The Bull Rider Meets His Match

TESTING THE LIMITS

Rodeo star Grady Owen has a new challenge. No-nonsense Alexa Benjamin is tougher than any bull he’s ever faced...but she sure is a whole lot prettier! Not that Grady has time for much between caring for his twin nieces, rebuilding his family’s farm and training. Trouble is, the more he tangles with Lex, the more he wants to win her heart.

Lex is drawn to Grady...in spite of herself. But ever since her bullfighter father died in the ring, she’s determined to never need anyone again. She’s afraid, and Grady is all about facing fear head-on. Taking a chance on this bull rider is unthinkable...but so is the idea of letting him walk away!

“Maybe you’re playing a game, but I’m not.”

Lex closed the distance between them, pointing a finger at Grady.

“Yeah, you are, and we need to be honest with one another.”

“Here’s some honesty.” She reached out and yanked the towel off from around his shoulders, trying to startle the calm expression off his face. Why should he feel calm when she didn’t? He didn’t look massively startled by her unexpected action, but his eyes did narrow a little, so she plunged on. “We are not going out. We are not kissing one another. We are going to retreat to our neutral corners and stay there.”

She wadded up the towel and jammed it back at him.

“Whatever. If you need me, I’ll be in my corner.”

“Why would I need you?”

“One thing I’ve discovered in life, Lex, is that you never know who you might need.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong. I will never need you.” She meant it from the core of her being. Because needing Grady would put her in a very vulnerable position.

And Lex did not do vulnerable.

Dear Reader,

I have a confession—my favorite type of heroine to both read and write about is one that may not be all that easy to love at first. She’s tough and prickly and pushes people away. Why? Because beneath that prickly exterior is a whole lot of vulnerability. And vulnerability is scary. My heroine, Alexa Benjamin, is such a woman. She was raised by her single bullfighter father and grew up on the rodeo circuit, watching her dad prevent disaster—until he had his own disaster in the form of a heart attack while saving a bull rider. Lex isn’t afraid of much...except for losing someone else she loves.

Enter Grady Owen, a bull rider who not only drives Lex crazy with his cocky attitude, but also challenges her on many levels. Lex loves a good challenge and enjoys engaging with Grady...right up until she realizes that her feelings for him are changing, growing deeper, keeping her up at night. She will not allow herself to become involved with someone she may lose, and Grady isn’t the kind of guy who’s going to give up without a fight. The battle is on.

This is my first Mills & Boon American Romance book and I’m so thrilled to be part of the line. I write what I know—small towns, cowboys, rodeos and ranches. Mills & Boon American Romance is the perfect place to do that. I had so much fun writing The Bull Rider Meets His Match, and I hope you enjoy reading Lex and Grady’s story.

I love hearing from readers. Please feel free to contact me via my website, jeanniewatt.com, or my Facebook page, facebook.com/jeannie.watt.1.

Happy Reading!

Jeannie Watt

The Bull Rider

Meets His Match

Jeannie Watt

JEANNIE WATT lives in a historic Nevada ranching community with her husband, horses, ponies, dogs and cat. When she’s not writing, Jeannie loves to horseback ride, sew vintage fashions and, of course, read romance.

I’d like to dedicate this book to

Kathleen Scheibling, who guided me

through my first Harlequin sale many years ago. Thank you, Kathleen!

It’s good to be working with you again.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Alexa Benjamin had yet to see a bull rider who didn’t walk as if he owned the world, and the guy coming up the front walk of her best friend’s house? He looked as if he were in charge of the universe. Never in her twenty-eight years had she encountered anyone as sure of himself as Grady Owen. Nor anyone quite as irritating.

Lex stepped back from the window, gave her shoulders a roll then started toward the front door to head off trouble. Grady had just hit the top step when she walked out onto the porch and took a stance. When he saw her, his expression shifted from good-natured to hard so quickly it would have been comical if she didn’t suspect that he was there to screw up her best friend’s life. Again.

