Buck (Rope 'n Ride #1) (6 page)

As he gathered her hands and pinned them over her head, he said, “I’m not letting you out of this bed for the rest of the day. I’ve waited too damn long for you.”

A thrill deep in her belly radiated into her heart. She bit down on her lower lip and held his gaze. He slipped into her body in one swift glide. Her sensitive muscles had a thousand more nerve endings than before and now there was no holding still even if he commanded it.

She pushed against his cock, taking him to the root. His grip on her hands tightened as he began to move. Hard thrust after hard thrust, he took her higher. She came once more on him. Twice.

Then he flipped her onto her stomach and yanked her ass up to meet his thrust. The second he entered her again, she was coming a third time. He churned his hips, tension rolling off him. He was close. His breathing told her as much. What she wouldn’t give for a mirror to see his face as he let go or the perspiration glistening on his chiseled muscles as he took what he needed from her.

She arched her back, giving him total access. He grasped her hips and his movements became disjointed as he poured his hot seed into her. “Fuck, you’re still pulsating around me,” he grated out.

Warmth bathed her insides. She buried her face into the sheets that smelled like him and reveled in the closeness between them. She was glad he’d been faithful—he could have had his pick of any Buckle Bunny out there. Women chased rodeo guys, making a game of their conquests. From what she saw, Buck was different in this regard. He ignored those women totally.

No, it had never been other women she was competing against. It was…what? She didn’t know why he withheld his time and attention from her except in bed. If their relationship could catch up to their sexual relations, life would be so perfect.

With Buck she had no idea what to expect in the throes of bliss. But he was so predictable otherwise. She wished like crazy that things were different but she knew better. After she left his arms and his bed, she’d be nothing more than a passing obligation to him.

I have to steer clear of Buck. This can’t happen again.

Chapter Four

As Buck sat down to a breakfast table full of Calhouns and production people, he fought a growl of annoyance. They were going to ask where Channing was and he’d have to tell them she’d left.

She’d driven home with Asher right after crawling out of Buck’s bed. Dammit, he knew she didn’t have any romantic interest in his partner, but it stung. She hadn’t even told him—she’d left him a note at the motel front desk.

“Where’s Channing?” Ryder asked.

Buck leveled his stare at him. “She went on home.”

“What? Why?” Wynonna asked.

“She had something to do there.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw to quell the urge to punch something. His sister looked at him too damn closely for his comfort, so he ducked his head to avoid her gaze. Nosy little shit was going to hear about it when he got her away from the camera. Trouble was, she was basking beneath the lens like it was a fucking sun lamp.

Not that she wasn’t acting natural. Actually, she was eerily natural.

A waitress brought several pots of steaming coffee, and Buck grabbed one first and filled his mug. After keeping Channing screaming with pleasure for hours, he could use a caffeine injection.

She’d worn him down and he’d spent himself numerous times. But he had a creeping feeling that his intense emotions after finally having her back in his bed had sapped his strength.

Fuck that. Cowboys don’t do emotional exhaustion.
That was reserved for delicate folk. And he was far from delicate.

He sipped his black brew and tried to focus on the meeting being held around him. The production manager was giving them a rundown of what they’d like to see today during filming.

Buck listened with half an ear. Had Channing confided to Asher about their relationship? She had to have given him a reason for wanting to ride home with him. Not that he’d kept anything from Asher a day in his life. But he hadn’t exactly told him about his and Channing’s split, mostly because on the surface they were a couple of lovebirds.

Besides, Asher had enough crap to deal with. He didn’t need more dumped on him.

Platters of pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon were placed on the long table, family style. Buck looked up, startled. Hell, this
was
his family now. All these people toting cords and cameras were part of his day-to-day life. He’d better start getting used to them.

Or at least learning their names. Starting at the head of the table, he tried to conjure each person’s name. By the fifth person he gave up and tucked into his eggs.

“We’d like an interview with Buck about his loss,” a guy who could only be described as a hipster said.

Buck leveled him with his stare. “We’ll see,” he muttered.

Beneath the table West stomped on his foot.

Swinging his head in his brother’s direction, he said, “What the fuck’s that about?”

“Musta slipped.”

Everyone looked between the brothers, and one guy raised his camera to capture the moment. Ignoring them all, Buck eyed West. “If you’ve got something to say to me, say it. We aren’t hiding anything. We’re all friends.” He swept a hand toward the table at large. The blinking lights of video equipment made him want to get in his truck and not come back until well after the season was concluded.

