Taking the Bull by the Horns, a Cascade Texas novella

Taking The Bull By The Horns

By M.J. Frederick

Copyright © 2013 by M.J. Frederick

All Rights Reserved.

Chapter One

“Aaron!”

The dark-haired imp broke from the herd of kindergartners and bolted. Lavender Prouty pushed her straight blonde hair out of her face and pivoted in pursuit. Controlling her class at the Cascade rodeo arena was like herding cats. The children wanted to see every animal at once, and Aaron was determined to see the cows.

The extra fifteen pounds Lavender had put on since her grandmother joined Pinterest slowed her down—not that she’d ever been a match for a five-year-old. Aaron would be through the bars and astride a cow before she caught him.

A lean figure stepped between Aaron and the cow pen. Strong arms snatched him up, swinging him in midair so his squeal echoed off the metal roof of the barn. The cowboy tucked the boy under his arm and turned toward her, grey eyes twinkling beneath the brim of a straw hat.

“Nice moves. You could teach a quarter horse a thing or two,” he told the boy, then turned to Lavender. “This belong to you?”

His deep voice sent a shiver of female awareness down her spine. Low voices were definitely a weakness. But he moved closer, and his shoulder length brown hair swung back to reveal a young face. Of course, lots of the cowboys who came to town for the Cascade Rodeo were young. Why was she surprised? Worse, why was she disappointed?

She reached for Aaron and her bare arm slid along the cowboy’s. His warm skin against her sensitive inner wrist almost caused her to snatch her hand away before she had a secure hold on the kindergartner. She anchored Aaron in front of her, both hands on his shoulders, and looked up at the cowboy.

“He’s for sale. Cheap.”

The boy squirmed.

“Maybe we’ll get this nice cowboy to hogtie you,” she chided. “How’s that?”

“Be happy to.” The cowboy played along, the corner of his mouth hitched up as he drew a length of rope from the back pocket of his worn Levis.

She loved Levis almost as much as she loved deep voices.

Aaron burrowed against her thighs—right, like she wanted the cowboy’s attention
there
—as he cowered from the rope. Lavender crouched before him and gave him her sternest look, which, granted, wasn’t all that stern. “The next time you get away from me or Mrs. Mainka, I’ll let him do it. Now go on back with the class.” She set him in the direction of the rest of the class and her room mother.

The cowboy with the laughing eyes hadn’t moved away. In her desire to be clever, she’d neglected to thank him.

“Thank you,” she remedied now, a little breathless that he was so close.

“I’d rather herd cows than kids.” He stepped beside her to watch her class, who were envying some pigs their wallow in the mud. Mrs. Mainka was doing an admirable job of keeping the children from joining the swine and guilt tugged at Lavender for not giving her a hand. But the cowboy hadn’t wandered off and she wasn’t sure how to take her leave of him.

Or if she was ready to.

“Mm, yeah, kids have a way of figuring things out that cows never would.”

He folded tanned muscular arms over his chest, drawing her attention to his half-buttoned shirt and smooth flat pecs. She curled her hand into a fist, surprised by the urge to touch. She hadn’t allowed herself an urge in – well, it was depressing to think about.

“Do you work here?” she asked to distract herself. Was that even the proper terminology?

His smile was lopsided, his teeth straight and white. “I’m here for the rodeo,” he acknowledged. “I’m Taylor Craig.”

He held out his hand, and looked at her like he expected that name to mean something. She merely slipped her hand into his. It was less squeeze than caress, his thumb riding over the back of her hand, his touch lingering as if he could learn something from the shape of her hand before sliding away, along her palm. All the while, those grey eyes focused on her. She’d read Victorian novels about women wearing gloves to avoid intimate contact with a man’s hand and had dismissed the idea as repressed. But now… Heat crept up her throat and her pale skin would advertise her reaction. She turned quickly back to her class but still couldn’t walk away. What was wrong with her?

“Lavender Prouty,” she murmured.

“Lavender? Unusual.”

