The Bull Rider's Homecoming (11 page)

“I guess I'm just asking you not to shut me out, Annie. Circumstances aren't right at this point in time, but...” He shrugged.

“Someday you won't be riding bulls and someday my girls will be grown?”

Another shrug, but he held her eyes, his expression serious.

She glanced down at the cherries again before once again meeting his gaze. “Even if you don't ride bulls, could you settle for such a different life, a life like mine?” Because ultimately, that would be what she was looking for.

“I guess that's what I need to find out.”

“I won't be your guinea pig in that regard, Trace. Not while the girls are young.” He started to speak, but she cut him off, weary of a battle with herself she wasn't going to win. “But...I'll be your friend.”

“My friend.”

“Without benefits. A friend. Period.”

“All right.”

“With no talk of being tempting or tempted.” Because setting strong boundaries was the only way she could spend time with this man—and, yes, she still wanted to spend time with him. The thought of never seeing him again killed her. Someday he
would
stop bull riding, and someday her girls wouldn't need her as much as they did now. And maybe then...

Trace's hand tightened over hers, and then he pulled his fingers away as if sealing the no-temptation deal. “I can accept that. I want to be your friend, if that's all I can be.” The
now
went unspoken, but Annie's breath still caught a little.

“What is it you want out of this...friendship?” Annie asked. Because she had to.

“I just want you to feel free to call on me if you need help. Maybe we can share a few meals. Ride in the mountains again. Just do some stuff before I leave.”

“When will that be?” Because the last time she'd talked to Grady, he fully intended to stay on the road until the end of May, driving to as many events as distance allowed and flying to the others. Lex was talking about starting a family and she wanted to see all of the country she could before settling down.

“I have an event at the end of May. I won't have a lot of practice rides before then, but I figure kinetic memory will see me through.”

“You'll be healed?”

“I'm not pushing things.”

“You should share that helpful hint with my brother.”

Trace smiled a little. “Wouldn't do any good.” He shifted his weight in the chair. “I'm still a little shaky on dealing with kids, but I like spending time with your family, Annie. I'm glad I can still do that.”

Annie propped an elbow on the table and rested her forehead in her hand. She was starting to fade. “You don't find kids as intimidating as before?”

“I'm feeling my way along. I'd like to be more...confident, I guess. I never know if they get what I'm saying, you know?”

“I know.” That was simply a matter of practice, of learning to read signs and checking for understanding. Things that were second nature to her now that hadn't been before she'd had kids. “Anything else I should know?”

“I have no idea what I'm doing here, Annie, but I don't like kicking around that big old farmhouse while wondering what you and the kids are doing.”

Hell of an admission, that.

“So you make us stew.”

“So I make you stew.”

Annie's lips tilted up for the first time since Trace had walked in the door. “You think the friendship thing will work?”

“I want to try.”

“In that case, how do you feel about butterfly costumes and rusty wheelbarrows?”

Chapter Eleven

Glitter, as it turned out, was very tricky stuff. When he stopped by the next evening after visiting the practice pen, Annie was back on her feet and experimenting with pieces of lightweight fabric and glitter paint trying to make sparkly wings. Unfortunately, the sparkly gunk weighted down the scarves to the point that they didn't flutter. Instead they stuck to the twins as they twirled and swirled in circles in the living room.

“Do they have to be glittery?” Trace asked, earning himself stern looks from the girls. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“I think Trace is right,” Annie said. “I know you wanted glitter, but you also want to be fluttery like a real butterfly, right?”

“Yes,” Katie said.

“But we want to sparkle, too,” Kristen added in a stubborn voice.

“Here's the thing,” Annie said, reaching out to take each of the girls' hands in her own and pulling them down next to her. “Sometimes in life you can't have two things that you want. They cancel each other out. You have to choose one or the other. So—” she looked at each twin in turn “—do you want to sparkle? Or do you want to flutter?”

“Can we think about it?”

Annie gave a solemn nod and Trace wondered if Annie was aware of the irony of the lecture she'd just given. He wasn't concerned with sparkling or fluttering, but he did seem to want two things that canceled each other out.

“Does this excuse me from butterfly duty?” Trace asked.

Annie gave him a wry look. “The glitter part. I still have to make fifteen antennae.” She waved her hand at a box of hair bands, pipe cleaners and puff balls.”

Trace's eyebrows lifted. This parent business had some interesting side roads. “Can you dilute that glitter paint with water or something and brush it on?”

“Hey,” Annie said. “Good idea.” She picked up the paint and hauled it toward the bathroom. “My kitchen faucet conked out. Has a leak, so I'm not using it.”

“When are you fixing it?”

“Tomorrow. But the dishwasher works, so I'm in decent shape.”

“Old houses are an adventure, aren't they?” He liked this. The give and take of conversation with no agenda. Just talking and being. He'd never done a lot of this before, except with Ernest and Josie, but he'd always felt as if they were always on the lookout for a teachable moment. This was just talk.

