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Chapter 2: Willow Springs Rodeo
Pulling in along a sandy-dirt road, Hank drove between the other competitors’ rigs and headed down to the end, near the trees. “Parkin’ in the middle of things a little too show-offy for you, Hank?” Daisy teased.
She doesn’t miss a thing. She never has. His air-conditioned rig had a gleaming interior and new little galley kitchen. Picking it off the lot, he hadn’t hesitated, but now he was self-conscious, didn’t want to flaunt it. It was luxurious, compared to the others.
They passed a curvy, short-haired redhead walking a tall, long-legged appaloosa. “Hey, Kelsey!” Daisy said, not rolling the window down or calling out, so no one would know she’d ridden with him.
He parked in a shady spot and cut the engine. “Kelsey’s probably lookin’ for your truck, Daisy. Why not go catch up with her? I’ve got the horses. You leavin’ Gypsy with me and Cuervo tonight?”
She met his eye too quickly, then looked away, swallowing hard, her jaw set. “Looks like everyone rode in two-up. Not much room anyplace else to stick Gypsy. Is it okay?”
He smiled. “Sure, Daize, Cuervo likes the company.”
Before he could say anything else, she opened the door and took off. Shaking his head, he went in back and broke out the trailer’s dividers, making up two loose stalls. Clipping up food and water buckets, he picked manure and spread wood shavings for bedding so Gypsy and Cuervo would be comfortable.
After warm-ups, Daisy hosed Gypsy and brought her back to the trailer, leading her up the ramp to the stall Hank had fitted up. After she wiped the mare’s legs with liniment and made sure her water bucket was filled, she grabbed her bags from the cab. “The girls are all sleeping over in Trina’s trailer, near the showers, Hank. I don’t mind keeping an eye on the horses during the kegger, since you set up. You sleepin’ here?”
“Yup,” he nodded, not letting on that he’d hurried back after warm-ups to be there when she and Gypsy returned.
Later, under the party tent, Daisy carried on amidst her barrel racing friends, a tight posse of girls who stuck close together. They were loud, laughing and calling out, more animated than usual since it was the opener, Hank guessed.
Some had boyfriends, guys who stood on the perimeter and eased on the contents of foamy plastic cup, grinning and joking, happy to bide their time.
Hank was jealous, and not for the first time.
He stuck with his buddies, getting reacquainted with the buckle bunnies who flirted around him, keeping a cool eye on Daisy. Her drinking would end early, he knew: barrels started at ten in the morning. The girls that Daisy hung around were serious athletes, thriving on both competition and camaraderie.
Saturday morning, Daisy took second in barrels while he and his team took top score in Team Penning.
T.J. competed in the bronc, taking first, but Daisy kept her distance. Middle of last season, Daisy and T.J. had a big blowout, shouting and cursing right in the middle of things, and now it looked like she didn’t have much to say to her ex, which was just fine with Hank.
Saturday night’s party was at Red Licks, a honky-tonk down on the highway. Daisy stood next to Kelsey, sucking a margarita, her back to the bar, laughing and carrying on.
She looked good, Hank thought. . Too good.
Cowgirl tough, but irresistibly feminine, Daisy’s lean thighs and tight butt were clad in worn Levi’s. Her BYR belt buckle lay prominent on her flat belly, her Stetson set dead even over fresh-washed hair that streamed golden over a pink-plaid collared shirt. It fit snug through the waist, unbuttoned low to make the most of the rise of her breasts.
One of the bronc riders sidled up close, making his play for her. Tensing, Hank moved in, but Daisy fluttered a hand his way, like they were distant acquaintances, like she hadn’t just bumped her butt to his hips again, feeding the horses in the trailer before dusk.
It had made him instantly hard, dammit.
All of his senses were on high alert around Daisy, now. He watched as she flirted with that jackass Stewie. . . What could he do? She’d always been good at finding new ways to torture him. This entire situation is already making me crazy, and it’s just the season opener.
Sunday after Hank’s Team Penning, Daisy came back to the trailer and offered to walk Cuervo so he could hustle over to find out what bronc he’d pulled. Then, after her barrel rounds, he helped her cool Gypsy. When the last rider finished the cloverleaf pattern and clocked out late that afternoon, Daisy’s time held at third.
She fist-bumped him before running off to meet Kelsey at Trina’s trailer for a celebratory cold beer. Daisy had finished second in overall points for the weekend, and picked up a six-hundred dollar purse. He cashed out at two-eighty, after splitting his take in the penning with his partners Stump and Travis.
Heading home, they were both in a good mood and Hank pulled into a takeout for burgers, parking the rig in the shade. They ate at a picnic table. He watched the setting sun glow bright on Daisy’s cheeks and forehead and arms as she slurped the last of her milkshake. Back in the truck, she bunched a sweatshirt and tucked it under her head, then leaned against the side window so her hips swung his way.
The sky darkened as he rumbled along the highway. Bursts from oncoming headlights streaked Daisy’s pale cheekbones and her loose, golden hair. Nestled in the shadows, her pouty lips had relaxed in sleep. Looking at her, a contented feeling settled in Hank’s chest.
Turning onto Hobble Creek Road hours later, he switched off the air and rolled his window down, letting the trill of spring peepers float in on a cool breeze. “Daize?” he asked, rousing her. “Mind if I let Cuervo off first? It’ll make it easier on the rig, getting out of your driveway.”
She stirred, her voice velvety with sleep.“No problem, Hank.”
They passed her pickup and trailer, still on the road. “Want a hand with your rig tomorrow?”
“I’ll check it out first thing and catch a ride with Daphne to town for parts. If it’s the radiator, Hymie will have to tow it, anyway.”
