Colby (BBW Western Bear Shifter Romance) (Rodeo Bears Book 3) (9 page)

Chapter Two

The next day, Brianna rode. She was magnificent. She handled the bull like a queen. Sitting in the front row of the stadium, next to the press, Dakota was in awe of her new roommate. A lot of talent had been showcased in the arena, and most of it belonged to Brianna, who wore white chaps with jade beading to match her hat, her signature look.

“85.25,” the announcer cheered when Brianna was bucked off. “Not her best, but a good score nonetheless.”

“A damn good score,” the reporter next to Dakota said, tapping away at his tablet.

In the arena, Brianna modestly waved her hand to her fans and disappeared behind the pens. She wasn’t tawdry. She didn’t need gaudy showmanship to prove she had talent. People loved her as she was.

Dakota had no interest in the other bull riders, so she went outside to the craft stalls until it was Brianna’s turn to ride again. It had been difficult to persuade her to return to the rodeo. A fugitive didn’t play giddy-up for strangers, but she couldn’t tell Brianna that, especially when she was so adamant. With the women competing, she’d wanted Dakota there to watch. It’d be a long morning as each woman made her way through the rounds, leading up to the championship round after lunch. The women weren’t the main event, the men took over again in the evening, an injustice that irritated Brianna.

I’d be angry too
, Dakota thought as she wandered through the stalls, admiring the quality of the handmade crafts.
It’s brave to put yourself out there like that, to risk judgment and harassment to do what you know is right. I’m not brave, not like that. I never will be.

If she had a slice of the courage Brianna had, she wouldn’t be hiding in West Texas, far from her sins. She would have confronted her mistake.

A blanket in a stall caught her eye. Knitted with beige wool, the motif had apples on it, all lined up in a row. It reminded Dakota of her childhood. Every summer, she and her brother used to pick apples in the orchard outside their house. She’d climb to the tallest branches of the trees and shake the apples down to her brother, who would catch them in a blanket, using it as a net. The bitterness of apples made her sick to her stomach, but she loved picking them.

“Would you like to buy it?” the vendor asked, a short woman with a crooked nose. “I’ll wrap it up nicely for you.”

“No, it’s too painful,” she answered, but she wasn’t able to set the blanket down. After everything that had happened, she wasn’t sure she’d ever see her brother again. No one knew the number to her burner phone or where she had gone. She had simply disappeared, a shadow in the night.

A much larger shadow than her own crossed in front of her. “You planning a picnic?” Eddie probed, startling her. “I know a bakery that makes apple tarts so good your mama will cry.”

Dakota quickly folded up the blanket and set it back in its place. “No, no picnics,” she said hurriedly, hoping he would leave, fully aware of how desirable his tanned body was. The bulk of his arms alone sent pleasant shivers down her spine. She didn’t trust herself to make good decisions when Eddie was around. She had to protect herself. A hot night in the sack wasn’t worth her risking her freedom.

“So is Dakota your actual name, or is that where you’re from? Cuz I hear it snows a lot up there, and you’re as white as an artic bunny.”

“Where did you learn my name?” she asked, throwing her guard up as high as it would go with his golden eyes studying her, trying to drag her in. She was a reasonable woman, but reason couldn’t battle temptation, not in this heat.

“So Dakota is your name. I thought for sure Brianna was pulling my leg. I’m glad you found your way back to the rodeo. Now I can redeem myself.” He held his hand out to her. “Come with me. There’s something I want to show you, to make up for yesterday.”

It was a sincere request. Dakota like Eddie this way – sober and genuine. She never would have accepted his hand in his drunken arrogance, but she accepted it now, knowing it was a mistake. For so long, she had been scared. In Eddie’s presence, despite him being a stranger, she felt safe. He would protect her, even if he didn’t know what he was protecting her from.

They circled the stadium, away from the crowd, until they reached a barnyard that, according to the signs posted around the makeshift pens, was closed to the public. The animals belonged to the men and women of the rodeo.

