Thrown: Studs in Spurs, Book 6 (13 page)

“Okay. You’re right. That’ll be fine.” And Skeeter would be there too whenever he could be. Every moment his mom didn’t need him or he wasn’t riding in an event. Which brought up the issue he’d have to deal with today when he got home. He had to make sure his mother would be okay with him leaving so soon. Only days after he’d gotten home.

“I’m gonna run, but I’ll call you when we have an exact ETA.”

“All right. Bye.” Skeeter disconnected but didn’t put down the phone. He scrolled through his numbers and hit the one for home.

“Hey, baby. You on your way?”

“Yeah. I left Butch’s place a little while ago.” Though he supposed he should start calling it Riley’s place—at least for as long as she could continue to hold onto it.

“How’s that poor girl doing?”

“Not so great, Mom.”

“Aw, I hate to hear that. I wish there was something I could do for her. You going out to see her again? Maybe I could bake something.”

He envisioned the table overloaded with cakes and cookies. It must be the kneejerk reaction of women everywhere to bake when something bad happened. “Actually, there’s something that will help her more.”

“What’s that, baby?”

“I know I just got home a few days ago and you were hoping for me to be around for a while—”

“I’m hoping for you to get yourself back on that tour, because I know what it means to you.”

He smiled. “I know. Thank you. I’m doing my best. But anyway, do you think you would mind very much if I headed back to her place tomorrow morning and stayed there for a bit? The guys are all going too. We’re going to help her out around the ranch since she doesn’t have enough help. And we figure we can maybe get some time in on the bulls while we’re there.”

“I think that’s a real nice thing to do, helping that girl out. Y’all are good boys.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I’m not home with you?”

“Son, I love you more than anything, but I can manage on my own while you’re gone. I’ve done it for a very long time now.”

“I know. But you shouldn’t have to manage on your own.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m working on that.”

“What?” He nearly choked. “What’s that mean?”

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with. Are you hungry? Should I make something for when you get here?”

After his mother’s cryptic hinting that something was going on in her personal life, food was the last thing on Skeeter’s mind. What the hell?

How could he think about food now? “Um, I don’t know. I had a little something at her place.”

When it rained, it poured. And it seemed Skeeter was in the midst of a deluge at the moment. Was there anything else the good Lord could throw at him right now? Skeeter hoped not. He wasn’t sure he was up to the challenge.

“You can decide when you get here.”

“Okay. Should be in about twenty minutes, I guess.”

“All right. See you soon. Love ya.”

“Love ya too.”

She disconnected and it took Skeeter a second to realize he was still holding the phone in his hand. He tossed it into the console as his brain reeled. His mom had sounded a little too chipper considering he’d just told her he’d be leaving again in the morning. That seemed more than strange. He knew she could handle things on her own, but she shouldn’t enjoy it so much. She’d always been sad when he’d left before.

Something was definitely up. But for now, he needed to text Riley as soon as he got home and tell her when they’d be there tomorrow. Pack a bag, kiss his mom…and not think about what she was up to that she was so happy to have him gone.

Riley felt a bead of sweat roll down her chest and between her boobs as she wrestled with the very big and much too old air conditioner.

It still worked all right, but it was way too big for one person to handle alone. They probably should have thrown it out years ago instead of stashing it away in the attic since the new window units they had downstairs in the bedrooms were half this size and worked twice as well. As it turned out, it was good they hadn’t gotten rid of it because it was going to be put to good use now. But she sure needed more strength, or at least another few inches of length in her arms to hoist it from the floor and into the open window.

She managed to lift it, but holding it up and maneuvering it into position was proving a challenge, if not impossible. It slipped from her sweaty grasp and she had to scramble to catch it between her thigh and the windowsill. “Crap.”

“Riley? What are you doing?” Skeeter’s voice startled her into a jump. The A/C slipped farther down the wall as she held on with just her fingertips and one leg, which was likely going to be bruised by tomorrow.

“Putting…this in.” She struggled to talk and keep the unit from falling at the same time. He was beside her in seconds, taking the weight from her hands. Once she was relieved of her burden, she asked, “When did you get here? I didn’t hear you come in.”

Skeeter set the unit in the open window and she jumped to slide the sash down to hold the heavy machine in place. He gave the window another push down after she did and when he seemed satisfied it would hold the monster machine and keep it from falling out, he turned to her.

He looked a bit guilty as he cringed. “Yeah, I’m sorry I snuck up on you like that and scared you. I knocked for like five minutes, but when you didn’t answer I got worried. The door was unlocked so I came in. I heard all this noise upstairs so I ran right up. What the heck are you doing up here?”

“When you texted last night that you’d be here with the guys today, I wanted to clean up so you could sleep up here tonight. But it got so hot, I decided to put the air conditioner in to cool the room off while I worked.”

“You should have waited for one of us to get here. And you shouldn’t have to clean for us. We could have done it.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t mind. It helps to keep busy.”

Being occupied in the long-neglected attic was far preferable to the other chore she couldn’t face but knew she’d have to one day—cleaning out her father’s room. She couldn’t bring herself to paw through his stuff. Not yet anyway. Making the decisions of what to keep, what to toss and what to donate seemed beyond her at the moment. When choosing between the two tasks, the sweltering and dirty work in the attic had won, hands down.

Skeeter’s gaze met and held hers. “All right. Well, I’m here now.”

She was lost in his eyes, torn between being embarrassed at the closeness and wanting to step even closer as he reached out and swiped a thumb across her cheek. It wasn’t until then—when he wiped the dirt from her face and then rubbed his two fingers together, smiling—that she realized how close they were standing and what a horrible sight she must be.