“Lex. What a pleasant surprise.” But there was no hint of friendliness in his gray eyes.

“Same here,” she said, folding her arms over her chest as she studied the man who was not going to get into the house. Like all bull riders, Grady was one tightly packed unit: average height, lean and wiry. Lex knew if she reached out and ran a hand over his arm, or any part of his body for that matter, all she would feel would be sinew and muscle. Sometimes, in the past, she’d felt a subtle urge to do just that, to touch his fascinatingly hard body. But Grady had always had that effect on her. He drove her crazy with his self-absorbed attitude and cockiness, yet a small part of her found him interesting. She’d reminded herself on more than one occasion that some people found major disasters interesting, also.

She raised her chin. “What can I do for you?”

He tipped back his ball cap, giving her a glimpse of the faint scar that crossed his forehead just below his hairline. “I’m here to see Danielle.”

Lex brushed back a few strands of dark hair that the breeze had blown across her face. The rest was still caught in the silver barrette her father had made her shortly before he died.

“Danielle is busy. Up to her neck in wedding plans.” She felt a touch of mean satisfaction. Her friend was marrying a guy who put her first instead of his career. Grady had done the exact opposite.

“So I hear.” He shifted his weight and crossed his arms, mirroring her pose as he eyed her up and down, his gaze challenging. Fine. Bring it on. Lex loved nothing more than a good challenge. “And you’re still her watchdog?”

“I’m her friend.” Lex spoke lightly, but there was an edge of steel in her voice.

“I just want to talk to her.”

“But you don’t have to talk now.”

“What’s wrong with now?”

“Here’s what’s wrong with now,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “Her mom, her grandma and her great-grandma are in the kitchen with her, going over photos of their weddings. I am not going to have you, the former fiancé, busting in and upsetting any of them.” Danielle’s grandma, Lorraine Perry, was the closest thing Lex had ever had to a grandma of her own, and she would not see her upset. Or Danielle, or her mother, Mae. Great-granny...Great-granny could probably take care of Grady on her own, and if he persisted in hanging around, Lex might just call her out here.

“I understand.” But he didn’t move. He had that stubborn bull rider expression on his face. That “the odds are against me but I will prevail” look. “If you give me her phone number, I’ll call her and set up a time.”

Lex couldn’t help smirking at him. “I don’t think so.”

Grady looked over her shoulder as if willing Danielle to come to the door and see what was going on. When he looked back at Lex, his expression was once again hard, his gray eyes deadly. “What happens between me and Danielle is none of your business. It isn’t now, and it wasn’t back then.”

Lex merely tilted her head, unimpressed. “I know a train wreck when I see it coming. You have train wreck written all over you.”

“And you have controlling...”

“Bitch written all over me?” she asked smoothly, daring him to agree out loud.

“Your words. Not mine.”

“I bet.” He wasn’t all that close, but as the breeze wafted over them, his scent hit her nostrils—soap and guy and maybe some kind of aftershave—and it made her once again conscious of him in ways she’d rather not be. It was an unsettling feeling, this odd prickle of awareness that seemed to come out of nowhere. Especially when he was looking at her so coldly.

“I’m going to see Danielle.”

“I’m sure you are,” she said. “But it’s not going to be right now.”

Grady’s mouth flattened even more as he cocked a speculative eyebrow at her. “Good talking to you, Lex.” He turned and marched down the bumpy walk to the gate, and Lex decided it was too much to hope that he tripped over one of the concrete edges pushed up by tree roots.

Not a very charitable thought, but Grady Owen had turned Danielle’s life inside out only a few years before, and while Lex knew that her friend could fight her own fights, she saw no reason for her to do so. Not when she was there to do it for her.

Grady’s classic Ford F-250 roared to life—literally roared, thanks to the straight exhaust pipes—and he wheeled the truck in a circle then pulled out of the driveway. Only then did Lex go back into the house.

