TOO CLOSE TO HOME

Cassidy Beckett has a secret she’s kept for six years: the identity of her son’s father. She can’t hide the truth much longer. The Easy Money Arena’s new bull manager, Shane Westcott, also happens to be the boy’s handsome uncle. But Cassidy will do anything to protect her young son, even if it means steeling her heart against Shane’s nearly irresistible charm.

It doesn’t take Shane long to figure out two things—Cassidy’s son is his nephew, and his feelings for the boy’s beautiful mother go way beyond friendship. As a single dad, Shane knows how important a father is to a child. He also knows the men in Cassidy’s life have let her down before. Can Shane convince Cassidy to face the truth without losing her trust...or his heart?

“Are you okay?”

“Never better.” Shane grinned. “The bull barely nicked me.”

She studied him critically. “You’re limping.”

He laughed, he couldn’t help it, and lowered his voice. “I appreciate the concern, Cassidy. It means a lot to me.”

“Of course I’m concerned. That was a close call.”

“Is that the only reason?” He leaned in. A mere fraction at first, then more.

She drew abruptly back. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”

“That you’re worried about me because you might like me a little.”

“Well, I don’t.”

His grin widened. “Could have fooled me.”

“You always did have a big ego.”

“Matched only by my...” He let the sentence drop.

“Shane!”

“Confidence,” he finished with a chuckle.

“Clearly you’re just fine. I don’t know why I worried.” Cassidy spun on her heel and stalked away.

Try as he might, Shane couldn’t stop staring as she walked.

Then again, he wasn’t trying very hard.

Dear Reader,

I often write about blended families. I find the skill of balancing delicate relationships makes for challenging writing and compelling reading. And adding a secret that someone doesn’t want revealed ups the stakes and results in an even more interesting story. I have all those things and more in this third installment of my Reckless, Arizona series, The Bull Rider’s Son.

While I hate to see a series end, I have to say I like this last book the best. Nothing scares a mother more than the fear of losing her child, even temporarily. Cassidy Beckett has good reason to live in dread. She never got over the heartache of her brother’s abandonment when he left her to live with their father. When Shane Westcott, her son’s uncle, shows up at the Easy Money Rodeo Arena, it’s all Cassidy can do to prevent history from repeating itself. She must keep the identity of her son’s father a secret at all costs, something that would be infinitely easier if she weren’t wildly attracted to Shane.

Yes, delicate relationships. Definitely challenging and fun, and why we read romance! As always, I hope you enjoy this book. And if you’re inclined to drop me a line, I always enjoy hearing from readers.

Warmest wishes,

Cathy McDavid

Facebook.com/CathyMcDavidBooks @CathyMcDavid CathyMcDavid.com

The Bull Rider’s Son

Cathy McDavid

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For the past eighteen years CATHY MCDAVID has been juggling a family, a job and writing, and doing pretty well at it, except for the housecleaning part. “Mostly” retired from the corporate business world, she writes full-time from her home in Scottsdale, Arizona, near the breathtaking McDowell Mountains. Her twins have “mostly” left home, returning every now and then to raid her refrigerators. On weekends, she heads to her cabin in the mountains, always taking her laptop with her. You can visit her website at cathymcdavid.com.

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To Mike and Friday nights.

Contents

Cover

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

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Few people receive a second chance in life. Shane Westcott was one of them—three times over—and he had no intention of squandering his good fortune. He was lucky to be alive, lucky to be gaining shared custody of his four-year-old daughter and lucky to have landed the job as bull manager at the Easy Money Rodeo Arena.

“Keep him moving,” he called to Kenny, the young wrangler in charge of herding Wasabi from the large, open main pen into one of the smaller adjoining holding pens. It was imperative they isolate the bull from the others. “Don’t let him dawdle.”

The solid black Brahma-longhorn cross had other ideas and stepped slowly, almost daintily, through the gate. His actions were so far removed from his normal fiery temper, Shane hardly recognized the bull.

“He don’t want to move,” Kenny complained when Wasabi stopped completely.

“Tickle him on the hocks.”

Kenny gawked at Shane as if he’d suggested hopping onto the bull’s back and taking him for a leisurely spin. “You can’t pay me enough to get in there with that monster.”

The monster in question bellowed pitifully, sounding more like a calf missing his mama than an eighteen-hundred-pound bucking machine capable of launching world champions twelve feet into the air with a mere toss of his head.

“Use the rake over there,” Shane instructed.

Kenny turned and, spotting the rake leaning against the back of a chute, gave a comical double take. “Well, lookie there.”

Shane resisted rolling his eyes. With help like this, it was no wonder the rodeo arena needed someone competent in charge.

Grabbing hold of the rake, Kenny bent and poked the handle through an opening in the fence then tapped Wasabi on his back hocks. The bull promptly grunted with annoyance and banged his huge head into the gate hard enough to rattle the hinges.

“Again,” Shane said, and the teenager complied, grimacing as he did.

Bred for bucking, twisting and spinning, Wasabi had the ability to earn money hand over fist for his new owner, but only if his injury was correctly identified, diagnosed and treated. This was Shane’s chance to prove his new boss had made the right decision in hiring him.

Not a lot of pressure for his first day on the job.

“He’s favoring his left front foot.” Mercer Beckett, co-owner of the arena, stood beside Shane at the fence. Resting his boot on the bottom rung, he chewed a large wad of gum—a habit left over from quitting smoking years ago.

“You’re wrong,” Shane said. “He’s favoring his shoulder.”

Mercer squinted skeptically. “You don’t say?”

“Watch how he hesitates after taking a step, not before.”

Shane climbed the fence for a better view. He knew Wasabi personally. In fact, he’d taken his last competitive ride on the bull. If not for split-second timing and fate stepping in, Shane might have been carried away from that harrowing fall on a stretcher instead of walking away under his own steam. He’d decided then and there to retire a champion and find a new profession. Six months had passed since, and it turned out to be the best decision he could have made.

“Seems Doc Worthington agrees with you,” Mercer said. He’d mentioned the arena’s regular veterinarian before, on their way over to the bull pen.

Shane frowned. “If he’s already figured out what’s wrong with Wasabi, why’d you ask me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

To see if Shane was worth his salt as a bull manager. Understandable. He’d been at it a mere five months. “What’s his treatment course?”

“Anti-inflammatory injections. Rest.” Mercer shrugged. “Time.”

“Which you don’t have.”

“Our next rodeo is three weeks away. Wasabi’s our main draw. Going to be a lot of disappointed cowboys if I have to pull him from the lineup.”

Not a promising beginning for a rodeo arena with a relatively new bucking bull program.

“Three weeks is cutting it a little close,” Shane said. “Injuries don’t heal overnight.”

“Joe Blackwood mentioned you worked wonders at the Payson Rodeo Arena, and their bull had a ruptured disc.”

The longtime rodeo promoter and friend of the Becketts had recommended Shane for this job. Shane didn’t want to let either man down.

“Have you heard of Guillermo Herrara?” Shane stepped off the fence and onto the ground.

“Vaguely. He’s a rodeo vet out of Dallas.”

“Not just a rodeo vet. He’s a specialist in bovine sports medicine.”

“There’s such a thing?”

“There is. And he’s had a lot of success in treating chronic joint injuries with massage therapy.”

Mercer laughed. “You have got to be kidding.”

Shane shrugged. “How important is it to you Wasabi is sound and ready to go in three weeks?”

“You’re planning on massaging that bull’s shoulder?”

“With a little help from your veterinarian.”

Mercer’s laugh simmered to a low chuckle. “This I have to see.”

They spent another thirty minutes with Wasabi. Unlike Kenny, Shane had no qualms about crawling into the pen. True, the bull was in pain, but Shane didn’t consider the threat to be too great. Mercer’s only response had been to raise his brows and chew his gum faster.