Her heart raced at his touch. As hot and sweaty and dirty as she was, the one thing she really wanted to do was reach up and press her lips to his. Have him wrap his arms around her until all the pain and fear went away. Do things with him she’d never done or wanted to do with any other guy.

The moment seemed to stretch on until he broke eye contact to glance around them. “So what can I do to help?”

Besides hold her and make the world go away?

“Plug that thing in for starters.” She tipped her head toward the air conditioner and tried not to sound breathless.

“Sure thing.” He bent to grab the cord dangling down the wall. He shoved the plug into the outlet below the window, straightened and punched the ON button.

The unit sprung to life with a loud rumble before it settled into a slow, steady chug as a burst of cool air came toward them. “Glad it still works.”

He let out a laugh. “No kidding. Me too. It’s a hot one out there today.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” It seemed ridiculous, but meaningless small talk was all she could come up with.

She pulled at the shirt that was starting to adhere to the skin of her chest. So much for looking pretty in front of him. That was out of the question today when even the weight of her braid resting on her back seemed to make her hotter. She glanced up to find him watching her, probably waiting for her to direct him what to do next. She wasn’t used to giving orders. But now that she was the owner of the ranch and a half a dozen men were coming to help her work, she’d better get used to it.

The work could wait five minutes while they cooled off and she got her heart under control. “You want some sweet tea or lemonade before we get started? Or cake? I seem to have lots of that left over.”

“That’s not a surprise.” He reached out and wrapped one hand around her arm. “Hey, you doing okay?”

The sting of tears pricked behind her eyes. Riley yanked her gaze up and stared at the ceiling, trying to blink the moisture away before she looked back to him. “Skeeter Anderson, you have to stop being so nice to me.”

He frowned. “Why?”

Honesty seemed the only path here after her crazy outburst of a request. “Because it makes me cry.”

“Oh.” He dropped his hand from her arm. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She let out a short laugh. “I know you can’t help it. I’m afraid I’ll just have to get used to crying because I don’t think you have it in you to be anything but nice.”

He wobbled his head to one side and back. “Yeah, well, you might be surprised.”

God, how she’d love for him to be
not nice
with her. To be downright naughty, in fact. That thought had her both excited and shocked at herself. Her father had just been buried yesterday and here she was imagining the bad things she’d like to do with Skeeter. Things her father would never ever have allowed or approved of if he’d still been around. The very things Pastor Porter was worried about her doing.

She swallowed hard and wrestled her thoughts back to the reality of the present. “So, tea or lemonade? I’ve got both.”

“Whichever is fine. While you go get it, I’ll start moving those boxes.”

“Okay.” Riley nodded and turned to leave.

“Riley?”

She turned back when Skeeter said her name. “Yeah?”

“Don’t carry anything back up those stairs heavier than two glasses without calling me, okay?” His brows rose and his tone was heavy with equal doses of humor and no-nonsense warning.

Her cheeks heated. How could he be so sweet and so damn hot at the same time? It was a tantalizing combination that had her heart thundering as she said, “Okay. Promise.”

As she trotted down the stairs, she had to wonder when Mustang and Slade and their girls would arrive, because being alone with Skeeter was as tempting as it was disconcerting.

Chapter Ten

“Mustang, seriously? The barrel?” Skeeter’s gaze shot to the house to make sure Riley wasn’t coming outside to hear this embarrassing conversation. Thankfully, she was still inside with Jenna and Sage fixing supper.

“Yeah, the barrel. What? You too damn good for the barrel? You don’t need to work on your spurring? I got video of your last nine buck offs on the circuit to prove otherwise. Need me to pull it up on YouTube for ya?”

The fact was, since his last nine buck offs had been televised, the whole damn world had seen his defeat in living color. That those moments would live forever on YouTube was just an unlucky bonus. “No. You don’t have to pull it up.”

“Actually—” Slade stepped forward, “—I think we should. Maybe watching those rides will help us figure out what’s wrong with you. Then we can work on correcting it.”

Maybe there wasn’t anything wrong with him. Maybe it was just bad luck. Luck of the draw, as the old saying goes. He’d drawn rank bulls for those events. Bulls that were impossible to ride for anyone. He could still hang on for eight. Hadn’t he just proven that when he took first place in Tupelo?

Deep down, Skeeter knew Slade and Mustang were right. Those bulls in Tupelo hadn’t been anything near the bulls in the series he used to ride for and he did need to work on his skills. It still didn’t make it any easier to swallow. “Fine. Whatever. Want me to ride the barrel first? Or watch the damn videos first?”

Mustang grinned. “You got the choir boy here to cuss, Slade. That’s quite an accomplishment.”

“You ain’t hardly kidding. I didn’t think squeaky clean here had even a
damn
in him.” Slade tipped his head in Skeeter’s direction. “Guess I was wrong.”

“Hey, I cuss…just not in front of ladies. Or, you know, older folks.” Skeeter scowled.

Maybe inviting Slade and Mustang hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

But like it or not, he needed their help, both with his riding and with Riley’s bulls. Mustang had worked on a bull ranch back in the day. It was where he’d learned to ride. He’d be a big help with the animals. And though Slade wasn’t as experienced in the care of bulls, another strong pair of hands was always welcome, even if it just was to scrub and refill the water tanks.

Riley needed the help and in exchange, Skeeter would just have to deal with the guys razzing him. About his riding. About his cussing. Whatever. He’d deal with it.

“I say we work on your spurring on the barrel first. Videos we can watch later after it’s too dark to work outside.”

That idea, Skeeter couldn’t get onboard with. “You wanna watch the videos inside? With everybody sitting around with us?”