Back Where You Belong (6 page)

His battered tan Stetson rode low over his eyes, a tan leather vest and chaps covered a navy Western shirt and tight blue jeans—sex in a pair of spurs. Her heart rolled over twice before it jump-started again.
Oh, my God. When am I going to get over him?

Her gaze slowly swept over Tyler while desire pooled and flooded every cell, every nerve, every hair follicle in her body. No man ever affected her the way he did.
Down, girl, down
.

Beside him was a petite teen with dark eyes and hair the same coloring as Tyler’s. A pink cowgirl hat sat on the back of her head. Black glasses framed her gaze as it locked on Lacy, no doubt taking her measure.

“Lacy, I’d like you to meet my daughter.” He placed his arm protectively around the girl. “Olivia, this is my friend, Lacy LaRoche.”

Olivia extended her hand, displaying the manners Tyler no doubt taught her. “Hello, Miss LaRoche. I’m pleased to meet you.” Her smile was genuine and her eyes sparkled with humor behind the lens of her glasses. She was a miniature Tyler in many ways.

“Call me Lacy, please.”

The lady in the concession stand extended a paper cone covered with pink cotton candy. Lacy took it and turned to Olivia. “Would you like some? It’s a weakness of mine, I’m afraid. I’ve been eating it at every rodeo since I was nine.”

The girl pushed her frames up her nose. “Yes, please. I’ve inherited my dad’s sweet tooth.”

“Oh, a girl after my own heart.” She turned to order another, then glanced over her shoulder. “Tyler? Do you want one?”

“No, thanks. I’ll just take a bite of Olivia’s…or yours.” His slow, sexy-as-hell grin took her breath away and warmed her insides.

She handed Olivia her cotton candy. “Women do not share. Do we, Olivia?” The girl giggled which pleased Lacy. She laughed and popped a piece of the confection into her own mouth.

Tyler wrapped his other arm around her waist and drew her to his side. “Just what every man dreams of, walking between two pretty women. See you’ve worn your championship belt buckle. Looks good with your denim skirt. You look good.” His eyes darkened as he gazed at her.

Someone called his name, and he raised a hand in greeting. Then before she knew what was happening, he tore off a hunk of her cotton candy and pushed it into his mouth.

“Hey!”

He winked at his daughter. “She doesn’t know me, does she?”

Olivia held her cone of cotton candy away from him. “Daddy always steals people’s food. He’s incorrigible.”

Lacy laughed and shot Tyler a look. “Incorrigible, huh?”

“Yup, that would be me. Been here long?”

“Long enough to make the rounds with Grandpa. He’s talking to some old friends now.” She motioned toward a group of older men, who laughed and slapped each other’s backs, no doubt exchanging stories. “I see you’re still wearing a tan hat to the rodeo. Is that the same one you wore years ago?”

He touched the brim. “One of my superstitions, I’m afraid. Wore it when I won my first ride.” He pulled her closer to his side. “Hey, don’t be so stingy with that stuff. I only got a little taste. A man needs more.”

Olivia giggled at his teasing her, and before the girl knew what he was up to, Tyler distracted her by pointing at something and then tearing off a piece of her fairy floss.

“Dad.”

“Let’s walk around for a little bit, give me a chance to show off my girls. Lacy, will it be okay if Olivia sits with you while I ride?”

“Sure. Sounds great.” His referring to her as one of his girls sounded a little old fashioned, but Lacy found she liked it. Then again, she’d always liked everything about Tyler Desmond.

Chapter Seven

A couple hours later, Lacy sat in the bleachers with Tyler’s daughter waiting for the bull riding competition to begin.

Olivia pushed her glasses up on her nose. “I’m glad this is Daddy’s last bull riding competition. He promised me he’d stop.”

“Don’t you like his riding?” Lacy didn’t like it either, especially if Tyler was out of practice. She enjoyed the sight of his powerful mastery over the bull, but not the impending danger that hovered overhead as the bull tried his best to get rid of the person on its back.

“I always have nightmares the night before he rides. Bad dreams, you know?” She gazed at Lacy with woeful brown eyes.

“Tell you a secret, Olivia. I had a bad dream about him last night, too.”