“Okay,” the arena owner hollered when they were done. “You can put him back now.”

Kenny didn’t appear any happier about returning Wasabi to the main pen than he had been about fetching him.

“Let’s head to the office and start on your paperwork.” Mercer led the way. “Sunny is a stickler about having all the proper payroll forms filled out.”

It was well known among people in the rodeo world that Mercer and Sunny Beckett, divorced for twenty-five years, were in business together. An unusual arrangement, for sure, but a successful one. Sunny oversaw the business side of the arena and Mercer the livestock.

Their three grown children worked alongside them. Ryder, a former ad agency executive, handled the arena’s marketing and promotion. Their youngest daughter, Liberty, taught riding and supervised trail rides. Cassidy, their oldest daughter and the Beckett family member Shane knew better than the others, was in charge of the bucking jackpots, team penning competitions and roping clinics.

He half hoped to see her in the office. The stab of disappointment he felt when he didn’t took him by surprise. He’d always liked Cassidy. In fact, they’d dated briefly in their late teens for about a month.

In those days, both of them were focused on their rodeo careers and the relationship quickly fizzled. Some years later, she and Shane’s brother Hoyt began dating. Their relationship had lasted longer and was more serious, though it, too, had ended. Shane remembered being a little jealous and thinking his brother a fool to let her go.

But that had been a long time ago. After Cassidy and Hoyt’s breakup, she’d quit barrel racing altogether. Shane crossed paths with her periodically, mostly when he came to the Easy Money for a rodeo. Their chats never lasted long, he assumed because of whatever resentment she still harbored toward his brother.

“Sunny, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” He flashed the arena’s other co-owner his best smile, which she returned along with offering him a firm handshake.

“Welcome, Shane. Come into my office. I have your employment package ready.”

Mercer waited in the reception area while Shane accompanied Sunny. He thought about asking after Cassidy, then decided against it.

Once Shane was seated in the visitor’s chair, Sunny handed him a slim stack of papers. “There’s a lot of reading, I’m afraid. Employee policies and procedures. Withholding tax forms to complete. A noncompete agreement. Take everything home tonight and bring it back in the morning. All I need for now is the I-9 form completed and to see two forms of ID.”

Shane fished his driver’s license and Social Security card from his wallet.

When they were done, he asked her a few general questions about the arena. Sunny was friendlier than Shane had anticipated. He’d been warned by both Joe Blackwood and Mercer that the matriarch of the Beckett family wasn’t in favor of the new bull operation. Shane had more to prove than his ability to manage. He needed to ensure the operation was run safely and profitably.

“About my daughter,” he began.

“Mercer mentioned you’d be having her for visits.”

“Yeah, alternating weekends.”

He didn’t add, temporarily. Eventually, Shane was hoping to have Bria for considerably longer visits. He’d need larger, more permanent living quarters than the fifth-wheel trailer that came with this job. Bria’s mother had insisted, and he didn’t blame her. Rodeo was no lifestyle for a four-year-old girl.

The fall from Wasabi had prompted Shane to leave the only career he’d ever known. Discovering he was a father—something Bria’s mother had revealed after Shane quit—required him to settle down and find a new occupation. The Easy Money Rodeo Arena, the heart and soul of Reckless, Arizona, and the small town’s most popular Wild West attraction, could be the place where Shane carved out his future.

“Is it against policy for me to take my daughter riding on arena horses?” he asked.

“Of course not.” Sunny’s expression warmed. “We have plenty of kid-friendly mounts. But you’ll be required to sign a waiver. And provide proof of health insurance.”

“No problem.” He’d remind Judy to bring the card with her when she dropped off Bria next weekend.

Judy was usually very accommodating, and he couldn’t be more grateful. It might be guilt motivating her since she had kept Bria a secret from him all those years. Or it could be she was about to get married to a guy with children of his own. Shane didn’t care. All that mattered was they were working together for Bria’s best interests.

“Speaking of your daughter...” Sunny rose from her chair. “I’ll let Mercer show you the trailer now.”

Shane shook her hand. “Thank you again for the opportunity.”

“All set?” Mercer waited by the door leading to the barn, a look of expectation on his weathered and whiskered face.

Expectation, Shane noted, directed at Sunny. Not him. It was obvious Mercer cared deeply for his ex-wife. She, on the other hand, was not as easy to read.

Mercer led Shane behind the main barn to where an older-model trailer was parked in the shade. A green garden hose ran from a spigot to the hookup beside the trailer’s door. A heavy-duty orange cord connected the trailer to an electrical outlet. The door stood slightly ajar and the folding metal steps were lowered.

Shane didn’t need to go inside to know he’d hung his hat in far worse places than this. In fact, it was a step up from many.

Mercer handed him a key on a ring. “Make yourself at home.”

“Mind if I park my truck here?” Once Shane had a look around the trailer, he’d unload his belongings and unpack.

Before Mercer could answer, his cell phone jangled. Listening in silence to the caller for several seconds, he barked, “Be right there,” and disconnected. “Sorry, I have an emergency. One of the calves got tangled in some wire.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“Naw.” He dismissed Shane with a wave of his hand. “Get yourself settled.”

Shane watched a moment as Mercer jogged in the direction of the livestock pens located on the other side of the arena. When his new boss was out of sight, Shane climbed the trailer’s two steps, opened the door wide and entered his new home. His first sight was of the small but comfortable living room–dining room combo. His second sight was of the tiny kitchen.

His third sight, and the one cementing his boots to the carpeted floor, was of Cassidy Beckett, pushing aside the accordion divider separating the sleeping area from the rest of the trailer.

She swallowed a small, startled gasp, and her hand fluttered to her throat where it rested. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting you yet. Mom asked me to put fresh towels in the bathroom and change the sheets on the bed.”

“You don’t have to go to any trouble.” The words caught in his throat before he choked them out.

Shane had always thought of Cassidy as pretty. Sometime during the intervening years she’d grown into a striking beauty with large dark eyes and shoulder-length hair the same chocolate brown shade as a wild mink.

He stopped thinking about why his brother let her go and began wondering why he shouldn’t ask Cassidy out himself. No reason not to. She was exactly the kind of woman he fancied. More importantly, she had no lingering attachments to his brother—who’d married someone else shortly after he and Cassidy split. She also had a son close in age to Bria and would probably be understanding of his single-dad responsibilities.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said and strode forward to greet her with a hug.

Suddenly, Shane’s new job had an altogether different perk. One which quite appealed to him.

* * *

THE INITIAL ALARM Cassidy experienced upon seeing Shane tripled when he swept her up in an enthusiastic embrace. It was bad enough her father had hired him. Worse that her mother insisted she stock the trailer with fresh linens. Disastrous that he’d caught her here. With him blocking the narrow passageway to the door, escape was impossible. She had no choice but to surrender to his powerful hold on her.

“Good to see you, too,” she managed to reply.

He didn’t immediately release her. Cassidy worried he’d sense the tension coursing through her and attempted to extract herself. He let her go long enough to take in the length of her from head to toe before hauling her against him a second time.

“You look great.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, refusing to return the compliment by admitting how incredible he looked. And smelled.

Good heavens, the man had been out with the bulls for at least an hour by her estimation. He should reek to high heaven. Instead, with her face firmly planted in the crook of his shoulder, she inhaled the spicy and appealing scent of whatever aftershave he’d used this morning.

With their broad shoulders, lean, muscular builds and ruggedly chiseled profiles, both Westcott brothers were head-turning handsome. Back when the three of them were competing on the rodeo circuit, Cassidy had considered Hoyt to be the more attractive of the pair. No longer. Shane not only held his own in the looks department, he’d surpassed his older brother.

