A Bull Rider's Pride. Amanda Renee
like roping or steer wrestling. At least it’s safer. It terrifies me that this place is connected to a rodeo school. Haven’t you heard one word the doctors have told you?”
“They don’t know my body the way I do. I’m a bull rider. It’s who I am. I need to compete in two events to qualify in the All-Around Cowboy category. That’s where the money is. I’ve always competed in roughstock and I’m not changing now. Even if I wanted to, it’s not like changing your shoes. We spend a lifetime training for our events.” He raked his fingers through his hair, wishing he had his Stetson. He made a mental note to remind his father to bring it during his next visit. He felt vulnerable enough in his wheelchair—he hated feeling naked without his hat.
“I’d say they know your body better than you after all those surgeries,” Alice hissed. “How many was it?”
“That’s beside the point.” Brady backed away from the table. “Thank you for breakfast, but I have to get to therapy.”
For a moment, she appeared as if she might continue their argument. “I thought maybe Gunner and I could hang around here today. He really misses you, Brady. You’re not in therapy all day, are you?”
“No, I’m not. I get numerous breaks throughout the day. I miss him too, but please do me a favor—keep him away from my physical therapy. I don’t want him to see me like that.”
“I don’t understand what the big d—”
“I asked you nicely.” Alice’s relentless persistence was one of the many reasons why they weren’t romantically involved. Everything was always an argument. “I want to spend time with Gunner and I’m fine with you staying the day, but please respect me enough to do this.”
“Brady?” Sheila called out to him from the sidewalk leading to the picnic tables. “Is that your son climbing through the fence?”
Brady looked toward the corral and saw Gunner already had a leg and shoulder over the bottom rail. He stood to chase after him before his body had a chance to remind him otherwise. Dammit! He grabbed hold of the picnic table to prevent himself from falling completely forward. Sheila rushed to his side as Alice ran across the grass and pulled their son back through the fence. Gunner hadn’t been in any imminent danger, but Brady’s first instinct was to save him—and he couldn’t. If Gunner got into trouble, he wouldn’t be able to help him. That was unacceptable, and another reason to push himself.
“Are you all right?” Sheila asked, guiding him into his chair.
Brady attempted to shrug her off to no avail. Great, now I have two persistent women in my life. “I’m fine. Please let me do this on my own.”
Sheila stepped to the side when Alice returned with Gunner. “He still doesn’t understand that he can’t pet every horse he sees.” Gunner squirmed in her arms. “I’m Alice,” she said to Sheila.
“I’m Dr. Lindstrom, but you can call me Sheila.”
“I’d shake your hand but—” Alice struggled to keep a grip on Gunner. “He needs a nap.”
“You can take him to my cottage,” Brady ground out. “I’ll come find you after hippotherapy.”
“It was nice meeting you,” Alice said to Sheila before carrying Gunner away.
He inhaled deeply. Sheila’s scent hung like freshly laundered linens in the thick summer heat. He’d waited three days to gaze into her silver eyes, but now he couldn’t look at her. Not after almost face-planting into the picnic table because he was too weak to chase after his son.
“I’m late for therapy,” Brady said to Sheila, wheeling his chair onto the sidewalk.
“Do you feel pain anywhere?” Sheila walked alongside him. He appreciated her concern, but his embarrassment made him want to hide in his cottage with Gunner.
“Just my ego.” Brady stopped at the entrance to the hippotherapy center. “The kindest thing you can do is walk away and give me a chance to regroup.”
Brady didn’t even have to look. He sensed when she stepped away. Confident she wouldn’t follow him into the building, he pressed the automatic door button and wheeled into the cool corridor. As much as he preferred his hippotherapy outdoors, he wouldn’t have to worry about Alice and Gunner watching him in the indoor arena. His therapy consisted of more than just riding horses. Walking and stair-climbing was a huge part of his morning routine and it could be excruciating. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate with them there. It would serve only to reaffirm Alice’s opinions on bull riding, and it might scare Gunner to see him in that kind of pain. No thank you. There were some things a man needed to do alone. This was one of them.
* * *
WELL, THAT WAS AWKWARD. Sheila hadn’t expected to meet Gunner’s mother this morning. She hadn’t really given the woman much thought until she’d been face-to-face with her. She was attractive. She had huge blue eyes and glossy straight shoulder-length dark brown hair with bangs. Petite, but not short, she was one of those narrow women. Narrow hips, narrow shoulders. The type that made surgery more difficult because it didn’t give her a lot of room to work with. She didn’t hope to operate on Alice—it was just the way her brain worked 99 percent of the time. She was perpetually in work mode...unless she was in the dark with Brady.
The chances of that ever happening again were zero, zilch, zip, wasn’t going to happen—couldn’t happen—and she needed to eliminate all thoughts of it. Therein lay the problem. She couldn’t get the idea out of her head. Even when she thought she had, he invaded her dreams.
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