The Cowboy And The Cop. Christine Wenger
her mind.
I have a million things to do back home.
Maybe she should just let the three Beaumont brothers find out on their own that they were going to lose the ranch that had been in their family for generations, but she just couldn’t do that to the brothers, not even Luke, no matter how much she disliked him. Besides, their town would suffer the most, since the Beaumont Ranch employed many of the locals...or at least it used to.
Not anymore. Not in its present state.
Luke barely looked up at her when Amber finally stood in front of him. Robotically he slid over a glossy eight-by-ten picture of himself.
“Who would you like me to sign it to?” he said, a black felt-tip pen poised over a large photo of him riding a huge bull.
“Sergeant Amber Chapman of Beaumont, Oklahoma, but actually you can skip the autograph and the photo.”
Luke looked up from his place at the long table of bull riders signing and posing for pictures with their fans.
He grinned. “Amber? Amber Chapman. Hey, it’s been a long time. I didn’t know you were a fan.”
She had forgotten that he had the brightest blue eyes—more like turquoise. The lights of the arena made them even bluer.
Amber noticed, of course, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t there to look at his eyes or at how his muscles stretched out his chambray shirt, or how good he smelled. Like leather and pine.
She refocused on the task at hand. Placing her hands on the table, Amber leaned over so only he could hear.
“There’re a couple of things I need to make you aware of, Luke, but I’m not going to go into them now. There are too many people within hearing distance, and you have a long line waiting. What I have to say is for your ears only. You can fill your brothers in later.”
She looked down the long parade of tables. She spotted the other two Beaumonts: Reed and Jesse, Luke’s younger brothers.
Amber whispered, “I saw a bar across the street from the stadium. It’s called the Silver Spur. I’ll meet you there. And, by the way, I’m not a fan of yours.”
Okay, that was a lie. He was a good rider who’d probably win the Finals. Besides, he was a hometown celebrity and that brought a lot of attention to the town of Beaumont.
“And here I was hoping you waited in line for my autograph and a selfie.” Luke grinned. “Are you still mad at me over the senior prom?”
Yeah, she was still mad at him. It seemed ridiculous to hold a grudge for so long, but there was only one senior prom in her lifetime, and it had been the worst night of her life.
“I’m not here to talk about that, and don’t flatter yourself, Luke. I’m not one of your groupies.” She rolled her eyes. “And why would you think I was?”
“Because you had to drive here from Beaumont. Let’s see...Beaumont to Oklahoma City...that’s more than a three-hour drive.”
“I like to drive. I like bull riding in general.”
“But you still haven’t forgiven me, huh?”
“Not particularly. How am I supposed to forgive you when you ruined one of the most important events of senior year by getting my date drunk and sending him home in a taxi?”
“He was a jerk.”
“He was my date. Maybe someone should have had the courtesy of telling me where he was.”
“I should have told you right away. I admit it. Can we just forget about it?”
“I suppose it was a long time ago. I can think about forgiving you.”
He raised a perfect black eyebrow. “Well, at least you asked me out to a bar. That’s a start.”
Amber gritted her teeth. “I need to talk to you, that’s all. No more.”
“It must be really important.”
“Of course it’s important. Or why would I have driven all this way? Oh, and by the way, when the Beaumonts are champions of our hometown again, Luke, then you can autograph a picture for me and we can take a selfie. Just meet me after this circus so we can talk.”
* * *
LUKE BEAUMONT SCANNED the packed bar for Amber. It seemed that the entire arena had emptied out and gathered into a two-thousand-square-foot building. People were packed elbow to elbow; most sported denim and clutched a beer in their hand.
The dance floor was equally full. Patrons were dancing in between tables, some on the tables.
The Silver Spur wasn’t the quiet spot that Amber wanted.
Suddenly applause started—low at first then it picked up steam. Everyone turned to look at him. Cheers resounded through the room.
“Yeah, Luke!”
“Congratulations, Luke!”
“Yeehaw!”
He didn’t particularly like the attention. Yes, he’d won the PBR event tonight, but there were a lot of other bull riders who deserved applause for great rides. He’d just got lucky.
Luke tipped his hat to the crowd and they went back to what they’d been doing. No one approached him for autographs or selfies, but a waitress came over with a frosty longneck and a stack of bar tokens toward drinks.
Sweet.
Finally he saw Amber waving to him.
The crowd parted as he zigzagged toward her, but he had to run a gauntlet of handshakes, backslaps and flirty smiles along with pieces of paper slipped into his shirt pocket. Phone numbers.
He’d never called one of the numbers given to him. Never.
He tipped his hat to Amber, slid into a chair opposite her and pulled out his stack of tokens. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“I’ll have a ginger ale. I have to drive home tonight.”
All he had to do was hold up his hand and a waitress was at his side.
“A ginger ale for the lady and I’ll take another one of these.” He pointed to his bottle.
While he waited for Amber to tell him what was on her mind, he leaned back on his chair and wondered why she looked so different to him. He’d seen her around town occasionally, but he’d never really looked at her. She was just there, like most of Beaumont. He knew just about everyone casually and had gone to school with a good chunk of the population—after all it was a small town—but he didn’t really know Amber.
He’d seen her in a sheriff’s uniform once and that had surprised him. Her father and brothers weren’t exactly pillars of the community. They tried just about every get-rich-quick scheme known to mankind, and their junkyard was known for hot car parts. And their moonshine...well, when the word got around that a new batch was ready, there was usually a line at the junkyard’s back door.
Their drinks were delivered along with more tokens. Still, he waited for her to tell him what was on her mind.
After the waitress left, Amber crossed her arms and leaned toward him. Her usually full lips were clasped together in a thin, white line, but her eyes were the greenest of green, like emeralds. Her shoulder-length hair had various shades of blond, and she wasn’t loaded with makeup, but those emerald eyes began to narrow.
This wasn’t going to be good.
“Luke, have you been home lately?”
“If you follow the PBR, you know I haven’t. Every weekend, there’s another event. I’m on the tour and close to winning the season. If you’re worried about us seeing my father, we got him a cell phone and call him a lot. He knows that I can’t be around much. The same with my brothers.”
“Isn’t