and Tara laughed.

“Sure. Why the hell not?” She chugged the rest of her beer, banging the empty glass down onto the tabletop.

“
Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Reid said, stepping forward and catching her upper arm. “Not so fast.”

“
What’s wrong?”

Not wanting to embarrass her, Reid lowered his voice and leaned closer.
“How much have you had to drink?”

She blinked, then laughed.
“I don’t know. Enough to feel good.”

“
What if you come off?”

“
Haven’t yet.” Her smile was full of cocky confidence.

Reid considered his options
—throw her over his shoulder and forcibly drag her out of the bar, or let her have her head.

“
Walk a straight line for me,” he said.

She frowned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“What?”

“
You heard me. Pass a field sobriety test for me and I’ll let you climb on board.”

“
Let me? Good luck trying to stop me, buddy,” she said, giving him a look. “You might not have noticed, but women got the right to vote about a hundred years ago.”

He didn
’t say anything, just eyed her steadily.

“
I’m not drunk,” she said, chin coming up.

“
Prove it to me.”

Her eyes narrowed. Then she tossed her hair over her shoulder.

“Okay, fine. But if I pass the test, you’re next on the bull.”

He glanced at the piece of battered machinery over her shoulder.
“If that’s the way you want to play it.”

“
It’s exactly the way I want to play it, Dalton.”

She turned and waved a hand at the opportunists crowding around like starving men at a buffet.
“Give me a bit of room, boys, while I prove Officer Dalton wrong.”

A few eyebrows went up as his profession was noted and the crowd shuffled back
ward, clearing a patch roughly three foot by seven.

“
Hope you’ve got a strong grip, because that bull bucks like crazy,” Tara said.

“
Let’s see you stand on one leg first,” he said.

Tara lifted one booted foot off the ground and eyeing him smugly.

“Good enough for you?”

No sooner had she spoken than she lost her balance, wavering wildly, arms flailing before catching herself.

Reid crossed his arms over his chest and cocked an eyebrow.

“
I didn’t fall,” Tara said, stabbing a finger at him. “I did not touch my foot to the ground. I want that on the record.”

The crowd stirred around them, a couple of people throwing in their two cents
’ worth.

“
Walk and turn. You know the drill,” he said, gesturing with his chin.

Tara contemplated the space that had been cleared, then started to walk, each foot placed very deliberately and directly in front of the other.

“Note the straight line,” she called over her shoulder.

When she got to the end, she swiveled on her heel, just to show she could, he suspected. For the second time she nearly lost her balance, staggering slightly to the left.

“That wasn’t fair,” she said immediately. “Let me do that again.”

“
Too late. You failed, I win. Let’s go home,” he said.

“
I want another test.”

“
Tough luck.” He stepped forward to grasp her elbow.

Tara frowned.
“I don’t want to go home. I’m having a good time, and I’m doing new things and meeting new people.”

Okay, she was definitely three sheets to the wind.

“Why don’t we go grab a burger, maybe some coffee?” he suggested.

She pulled her arm free.
“I’m riding the bull again, and you can’t stop me.”

She made a break for the bull, not unlike a child insisting on one last play on the swing
set before leaving the park. Reid swore under his breath and went after her.

Plan B it was, then.

Wrapping an arm around her middle, he pulled her back toward him. She squawked out a protest, twisting to face him, and he bent so that his shoulder was tucked against her belly, pulling her off balance at the same time. She toppled onto his shoulder, and he turned and immediately headed for the door, one arm banded across the back of her thighs to lock her in place. It took her a second to comprehend what he’d done, and when she did she started to wriggle and twist around, fists battering his back, doing her best to force him to release her.

He simply tightened his grip, his gaze on the distant exit, and kept walking.

The crowd parted, and seconds later he was outside, bending to set Tara back on her feet.

“
I can’t believe you just did that,” she spluttered, her face red, her green eyes wide.

“
Believe it. You want to grab something to eat before I take you home or not?”

She
made a face to let him know she thought he was demented.

“
No, Dalton, I do not want to grab a burger with you after you just rained on my parade like the biggest wet blanket of all time. What I’d like is for you to stop being the fun police and leave me to my awesome night out.” She planted her hands on her hips, her chin tilted aggressively.

So drunk.
A part of him wanted to laugh at her, but most of him just wanted to get her out of the seedy end of town.

“
Answer me honestly—do you know a single person in that bar?”

“
Sure. The tall guy is Jonah. The guy with the white hat is Drew. Or maybe Duncan... something with a D, anyway.” She frowned as she tried to remember.

“
And how many drinks do you think those good ol’ boys have bought you since you’ve been here?” he asked.

“
I’m not stupid, Reid. I can take care of myself.”

There was a reckless, almost dangerous light in her eyes. He
’d never seen her like this before, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t just because she’d had a few too many.

“
What’s going on, Tara? Why are you hanging out at this dump? Why did I hear from your sister tonight that you bought a motorbike?”

“
Because I did. And I love it.”

Her chin ratcheted higher. He narrowed his eyes, trying to work out what was going on with her.

“Is this because of what Simon did? Are you trying to prove something to him or—”

“
This is about me.” She jabbed a thumb at her chest. “About who I am, and how much I’ve missed out on because I’m such a goody-two-shoes. I’m sick of always doing the right thing, Reid. I’m sick of being the one who always picks up the pieces. And I’m really sick of being so careful all the time.”

She was trembling with the vehemence of her words, her shoulders thrown back as though she was declaring herself or claiming territory for her country. He thought about what he knew of her life
—her scatterbrained, irresponsible twin, her melodramatic mom, the way she conducted herself at work, what he’d seen of her relationship with her ex—and he started to get an inkling of where she was coming from.

Because Tara was a good person. She always did the right thing, always stepped up,
never said no. She worked hard, pitched in to help her mom out, dug her sister out of rough spots.

“
Okay. I get that,” he said. “But do you really think breaking your neck on a stupid bull is the right way to fix any of that?”

Tara took a step toward him, her expression fierce.
“What do I care about the right way? Don’t you get it? I don’t want to be afraid any more. I don’t want to worry about what people think or what might happen or when people will leave or if they’ll stop loving me. I’m over it.”

Tears flooded her eyes and her chin wobbled. Her jaw set, she lifted her gaze to the sky and blinked like crazy, trying to suck it all back in.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly.

He wasn
’t going to think any less of her for crying.

She shook her head.
“No. I’ve cried enough. I’m done with it.”

He wanted to put his arms around her so badly his shoulders ached. But they
’d never had that kind of relationship and he figured now was probably a really bad time to start.

“
Come on,” he said. “Let me take you home.”

For a moment he thought she was going to object, but after
a short pause she nodded and fell into step beside him as he walked to his pickup. He held the door open for her and she climbed inside. He could feel her watching him as he rounded the front of the truck.

“
I’m not taking the bike back,” she said as he slid behind the wheel.

He held his hands in the air.
“Like you said, I’m not the boss of you.”

She sniffed, and he got the sense she was disappointed he hadn
’t offered her an argument.

“
And I could have handled that bull, too. I’m a natural.”

He started the truck and put it into gear.
“Hip fucking hooray. I’ll alert the Nobel Prize Committee.”