“If any of us were hiding from an interview about losing our events, you’d give us hell.”

Several of his siblings nodded, which made Buck wonder why the hell his parents had so many damned kids.

“Everyone loses a time or two. Seems to me, West, you lost two weeks ago back in Tulsa.”

West nodded, a warning spark in his eyes. “The difference is I’m not afraid to admit my shortcomings.”

“Look, I’m only as good as my partner, and Ash didn’t make the toss.” As soon as he laid the blame on his partner, Buck hated himself. He pushed away from the table and dropped his fork before he stabbed West for provoking him.

Silence hovered over the table. Wynonna finally spoke up, “I had a great time in Tulsa—took the record time.”

Thank Christ the cameras centered on her, leaving Buck time to storm off. Head down, strides long, all he could think about was escape and how damn good it would be to confide in Channing. He hadn’t meant to lay the blame on Asher. Hell, it was a wonder his partner was even in the arena after what he was going through. Buck didn’t resent him at all.

Yet he’d been pushed. Was
being
pushed. Somehow he couldn’t help but think if Channing had been sitting next to him, her soft fingers curled around his, he would have reined himself in.

A second later footsteps sounded nearby and he glanced back to see the hipster trying to catch him. “Wait up.”

With a heavy sigh Buck stopped walking. “Look, that was great back there.”

Buck’s eyes bulged. “What?”

“It’s exactly what we’re looking for—footage of the Calhouns cracking under pressure. Your ranch is about to be lost. Your fiancée—your rock in life—isn’t around to support you after your loss. We want more of that.”

“You want me to lose my cool.” It wasn’t a question.

“Not all the time, no. You don’t want to be portrayed as the angry brother. But I just wanted to tell you that we loved what we just saw.”

Jesus. This is so fucked up, down and sideways that I have no idea how to respond.

He cupped the crown of his hat and lifted it a fraction off his head. “Have a good time editing it to make me look more menacing.” With that, Buck spun and headed outside, his hackles rising at the chuckle that followed him. The fact that his life had been reduced to this scalded him. But he had no choice now. He was in until the end, and hopefully then he’d have his cut of the money needed to save their ranch.

By the time he’d retrieved his bag and tossed it into the back of his truck, he had a cameraman trailing him again. Resigned to his fate, he gave the young kid a half smile. “What’s your name?”

“Andrew.”

“Seems as if we’re going to see a lot of each other. Nice to know you. Where you from?”

“Uh, upstate New York originally.”

“Been there once. Too crowded. I’m heading out. Are you riding with me?” He rested his hand on the door handle of his truck.

“Yeah, that’s great.” Andrew ran around and jumped in the passenger seat. After they got rolling onto the open highway, Andrew texted his manager that he and Buck were heading on to the next venue. And Buck started firing questions at the kid. How much footage did they need for an episode? How long would it take to compile the footage?

In other words, when was he going to get these people off his ass so he could live his life?

“How long have you and Channing been together?”

Buck tightened his lips. He didn’t want to discuss her, but she was part of the show and they needed this information. “’Bout six months or so.”

“So she was with you after your dad passed.”

That little light blinked on the camera, which rested in Andrew’s lap, the lens pointed Buck’s direction.

“Yeah, she was. She was a rock for all of us.” He used the hipster’s description of Channing because it fit so well. “She really comforted all of us and helped us get through the ordeal.”

“And afterward when you found out about the will, how did she react?”

Buck searched his memory for that time. “She was concerned for all of us, especially Ma. Wondering how we were holding up. Her friend works in the courthouse and Channing had her do some snooping to see if Ennis could be wrong about the will.”

“Ennis is your cousin?”

“Yeah.” Buck swallowed half a dozen words like dirt-bag and douche-nozzle.

“But the will isn’t wrong, is it? The Calhoun ranch, the ranch that your father built his entire life, doesn’t belong to your family.”

Buck’s throat closed off. “No, it doesn’t. But we plan to remedy that, which is why we’re working so hard to win the money.”

“Except you lost last night in Waco. How does that make you feel?”

Like punching out your little blinking lights, Andrew.
He released a slow breath and lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “What I said to West holds true. You can’t win ’em all. In that arena we’ve got a split second to decide where to throw a rope. Or how to move to keep your seat on the back of a bull. The rodeo ain’t like real life in that way.”