As Eddie led her past a muddy pen filled with noisy pigs, some the size of a small pony, she asked, “We’re allowed to be here, aren’t we?”

“I am,” he teased, tightening his grip on her hand. “Don’t run off, darling. We’re almost there.”

Leaving the pigs behind, they entered a stable filled with rows of horses, the roof sheltering the animals from the blaze of the sun. Eddie stopped in front of an oatmeal Thoroughbred, its coat so light it was almost white.

“He’s a bronco,” he informed her. “Never been trained. Never been ridden. Never seen a saddle in his life.” He petted the horse along its forehead. “You’re my best friend, aren’t you boy?”

In reply, the bronco bucked.

Dakota had not thought such adoration possible from the reckless playboy. Unwillingly, her guard began to drop. “If he’s never been ridden, why is he at the rodeo?” she asked, curious.

“I entered him in the beauty pageant. He’s a show horse. Wins first prize every time. But even to put him in here kills me. I don’t like him to be cooped up. When we aren’t traveling around from one rodeo to the next, we have a ranch in New Mexico. He runs free there. I understand his need to run. All animals want to roam.”

“You understand because you’re an animal too. A bear.”

“We’re all bears in the Tyrell Clan.”

“Are there many of you in the clan?”

“Just a pocketful. My brothers, our cousin Colby, and Owen.”

“Owen Hutch, the rodeo superstar?”

Eddie laughed. “Don’t tell him that. He hates being a star. He just does his thing, and he’s happy enough with that. I’ve been friends with him for a long time.”

She leaned against the wooden divide between the stables, not caring how dirty it was. “You always been a bull rider?”

“Since I was a cub.” Eddie moved in closer to her, taking her easy posture as an invite, and he brushed away a loose strand of her hair. “You always been this haunted?”

“I’m not haunted,” she claimed, her body pulsing with him so near. She could feel his breath against her neck, tantalizing her like a soft kiss.
I’m hunted
.

Eddie put an arm over her head. He could devour her, and she wouldn’t care. “I think you are haunted. Hopefully, this can scare all the ghosts away.”
 

He leaned forward to kiss her, but a young man burst into the stables. Lanky and clumsy, he knocked a bucket over on his way to them.

“That’s Jacob, my younger brother.” Eddie sighed as he moved away. “He has a knack for good timing.”

“Hi.” Jacob blushed as he waved his hand. Like Eddie, he had sandy blonde hair, but he was leaner, and he had freckles sprinkled across his even nose. “Owen’s waiting,” he said.

“Waiting for what?” I questioned.

“Retaliation for kicking us out of the competition.”

“You were kicked out?”

“Disqualified, technically, for this rodeo only, after what happened to Owen yesterday.” Eddie scowled. “There are no rules saying shifters can’t compete. It’s not right.”

“No, it ain’t,” Jacob echoed, looking down.

“Gotta go, darling,” Eddie said, holding his arm out, a mischievous grin replacing his scowl. “Let me escort you back before the boys and I round ourselves up a big ole dose of trouble.”

“No need,” Dakota said, staying put. She didn’t want to be anywhere near trouble. “I’ll find my own way back.”

***

The arena was empty, but the stadium was full, the crowd drawn for Brianna’s ride. Dakota wasn’t sure how many rounds there were, or if they were even called rounds, but based on what she’d overheard others say, the average of the scores determined a bull rider’s place in the championship.

Thirsty, Dakota took a sip of her lemonade, which she’d picked up on her way back to the stadium. The drink was cool against her throat, with a sweetness that almost made her smile, if she was capable of smiling in her situation. It’d been a long time since she could taste food. The fear of running turned everything to ash, but she indulged on the lemonade now. It made her tongue tingle.
 

Maybe it’s because I’ve finally found a place to settle, a new home
, she thought.
Or maybe it’s because of Eddie. He heightens my senses.