“Was that UPS?” Danielle called, poking her blond head out of the kitchen. Her normally serene expression was a bit frazzled, and Lex was glad she’d sent Grady on his way. Wedding plans were stressful enough without the former fiancé being involved.

“Just a guy who was lost and needed some directions,” Lex said as she followed her friend into the cozy kitchen and took her place at the table strewn with wedding photos. She’d fess up to Danielle later, but right now she wanted to get back to the business of deciding whose wedding dress would best be altered to fit Danielle on her big day. In her opinion, none of the vintage dresses would work, but it was up to Danielle to either pick one or tell her mom and grandmother and great-grandmother no, thanks. It was Lex’s job to pour the wine after the task was done.

* * *

GRADY PULLED UP to his sister’s house and parked the truck behind the wind-damaged barn. He stepped over a few boards as he got out of the truck, thankful that Annie and the girls were still out grocery shopping. He’d yet to shake the black mood brought on by dealing with the she-devil. Who did Lex Benjamin think she was? He was pretty certain that Danielle wouldn’t have broken their engagement if it hadn’t been for Lex. They would have had troubles in the beginning, no doubt. All married couples did, but they would have worked them out. Thanks to Ms. Benjamin, they never had a chance. She’d been against their relationship from day one and had never been shy about saying so.

He walked into the kitchen and hung his hat on one of the pegs by the door, only to have the peg fall off the wall. His hat hit the floor at his feet and the peg rolled across the worn tiles, stopping under his mom’s antique maple table.

Even though his sister had a way with paint and bright accents, there was no getting around the fact that their childhood home was in deep need of a monetary infusion. The place had been run-down when Annie moved in, and even though she’d made it look cheery, nothing had been done to fix the real problems—leaky windows, worn flooring, aging plumbing.

Grady picked up his hat and the peg, setting both on the counter as he tried to remember where he’d last seen the wood glue. The cellar? He started down the steps, not liking the way they sagged and creaked beneath his weight. He’d only been home for two days, but he already felt as if he’d made a mistake spending his winters practicing and working in Oklahoma. He should have hung closer to home, taking care of matters such as loose pegs and saggy steps.

And relationships.

Yeah. Relationships.

Maybe if he’d taken one season off, given Danielle time to get used to his career, things would have worked out between them. But he hadn’t been able to make that sacrifice.

Stupid move.

And Lex. She’d been against their relationship from the beginning, and Danielle had listened to her. They’d been close friends for as long as he could remember, which had always struck him as odd because the two women were polar opposites. Danielle was fair—blond haired, blue-eyed—sweet, accommodating. Lex had a mass of dark hair and hazel eyes and she was in no way sweet or accommodating. She was hard. Brittle almost. But that mouth...he had to admit to being fascinated by those soft, full lips that seemed to be in a permanent pout whenever she was concentrating on something other than taking him out.

Grady reached for the cord to turn on the overhead light as he stepped onto the stone floor.

Shelves of home canning and dry goods lined both sides of the rock-walled space. At the far wall, a couple of old bureaus stood on either side of the hot water heater, and Grady crossed to them, opening drawers until he found one loaded with string, coils of wire and a few basic hand tools. An ancient bottle of wood glue lay on its side.

He started back up the creaky stairs with the bottle. Another project he’d tackle before he left.

After gluing the peg back in place and checking to see if the others needed reinforcing, Grady opened the fridge and pulled out a beer, then put it back and closed the door again. His stomach was still in a knot, and beer wasn’t going to change that. Hammering might, though, so he changed into his work clothes. He planned to head over to Hennessey’s ranch to take a look at the practice bulls later that afternoon, but he had time to knock some of the damaged wood off the frame of the barn before he left.

