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“It is,” he said, but was greatly relieved when she moved on to one of the bullfighters.
He was pleasantly surprised to see LeAnn leaning against her truck in the parking lot. At first, he was hoping that she was hanging around to talk to him, but then he noticed the scowl on her face.
“What?” he said.
“We’re never going to beat the men’s scores if we have to ride these weak-ass bulls,” she said.
“You’re not trying to beat their scores. You’re competing against the other riders in the WPRC, not the MPRC.”
“No one is going to want to watch us ride these bulls.”
“Yes, they will. You’ll see this weekend.”
The WPRC was really building up the event. The eight women riders were doing a whole media tour next week. Dylan was a little pissed it was cutting into LeAnn’s training time, but he was going to make sure she kept up with her weight training.
LeAnn still looked disgusted.
“Do you want to grab some dinner?” he asked.
She stared at him suspiciously. “If I get a steak and mac and cheese, are you going to make me do extra cardio?”
“I promise I won’t.” He crossed his heart.
“All right then. You drive.” She climbed into his truck.
He took her to a place outside of the normal area because he didn’t want to run into anyone they knew—not that he gave a shit if anyone saw them together. Dylan just didn’t want to share her with anyone.
As it was, a few people came up to them at the restaurant for pictures and autographs. Over dessert—a huge slice of cheesecake with strawberries smothering it—LeAnn wagged her fork at him. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“How come you didn’t take Muriel up on her offer for dinner and a good time tonight?”
“You heard that, huh?”
“Mmmhmm,” she said around a forkful of cheesecake.
“I didn’t want to.”
“Why not?”
She wasn’t going to let it go, was she? “I’m just not that into her,” he said, hoping she’d let the subject drop.
“You were into her before.”
“That was before.”
“Before what?”
Before you is what he wanted to say but couldn’t. Instead, he decided to tell her what would hold him back from LeAnn if she wanted to get more serious. “I’m not boyfriend material.”
“Why?” she asked again, spearing some strawberries. “You’re not a horndog. You don’t party all night. You’re not a felon, a drunk or a drug addict. What’s the deal?”
“That’s your criteria for a good boyfriend? Not being one of those things? You need to up your standards.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
Feeling like he was on the spot, Dylan wished he had ordered something stronger than wine with his dinner. “I don’t have a lot to offer a woman.” Especially now.
