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CHAPTER FIVE
BINDI WAS SEETHING inside. But she let none of her disquiet show. How had she just been railroaded into going to a rodeo with Mack? She still wasn’t quite sure how it’d happened. Steve and Daniella had taken seats at the kitchen counter, and Daniella was showing her husband something on her iPad. Skylar had disappeared back into the great room, but she’d return soon enough.
And Mack was just standing there with that grin on his face. She wanted to smack him. How could he have agreed so readily to take her with him? They needed to talk, preferably somewhere private. She needed to get to the bottom of these dizzy spells. Perhaps they were harmless. And maybe he was correct, they posed no impediment to him riding a bull. Just the thought of it made her shudder. She’d been to plenty of rodeos in her time, but she usually avoided the bucking bulls. Too much sweat and blood and tears. And danger.
“Come with me.” She beckoned him with her little finger.
“Yes, ma’am.” That cheeky grin got wider.
“Don’t call me that,” she growled. “I don’t like it.”
Mack didn’t answer her this time, and she didn’t turn around to gauge his reaction.
Where could they go where they wouldn’t be interrupted? She had an idea this might take a while. The staff quarters had a common room, but Sasha or Alek could walk in on them there. Down by the billabong would be quiet, but they might be spotted by Daniella if she came out to the veranda to see if the guests needed anything. It’d have to be the stables. Steve normally went up there to check on the horses before he went to bed, but that’d be an hour or more from now. The stables were her safe place; the horses a balm to her soul. She often went up there to converse with them when no one was watching.
She stalked up the hill in the dark, only the sound of Mack’s silver-toed boots on the gravel behind her telling her he was following.
They reached the holding yards without speaking. Bindi turned around to face Mack, but he was a mere shadowy presence in the dim night. A light was on in the tack room, but its glow barely reached this far outside. Shit. She hadn’t really thought this through properly. What was she doing bringing a man she hardly knew up here to be alone with him? In the dark. She took a step away and unconsciously wrapped her hand around her shoulder, covering the scar she knew lurked below her sleeve.
No. This was Stormcloud. She was safe here. And even if this man was practically a stranger, he wasn’t Kai. Even if he reminded her of him. She was safe. She had to keep reminding herself of that.
“Right. Spill it,” she demanded, hoping her voice didn’t have the edge of nervousness that was turning her stomach to jelly, leaning her shoulder against the fence in a show of nonchalance.
Mack gave a deep sigh and mirrored her move, leaning against the fence, but thankfully keeping his distance.
“I’m pretty sure what you saw today was a one-off. It won’t happen again. I haven’t had an episode like that for months now,” Mack said into the darkness between them.
He wasn’t making much sense. “You’re talking in riddles. Just tell me what happened.”
Sahara came up and poked her muzzle through the gap in the fence, hoping Bindi might have brought her a tasty morsel. She let the mare lip her fingers gently, but didn’t take her focus from the man in front of her.
“Well?” she demanded, when he still didn’t answer.
He drew in a deep breath and reached over the railing to pat Sahara’s neck. “It was the third-last meet on the calendar. I was at a rodeo in southern Texas. Sitting at six-hundred and eighteen points. If I won this one, I was guaranteed a top seven spot, with a good crack at becoming world champion. I’d drawn Nightmare as my bull.”
“There’s a bull called Nightmare?” Bindi couldn’t help herself.
He chuckled. “Yes, and he lived up to his name that night. He was my worst nightmare. My bull rope slipped, and I lost my grip. He bucked me off into the fence.”
“Oh. God.” A cold shiver ran down her spine, her laughter dying in an instant. “Were you hurt badly?”
“I guess you could say that. My right femur was broken in two places where the big brute stepped on me, and my skull was fractured when I hit the fence. I spent two days in an induced coma.”
“Oh, no,” Bindi whispered. She couldn’t find the words. What a terrible thing to have happened. She could barely imagine this vibrant, gregarious guy in a coma. He was so full of life. He didn’t deserve that sort of fate.
“But that was two years ago. I’ve recovered now. The doctors say I’m as good as new. I wanted to get back onto the PBR circuit, but no bastard would sponsor me. I blame Clarissa.” The last part was said in such a low voice, Bindi hardly caught it. Who was Clarissa? A friend? A girlfriend?
What was he implying? He’d nearly died, and all he wanted to do was get back out there? She’d never understand men. And this man in particular seemed especially crazy.
“So, the dizzy spells…they’re what? An effect of the brain injury?”
She saw him grimace in the half-light. “Brain injury is such a definitive term. I don’t like to classify—”
She gave a snort of contempt. What else was a fractured skull and two days spent in a coma, if it wasn’t a brain injury? This man was suffering a severe case of denial.
“But, yes, the dizziness and the headaches are an aftereffect of the knock to my head,” he went on in a rush, perhaps sensing she was about to unload on him again. “And like I said, they were getting better. I was better.”
His gaze fixed on hers, imploring. He may be in denial, but there was something else going on here, too. Something more than mere ego and a desire to win at all costs. It was almost as if his version of self-worth was wrapped up in being able to ride a damn bull.