Finally, thank goodness, his grip slackened and he freed her. “How have you been, girl?”

“Umm...okay.”

Girl? To her horror and chagrin, her heart gave a small flutter at the endearment he’d used during their short-lived romance. She dismissed it. Being attracted to Shane was impossible. For too many reasons to list.

“Sorry I interrupted you.” She attempted to pass him. “Let me get out of your way. I’m sure you want to unpack.”

“Stay a while.” He didn’t budge. “We can catch up.”

“I promised Liberty I’d help with her riding class this afternoon.” Surely her sister would forgive this one small fib, considering the circumstances.

It was then Cassidy remembered her sister didn’t know the circumstances. No one did for certain except their mother, and Cassidy had sworn her to secrecy.

“That’s not for another hour.” Shane smiled sheepishly and—dang it all—appealingly. “Your dad mentioned the schedule earlier.”

Her father. Of course, Cassidy thought with a groan. He alone was responsible for hiring Shane and throwing her life into utter turmoil.

“We have a new student signing up.”

“Come on.” Shane gestured to the dining table. “It’s been years since we had a real talk.”

It was true. Cassidy had avoided him and Hoyt like the plague, determined not to let either of them near her son, Benjie. It hadn’t been easy. Shane had competed regularly until recently and often visited the Easy Money.

“Five minutes.” Shane removed his cowboy hat and tossed it onto the table.

She hesitated. The one thing more dangerous than being alone with Shane was being alone with his brother. To refuse, however, might raise Shane’s suspicions. She couldn’t chance it.

“Okay.” She slid slowly onto the bench seat, the faded upholstery on the cushions pulling at her jeans, and repeated “Five minutes” for good measure.

He plunked down across from her, a pleased grin on his face.

Cassidy swallowed. The small dining table didn’t provide nearly enough distance. Shane’s appeal was infinitely more potent up close. His sandy brown hair, worn longer now than when he was competing, didn’t quite cover the jagged scar starting beneath his ear and disappearing inside his shirt collar—a souvenir courtesy of his last ride on Wasabi. And those green eyes, intense one second and twinkling with mirth the next, were hard to resist.

Currently, they searched her face. Cassidy tried not to show any signs of the distress weakening her knees and quickening her breath.

“What’s Hoyt up to these days?” She strove to sound mildly interested, which wasn’t the case.

“Same as always. Heading to a rodeo in Austin this weekend.”

“Still married?”

At the spark of curiosity in Shane’s eyes, she wished she’d posed the question differently. Now he’d think she cared about Hoyt’s marital state. Well, she did. But not for that reason.

“He and Cheryl are doing fine. Bought a house in Jackson Hole last year.”

Jackson Hole. In Wyoming. Good, Cassidy thought. Plenty far from Reckless, Arizona.

“Any kids yet?” She cursed herself for needing to know.

“Nope.” Shane shrugged. “Still trying. Hoyt wants a big family. Or so he says.”

A jolt shot through her. She attempted to hide it with a show of nonchalance. “Tell me about your daughter.”

Shane instantly brightened. “Bria’s four. Not sure yet if she wants to be a princess or a soccer player when she grows up.”

“What? No cowgirl?”

“I’m hoping to change her mind.”

Cassidy’s son, Benjie, wanted to be a champion bull rider. Like his grandfather before him and, unbeknownst to all but Cassidy and her mother, like his father and Uncle Shane.

She quickly shoved her hands beneath the table before Shane spotted them shaking. How was she ever going to keep him from finding out about Benjie and telling Hoyt? She vowed to find a way.

There were those who’d disagree, claiming she should have told Hoyt from the beginning about Benjie. That he had a right to know. Others, admittedly not many, who would side with her. It wasn’t just Hoyt’s nomadic lifestyle and partying ways, which had been one of the reasons for their breakup. Cassidy couldn’t take the chance of him fighting for, and probably winning, joint custody of Benjie.

She’d seen firsthand how parents living in separate towns divided a family. When her brother, Ryder, had turned fourteen, he’d left to live with their father. Up until last fall, Ryder had rarely seen or spoken to Cassidy, Liberty and their mother. Their father’s return had reunited the Becketts, but they were far from being a family. Not in the truest sense. Too much hurt and betrayal, and too many lies littered their past.

No way, no how, was she putting her son through the same broken childhood she’d endured. She would not suffer the same heartbreak that had devastated her mother when they’d lost Ryder. And it would happen. Of that, Cassidy was certain.

“Mom mentioned Bria will be visiting soon.” Cassidy forced a smile.

Shane, on the other hand, beamed. “Every other weekend to start.”

To start? Was he planning on obtaining full custody of his daughter? Cassidy’s anxiety increased. If Hoyt followed his brother’s example...

She pushed the unpleasant thought away. “She’s close by, then?”

“Mesa.”

“Ah.” A forty-five-minute drive.

“That’s why I accepted this job.” A glint lit his eyes as his gaze focused on her. “Now I have even more incentive.”

Oh, dear. Cassidy steeled herself, determined to resist him. “Bria’s mom is okay with you taking her more often?”

“Judy’s been great. She wants Bria and me to have a relationship.”

“But she lied to you about having a child.”

The uncanny similarities between Benjie and Bria weren’t lost on Cassidy.

“I understand her reasons,” Shane said. “I wasn’t what you’d call good father material. Now that I’ve quit my wild ways and found a job which keeps me in one place, Judy’s willing to work with me.”

His brother, too, had quit his wild ways to become a rodeo announcer, but Cassidy didn’t feel inclined to work with him. Not yet, and maybe not ever.

“It can’t be easy for you, seeing Wasabi every day.”

“He’s just another bull under my care.”

Her gaze was automatically drawn to his scar. She’d seen the pictures posted on their mutual friends’ Facebook pages. The gash, requiring forty-four stitches, traveled from beneath his right ear, down his neck to his chest. Miraculously, Wasabi’s hoof had just missed an artery. Otherwise, Shane might have bled out.

“I’m glad you’re all right.” Her voice unwittingly softened.

Shane responded with a heart-melting smile. No surprise he’d inspired a legion of female fans during his years on the circuit. Was that the reason for Bria’s mother’s secrecy? It wouldn’t surprise Cassidy.

“Not my day to die,” Shane said matter-of-factly.

“All the same, it was a terrible fall. How can you bear to look at Wasabi?” Cassidy still shuddered when she passed the well house, even though the accident involving her and her father happened twenty-five years ago. Like Shane, she’d walked away when things might have gone horribly different.

He shrugged. “He was just doing his job. Like any bull. I didn’t take it personally.”

More charm. He could certainly lay it on thick. And Cassidy was far more susceptible than she liked.

She abruptly stood. “I need to go.”

Reaching for his cowboy hat, he also stood and waited for her to leave first. “Drop by anytime.” The invitation was innocent. Not so his tone, which hinted at something else altogether.

When she spoke, her tone was all business. “If you need something, let me know.”

“How about having dinner with me?”

She blinked. He didn’t just ask her on a date, did he? “I beg your pardon?”

“Your dad mentioned a couple good restaurants in town. I could use someone to show me around. Help me get the lay of the land. Seeing as we’ll be working together—”

She shook her head. “Benjie, my son, has homework tonight.”

“You could bring him along.”

“Thanks, but no. He has enough trouble with school as it is. I’d never get him to finish his homework if we went to dinner first.”

“Maybe another night this week.”

Did the man never give up? “We’ll see,” she said, planning to stall him indefinitely.

Outside the trailer she allowed herself two full seconds to gather her wits before heading to the arena in search of her sister. Should Shane come searching for her, he’d find Cassidy doing exactly what she said, helping with the riding lesson.