“Oh, so you know about old houses?” Annie came out of the bathroom with a small paper cup of water and then walked into the kitchen where her fabric scraps were still on the table. She squeezed some glitter glue onto a small plate, then slowly stirred water into it.

“Lived in a few,” he said, sitting at the table next to her. Annie nodded at the brush just out of reach and he handed it to her, taking care not to brush his fingers against hers. She'd said no touching, no being tempted. He could control no touching.

“This might work.” She brushed the glitter over the cloth then spread it out to dry.

“And then the girls will have two things that should have canceled each other out but didn't.”

Annie looked up to frown at him, but she made no reply. The timer dinged and she pushed out of her chair.

“By the way, thanks so much for the stew.” Annie pulled a pan of lasagna out of the oven and set it on top of a metal rack. “I took the last of it for lunch today. It certainly beat a sandwich.” And she was certainly guiding the conversation back to safe topics. She went to the fridge to take out a salad, which she put on the counter. “Tell me about your old houses.”

Trace glanced down at the table briefly, then decided to give her the full story. Why not?

“While she was still alive, we lived in Reno. Mom worked in a casino until she got too sick to go to work. The old houses I lived in weren't very nice. The better ones were cut up into apartments. The other ones...like I said, not so nice.” But at least he hadn't been on the streets, like some kids he knew.

A sympathetic expression formed on Annie's face. “And when your mom died, you went to live with your dad?”

“Yeah. He passed away just a few months ago. Right before my surgery.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you. But honestly? We weren't that close.”

“I kind of guess that when you called him a distant relative.”

“It wasn't an easy situation. He and my mom hadn't been together that long when she got pregnant with me.” He drummed his fingers, then stopped. “And we never were able to work through the awkwardness. I was actually closer to his neighbor, Ernest. He's the guy who got me into bull riding. My dad just wanted me gone. I didn't fit into his life. He had legitimate sons to focus on.”

“Trace...that's horrible.”

“I've made my peace.”

“Have you?”

He stood and crossed to where she stood. He wanted to put his hands on her shoulders, but he'd promised no touching. “Yeah. I have.” She studied him for a long moment, a slight frown marring her smooth forehead. “It was either make peace or go crazy.”

“Yet this is all tied to your bull-riding career, isn't it?”

“It's made me who I am today. And I don't mean that in a bad way.” Because somehow saying those words made him feel like he was admitting to being damaged. He wasn't. He'd gone through some hell in his life, but he'd learned to deal. He'd found an outlet for his frustrations in bull riding and for that he'd be forever grateful.

“How about your parents?” he asked. “Where are they?” He and Grady had never discussed their families, probably because Trace didn't have one.

Annie turned back to the cupboards and pulled out a drawer. Silverware rattled and she chose the pieces she wanted. “Dad was a trucker. He passed away while we were in high school. My mom remarried to a really nice guy, but unfortunately got uterine cancer and they didn't find it until it was too late.”

“That sucks.”

“I was lost for a while. Hooked up with Wes—” she gave him a sideways look “—the twins' father, for security. It didn't work out to be all that secure. I got pregnant. He got scared.” She brushed her hair back. “I'm glad. I'd rather raise the girls alone. He turned out to be kind of a weak character.”

“Did he make promises he didn't keep?”

It took Annie a moment to say, “Yes. He did. Big ones.”

That was what Trace was trying so very hard not to do. He wanted to spend time with Annie while he could, but he didn't want to make promises he couldn't keep.

It kind of felt like he wanted the impossible.

* * *

T
HE
NEXT
DAY
when Trace got to practice, the life-size Hayward twins, Jess and Tyler, were there. Trace knew Tyler from the circuit, but he'd never met Jess, who only rode part-time.

“Good to see you,” Tyler said, clapping Trace on the arm.

“You, too,” Trace said, idly wondering what Tyler would think about his tiny counterpart wearing pajamas, while his twin wore the championship buckle. In real life, Tyler wore the buckle. Trace indicated Tyler's knee brace with a jerk of his chin. “Are you out for a while?”

“Just home to visit the family. Hitting the road tomorrow.”

“I'm the family.” Jess offered a hand.

“I feel like I know you,” Trace said. The twins were truly identical, except for the small scar on Tyler's chin.

“I get that a lot.” Jess smiled easily and Trace fell into step with him as the group ambled toward the arena.

“I hear you're the responsible one. Full-time job and all that.”

Jess quirked up a corner of his mouth. “Pretty much, although my full-time job doesn't pay what Ty's been bringing home lately.” He shook his head. “But I can't afford to quit yet.”

“It's a big decision.” And if Jess waited too long, he'd be too old to ride. But every guy had to make his own career decisions and apparently Jess was all about playing it safe, while Tyler took the chances. Just the opposite of the way they behaved in Katie and Kristen's rodeo game—which Trace was fairly certain he'd be playing that evening.

“When do you go back?” Jess asked.

