Momentum (2 page)

He grinned and the hostess finally appeared, taking them to an intimate booth near the back of the restaurant. She started to wonder about the placement and then realized that to outsiders it probably looked as if they were on a date.

After sitting down, she opened her menu and tried to find something that would fill her up but not cost him a lot of money. She’d been eating mostly fast food since she’d left her former home a few days ago, and she’d kill for an honest-to-goodness home-cooked meal, but that wasn’t in the cards. Natalie didn’t want Marco to feel as if she owed him something because he’d bought her an expensive meal, but she needed to take advantage of every bit of free food she could get her hands on.

Natalie decided on a modestly priced pasta dish with chicken and put her menu down. The server came to take their order and then Marco sat back, stretching one arm along the back of the booth. Even underneath his button-down shirt she could see lean, ropey muscles bunching and moving as he settled in and got comfortable. She needed to ignore everything else about this man except how he could help her, and vowed to do just that, no matter how delicious and sinful he looked.

“What would you like to know about bull riding?”

“Oh, gosh, everything.”

Marco smiled and Natalie had to consciously stop herself from staring. The man had a killer smile and seemed to know when to use it. She glanced away from his mouth and tried to come up with something intelligent to say. She realized she didn’t know much about the riders themselves and made a note for herself to look up a bunch of these guys when she got to the next city. Hopefully she could find a library with free internet. If she was going to cozy up to them to get advice she’d better know something about their lives.

Marco pulled her away from her thoughts, asking, “How much do you know already?”

Natalie shrugged. “The basics. I know you need a bull rope, and that you have to stay on for eight seconds, and that the judges award points to both you and the bull. In that way it’s similar to bronc riding, which I’ve done for years.”

“Bronc riding? I am not familiar with what that is.”

This time Natalie smiled. It was nice not to be the ignorant one for once. “Bronc riding is a rodeo event where you ride a horse, rather than a bull, either with a saddle or without. I rode bareback, which means no saddle.”

Marco smirked and Natalie knew exactly where his thoughts had gone. You couldn’t mention the word “bareback” at any rodeo without a cowboy making a lewd comment, so she was used to it.

Of
course
he’s heard of bareback.

“Go on,” Marco urged her.

“Anyway, the horse tries to buck you off just like the bull tries to buck you guys off.”

“That sounds a lot like bull riding then.”

“Parts of it are, except that bulls are much bigger and heavier. There are other differences too, like in the way they move and the methods you need to use to stay on them. Mostly what I want to know about are technique things like that and other tips that will wow the qualifying judges.”

“Okay,” Marco answered. “Let me think.” He stroked his fingertips over his stubbled chin and her eyes were caught up in the movement. For a bull rider he had an elegant way of moving and she would bet it served him well in the ring. Marco regarded her. “Do you mind if I ask you a question first?”

“Go ahead.”

The server dropped off their salads and then Marco said, “Why are you doing this if it scares you? Why do you not keep on riding the broncs?”

Natalie stared at her salad, willing herself not to let a tear escape. Trying to force her voice not to break, she whispered, “My father died because of me. The least I can do is be what he always wanted me to be.”

“I will not pry about your father, but I doubt you were the reason he died.”

“I was.” Tears blinded her and she did her best to blink them back, but a few escaped, rolling down her cheeks. Would it ever hurt less? Would she ever forgive herself for acting so selfishly the day he died? For that matter, would she ever forgive her father for leaving her? His death was a huge blow, and the fact he’d left her nearly penniless made her hate him a little, which hurt far more.

Marco leaned across the booth and tipped her chin up. “
Caro
, Natalie, do not be sad.” When her lower lip trembled he ran the pad of his thumb over it and it trembled for an entirely different reason. She heard a swift intake of breath and looked up at Marco. His eyes were even darker than they had been and she jerked away from his touch. With obvious reluctance he sat back again. “Okay, so if you are going to do this, you will need equipment and training. Can you use any of the equipment you used for this bronc riding thing you did?”

“I’ve got chaps and boots, but no vest, bull rope or mouth guard, since none of those things are required or commonly used in bronc riding. And I don’t have a lot of money to buy stuff, so I was hoping I could borrow it for the tryout and only spend if I actually make the tour.”

Marco considered that. “You could borrow the vest, but obviously not the mouth guard, and I don’t know any bull riders who would let someone else use their rope. Bull riders are very, ah, what is the word?”

“Superstitious?”

“Yes!” He snapped his fingers and Natalie had to smile. In spite of her trepidation about coming to dinner with Marco and the little crying jag, she was having a good time.

“I know you guys use rosin to get a good grip. Would you show me how you put it on?”

“Will you be at the next event?”

“As long as my car makes it there.”

Marco frowned. “You are driving an old car?”

“It’s all I have.” Stabbing a couple of pieces of lettuce with her fork, she mumbled, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“All right. But if you’re in trouble or you need a ride I want you to come to me. I travel with my brother Paolo but I would be happy to offer you my assistance.”

She didn’t answer, choosing instead to chew her salad far longer than necessary. Why was he working so hard to make her obligated to him?

They finished their salads and the server brought over their dinners. Marco had ordered a large steak and Natalie had to concentrate on her own meal to keep from drooling all over the table. She loved steak, but hadn’t had one in months because she’d been trying to save what little money she had. Once she’d found out how bad her financial situation was now she’d stopped buying meat altogether unless it was a great deal. Even this simple chicken piccata was the fanciest meal she’d had in a long time.

