Cowgirl Crazy (#2, Cowboy Way) (9 page)

Why then did he duck like a goose behind a
Mazda pickup when he suddenly caught a flash of blonde hair, and an
all too familiar red horse?

Because he was too beat up to get his ass
kicked again, and that guy she was with was not small. Stealth
would probably be a better plan. He could probably find out more
that way anyway. Then he would call her on whatever mischief she
was into here, or with that man.

“
Twyla, let’s just work on the
ground with your aim for a little bit,” Randy said, as she tied off
the lead rope on Tango’s halter to the split rail fence near the
practice range.

He sat her saddle down by the fence, and laid
her bridle gently on top. He’d insisted on carrying her tack for
her, even though she told him she had lugged it around herself for
years, and could handle it. Randy Hartwell was a gentleman. An
added bonus, she rarely found with men on the rodeo circuit. Those
guys treated her just like one of the guys. That’s what she was
used to, not this. It was a welcome change for sure.

“
Sounds good,” she said turning
back to him with a smile. She was surprised when her face slammed
into his broad chest and she bounced back. She hadn’t realized he
was standing that close. Any other man, she’d have probably bowled
over. But Randy was tall. Solid.

His hands closed on her shoulders to steady
her. “Whoa there, cowgirl,” he said with a laugh. Her eyes met his
and there was interest there. Something like a swarm of butterflies
fluttered in her stomach, and a warm sensation floated through
her.

Twyla was so tall, she rarely found a man as
tall as he was. One who she felt small next to, not quite so
gangly. She felt like that around Randy and liked it. Ryan was like
that too, but not nearly as broad across the chest as
Randy.

Randy didn’t say anything, he just stared at
her for a full second. His lips twitched then he swallowed hard.
“Twyla, I’ve, ah, been meaning to ask you something…’

“
Yeah?” she replied dumbly, unable
to pull her eyes from his mesmerizing green stare. The air became
thick between them and a strange energy buzzed over her shoulders
to zip down her spine. Her heart took a couple of strange leaps,
then resumed an uneven rhythm.

Was this it? Would this man be her first real
date?

“
Um, have you ever tried a
different saddle on Tango?”

The fog in her mind cleared. “Huh?”

His hands fell from her shoulders to his
sides, and he stepped back. “I have a saddle that’s lighter than
the one you’re using. Your saddle doesn’t fit just right across his
withers. I’d bet it’s pinching him. You could probably get more
speed out of him, and he’d have more flex, if you used a different
saddle.”

Twyla was a little stunned. Her breath came
out in a whoosh, and she felt her face heat. Disappointment filled
her that she had misinterpreted his signals. She just didn’t have
the experience to read men, thanks to her brother, her father and
Ryan.

Her shoulders slumped. “No, I haven’t tried a
different saddle. I won that saddle in the only barrel race I ever
won, and it’s my lucky saddle.”

“
Not so lucky if you weren’t
winning,” Randy countered with a grin, putting his hands on his
trim hips. “It’s bulky, and if the damned thing doesn’t fit right
that could be why you weren’t winning. There’s nothing wrong with
your riding, that’s for sure.”

Pleasure floated through her at his
compliment. “Thank you.”

Twyla had always blamed her riding for the
reason why she wasn’t winning, why Tango wasn’t performing up to
his potential. This man had given her something else to think
about, and more confidence in her riding. Maybe it was her tack. It
didn’t matter though, she was never going back to the grind of the
rodeo. Back to the circus that was her life before, which included
the two clowns Zack and Ryan. But that tip might definitely help
her with the Cowboy Mounted Shooting competitions.

It also meant more money, if she had to buy a
new saddle. Twyla couldn’t use a borrowed saddle forever, or the
guns she’d borrowed from Randy. She was going to eventually have to
figure out another way to make extra money if she wanted to do
this. Ammunition and entry fees, clothing to dress appropriately
for the events, wasn’t cheap either.