Fortunately, Liberty was there, talking to a student’s mother. She finished just as Cassidy approached and met her halfway.

“What’s wrong?” Liberty asked.

Cassidy shook her head. “Nothing.”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Not a ghost. The brother of one, perhaps. “I was talking to our new bull manager.”

“Shane? Do tell.”

Cassidy planted her hands on her hips. “What does that mean?”

“He’s a nice-looking guy.”

“We work at a rodeo arena. There are a lot of nice-looking guys here.”

“But none of them have ever left you flustered. Didn’t you two date once?”

Cassidy ignored the question. “I’m not flustered. I’m annoyed. I have a lot to do and can’t afford the time it takes to babysit a new employee.”

“Right.” Liberty laughed gaily before turning on her heel and leaving Cassidy to stew alone.

She hated it when her baby sister was right.

Chapter Two

Seven-point-three seconds into his ride, the young cowboy came flying off the bull’s back. He dropped to his knees as the buzzer sounded, then pitched forward onto his face. Recovering, he pushed to his feet, grabbed his fallen hat and dusted off his jeans, a fierce scowl on his face.

Cassidy couldn’t be sure if he was mad at himself for failing to reach the full eight seconds required to qualify or if he was in pain. Perhaps a little of both. He hobbled slightly on his walk of shame from the arena. Behind him, a trio of wranglers chased the bull to the far end and through a gate. A fourth wrangler swung the gate shut on the great beast’s heels.

Score: bull one, cowboy zero.

“Better luck next time,” a buddy hailed from the fence where he’d been watching.

A second pal slapped the cowboy on the back while a third offered him a bottled water and hearty condolences.

Moving as a group, the two dozen participants from the Tuesday night jackpot slowly made their way to the open area where either their families, friends or pickup trucks waited.

Cassidy switched off her handheld radio and tucked her clipboard beneath her arm. She, too, was almost done for the evening.

Bull-riding jackpots, along with bucking horse, calf roping and steer-wrestling competitions, were popular events at the Easy Money. Especially in the weeks preceding a rodeo. If a participant performed well, he could earn enough winnings to cover his entry fees and perhaps a little extra. If not, well, at least he got in some good practice.

Tonight, Shane had worked closely with Cassidy’s father, learning the ins and outs. He also studied each bull, noting the personalities and traits of those new to him and re-familiarizing himself with those he’d previously ridden.

Cassidy knew this for a fact because she’d taken her eyes off him only long enough to perform her tasks of calling out the participants’ names and communicating with her sister in the announcer’s booth. Even now she had to look away for fear of Shane catching her staring at him with doe eyes. Again. He had already, twice.

Damn, damn, damn. Why did her father have to hire Shane Westcott of all people? She should have said something when she’d had the chance. But, then, she would have had to tell her father why, and that was out of the question.

Okay, Shane was competent at his new job. Cassidy noticed he took time to converse with each cowboy, offering tips and pointers and, more importantly, listening to the cowboy talk about his ride.

Shane entered every piece of information into a small spiral notebook he constantly removed and replaced in his shirt’s front pocket. No fancy-schmancy handheld electronic device for him.

Somehow, Cassidy thought that fitting. Shane didn’t strike her as a high-tech kind of guy. No wonder he and her father got along like twins separated at birth.

They also dressed alike, though Shane’s shirt fit his broad shoulders better and his jeans hugged his narrow hips with drool-worthy closeness.

Stop looking at him!

Slamming her mouth shut, Cassidy wheeled around, intending to return the handheld radio to the registration booth and do a final total on tonight’s runs. Instead, she came face-to-face with her mother.

“Keep staring at him like that and you’re going to draw attention to yourself.”

“I’m not staring,” Cassidy insisted.

“Sure. And I’m a natural blonde.”

“You are a natural blonde.”

“Was. These days, my color is courtesy of Pizzazz Hair Salon.” Her mother linked an arm through Cassidy’s and led her away from the chutes. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before he’s any the wiser.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“You did date once.”

“I’m just curious.”

“About him or Hoyt?”

“Not so loud,” Cassidy admonished and glanced nervously about. No one appeared to have heard, but she couldn’t be too careful. “Hoyt, of course,” she continued in a half whisper. “I asked Shane about him the other day.”

“And?”

“He’s still married. Still childless. The good thing is, he and his wife bought a house in Jackson Hole.”

The two of them walked to the registration booth. There Cassidy removed the wristband key ring she wore and unlocked the door. Breathing a sigh of relief, she entered the one-room modified office. Finally, they were out of earshot.

“Just because he has no children,” her mother said, “doesn’t automatically mean he’d seek custody of Benjie.”

“You can’t be serious.” Cassidy entered numbers on a ten-key calculator, tallying the evening’s scores for her father. And probably, Shane as well. She’d have to explain their system to him.

Drat. Yet another reason for them to work together. She paused and leaned against the counter. “To quote Shane, ‘Hoyt wants a big family.’”

“Me not telling your dad about Liberty is no reason for you to keep Hoyt in the dark regarding Benjie.”

Cassidy gawked at her mother. “I thought you were on my side.”

“I am on your side and will support any decision you make.”

“Except now that Dad’s back, and he and Liberty are all cozy and comfy, you’re having second thoughts.”

“I’ve always had regrets. It wasn’t an easy decision to make, lying all these years.”

The story was well known throughout Reckless and by plenty of others in the rodeo world. Sunny Beckett sent her husband and business partner packing when his acute alcoholism nearly ruined them, personally and financially. What she didn’t tell him, or anyone else, was that she had been pregnant with their third child. Rather, she lied about the father’s identity, claiming he was some cowboy passing through.

Then, last summer, Liberty had accidentally discovered Mercer Beckett was her biological father and tracked him down. He used a reconciliation with her to worm his way back into the lives of his ex-wife and daughters.

One good thing had happened in the wake of Mercer’s return. Cassidy’s brother, Ryder, also came home. They still didn’t agree on their father—Ryder trusted their father’s sobriety and she didn’t—but otherwise the two of them had grown close during the last few months.

How could they not? Ryder was engaged to Cassidy’s best friend, Tatum Mayweather, after all. Cassidy hadn’t seen that one coming, but she was pleased for both her brother and best friend. They proved differences were superficial when it came to love.

Theirs was actually the second of two upcoming Beckett weddings. Liberty was also engaged. To Deacon McCrea, a former employee of the arena and now their legal counsel. Cassidy, conversely, remained single and planned to stay that way.

She’d been asked to be maid of honor at both affairs, the dates of which had recently been set for this summer and fall respectively. She would be pretty busy during the coming months, assisting with the thousand and one details, hosting bridal showers and making short day trips to pick out dresses.

Thank goodness she didn’t need to worry about her parents. Since his return, her father had made it clear he was still in love with her mother and intended to remarry her. So far, her mother was resisting. One of her parents, at least, was behaving sensibly.

“Well, I have no regrets.” Cassidy powered off the ten-key calculator and tore loose the paper tape.

“Hoyt has a right to know he’s a father,” her mother said.

“And Dad didn’t?”

“You deserve child support.”

“I don’t see the big deal. You didn’t get any from Dad for Liberty and managed just fine.”

Her mother compressed her lips in a show of impatience. “That’s not entirely true and you know it. He didn’t take any money for his share of the arena all those years—which is basically the same as paying child support.”

“He stole Ryder from us.”

“Ryder went to live with him when he was old enough to legally choose.”

Cassidy’s chest grew tight making it hard to breathe. “I won’t lose Benjie.”

And there it was. The crux of the matter. Cassidy’s greatest fear. What would happen if she told Hoyt about Benjie? Even if he didn’t come after her for some sort of custody, Benjie could one day decide he’d rather live with his father and leave her just like Ryder.