His sister had really had an odd run of luck over the past few months. The company where she’d worked for five years folded, and while she’d found a part-time job, she still hadn’t found a full-time position that paid well enough to support her small family. The cows she’d hoped to sell to tide her over had come down with an ailment that required quarantine, and then, to top things off, a freak tornado had torn through the area, knocking down hundred-year-old trees and damaging only two buildings in the entire valley—Annie’s garage and small barn. That was when his sister had started to crumble, and Grady knew he had to come home.

He and Annie owned the place outright and hadn’t insured the buildings for replacement value, so he was the one doing the rebuilding and watching the girls while Annie went to work part-time at the library. He had a feeling that babysitting was going to be more of a workout than riding practice bulls. The girls took after him, it seemed. Lots of energy and lots of ideas.

Despite his dark mood, he smiled as he grabbed his work gloves. He didn’t want to see his nieces become bull riders—too much risk—but he was going to see to it that they got a proper foundation in whatever they chose to funnel all that energy into. Annie and the girls were all he had right now, and he was going to make certain their lives were good.

* * *

DANIELLE GATHERED UP delicate floral teacups—she’d gotten out the good china for her wedding gown summit—and carefully hand-washed them while Lex studied the photos on the table. The five women had not come to a consensus as to which wedding dress could best be altered for the ceremony, and Lex wasn’t certain they ever would.

“The 1980s is out.” She pushed the photo aside.

“Agreed,” Danielle said with feeling.

“Which one do you like?” Lex asked. Danielle had spent most of the meeting pointing out the merits of each dress and trying not to hurt feelings, so Lex had no idea what she was really thinking. Danielle excelled at tact.

“I like Great-granny’s, but she’s smaller than me and I don’t think it’ll work.” Great-granny’s was the best of the group. Designed in the mid-1940s, when fabric rationing had still been in effect, it was made of heavy satin, with a narrow skirt, a sweetheart neckline and broad shoulders that could be altered fairly easily. Or so Danielle said. Lex knew little about sewing.

“Which leaves mid-1960s.” Lex shrugged. “It’s not a bad dress.” It had a waistline and full skirt. Lots of lace and satin...but it wasn’t the right kind of dress for Danielle, who was toned and leggy and needed a simpler body-skimming dress.

Danielle wiped her hands on an embroidered towel. “How am I going to tell them that I want my own gown?”

“By taking a deep breath and blurting out the words?”

Danielle nodded and sat at the table, idly picking up the photo of the 1980s dress. “Mom was beautiful, even if the shoulders on this dress make her look as if she’s about to go out for a pass.”

“I see no way you could alter this dress and have any of it left.”

“Pretty much I would rip the sleeves off.”

“And the butt ruffle?”

“Definitely out.” Danielle set down a photo and met Lex’s gaze. “Who was at the door earlier?”

There was no sense hedging. “Grady.”

“I thought so. I recognized the sound of the truck. Did he tell you what he wanted?”

“To see you. Sorry if I overstepped by sending him on his way. I didn’t want to upset anyone.”

“No. I’m glad you did.” An unreadable look flickered across Danielle’s face, followed by a sigh. “I guess I need to see him before he hits the road again.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I did break up with him over the phone.” And she’d made the right choice, but that hadn’t kept her from feeling bad for weeks afterward. He’d chosen rodeo over her. Hard to forgive that, but Danielle was the forgiving sort. Far more so than Lex.

“You owe him nothing.”

“I know,” Danielle said simply.

There was a lot more Lex wanted to say on the subject, but why? When push came to shove, it wasn’t her business—even though she never wanted to see Danielle that unhappy again. Ever.

“I need to get home,” she said. “The menagerie will be hungry.” She stood and picked up her rhinestone-studded leather bag—one of the top sellers at their Western-themed store, Annie Get Your Gun. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

They met every Wednesday to discuss business, drink tea and share any gossip that Danielle picked up from her grandmother, who owned the building where their boutique was located. But all the gossip had already been passed along during the wedding dress summit, so the meeting would be all business tomorrow.

“Great. I’m looking forward to some nonwedding talk.”