“
Okay, let’s get started. Tango is
pretty set on being gun broken now, so it’s time for us to work on
your aim. Your run the last time we met told me we need to run the
course on foot to get you used to the positioning of the targets.
Muscle memory is going to get you where you need to be. Pulling the
hammer like it’s second nature to you. You need to get comfortable
shooting with one hand, crossing over for the targets on the left,
and knowing where they are in your mind without thinking. You need
to study those configurations for the courses I gave you and know
them like the back of your hand. You never know which one you’ll
draw at the competitions.”

She and Randy walked to the beginning of the
course, and got into position at the start/finish line. Colored
balloons, red and blue, were already tied to the end of flexible
poles that marked her path. Randy turned in a slow circle to survey
the course, then looked down at her. “Okay we’re clear. You have
both pistols loaded?”

Twyla nodded, but pulled out the first pistol
and checked the loads and repeated an inspection of the second
revolver. “Good to go,” she said stuffing it back into her
gunbelt.

“
Okay then…I want you to run this
course in the way you would on your horse. Make sure you hit the
targets, Twyla. That’s your main focus. If you miss targets in a
competition, you lose points. Get used to holstering the first gun
as you turn the barrel, and pulling the second. In a level one
competition that’s not a big deal, but when you move up, if you
miss one, drop your pistol or fail to reholster properly you lose.
You have to do all those things without thinking. But the first and
foremost thing you need to remember is to break the
balloons.”

Twyla nodded then got set. At his signal, she
took off running through the targets. She tried not to hesitate as
she took aim and nailed the first three targets perfectly. On the
fourth, her arm dropped and she missed which broke her
concentration on the fifth blue balloon. Her feet got tripped up,
so she stopped and holstered her gun, because she knew she’d just
lost if she were actually competing.

“
Dammit,” she cursed under her
breath, staring at the fifth balloon, wondering how in the hell she
could be so incompetent at everything.

This was a lot harder than she thought it
would be. Maybe she should go to the gun range more. Once she had
her own pistols she probably would. She almost had enough money
saved up to do that. But that wasn’t going to simulate shooting
from a horse at breakneck speed. It wasn’t her aim that was off, it
was her focus. The gun range wasn’t going to improve
that.

Randy walked up behind her and put his hand on
her shoulder to lead her back to the fourth target. He had her face
forward with the balloon at her right. The fifth was catty-corner
to her left, on a post a little shorter than the others. He moved
behind her and his heat surrounded her, as did the piney scent of
his cologne. He put his left hand on her belly and funny flutters
danced there. He took her right hand, and his fingers curled around
hers to hold her arm out straight, aiming it at the
balloon.

She heard him inhale deeply when he leaned
close to her ear. His words came out with a slow exhale. “Keep your
body square on the horse, Twyla. Keep your balance. Move your eyes
and your arm, not your body. You can lean forward and back, but
don’t turn your body. The best advice I can give you though is to
relax.”

The thumb on his left hand, which rested on
her midriff worked slow circles there and that was definitely not
relaxing to her. It was irritating. If he wasn’t interested in her,
why was he holding her so tight to his body, she wondered.
Definitely closer than he needed to be to give her the correction.
Or was she imagining things again? Like when she thought he’d been
about to ask her out. And was she wishing that he would ask her
out, so she could get on her way to forgetting Ryan Easter? Because
his touch sure hadn’t started the wildfire in her body that she
expected. A few pleasant flutters, nothing more. Not good news at
all.

She pulled her hand from his, and spun around
to face him. Randy looked at her a little strangely, but quickly
recovered. “Um, let me get the balloons reset and you can try
again.”

He turned to walk off, and Twyla couldn’t help
but admire the view. Randy was definitely a good looking man, and
well-mannered. What she couldn’t understand though was why his
touch hadn’t caused the instant lust in her body that Ryan’s had
done with one almost kiss when she was still a wet-behind-the-ears
teenager. That just didn’t make sense to her.