“Shane’s not stupid.” Her mother’s manner was less judgmental and more sympathetic. “He’s bound to put two and two together.”

“Not if I can help it.”

“You can’t keep Benjie hidden from him forever. They’ll meet eventually. What if Shane tells Hoyt?”

“I’ll lie if I have to.” Leave Reckless if necessary.

“You’ve been lucky so far. One day Benjie’s going to ask about his father, and you won’t be able to put him off like you have in the past.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“Cassidy—”

“Believe me, Mom, I’ve weighed the pros and cons. I’m not ready to tell Benjie or Hoyt.”

Her mother sighed. “You didn’t always feel that way.”

No, she hadn’t. When she was eight months pregnant Cassidy had gone so far as to locate Hoyt and drive to where he was living, only to learn he was engaged to Cheryl, a young widow who’d lost her first husband unexpectedly. Putting herself in Cheryl’s shoes, Cassidy had turned around and driven back to Reckless. She wouldn’t be a home wrecker. Been there, done that, and she refused to compound the guilt she already bore.

“I came to my senses.”

As if reading Cassidy’s thoughts, her mother said, “You weren’t the reason I divorced your father.”

“I know.”

“Do you? Really?”

“He was a drunk. If you hadn’t divorced him, he’d have driven the arena into bankruptcy. I may have been ten, but I remember. Everything.”

The smell of alcohol clinging to him like a layer of heavy sweat. Finding him passed out in the back of his pickup truck behind the barn. Or on the living room couch if he managed to stagger inside. Once in the middle of the kitchen floor. Twice in the chaise lounge on the back patio when her mother had banished him from the house.

Worst of all were the outbursts, which, to this day, still rang in her ears. The yelling. The fights. The breaking down into gut-wrenching sobs, his and her mother’s. The constant apologies.

“He regrets the accident.”

Cassidy wheeled on her mother. “He could have killed me. And himself.”

“I’m not defending him.”

“Sounds like you are.” She wiped at the tears springing to her eyes, angry at herself for letting her emotions get the best of her.

“What’s important is that you weren’t hurt. Either of you. Just scared. No less than I was, trust me.”

Memories surfaced. They were never far away. Especially since her father’s return.

One night, shortly before her parents’ marriage imploded, her father fetched her from a friend’s house when her mother couldn’t get away. The people lived less than a mile away. Nonetheless, he shouldn’t have been driving. Cassidy refused to go with him at first. When he raised his voice, she acquiesced rather than have him cause a scene in front of her friend.

Misjudging the distance, he ran the truck into the well house. Granted, they weren’t going fast, twenty-five miles an hour at most, and the well house suffered the most damage. There was a small dent on the truck’s front fender. Cassidy’s seat belt saved her from injury.

When the truck rolled to a stop, she jumped out the door and sprinted the entire way to the house, yelling at her mother to make her father leave. Two weeks later, her mother did.

At first Cassidy had been glad. Good riddance. Then, seeing how miserable her mother and brother were, she was consumed by guilt. The feeling intensified when, two years later, Ryder left. When she was older, she’d wondered if her reaction to the accident had driven her mother into the arms of another man within days after her father left. Learning that was all a lie had affected Cassidy more than she let on.

“I put up with the drinking and the bad business decisions,” her mother continued. “But I couldn’t let him endanger my children. Once the trust is gone, there’s no getting it back.”

“You trust him now. At least, you act like you do. You let him purchase the bulls when you swore we’d never own them again.” And that purchase had led her father to hiring Shane.

“There’s no letting or not letting,” her mother said. “We’re partners. An arrangement requiring give and take on both sides.”

“What did he give?” From where Cassidy stood, her mother had done all the compromising.

“He agreed to put money aside for Benjie’s college education.”

Cassidy was taken aback, especially when her mother named the amount.

“His own personal money,” her mother added. “Not the arena’s.”

She quickly recovered. “He can’t buy my affections. Or my forgiveness. And he can’t buy off his responsibility for what happened.”

“Did it ever occur to you that he’s simply doing something nice for his grandson? He does love the boy. And Benjie adores him.”

He did, which rankled Cassidy to no end. “I’ll tell him no.”

“You can’t stop him. It’s his money. He can do with it what he wants. And when the time comes, Benjie can accept it, with or without your consent.”

Cassidy liked that less.

During these past six months her life had been slowly spiraling out of control. First her father returned. Then both her siblings met their future spouses. Lastly her father had hired Shane.

Cassidy vowed anew to keep her son from his uncle’s path as much as possible. The benefit would be twofold. In addition to keeping the identity of Benjie’s father a secret, she’d quell this wild and inexplicable attraction to Shane. Anything else was unacceptable.

* * *

“ATTA BOY,” SHANE CROONED. “Steady now.”

Wasabi swayed from side to side, but managed to remain standing—which was a good thing. If the bull collasped onto all fours, his massive weight could compress his lungs and cut off his breathing. It was imperative that every move be precisely executed, every step accomplished at the exact right moment or Wasabi might die.

“We’re done,” Doc Worthington said, visibly relaxing as the tranquilizer took effect.

Getting the bull sedated had been a tricky process, to say the least. With few choices, and to be as humane as possible, the Becketts’ vet had used a tranquilizer gun, aiming the feather-tipped dart at Wasabi’s muscular hind-quarters. The bull hadn’t felt a thing.

Turned out, the initial dose hadn’t been strong enough, and the vet had to administer a second one, which had worried Shane. Stress and excitement could cause the tranquilizer to run through the bull’s system at an incredible rate. Shane had once seen a bull require five doses.

Now, he carefully monitored the entire procedure from his place beside the wizened country vet. So far, so good, and his respect for the older man grew.

Two of the arena’s most capable wranglers had been recruited to act as spotters, along with Mercer. If Shane appeared to be in any trouble during the bull’s massage therapy, they’d jump right in. Shane was glad for their presence. Despite his show of confidence, this type of therapy was relatively new to him. A phone call yesterday with the bovine sports medicine specialist had yielded some helpful advice.

The older veterinarian considered Shane a bit crazy to take this on, especially since he had limited experience.

Yes, there were risks. In more ways than one. Shane might get injured, or, worse, he could make a fool of himself in the eyes of his new employer and possibly lose his job.

“You ready?” Mercer called from the sidelines.

“Let’s do it.” Taking a fortifying breath, Shane crawled through the fence rails.

“There’s still time to tie him up.”

“I don’t want to upset him more than he already is.”

Shane didn’t have long. Twenty minutes at most before Wasabi came out of the sedation. No telling how the bull would react. Dazed and disoriented, he’d likely attack the nearest object with horns or hooves. In this case, Shane.

Straightening, he surveyed his surroundings before slowly approaching Wasabi. A small crowd had gathered to watch from a safe distance, Cassidy among them. Their gazes briefly connected before Shane looked away. He couldn’t afford any distractions, and Cassidy was a big one.

Since their encounter in the trailer four days ago, it seemed as though she’d made it her mission to avoid him. Often, like at last night’s bull riding jackpot, he’d sensed her presence, only to turn and find her staring at him or, more often, quickly averting her head.

She was obviously drawn to him, if nothing else, out of curiosity. And the feeling was mutual.

Why, then, did she run for the hills every time he approached? Her behavior just piqued his interest further, and Shane wasn’t a man to be put off indefinitely.

“Watch it,” Mercer hollered when Wasabi opened his bleary eyes and swung his head clumsily to the side. Mercer, along with the two wranglers, had formed a circle around Wasabi and Shane. “Maybe you should dose him again,” he said to the vet.

“I don’t dare. Not unless you have a crane handy we can use to lift him.”

That elicited a round of nervous chuckles from the wranglers. They, too, were on high alert.