“Now tell me about where you come from,” she prompted when the silence started to become awkward.

“Ah,
Italia
,” Marco replied, a wistful smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Have you ever been there?”

Natalie let out an indelicate snort. “Not hardly. I’d never traveled farther away from home than about eight hours for a rodeo before now.”

“You would love it, I think. I lived east of
Roma
in
San Vito Chietino
in the
Abruzzo
region. It is on the water of the Adriatic Sea and is very green and beautiful.”

“It sounds really nice.”

“My family has been there for generations. It is not a big city like
Roma
and I have
familia
everywhere I look.” Small frown lines formed at the edges of his lips and around his eyes. “I couldn’t get away from them or from my family’s business until I made the choice to come here.”

“What does your family do?”

“Olive oil,” Marco responded, his tone flat.

“Oh my God,” she exclaimed. “You’re those D’Allesandros?”

“Yes.”

It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about the family business, even though he’d brought it up, so she cleared her throat. “Tell me more about
Abruzzo
.” She butchered the pronunciation and Marco laughed. “Don’t just sit there and laugh—help me pronounce it.”

“It is like three words, ah-BRUT-zo.”

“Ah-BRUT-zo,” Natalie echoed.
“Okay, I think I’ve got it. Tell me about it.” Natalie found herself fascinated with Marco and his story. He seemed so exotic compared to the homegrown cowboys she’d grown up with.

“What city there is was built on a hill that rises from the water. Most of it is cobblestone streets, very narrow. You cannot even get a car into some areas.” Natalie felt her eyes widen, but Marco just smiled and continued. “Because it is so small, everyone knows you. The people are very friendly. They shout across the street at each other, out of windows…”

“Wow, that sounds—”

“Crazy?”

Natalie laughed. “A little.”

They finished their meal and Marco paid the check. As Marco was hailing a cab it occurred to her that not only had she not picked his brain nearly enough about bull riding, for some strange reason she also didn’t want him to see the shithole she was staying in.

It was over a mile from the arena and she’d walked to save on gas costs, but seriously considered telling him her car was at the arena so he’d drop her off there. Then she thought about it more and knew he’d insist on taking her right to her car and waiting until she’d gotten in and the car had started before he would leave. She didn’t have to know him well to be sure of that.

Resigned, she told the cab driver which motel she was staying at. When they arrived, Marco made a noise. “This is where you’re staying?”

“I told you, I don’t have a lot of money.”

“I know,
cara
, but this…”

“It’s fine,” she got out through clenched teeth. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Thank you for dinner. I’ll try to come find you at the next event if you’re still willing to show me how you prepare your rope.”

“Of course. Give me your cell number and I’ll call you to tell you where to meet me.”

“I-I don’t have a cell phone. I’m trying to travel as cheaply as possible and it was an extravagance.”

Marco turned fully to her inside the confines of the cab, which was feeling smaller and smaller every second she stayed in it. “You are a single woman traveling alone and you don’t have a cell phone?”

Natalie bit her lip. She knew she shouldn’t have gotten rid of her phone, but she’d been desperate to cut expenses.

Marco abruptly exited the car and she scrambled out after him. “What are you doing?”

He leaned down and had a brief conversation with the cab driver, who nodded, and then he pivoted and faced her. “I’m going inside your room to check things out.”

“I told you—”

“I know what you told me. Now I want to see for myself. I am not leaving until I am sure you’re safe.”

“Fine.” She marched over to her room and worked the ancient key into the lock. It wouldn’t open, though, and Marco put his hands over hers. He surrounded her and she wanted in the worst way to lean back against him, to let him take care of her. It had been so long since anyone had been there to help. Her daddy had been her whole world and when he had died that world had fallen as if it were a house of cards.

“Let me try,
cara
.”

“Okay.” Her voice came out as a squeak and she cursed her own weakness. “What does
cara
mean?”

Marco’s hands were still over hers, working the lock. His hot breath fanned over her ear, and he answered, “I believe the English word is dear. Many Italian men call women
cara
—especially a beautiful woman such as you.”

What did you say when someone spouted a line like that? Natalie had no idea, so she kept her mouth shut and prayed the damn door would open, as she and Marco were touching neck to knee with him tucked in close behind her. When he shifted his weight and cleared his throat, she felt definite evidence of his arousal and something unbidden woke inside her. Natalie hadn’t even been on a date in months and despite how she should be concentrating on making it in the world on her own, she craved human contact. If that was wrapped up in a charming, totally hot bull rider with an accent to curl your toes, it sounded even better.

Finally, something clicked inside the lock and Natalie rushed inside to break the spell Marco had cast over her. He stepped into the room and his gaze swept the area, his eyebrows drawing down and a frown pulling at his face. Natalie’s eyes closed in mortification as she took in the stained carpet and yellowed walls, along with the huge mess she’d left this morning in her haste to get to the arena on time.

Marco walked through the room to the tiny bathroom on the opposite wall from the door. “I don’t like this.”

“It’s all I can afford.”

“I cannot leave you here in this room with this old car you spoke about. My
Nonna
, God rest her soul, taught me to never leave a woman in distress.”

“I’m not in distress.”

“This is not safe,
cara
.” He stood a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest.

Natalie threw up her hands. “Then I guess we have a problem, since I think it’s fine.” She knew what the room looked like, what it smelled like. But she needed to get used to staying in places such as this until she could get back on her feet again and it was frustrating to deal with someone who didn’t understand that.