“That works for me.” Lex gave the photos one last look, then met Danielle’s eyes. “Be strong.” She was talking about both wedding gowns and ex-fiancés.

“Always.”

Lex certainly hoped so.

Chapter Two

Lex tried not to worry about Danielle on the drive home, but the Owen Farm was halfway between her place and Danielle’s, so it was hard not to worry when she drove by and caught sight of Grady’s truck parked behind the wind-damaged barn. He’d been driving that same truck since high school—not that he’d been home to drive it even once during the past two years. It was as if after Danielle had given him his walking orders, he’d given up on Gavin, Montana, and the people there.

She pulled into her long driveway, smiled as the horses, knowing that they were about to be fed, cantered across the pasture. She loved her ranch, hated that she was now on it alone. But it wasn’t being alone that bothered her—it was the fact that her father was never coming back that ruined her. It’d been just her and her dad for so long that it was still hard to accept that he wasn’t there.

During the school year, when he’d been on the bull-riding circuit fighting bulls, doing his best to keep a half-ton animal from stomping the cowboy that had just ridden him, she’d often stayed with Danielle’s family. After Lex hit high school, she became the farm-sitter during the school year. When summer came, she’d traveled with her dad. By necessity, the father-daughter trips had become fewer and farther between after she’d gotten her first real job, but as luck would have it, she had been there for the final trip. The one when he’d died in the arena—not from a bull injury, but from a heart attack after saving a guy who’d been hung up in the rigging and beaten like a rag doll as the bull attempted to knock him free.

Even now, years later, the memory made her tear up—especially if it came at a time when she was worried about something else, such as, say, a close friend who was too nice for her own good. Lex blinked hard a few times before parking her truck next to her dad’s. She had two precious reminders of her father on the ranch that she refused to get rid of—his truck and his rank old horse, Snuff.

Three dogs bounded out from behind the house when she got out of the truck, two border collies and a rambunctious dusty brown terrier that’d shown up on the ranch and refused to leave. A small black-and-white cat trotted behind the dogs. Felicity was another orphan, found abandoned at the county dump before her eyes were open.

“Hey, gang,” Lex said as she closed the truck door. The dogs professed great joy at her return, while Felicity stood back, waiting for Lex to scoop her up on her way into the house. Once there, she shed her town clothes and climbed into a pair of well-worn jeans and a sweatshirt. She popped a John Deere ball cap on her head, grabbed her least offensive pair of gloves out of the basket by the door and headed back out the door to feed.

Somehow she had collected way too many animals after her father died, but she didn’t have the heart to let any of them go. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t afford to feed them. Her father had left her the ranch in excellent shape financially and he’d had life insurance, which she’d invested. Lex was pretty much set for life, as long as she managed the property in a sensible manner, and since she was all about sensible, that wasn’t a problem. She started across the gravel drive leading to the barn and was met halfway by two Mediterranean donkeys, which brayed at her, and a pygmy goat that bumped the back of her legs as she walked.

Okay, maybe she wasn’t totally sensible, but everyone had their foibles.

Followed by her entourage, Lex tossed hay, dumped grain, checked water troughs. The donkeys and goat abandoned her once they had their rations, but Felicity and the dogs—Pepper, Ginger and little brown Dave the Terror—stayed close to her throughout the daily routine. Once she got back to the house, she held the door open. The dogs raced in and Felicity turned and walked across the porch to a spot in the sun.

Lex understood. An independent woman could only take so much social interaction before welcoming time to herself. She was the same way, although lately the house seemed a little too lonely. It was the anniversary, she told herself as she changed back out of her feeding clothes and pulled a loose cotton dress over her head. Two years since she’d watched her father collapse onto the dirt of the arena, clutching his chest.

Last year she’d told herself that the pain would ease by the time the next anniversary rolled around, and it had, but not as much as she’d hoped. It hurt to be alone and it hurt to know she’d never again hear her father’s boots crossing the front porch as he returned from a trip.