“What do you mean, Buck?”

“In the rodeo you can’t go back and fix your mistakes.”

* * * * *

Channing stomped her boots before coming into the Calhouns’ kitchen, a basket of eggs in hand and her hair streaming into her eye. She glanced up to see a camera aimed right at her.

She stopped for a split second, taken aback. When had the crew shown up? Glancing up at Mrs. Calhoun, or Ma as she wished to be called, Channing saw the amusement written all over the woman’s face.

Ma still had some good years left in her. Maybe someday, long after she’d mourned her husband, she’d find someone to share her life with again. Her silvery-brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail that made her appear younger than she was. And her eyes were bright with life.

“Got a lot of eggs this morning. Seventeen.” Channing set the basket on the counter and lifted a hand to tidy her hair. American viewers were going to see her as a disheveled mess. People would wonder what a hunky cowboy rodeo star like Buck saw in her.

Nothing. We aren’t a couple.

“Seventeen!” Ma stormed across the kitchen to peer into the basket, counting silently, her lips moving. “I didn’t think my chickens would put out that many at this time of year. Good thing, though. I just got word from Ryder. They’re on their way home.”

Crap. The past few days of peace Channing had stolen here at the ranch had allowed her to lose track of time. Or maybe she’d just poked her head in the sand and ignored the world. After selling her car and half of her possessions and then showing up on the doorstep of the ranch…

She shook herself. At least Ma had taken her right in. With her warm, motherly ways, she’d made Channing feel welcome. “Of course you must stay with us, sweetheart. You’re part of the family!”

Except she wasn’t. Not really. As soon as Buck got around to telling her this, his ma wouldn’t be so generous or gracious with her hospitality.

Channing gave the camera a weary glance and moved to the sink to wash her hands. That damned piece of hair tumbled into her eye again. She scraped it back, trying to staunch her rising annoyance.

Truth was, she’d been on edge since coming home to find Luke at her apartment, rifling her stuff for cash. She’d slammed the door and he’d jerked his head around.

“Sis. This isn’t what it looks like.”

“No?” She walked right up to him and slapped his handsome face. “Damn you, Luke. This is my
home.
”

“I-I know. I’m so sorry. I just…” He collapsed on her sofa and dropped his face into his hands. She hadn’t realized he was crying until his shoulders began to shake. Then her heart had broken for him and she’d gotten the story.

The people he owed the gambling debt to wanted a big payment to show them he was serious about paying it back. Only Luke had hocked all his possessions already. Their mother had long ago written him off and refused to help at all. And that left Channing.

“They’re going to tie a cement block to me and toss me in the Mississippi. They’re going to fuck up my face. Or take one of my hands as down-payment.”

She gaped at him, shock seizing her. Her baby brother. No.

At that moment she’d made a couple phone calls, sold her car and invited a few friends to come look through her place for anything they may wish to buy. Then called her landlord and begged out of her lease. She promised her brother this month’s rent money and the funds from the sale of her car when they came in.

Slapping five-hundred bucks in cash into Luke’s hands scared the hell out of her. What if he didn’t pay the debt and just lost the whole wad at the horse races again?

In the end, she’d put the notion from her mind and done all she could do for herself—which was find a place to live.

“Sausage’s in the pan on the range, sweetheart. Why don’t you grab a plate and I’ll fetch you a cup of coffee?”

Coffee. Thank God for that. The only thing keeping her alive the past few days. She felt dead on her feet and knew stress was contributing to her desire to crawl into bed and sleep for days.

“You still seem tired,” Ma said as she poured dark brew into a huge mug one of the Calhoun men could drain in seconds. Buck especially adored coffee, and the hotter the better. She’d seen him gulp down liquid so hot it blistered her tongue without blinking an eye.

“I am.” Channing accepted the mug with a grateful smile, pushing Buck from her mind. She’d see him soon enough. They’d be thrown together in front of the cameras.
Or we’ll be avoiding them, sneaking off for a secret romp.

Dammit, her life really was a mess. She sipped her coffee and reluctantly nibbled a bit of sausage. Ma sat across from her, talking about which Calhoun had won and lost at the recent competitions. Wynonna, her pride and joy, her only daughter, had cleaned up with another record.