“Yeah, that was my parents. Unusual.”

He still didn’t move away, and now she was nervous. What did he want, exactly?

“Do you ride?” She hadn’t made conversation with a cowboy before, had never wanted to. Heck, she hadn’t been to the rodeo in years, though it opened every weekend. “I mean, what event?”

His smile went back to half-mast, almost self-deprecating. “Steer wrestling, this week.”

She flicked her gaze to his. He had such gorgeous eyes. She dragged her thoughts back to the rodeo. Did cowboys ride in more than one event? Didn’t they specialize? “This week?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, well, last season I tried calf roping, this year team roping. Not my sport.”

“You still have the rope.” She nodded to the length he ran through his hands.

“Yeah, well, I don’t like anything to beat me, you know? I still practice.”

She perked up. Rarely had she met a man who admitted a weakness, especially a man this good-looking.

How long would he be able to keep those pretty teeth in the rodeo?

“So you like steer wrestling?” She considered his lean, muscular form. Those steer probably outweighed him three or four times. Heck, she probably outweighed him.

“Pretty well.”

“Are you any good?”

“I have decent timing.”

What did that mean? From the glint in his eyes, she got that he meant it to be a double entendre. She stepped back, unaccustomed to the unwavering attention of a handsome man.

Handsome boy. He had to be in his early twenties, and she was thirty-four. So why was he looking at her like he wanted to eat her up? Her blonde hair was flying every which way and she was wearing a boxy red T-shirt with the school’s bucking bronco logo. Admittedly her new jeans were cute, but that wasn’t enough to spark the look in his eyes.

“My kids are getting away from me,” she said breathlessly, backing away, unable to believe she’d left twenty five-year-olds with her room mother while she flirted. She’d never done anything so irresponsible on the job. Or otherwise.

He followed her slowly, both hands in his front pockets, clearly reveling in her nervousness. “Would they like to come meet my horse?”

They’d moved too close to her class when he said it, and the children overheard.

“We want to see the horse!”

“I love horses!”

“Miss Prouty, we want to see his horse.” This last was emphasized with a tug at the hem of her T-shirt.

Yeah, she was great with the discipline.

“Honestly, these are ranch kids for the most part,” she grumbled at him. “You’d think they’d never seen animals before. I thank you for your offer, but—”

“Oh, but my horse is special.” He turned his charm on her class when she edged away.

Okay, let him try. Other than that whole Santa Claus/Tooth Fairy thing, five-year-olds didn’t swallow BS easily.

Back in the safety of his comrades, Aaron issued the challenge with a lift of his chin. “Nuh-uh.”

Taylor Craig matched his stance, eyes alight with humor. “My horse is the smartest horse in the world.”

“No, it’s not,” Aaron retorted, and was echoed by his companions.

Taylor stretched out a hand. “I’ll bet you a dollar she is.”

“Deal.” Aaron thrust his hand upward and Taylor shook solemnly.

Okay, low voices, Levis, and guys who liked kids and animals. Those were her weaknesses when it came to men. Lavender tore her gaze away as Taylor straightened and looked at her.

“Let’s go, then.” He ambled ahead of the class, who followed, no herding needed.

Lavender exchanged a glance with Mrs. Mainka, who no doubt saw more than Lavender wanted her to, and they trailed behind the children.

Taylor shuffled to a halt in the stables in front of a breathtaking Palomino mare with a long silky mane and a wide white blaze.

“She’s beautiful,” Lavender said, stepping in front of her class, focused on the horse.

“I have a thing for blondes,” Taylor said.

The teasing lilt in his voice drew her attention and he winked at her. She blushed and turned away. Why was he flirting with her? Or was she misreading? It had been a long time since someone had flirted with her. “What’s her name?”

Taylor ran his hand down the side of the horse’s neck. Lavender followed the path with her gaze, the long, strong fingers soothing on the mare’s throat. Lavender swallowed, feeling the caress on her own skin. The mare tossed her head, shaking out her mane.