A moment later, the bull calmed, and his eyes drifted closed. He rumbled as if snoring. Shane waited another minute, positioning himself near Wasabi’s shoulder, avoiding both the bull’s hind end and head, either of which could be deadly.

When the bull didn’t react, he tentatively stroked Wasabi’s back. Other than a slight twitch, the animal remained motionless. Growing bolder, Shane removed first one, then the second dart. Wasabi continued sleeping, and Shane skimmed his palm down the bull’s thick neck to his shoulder. Probing gently, he searched for any lumps, swelling or other signs of a contusion. Wasabi’s injury could have been the result of a kick from another bull, requiring a potentially different course of treatment.

“Find anything?” Doc Worthington asked.

“Nothing yet.” Shane increased the pressure, kneading methodically.

Wasabi snorted lustily. A moment later, he quieted.

“He probably just sustained a sprain.”

In Shane’s opinion, the vet was being optimistic. Wasabi could have a torn tendon or ligament. Trauma of that nature would end his career.

“Guess we’ll know soon enough,” Mercer said.

They would, if Wasabi didn’t improve quickly. Like, within days.

Knowing he had little time left, Shane continued with the massage. It might be his imagination, or wishful thinking, but he swore the bull relaxed beneath his touch.

“Get the tape,” he said.

Mercer delivered the roll from the vet. During Shane’s phone call yesterday, the bovine sports medicine specialist had recommended elastic therapeutic tape, the same type human athletes used for their injuries. Wasabi would look a little funny, but if it helped, who cared?

Just as Shane finished affixing the last strip, the bull started to rouse.

Doc Worthington raised his tranquilizer gun. “I can dose him again.”

“Don’t bother, I’m done.”

More correctly, Wasabi was done. Grunting angrily, he jabbed the empty air in front of him with his horns. Shane jumped out of the way, though the dazed bull missed him by a mile.

The reprieve didn’t last. Wasabi awakened quickly and, finding himself confronted by hated humans, charged the closest one, which happened to be Shane. And, like that, the race was on.

Shane bolted for the fence. From the corner of his eye, he saw Mercer and the wranglers attempting to distract Wasabi. The bull ignored all but his tormenter and bore down on Shane, his loping gait growing steadier and faster by the second.

“Look at him move.” Doc Worthington slapped his thigh. “He feels better already.”

At the moment, it was little consolation to Shane that his efforts had yielded the desired results.

With the fence in sight, he executed a high-flying leap. Grabbing the top railing, he hurled himself up and over and onto the other side, landing with a loud thud. Only then did he notice the sharp pain shooting up his left calf.

Wasabi had clipped him in the leg. Nothing was torn, either his jeans or his flesh, but Shane would be sore for the next few days.

Mercer ambled over to check on Shane. “I say we call it a tie.”

Doc Worthington chuckled. “Or a payback.”

Shane called himself plain lucky. “Anyone see what happened to the roll of therapeutic tape?” His last recollection was of it sailing out of his hand.

“In the dirt.” Mercer hitched his chin at the holding pen. “We’ll get it later when the coast is clear.”

The two wranglers had convinced Wasabi that his interests were best served back in the main pen with the other bulls and not causing trouble for them.

“My hat’s off to you, young man.” Doc Worthington eyed Shane’s leg. “You all right?”

“Fine.” He glanced at the crowd, which had shrunk to a small gathering. Good, Shane thought. His leg did hurt, and the fewer people who knew it, the better.

All at once, Cassidy rounded the chutes, passing her father and the vet on their way to the pen, and made straight for him. It was a nice change from her recent habit of avoidance. The expression of concern on her pretty face made him almost forget about the pain shooting up his leg.

“Are you okay?” she asked in a rush.

“Never better.”

“I’m serious, Shane.”

“He barely nicked me.”

She studied him critically, her eyes traveling from his head to his boots. “You’re limping.”

He grinned, he couldn’t help it, and lowered his voice. “I appreciate the concern, Cassidy. It means a lot to me.”

“Of course I’m concerned. You had a close call.”

“Any other reason?” He leaned in. A mere fraction at first, then more.

She abruptly drew back. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”

“I’m thinking you’re worried about me because you might like me a little.”

“Well, I don’t.”

His grin widened. “Could have fooled me.”

“I mean, I do like you. As a fellow employee.” Her cheeks flushed, and she tripped over her words. “And as an old friend.”

He’d flustered her, and though it shouldn’t, the thought pleased him. “Right.”

“You always had a big ego.”

“Matched only by my....” He let the sentence drop.

“Shane!”

“Confidence,” he finished with a chuckle.

“I guess you are okay. Don’t know why I worried.”

She spun and would have left him in the dust if he hadn’t grabbed her arm and pulled her swiftly to him.

“Thanks.” Lowering his head, he pressed his lips to her cheek, letting them linger.

The contact wasn’t much. Not as far as kisses went. No more than a light caress. Yet, it sent a shock wave coursing through him with the kick of a lightning bolt.

She must have felt a similar shock, for she let out a soft “Oh” and, for one incredible moment, melted against him. The next instant, she tensed. “I—I have to g-go.”

“Why, Cassidy?” He searched her face. To his surprise and concern, he noted fear in her eyes. “What are you afraid of?”

“Nothing.”

He wanted to contradict her, but this wasn’t the time or place. Not with her acting like a skittish colt and not with her father standing close by, watching the two of them like, well, like a father watches a man who’s just kissed his daughter on the cheek.

What would Mercer think if he knew of Shane’s attraction to Cassidy? He might approve. Then again, he might oppose it.

Maybe Shane should take a moment and step back from the situation. This job was too important for him to mess up right out of the gate.

The thrill of his encounter with Cassidy faded. Unfortunately, his attraction to her didn’t. Try as he might, Shane couldn’t stop staring as she walked away.

Then again, he wasn’t trying very hard.

Chapter Three

“I sure appreciate the use of ole Skittles.” Shane tugged on the brim of Benjie’s too-big cowboy hat. “I know it’s rough sometimes, letting someone else ride your horse.” He lifted his daughter and planted her on Skittles’s broad back, then faced Benjie again. “Bria will treat him right, I promise.”

“It’s okay.” The boy kicked at the ground with the toe of his boot, leaving behind a large gouge in the dirt. “I can ride Rusty.”

Cassidy bit her lower lip to keep herself from speaking. She knew how much her son disliked riding the potbellied, swaybacked mule. Not because Rusty was mean or difficult or stubborn, as were many of his breed. But because he wasn’t a horse. That, in Benjie’s opinion, made him the object of ridicule from his peers. Like a kid forced to wear no-name sneakers while everyone else in school owned expensive, celebrity-endorsed athletic shoes.

Cassidy had been getting plenty of flak from Benjie this past school semester. He complained nonstop about his discount store footwear. The thing was, she didn’t have money to spare for nonessentials.

Her mother’s words came back to haunt her. If she told Hoyt about Benjie, she’d be able to collect child support from him. Possibly for the years since Benjie’s birth.

No, no, no. She wasn’t about to share, much less risk losing, custody of her son. And Hoyt would no doubt insist on some form of custody.

“You need a leg up, too?” Shane asked Benjie.

“I got it.” Nimble as a monkey, Benjie grabbed the side of the saddle and scrambled up onto Rusty’s back.

“Good job.”

Though Benjie would argue differently, Skittles was barely better than the mule. One of the arena’s oldest mounts, the horse’s slow, steady gait and docile personality made him perfect for a novice like Bria. Truthfully, Benjie was ready for a more advanced horse. But he loved Skittles and was loath to part with his pal.

“I want to go, Daddy,” Bria exclaimed gleefully and jiggled her turquoise cowboy boots.