She sighed and forced her eyes toward the
barn. Movement, as someone dashed into a stall caught her
attention. She could’ve sworn it was Ryan there for a second. But
there was no way in hell he was out here. She had left him at the
apartment. That again must be wishful thinking on her part. She had
to accept that missing that man was going to be a part of her life
for a good while to come. He hadn’t been gone a few hours and it
had already started again.

Damn his black soul for making her want him.
If Randy would just finally find his balls and ask her out, at
least she’d have a distraction to get on the right track to
forgetting him. Who knew maybe eventually she’d feel the same way
about Randy. If she focused on him and forgot about Ryan
Easter.

It was almost dusk when Randy walked her to
her truck. She was tired, but exhilarated too. Their lessons today
had really helped her. She made a run on Tango before they quit,
and she’d hit every target. Her time hadn’t been fantastic, but
she’d nailed every fricking target!

Randy said he was proud of her, and that meant
a lot coming from him. That man was a Range Master at CMSA events
and a level six shooter to boot, with several World Champion titles
under his belt. He was also a damned good teacher. It was probably
better if they didn’t muddy the waters between them by getting
involved. She needed to quit hoping for more, and just accept his
friendship. Her new career was what was important. Randy was
offering her that. It was enough. She’d just deal with missing Ryan
like she had since she left, by staying busy earning money to fund
her new career and support herself until she got there.

When they reached the truck, Randy opened the
truck door for her and stepped back. Twyla tossed her bag inside,
then pulled her hat off and tossed it inside too. She slid the
rubber band out of her hair and ran her fingers through it, then
turned back to him with a smile. “Thanks for being patient with me
today, Randy. I know I’m a klutz, and a dullard sometimes,” she
said with a self-deprecating laugh.

He didn’t laugh, Randy frowned and grabbed her
chin, tipping her face up to meet her eyes. The air between them
got that thick quality again, and he just studied her for a moment.
“There is nothing clumsy or dull about you, Twyla. You are a
beautiful, talented woman and don’t ever let anyone tell you
otherwise. You’re going to get this, and I know you’re going to be
good when you do. I don’t take on training people I don’t have
faith in.”

Twyla got a melting sensation in the center of
her chest and sighed. “I sure hope so.”

She was investing a helluva lot of money into
this. If it didn’t pan out, she had no idea what she was going to
do. She knew one thing though, dancing at the Crazy Cowgirl for an
extended time wasn’t going to happen. That really wasn’t her scene.
She was going to take that abuse as long as she could though,
because it paid well. As long as she knew she would eventually be
able to get out of that job, she could take it for now.

“
Hope isn’t a way to win. You need
to have faith in yourself too, honey.”

“
I lost that about two years into
my barrel racing career, when I figured out I’d never be a winner.”
It was true. It seemed like no matter how hard she tried to be
successful at anything, she always failed. At school, barrel
racing, love—hell being a woman—she was always mediocre. Twyla was
tired of being a middle-of-the-road kind of girl, but how in the
hell could she possibly have the faith he wanted her to have that
this attempt would be any different?

Randy’s fingers tightened on her chin and she
felt the tension in his arm. His eyes darkened, and he swallowed
hard. “Twyla, I like you,” he said suddenly, then let his hand fall
from her chin, as he stepped back.

She noticed a tic at the outside corner of his
left eye. He seemed like he wanted to say more, but the silence
stretched. “Well that’s damned good, because I like you too,” she
said with a laugh. “I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”
That’s when it dawned on her, she hadn’t paid him his lesson fee
yet, and that’s probably why he was so nervous. He didn’t want to
ask her for his money. “Oh crap, I forgot to pay you! I’m so
sorry—just a sec!”

She turned to reach back inside the truck for
her duffle, but his hand dropped on her shoulder. “I don’t give a
damn about the money. You can pay me next week.” She lifted back up
and met his eyes. “I wanted to ask if you would you go out with me.
The bars are closed tonight, or I’d ask you to go have a drink with
me…”