“Angelina.” He reached over the stall door to hook a rope on the horse’s bridle before he opened the door to lead her out onto the packed dirt aisle.

Mrs. Mainka guided the children along the stalls on the opposite side of the aisle, out of the way.

“She won’t step on them,” Taylor said. “She likes kids.”

“She’s not used to twenty at once. Sometimes
I
step on them.”

He chuckled. “You want to see her trick?” he asked the children.

“Yes!” The chorus echoed off the metal roof.

To her credit, Angelina only swiveled her ears, but didn’t flinch at the noise. Lavender met Taylor’s eyes and smiled. He grinned back, then turned to her class.

“I need a volunteer.” Without waiting for hands, he pointed to Esmi, one of Lavender’s favorites, a quiet girl with a long dark braid, glasses and a serious round face. “Here, honey, you want to give me a hand?”

Apparently his charm didn’t translate to five-year-old girls, because Esmi shrank away shyly. All the other students waved their hands wildly but Taylor wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Do you like horses, honey?”

Esmi shook her head and cowered against Lavender’s thigh. She rested her hand on Esmi’s shoulder.

“Esmi loves horses. Don’t you?” she urged the child.

“Esmi,” Taylor repeated. “I know she’s big.” He glanced over his shoulder at Angelina, whose ears pricked forward, her focus on Taylor. “But she’s the sweetest horse you’ll ever meet. She’d never hurt you. All you have to do is stand. She’ll do all the work. You want to try?” He held out a hand, his elbow resting on his knee, fingers tilted toward her, offering but not persuasive, so patient, reading the child so well.

Esmi put her hand in his. He straightened with a grin and led her to the horse. Angelina lowered her big head to inspect the girl curiously and Esmi scrambled back, tucking her arms against her chest. Taylor curved his hand over her shoulder and urged her forward for Angelina’s inspection. Angelina widened her nostrils, then lifted her head. Esmi shuddered but held her ground. Taylor waited a moment to ensure she’d stay put, then walked the few steps to Angelina’s head.

“Okay, I’m going to ask Angelina if you’re a boy or a girl. She’ll paw the ground twice if you’re a girl and once if you’re a boy. Got it?”

“Got it!” the class chorused.

Taylor released Angelina to rejoin Esmi. “Okay, Angelina. Is Esmi a boy or girl?”

Angelina lifted her front hoof and struck the packed earth twice. The children oohed. Esmi grinned and melted back into the class. Taylor beckoned to a boy, Michael, who took Esmi’s place, his finger in his mouth. So Taylor was good at noticing the shy ones. Lavender tried not to be impressed.

Angelina repeated her trick accurately four times before the class grew restless, attention wandering.

So Taylor crooked a finger at Lavender. She picked her way through the class, wary of his intention. He wrapped his fingers around her upper arm. She winced in embarrassment as his fingers sank into the softness of her flesh. Like he couldn’t tell from looking that she was a little on the fluffy side.

“Okay, Angelina,” he said when he had Lavender positioned where he wanted her. “Boy or girl?”

Angelina lifted her head and whinnied. The children screeched and covered their ears, like they weren’t louder.

Taylor laughed. “See? She said, ‘Woman.’”

Lavender laughed, too. It had indeed sounded like Angelina had said “Woman.” How often did he use that trick to pick up girls?

She patted the side of Angelina’s neck. “Okay, children, we need to let Mr. Craig get back to whatever he needs to do to get ready for the rodeo. Tell him thank you.”

The children did, then she did, quietly, not meeting his gaze, though she wanted to. He didn’t move when she walked away—she was very aware of that—but didn’t look back to see if he was watching her.

“Miss Prouty.”

Now she had to turn back or appear rude.

“I hear Busbee’s barbecue is pretty good. Any truth to that?”

She smiled. “Not that there are a lot of choices around here, but yeah, it’s pretty good.”

“So what time is school out?” He nodded toward her retreating class.

“What?” He couldn’t be asking…could he? She certainly couldn’t answer the way she wanted.