A tad on the chubby side, she sported a generous mop of curly brown hair and an impish grin that reminded Cassidy a lot of Shane.

“Okay, okay. Give me a second.” Shane patted Benjie’s leg. “You want to ride in the arena or come with us to the round pen?”

“With you.” Benjie gazed longingly at Skittles, not at Bria, who was combing her fingers through the old horse’s stringy mane.

“If it’s okay with your mother.” Shane glanced at Cassidy, his green eyes twinkling.

She knew at once he’d been aware of her scrutiny the entire time and said nothing. Guess she wasn’t nearly as clever as she thought.

Rather than avoiding him, as was her plan when he’d first arrived, she’d gone about the arena with a business-as-usual approach these past few days. She refused to let him think their kiss had been anything other than mild and meaningless.

Truth be told, it had rocked her to her core. She couldn’t remember a time when a simple peck on the cheek had turned her limbs to liquid.

Maybe her mother was right when she said Cassidy had gone too long without dating. What other reason could there be for her racing heart every time he neared?

Cassidy’s view of Shane, Bria and Benjie was obstructed when a woman astride a leggy thoroughbred rode up beside her.

“Cassidy, dearie, can you help me adjust my stirrups? They’re a little long.”

“Sure,” she answered automatically and did as requested.

“Mom,” Benjie hollered as if she’d been swallowed whole and not momentarily out of sight. “Can I go with Mr. Shane?”

The name was a compromise. Cassidy insisted her son address adults formally, one of the few holdovers from her father’s strict teachings. Shane, however, wanted Benjie to call him by his first name.

She stepped around the horse and into view. What if Shane asked Benjie about his father? Better she was there to intercede. Then again, what if her going sent Shane the wrong message about them? Cassidy couldn’t decide on the lesser evil.

“You’re welcome to join us,” Shane said affably. “If you’re worried about him.”

“I’m not worried.” Not about Benjie.

“Then come on. The more the merrier.”

“Um, I need to, ah...”

The woman on the thoroughbred leaned over her horse’s neck. “For Pete’s sake, go with him,” she said in a loud whisper. “Don’t ever turn down an invitation from a handsome man.”

Seventy, if she was a day, the woman was a regular at the Easy Money and one of their few English hunter-jumper riders. Rumor had it she’d been married—and divorced—four times.

“Mom,” Benjie pleaded.

Feeling pressured from all sides, Cassidy relented. “Okay, fine.”

“Good decision,” the woman said. “You won’t regret it.” Pulling on the reins, she turned her horse away and nudged him into a trot.

Wrong, Cassidy thought as she caught up with Shane and saw his satisfied grin. She regretted it already.

He walked beside his daughter, holding on to the side of Skittles’s bridle. He didn’t look over at Cassidy, which somehow irritated her all the more. What? Invite her and then ignore her? The next instant she reminded herself she couldn’t care less. She had no interest in him.

Luckily, or unluckily, depending on one’s opinion, no one was using the round pen. Benjie, familiar with the drill, entered the pen first and rode Rusty in a clockwise circle.

Cassidy tugged her short denim jacket snugger around her waist, the gesture the result of nerves and not the cool January breeze blowing in from the west.

“Daddy, I want to ride by myself,” Bria said, her eyes on Benjie. “I can do it.”

“In a minute. First, we need to get Skittles used to the pen.”

The old horse couldn’t be more used to the bull pen if he’d been born in it. Shane, Cassidy realized, was being protective, but not so protective he smothered Bria. He also engaged Benjie in friendly conversation. Her son responded as he always did to attention from cowboys at the arena. He lit up.

Did Benjie miss having a father in his life? Was she wrong to deny him?

“Race you.” He passed Bria at a slow, bumpy trot.

“No, Benjie,” Cassidy warned. She’d climbed the fence to a built-in bench seat, installed so parents and instructors could sit comfortably while monitoring the goings-on in the pen. “Bria isn’t ready to race yet.”

“But I want to,” the little girl protested and kicked Skittles in the sides. The saddle’s wide, thick cinch prevented her boots from making any real contact.

Like father, like daughter, Cassidy decided. The little girl was fearless. Shane had always been like that. The quality had earned him a world championship bull-riding title on three separate occasions. It had also darn near cost him his life.

Shane brought Skittles to a stop. “If you promise not to race,” he told Bria, “you can fly solo.”

The little girl stopped giggling in order to stare at him, an expression of bewilderment on her cherub face. “I’m not flying, Daddy. I’m riding.”

“Yes, you are. And doing well, I might add.”

He adjusted the reins, placing them firmly between her plump fingers. “Don’t let go and don’t move your hands all over the place. You’ll pull on Skittles’s mouth, and he won’t like it.”

Shane continued instructing his daughter for several minutes until she was fidgeting with excitement.

“Daddy,” she whined. “I’m ready.”

“All right.” He stepped back and let her go.

Cassidy could see the struggle on his face. As a parent, she understood what he was going through. It wasn’t easy, giving up control. Even, evidently, for Shane, who’d been a father only these last four months.

Bria completed her first circuit on her own with no mishaps. A second and third progressed just as smoothly, considering Benjie followed closely, daring her to go faster. Cassidy hadn’t been aware that she’d let her thoughts drift until the bench shifted beneath her. With a loud creak, Shane plopped down.

Right beside her. She hadn’t realized how small the seat was. Her pulse quickly soared. Really?

Cassidy pretended Shane’s proximity made no difference to her. “She’s a chip off the old block.”

Indeed, Bria took to horse riding as one might expect from the offspring of a rodeo champion.

“Not bad for a first time out.”

“Her mother doesn’t ride?” It seemed a reasonable question to Cassidy and not her being nosy, though she was.

“Never been on a horse.”

“Huh. I take it you didn’t meet her on the circuit.”

He leaned back, pushing his cowboy hat off his face and giving her a less obstructed view of his profile. His strong, rugged features were pronounced in the bright afternoon sun, as was his scar. Both stole her breath.

“Actually, I did. Right here. She and a friend came to the Wild West Days Rodeo.”

“Wow.” Cassidy hadn’t noticed his interest in anyone. Then again, she’d steered clear of Shane during the rodeos he’d attended. Less chance of people talking about her son and him hearing. “Were you angry with Judy for not telling you about Bria?”

Of all the disagreements Cassidy’s parents had had since her father’s return, not one had been about her mother lying to him about being Liberty’s father. Why was that? Surely, he was angry. She could easily imagine how furious Hoyt would be with her if he discovered her deception.

“Yeah,” Shane admitted, “at first, I was angry.” His tone gentled. “I got over it once I met Bria.”

Cassidy doubted Hoyt would be as forgiving. Her glance returned to Bria. “She’s adorable.”

“She’s something else, all right. I was scared to death she’d hate me. Be mad at me for abandoning her all these years.”

“How could she? You didn’t know about her.”

“I wasn’t sure she’d understand. But turns out I didn’t need to worry. We hit it off from the start. Like she’d always been a part of my life.”

“Was she upset with her mother?” That possibility concerned Cassidy almost as much.

“No. Judy and I concocted a story to tell her. She accepted it. I suppose because she’s four.”

Like Cassidy’s sister. Liberty had accepted the story their mother had made up. Also like Benjie, when Cassidy put off his occasional queries.

“And Judy’s willing to share custody with you?”

Shane gave Cassidy a curious look. “She is.”

When he didn’t ask why Cassidy wanted to know, she pushed on. “What changed her mind?”

He raised his eyebrows, his curiosity noticeably increased. Still, he didn’t ask. “The accident and me walking away from rodeoing. When I decided to settle down, she thought maybe I’d grown up enough to be a father.”

“Have you?”

He laughed good-naturedly. “Depends on who you ask.”