“Soon. I should get my release soon.” And then he'd make up for lost time. He was so looking forward to reestablishing himself.

When practice started, Jess rode and Tyler watched, studying his brother's performance with a critical eye, although there wasn't much to criticize. Jess was a natural talent, just like his brother.

“I wish I could get him out on the road with me,” Tyler muttered.

Trace gave a nod. “He's good.”

“And cautious.” Tyler glanced over at Trace. “Not in the arena. In life.”

“And you're not.”

It was a statement not a question and Tyler gave Trace a what-can-I-say shrug.

Indeed. What could he say? Trace liked his matter-of-fact acceptance of himself. He felt the same way. He was what he was and did what he had to do. And he was up front about it, which was why he felt comfortable spending time with Annie. Being her friend. And if sometimes his thoughts strayed in a direction that was more than friendly...well, he was leaving soon and she never needed to know.

* * *

A
NNIE
HAD
BARELY
gotten home when Trace stopped by her house after spending a couple of hours at Hennessey's. He offered to help her prep for supper, but she declined, so he settled in for a rousing game of rodeo while Annie tended to other business around the house. The girls very much wanted him to let Jess get bucked off into the sink again, but Trace whispered to them that it was never a good idea to upset the cook—in this case their mother, who'd worked all day and was still on her feet. He wanted to help her cook, but realized that entertaining the girls was as big a help as peeling potatoes would have been. It was also a lot more fun.

“Felicity and the dogs are going to be jealous that I'm eating here with you guys instead of with them,” Trace teased.

“They could come here.”

“And knock all the rodeo stuff around?” Trace asked.

Kristen gave a thoughtful nod. “Lex calls Dave a terror.”

Dave the terrier was a terror. A lovable one, but a terror all the same.

“You know what?” Katie asked as she put her doll onto the plastic horse in preparation for a barrel run around two cans of spinach and a can of creamed corn.

“What?” Trace asked.

“Well,” she said, pressing her lips together momentarily. “When Uncle Grady gets back, we can all play rodeo. He can be Jess and you can be Tyler and we'll be us.”

“That sounds great,” he said as Annie glanced over at him.

“You know that Uncle Grady cheats at rodeo,” Kristen said to Katie as if Grady were a lost cause. “Every. Single. Time.”

“How does he cheat?” Trace asked.

“He loses the bull right after his guy rides it. It escapes and we don't find it until it's time to put the stuff away.”

“So his guy wins every time?”

“That's why Jess has a buckle and Tyler wears pajamas.”

“I see.” The championship buckle and the loser pajamas. He might have to pass that idea along.

Annie turned back to her cooking and Trace briefly let his gaze slide down to her shapely backside.

“Are you ready?” Katie demanded.

He got his phone out and set it on the floor and then brought up the timer. “Totally ready.”

After Katie's stellar barrel run, Kristen had hers. Then Tyler and Jess both rode the bull and Trace made certain Tyler won so that he didn't have to always wear the pajamas.

“Now we have to make him a buckle,” Katie said.

“Can't he wear this one?” Trace asked, pointing at the aluminum foil buckle on Jess's small belt.

Kristen cocked her head at him. “Do you share your buckles?”

“Uh...no.”

She shrugged as if the matter was settled and then Annie told them it was time to set the table. The rodeo was over.

* * *

T
RACE
DIDN
'
T
STOP
by every night, and he always called before he arrived, to make certain he wasn't encroaching on family time, but the truth of the matter was that the more time he spent at Annie's house, the more he kind of felt like family. He helped her with butterfly costumes one night, and tackled the cranky water main the next so that she could install her new faucet. After that she didn't see him for a few days, then he'd invited the girls to ride and they'd had a nice outing before the rain drove them back to Lex's house. Once there, they'd made instant hot chocolate and sat around Lex's propane fireplace, drinking cocoa and then watching the girls show off the steps to the butterfly dance they were learning. It was three weeks until the big play—an eternity! The classes only got to practice a few minutes a day now, but later they'd get a dress 'hearsal and everything!

Trace walked Annie and the girls to their car after the rain had stopped and while the girls jumped puddles, he and Annie sauntered to a stop near her car. And Annie wanted to touch Trace. Wanted to reach out and run her hand over his tightly muscled arms, let the other hand smooth over his hard abdomen. It must have shown in her face because when she met Trace's eyes, she saw her needs reflected there.

This was the part where she needed to stand strong. If she didn't, it would screw everything up. Since her accidental pregnancy, she'd been nuts about controlling her life, but this was a case where she couldn't control her life, but she could control her actions. And even though she'd never, ever admit it—at this point, anyway—and despite everything she'd told Trace when they'd hammered out this friendship-only deal while sitting at her kitchen table—she felt a small glimmer of hope. Hope that maybe this friendship might grow into something more. Eventually. But it could only do that if Trace came to the conclusion that he could stay in one place. That he didn't need the road as much as he might need some stability.