This Kiss. Debbi Rawlins
him? That might have to take a few steps back to plan Z.
“Now, why are you sittin’ here drinkin’ alone, darlin’?” The same husky and very tipsy cowboy who’d offered her a beer earlier wove too close, nearly unseating the guy on her left.
She steadied Romeo with a brief hand on his shoulder. Boy, she sure didn’t need either of the men making a scene. “Are you here for the rodeo tomorrow?” she asked.
“You bet.”
“Fan or rider?”
He frowned, clearly affronted.
Sophie smiled, despite the wave of beer breath that reached her. “Better go easy on the booze if you’re competing.”
The younger cowboy sitting on the stool twisted around and grinned. “Yeah, Brady, you don’t wanna give those calves a leg up.”
Ah, they knew each other. Made sense, since they were both probably here for the rodeo. Sophie relaxed a bit, and while the two men traded barbs, she slid a glance at Ethan, who was still surrounded by women.
Oddly he didn’t seem all that interested in any of them. Not even the blondes. According to the articles and blogs she’d read earlier, his past three girlfriends had been blondes. Although it seemed he hadn’t stayed with any of them for more than a few months. Probably thought he was too hot for any one woman to handle. Or decided it was his duty to spread the hotness around.
The cowboy, whose name was apparently Brady and who continued to stand too close, said something she didn’t catch. Shifting her attention to him, she wondered if a well-placed knee could seem accidental. “Excuse me?”
He turned his head to look at Ethan. “Okay, now I see why you’re being so uppity. You’ve already got your sights set on Styles. Figures.” Lifting his beer, he mumbled, “Damn bull riders,” before taking a gulp.
Oh, crap. Was she being that obvious? “Who’s Styles?”
Brady frowned. “Are you kiddin’?”
She shook her head, the picture of innocence.
“See, Brady?” Grinning, the other cowboy elbowed him. “She’s not snubbing you ’cause you’re a calf roper. I bet she’s got a whole lot more reasons than that.”
Sophie ignored the troublemaker. “A calf roper?”
“That’s right, darlin’. You’re lookin’ at a two-time champ.”
“So you’re one of those guys who chases the poor little calves and then ties them up?”
Brady’s boastful grin slipped. “It’s all for sport, darlin’, don’t you understand?”
“No, I don’t. Not at all.” She faked a shudder. “I always feel so sorry for the calves.”
Even the guy sitting on the stool had shut up and swiveled around to face the other way. Brady just stared at her, then shook his head and walked off.
Sophie hid a smile behind a sip of tonic and turned back to Ethan. He was watching her. This time there was nothing vague about it. He gave her a slow smile and a small nod. She had no idea what that was supposed to mean. Other than she might need something stronger than tonic water.
Her nipples had tightened, and thank God the room was dim, because her entire body blushed. He couldn’t have overheard her taunting Brady, not from over twenty feet away and with all the noisy laughter competing with the jukebox. And no way did Ethan recognize her.
He’d been a senior the year she started at Wattsville High, so he hadn’t seen her in eleven years. She doubted he’d recognized her even once since the day he rescued her. How many times had she taken great pains to be in the perfect spot, like the cafeteria or near the boys’ locker room so he couldn’t miss her? Yet he did, and with unflattering consistency.
A fan stuck a piece of paper in his face and only then did he look away from her. Her heart hadn’t stopped pounding.
“Sophie?”
She jumped so hard she nearly knocked over the waitress’s loaded tray.
The woman moved back. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Sophie, right?”
What the hell? No one here knew her. She nodded.
“Sadie asked me to give you this,” she said, inclining her head at the bartender and passing Sophie a piece of paper. “It’s a name and phone number. She said you’re looking for a place to stay tonight?”
Ah. Sophie smiled. “Yes,” she said, accepting the paper. “Thank you.”
“It’s a long shot. The Meyers have probably rented out their spare rooms by now. But Kalispell is only a forty-five-minute drive from here.” The waitress was already pushing through the crowd. “Good luck.”
Sophie sighed. She thought she was so smart, but she stank at this covert stuff. Using her real name had been a stupid rookie move. No matter how doubtful it was that Ethan remembered her.
She studied the scribbled phone number, then glanced at Ethan. Fortunately he was too busy being mobbed to pay her any more attention. Both he and the man with him gave her the impression they’d bolt as soon as possible. She’d be a fool to let Ethan out of her sight, but it was too noisy to make a call in the bar. She’d have to step outside and just stay close to the door.
If she were to find a room, she’d be shocked. But she had to at least try in case she was forced to stay till morning. Or, God forbid, until after the rodeo was over in two days.
It would be so much easier to grab him tonight and leave Blackfoot Falls pronto. She didn’t need his buddies interfering, because if they did, what could she do, really? And returning to Wyoming empty-handed wasn’t an option.
She thought back to her earlier idea. Coaxing him to ask her to his room might be her best bet. But not if she couldn’t get the damn jitters under control. Who was she kidding, anyway? There were several gorgeous women waiting for him to say the word. The only guy she’d attracted was one who roped and tied baby cows.
Hoping her half-full glass of tonic would hold her spot at the bar, she squeezed her way toward the door. The standing crowd was truly ridiculous, oblivious of anyone trying to pass, and forcing her in Ethan’s direction.
“Boy howdy, was I shocked to hear you’d be riding this weekend, Ethan! Aren’t you afraid of getting injured and missing the finals again?”
Sophie stopped. She turned and saw Ethan tighten his jaw. The people closest to him grew quiet and watchful.
The stout, ruddy-faced fan who’d asked the moronic question continued heedlessly. “I told the wife I figured you’d be too superstitious to take the chance, especially for no prize money.”
“It’s for a good cause,” Ethan said quietly.
“Don’t get me wrong, son. I’m glad you’re here. I’m looking forward to seeing you ride tomorrow.” The man rubbed his palms together, ignoring the blushing woman tugging at his arm. “I understand Matt Gunderson has raised some hard-bucking bulls.”
“Yep. I heard the same thing.” Ethan’s jaw clenched again, then he smiled and moved back a little. “I sure hope all you folks are generous to Safe Haven. They take in a lot of animals who otherwise wouldn’t have a chance of surviving. Any donation you’d like to add to the price of the ticket would be appreciated.”
Unable to listen anymore, she shouldered her way to the door. No, she told herself. Uh-uh. She could not, and would not, feel sympathy for Ethan. As he’d said, Safe Haven was a good cause. He’d volunteered to ride. Great. Good for him. He wasn’t letting superstition spook him. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t drag his ass back to Wyoming. He’d broken the condition of his bail by taking off. And clearly he didn’t care at all about screwing her and Lola out of the money they’d posted for his bond.