Falling For A Cowboy by Anne Carrole Page A

bond . Hell, he ’ d never confessed to anyone that he spoke to his father . But with her it had seemed natural, safe.
    Y et with the situation being what it was, how could he offer more ? Until he raised the stud fee, he was in no condition to get serious about a woman. Hell, he ’ d never even thought about getting serious . It had seemed there ’ d always be time . He was only twenty-seven .
    Who was he kidding? He was n ’ t exactly a young cub anymore. He had friends younger than him who were on their second kid. So why should settling down seem such a distant prospect and the stud fees such a formidable obstacle?
    He didn ’ t know if she was the one . He ’ d never even asked that question before . H e sure wanted to find out . Except that she ’ d made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him . Jesse had been so right . Dusty was the kind of girl you married . The kind you courted . The kind you brought home to your mother . That Bradley must have been an idiot. And thank God for that.
    Somehow, he had to get her to take a chance and see where things between them went . If it took several more trips to Langley in order to convince her, he ’ d make them . B ecause this could go all the way . S he could be the one . He ’ d find out, no question about that. He ’ d never gone after something he wanted and come up empty . And in the most important issue of his whole life, the woman he might actually marry , he had no intention of setting a new precedent.
    He turned the faucet to cold.

Chapter Seven
     
    Awkward as the morning had been, Clay had insisted on tak ing her to breakfast at the B uttercup Café . He ’ d kept the conversation light, had asked her a lot of questions about Sweet Water Ranch , and then they ’ d gone their separate ways . Though he ’ d promis ed to stop by the beer stand after his ride, she ’ d told him he shouldn ’ t feel obligated . She ’ d had mixed feelings all day about whether she wanted him to stop by or not . Life would be emptier if he didn ’ t, more complicated if he did.
    She hadn ’ t expected to lament the decision she ’ d made last night . After all, she ’ d taken the high road, as it were . But in the parking lot after breakfast, when she watched him walk away , she ’ d never felt more alone. Regret over what she ’ d missed wore on her all day .
    At the arena, s he ’ d listened to every word as Adam Greene , the announcer , said Clay ’ s name and called the ride . Her heart had been in her throat, the old fear gripping her tight as she listened to the commentary and tried to decipher the sounds of the crowd .
    When the thunderous roar had drown ed out Adam ’ s voiceover , she ’ d kn o w n something good had happened . She ’ d let out the breath she ’ d been holding and scrambled to the opening just in time to see him dust his hat against his jean-clad leg and hold up a hand to shade his eyes . H e searched the rim and , even from a distance , she could tell when he saw her . He gave an extra hat wave to her before settling it on his head. He ’ d just scored an arena record-breaking ninety-one on a bronc named Contrary Mary . Her stomach had tied in knots.
    A half-hour later , the Saturday evening crowd had emptied the stands and was heading past her for their cars. Kids clung to the hands of their parents and tried to keep pace . Older people walked near the arena wall as if it would hold them up should they need it.
    Clay stood before her, hands fisted on his hip s . “ So… Doug Morgan ? He wouldn ’ t be your father would he? ”
    She handed him a drink , her pulse beating a tattoo . It was o n the house . Big John ’ s rules. Any record - breaker g ot a free be e r . Clay ’ s lips sipped the brew, lips that had held her captive only last night .
    Rico had already shuttered his booth though t he heavy odor of fried grease still hung in the air. S he began to empty the register ’ s contents into the green zippered bag .