The teen’s eyes grew larger, and she slid closer to her. “You did?” When Lacy nodded, Olivia kept on talking as if she needed to unload. “Dad says he’s riding to put winnings into my college fund. I told him that was hooey. I told him he was riding to ramp up his macho image.”

“Oh, honey, he’s macho enough on his own.”
Oh, crap, did I just say that to his daughter?
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. Your father and I are just friends.”

A wide smile creased her little heart-shaped face. “Oh, I think it’s more than just friendship. Daddy never introduces me to his lady friends. You’re special to him. I can tell.”

Lady friends? So, he has lady friends?
A stab of jealousy pierced her heart. “Here comes my grandfather.” She motioned toward him so Olivia could pick him out of the crowd.

Grandpa made slow progress on the steps, not because of his age, but because he was deep in conversation with Polly Fitzhugh. She had no clue what her granddad was saying, but the widow’s cheeks bore a delighted blush as she shook her head.

You go, Grandpa
.

He raised a hand when he saw her. As the two approached, she heard Mrs. Fitzhugh refer to him as an “old rascal.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the two senior citizens playing a round of the flirtation game. Too bad she didn’t know how to flirt, but then batting one’s eyes and flinging one’s hair was so old-fashioned. Still, if she thought those silly actions would grab and hold Tyler’s attention, she’d bat her eyes ’til her lashes fell out.

“Polly, darlin’, you remember my granddaughter Lacy, don’t you?” He had his hand on the small of the woman’s back, escorting her into the row of bleachers.

“Of course I remember our barrel riding state champion.” She leaned to air kiss Lacy’s cheeks. “How you been?”

Mrs. Fitzhugh still wore her grey hair long. Her red silk shirt sported black fringes. No wonder she caught Grandpa’s eye. She projected an easy-going, engaging spirit.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Fitzhugh. I’ve been busy taking care of the ornery man with you.”

Polly chuckled. “Well, I can see how that might be a fulltime job. Now, you call me Polly, please.”

Lacy introduced Olivia to grandpa and Polly. Once again the teen projected good manners. Tyler had certainly taught her well.

The announcement over the loud speakers caught their interest. “Attention! Attention! Ladies and gentlemen. The event you’ve all been waiting for. Bull riding. The most dangerous eight seconds in sports.”

Cheers erupted and continued during part of the announcer’s oration about the event. Most everyone was familiar with the history of the sport and the rules.

Within minutes, the first bull, Devil’s Spawn, charged out of the chute, head low and hind legs kicking. He spun to the left for several spins and, when he suddenly jerked to the right, his rider flew in the opposite direction, landing in a heap, ending his four-point-four second ride. One rodeo clown diffused the potentially dangerous situation by diverting Devil’s Spawn’s attention so the other clown could help the rider retrieve his hat and exit the arena.

Next up was Susannah’s Revenge. When the bull didn’t deliver the desired spirited ride, the rider kicked him with his spurs. Suddenly, Susannah took its revenge with a series of bucks and kicks. The unsuspecting rider lost his balance, and in an effort to right himself, lowered his hand and inadvertently touched the steer with the hand he was required to keep raised. Folks in the stands cheered his automatic disqualification.

As more and more riders were eliminated or achieved the eight second ride, Lacy tensed. If anything were to happen to Tyler it would be her fault for coming. Didn’t something bad happen every time she was around him? Granted, they were small things, harmless in their own way, still…today he’d be riding a two-thousand-pound bull.

Her heart pounded in her ears, and she wiped damp palms on her skirt. Maybe she should get out of the stands and walk around, taking her jinx away from Tyler.

Before she could stand, a battered tan Stetson came into view. Olivia grabbed her hand and squeezed.

Tyler straddled the steel fence around the chute. Someone handed him a container of rosin to rub on his riding hand to make it sticky. Then his glove was tugged on and fastened to his riding hand since the force of the ride could tear the glove off. More rosin was applied to the glove to increase his grip on the rope.

With practiced ease, Tyler lowered himself from the steel rail onto the bull.

She prayed for agility and a good eight-second ride, but mostly, she prayed for his safety.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” boomed the announcer’s voice. “Up next is a local favorite we haven’t seen for a while. Tyler Desmond, state bull-riding champion for two years some years back. Today he’s riding Ain’t Love A Bitch. Two-thousand pounds of pure love, ladies and gentlemen.” He chuckled. “Yes, sir-reee, pure love.”