As she enjoyed her lemonade, her attention was drawn to the barrel sitting in the middle of the arena. It moved on its own, as if shaken by a small quake. From watching Brianna earlier, she knew the barrel was used as a centerpiece for entertainment, and it gave the bull riders a place to jump if nowhere else was safe, but there was no one in the arena. The round had yet to start. Brianna stood casually by the pens with her competitors, waiting to be called.

The barrel wobbled again. This time, everyone noticed. The crowd began pointing, and a bewildered murmur spread across the aisles. When the barrel moved a third time, it shook so hard it toppled over, and a little piglet ran out, squealing loudly, causing the crowd to laugh and cheer.

A knot formed in Dakota’s stomach as she noticed Jacob standing at the emergency exit near the back, fumbling nervously with his hat. Something on the other side caught his attention, and he opened the door, allowing a stampede of pigs to run into the arena, herded by Eddie and Owen. The three of them took off the moment the last pig was in.

Immediately, officials jumped into the arena to usher the pigs out, but it was uncontrollable chaos. Some of the audience continued to laugh. Others became hostile, objecting to the prank.

Brianna was one of them. The woman was red with fury. The Tyrell Clan may have released the pigs, but they’d also unleashed a dragon.

***

A bonfire lit up the night, a rival to the sun, which had just set. It was the end of the rodeo. There would be no more bull rides, no more pranks. There was only the fire, built a short walk from the stadium, close to the desert.

Brianna was off at a corporate tent talking business with a potential sponsor. It was supposed to be an easy contract. The sponsor would watch her ride, preferably to victory, and then they would make her a deal. According to Brianna, sponsorships for women were hard to come by. No one had faith in the sport, not where female bull riders were concerned. She’d been really excited about the deal, but after the pig incident, it was no longer guaranteed. By the time the pigs and the mess they made had been cleared out of the arena, there was no time to finish the women’s competition. They moved on to the men’s, cutting the women out.

Feeling angry on behalf of all the women bull riders, Dakota orbited the bonfire in search of Eddie, waving off the smoke and cinders. She found him doing card tricks for a group of fans, most of them as drunk as a pub filled with Scotsmen.

“What the hell did you do!” she yelled, forgetting to be small, forgetting to hide. She grabbed the deck of cards from his hand and threw it into the fire, much to the protest of the group. “Not everything is a game.”

Eddie didn’t flinch. If anything, he enjoyed her anger. “Why don’t we go somewhere more private?” he suggested, and he led her into the abyss of the desert, away from the cat calls that followed them.

“It was funny,” he defended, stopping beside a cactus. “It was just a windup.”

“It wasn’t funny for Brianna. She could lose a huge sponsorship deal because of your stupid windup. Why did you have to pull the prank while the women were competing? They have it hard enough as it is.”

“Wouldn’t it be sexist not to pull the prank while the women were competing?” he joked.

She wanted to shove him. “There are consequences to your actions, Eddie. You of all people should understand. You face scrutiny for being a shifter. One day, they may not let you ride, not professionally. Put yourself in Brianna’s shoes.”

“Boots, not shoes,” he corrected, but he frowned, her words clearly sinking in, troubling him. “I’ll apologize to her. I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“I’ll fix it. Just don’t look at me like that,” he pleaded. “Don’t look at me the way my brother does. I’m better than this, I promise you. I can give a rat’s ass what everyone else thinks of me, but not you. I care what you think.”

“Why?” she demanded. “You barely know me.”

“Well, you’re beautiful, for starters,” he said, gently placing a hand on her cheek.

She needed to push his hand away. This was not what she’d come to West Texas for. She was meant to go unnoticed, not encourage a cowboy to chase after her.

“And?” she pressed, full of anticipation, ignoring her logic.

“And I feel drawn to you. Connected, like you’re the rope I can hold onto and steady myself with.”

She felt the same, even if it was a fleeting fantasy inspired by the wildness of the West, its heat a lust that burned beneath the skin. “And?”

“And in about two minutes, there’s gonna be fireworks to mark the end of the rodeo. That’s when I’m gonna kiss you.”