Just as she’d seen him do before every ride, Tyler took off his hat, and after rolling his shoulders, resettled it low over his eyes. The steer was already shifting and snorting, trying to rub its rider off its back by knocking against the sides of the chute. Tyler gave the nod signifying he was ready, and the side gate of the chute opened.

Lacy’s breathing stopped.

Every cell of her being focused on man and beast.

Her gaze locked on Tyler, one arm held high over his head.

Ain’t Love A Bitch bolted from the chute before morphing into a tornado, turning and twirling, kicking up a cloud of dust. The bull kicked its hind legs and, at times, looked as if it were going to kiss the earth with its lowered head. Suddenly, the four-legged tornado changed directions and charged a few feet before touching down again. And still, Tyler held on.

People stood and cheered. Lacy couldn’t stand; Olivia was all but sitting on her lap. She wrapped her arms around the scared girl for support.

Every ounce of Lacy’s strength was transported to Tyler.

Stay safe. Stay safe.

Her gaze swept to the clock on the score board: Four-point-one seconds. Could he withstand this bull’s hellacious bucking ride for four more? She had to see. She moved Olivia over and stood, forcing herself to breathe.

The determined beast bucked his way across the arena, almost as if it were playing hopscotch over imaginary boulders. At times, it twirled to change directions. Tyler swayed and bounced along with the bull’s movements, determined to ride him out. A few times, Ain’t Love A Bitch “sunfished,” completely off the ground, kicking all four feet to the side in a twisting motion. When the buzzer sounded announcing the required eight seconds, cheers erupted from the stands.

Tyler loosened his grip on the rope and jumped off. Before he could completely clear the bull, though, the toe of his boot caught in the rope going around the animal’s girth. The creature turned and kicked out its hind legs striking him before charging toward the rodeo clowns, dragging Tyler who by now resembled a rag doll. First he was on his back and then on his stomach as his dragged body kicked up a cloud of ominous dust.

Olivia screamed. Lacy’s heart rose to her throat, blocking her own scream of terror that sought escape.

One rodeo clown danced in front of the enraged bull while the other disengaged Tyler’s boot. Rodeo workers jumped in the arena to chase the steer out so medical personnel could enter. Tyler lay motionless.

Lacy grabbed Olivia’s hand and together they ran down the bleachers to reach him. By the time they got through the exit, the ambulance crew wheeled him out on a stretcher. His face was bloody from where he’d been dragged across the ground. At least the protective vest he’d worn saved part of his body. One EMT removed his boot. Another took his vitals. Tyler’s eyes remained closed.

Dear God, is he going to be okay?

“Tyler?” She leaned over him. “Tyler?”

“Daddy?” Olivia swiped away tears. Her eyes were huge with worry. Her pointy chin trembled.

“You’ll have to move aside, both of you, so I can see how serious his facial injuries are.” A paramedic wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Tyler’s arm.

A hand clasped hers. “Stay,” Tyler’s deep voice was now a dust-covered croak. “Angel?”

“Ye…yes, daddy?”

“Stay with Lacy. I’ll be fine. Don’t cry.” His eyes remained closed, perhaps to block out the pain.

Lacy squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her. Let go now, so the EMT’s can take care of you. We’ll be right here.”

Tyler’s foreman, Pete, ran over, concern evident on his face. “How’s the boss, Miss Lacy? Saw it happen. Nearly had a coronary.” He wrapped an arm around Olivia’s thin shoulders and kissed her hair. “Be strong now, Livvy.”

Pete’s rapid breathing concerned Lacy. “I don’t know anything yet. He barked an order at me,” she said in hopes of easing the older man’s concerns. “Told me to stay. He recognized Olivia. I hope there’s no concussion.”
Or broken bones or internal injuries
.

Now that the EMT had Tyler’s face cleaned off, he attached a butterfly to his lip and another along the side of his nose. One of Tyler’s eyes was swelling shut.

“We’re taking him to the University Medical Center if you want to follow.”

The man, swift and confident in his treatment process for his patient, barely spared them a glance as he cut Tyler’s sleeve to insert a stint in his arm. An IV tube was attached to administer fluids. The two began moving the stretcher toward the ambulance.

“Lacy.” His voice was pained.

“I’m here.” She hurried along side of the stretcher and took his hand.