“I think you have,” Cassidy said, quite seriously. “You’re not the same man I once knew.”

“Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I meant it as one.”

A spark of attraction flashed in his eyes, causing her breath to hitch. They were close. So close she could discern each and every laugh line bracketing his eyes. Feel the raw energy emanating from him. Sense the weighty pull of their mutual attraction. It wasn’t easy to resist.

“What about Benjie’s father?” he asked. “Is he in the picture?”

“He isn’t.”

And, like that, the attraction fizzled. Shane had ventured into forbidden territory.

“Sorry,” she said, “I have to go. We have to go. Benjie,” she called to her son. “Grandma’s fixing dinner.”

“Aw, Mom. Not yet.”

Cassidy stood—and realized too late she was caught between Shane’s knees and the fence railing. She couldn’t pass unless he allowed it. Would he? Her gaze was drawn to his handsome face.

“Stay,” he said in a voice like warm honey. “Please.”

“We can’t.”

“You haven’t given me a chance to apologize.”

Before she could ask what for, two high-pitched squeals split the air. The first from Skittles, the second from Bria. In a flash, Shane vaulted from the bench. Cassidy grabbed the wooden seat before losing her balance. She twisted sideways just in time to see him reach Skittles and his daughter’s side.

* * *

“I’M SORRY.” BENJIE hung his head.

“It’s all right, buddy.” Shane held Bria tight in his arms. “No harm done.”

Indeed, his daughter had quickly calmed down once she realized Skittles had merely taken a brisk hop-step when Benjie tugged on his tail.

“It’s not okay.” Cassidy came up beside him, her mouth tight. “He was teasing her horse. That’s against arena rules and my rules.”

“She’s fine,” Shane insisted. “And, besides, he apologized.”

“Just because she’s not hurt is no excuse for what he did.”

Something was off in Cassidy’s tone. Shane couldn’t quite put his finger on it. As if she was talking about something other than her son and the teasing incident.

“All right. Then how ’bout we punish him? One hour of mucking bull manure after school tomorrow.”

Cassidy nodded in agreement. “Seems fitting.”

“Do I have to?” Benjie pouted.

“Yes, you do, young man.”

Bria giggled. “Ha, ha. You have to clean up cow poo.”

Shane set her back atop Skittles. When he patted the horse’s rump, the pair moseyed off.

Benjie followed on Rusty, his attitude adjusted.

“He’s just being a boy,” Shane told Cassidy.

“A misbehaving boy.”

Rather than returning to the bench, he and Cassidy exited through the gate and continued watching from outside the round pen. He was glad to see she’d forgotten about leaving. For the moment, at least. Experience had taught him she’d flee at the tiniest provocation.

Shane struggled to repress a smile. The women he typically met on the circuit were transparent, making their wants and wishes crystal clear. Cassidy, on the other hand, was a mystery. He liked that about her. Then again, he’d always appreciated a challenge.

Since she hadn’t brought up his apology, he did. “I’m sorry about the kiss the other day. I got carried away.”

“I’ve forgotten all about it.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“No big deal, Shane.”

Wasn’t it? He’d felt something when his lips brushed her cheek. A rather enjoyable, no, exciting, sensation unlike any before. He’d been certain she’d felt it, too.

“In any case, I was out of line.”

“Okay. Apology accepted. Now can we talk about something else? How’s the massage therapy with Wasabi coming along? Dad says he’s improving daily.” She kept her voice light, though the underlying tension in it was unmistakable.

Which made Shane reluctant to abide by her request. He wasn’t ready to drop the subject.

“Remember that time in Albuquerque when I got thrown? You came running to my rescue then, too.”

She gaped at him, proving she also remembered.

“Why did we stop dating, Cassidy?”

“I don’t know. We were young and ambitious and both wanted championship titles.”

She focused her attention on the children. The two reliable lesson mounts were placidly circling with their young passengers.

“We had a few good times,” he said. “You and me.”

“We did.”

“I was jealous when you started dating Hoyt.”

“Really?” Surprise flared in her eyes. “You never said anything.”

“Maybe I should have.”

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t think you cared.”

Shane nodded. Hoyt had been the better choice, or so he’d told himself.

“Do you miss competing?” he asked.

“Not at all. My life now is the arena and my son.”

Had Hoyt’s engagement so soon after he broke up with Cassidy hardened her heart? Shane didn’t think so. Cassidy had been the one to end things. And she’d obviously dated other men. Pretty quickly after Hoyt, given she had a five-year-old son.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what happened with you and Hoyt? One minute you were in love, the next you walked out on him.”

“I do mind you asking.”

“It’s been a long time.” What was the harm? Unless she still cared about Hoyt. The thought didn’t sit well with Shane for reasons he’d rather not examine.

“Exactly. It’s been a long time and doesn’t matter anymore.” Grabbing the top fence railing, she placed her foot on the bottom one and hauled herself up. “Come on, Benjie. We really need to go.”

Shane waited until she lowered herself to the ground before stating the obvious. “Every time I say something you don’t like or that makes you uncomfortable, you run off.”

He half expected her to deny it, but she didn’t.

“Then stop saying things I don’t like and that make me uncomfortable.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re something else, Cassidy Beckett.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was intended as one.” More so than she probably realized.

She entered the pen and fetched her reluctant son. It seemed Benjie wasn’t done playing with Bria. Shane was glad the two were getting along. He wanted his daughter to fit in at the Easy Money and to make friends.

“I supposed we should call it a day, too.” He took hold of Skittles’s bridle and led the horse through the gate. “I promised your mother I’d have you home by seven thirty.”

Bria’s features fell. “Can I stay over again?”

How he wished he could accommodate her. Nothing would make him happier. But he didn’t dare push the boundaries of his agreement with Bria’s mother, who’d been adamant that their daughter attend preschool on weekday mornings. Once he’d proved himself, then, yes, he’d insist on more time. Shane was smart enough to take things slowly.

“Sorry, kiddo. But maybe your mom will let you come back this weekend.” Judy had mentioned attending a real estate class on Saturday. She might appreciate Shane babysitting.

While he and Cassidy unsaddled and brushed down the mounts, the kids played a game of tag in the barn aisle. Benjie could have easily won, but he let Bria catch him more than once.

“He’s good with her,” Shane told Cassidy. “Considering he’s a year older and a boy.”

“Benjie’s used to socializing with kids of all ages. They’re a staple at the arena.” Untying Rusty’s lead rope, she walked ahead. “Come on, Benjie. Help me put Rusty in his stall.”

Bria stared after them, her expression bereft. Shane cheered her by lifting her up and setting her on Skittles’s bare back.

“Hold on to his mane,” he instructed and returned the old horse to his stall, three down from Rusty’s. Shane used the opportunity to continue conversing with Cassidy.

“Maybe next Saturday we can take them on a trail ride together?” He’d heard a lot about the rolling mountains beyond the Easy Money’s back pastures, but had not yet found the time to ride them.

“I’m working. The Jamboree’s in two weeks.”

She was referring to the arena’s next big rodeo. Shane would be busy, too. Yet, he couldn’t take no for an answer.

“How much would it hurt if we quit an hour early?” He removed Skittles’s halter and lifted Bria from the horse’s back. She scampered over to Benjie.

“I’m not going on a date with you,” Cassidy said.

“It’s not a date. We’re talking a trail ride with Benjie and Bria. Invite your friend Tatum and her kids if you want.”

“Bad idea.” She shut the door on Rusty’s stall. “Besides, I have other plans. A...family function.”

“We were friends once. We can be again.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Only if you make it complicated.”

“No.”

“Why? Because of Hoyt?”

“Of course not.”

“You still care for him.”

“I don’t. He means nothing to me.”

Shane recalled their brief kiss the other day and the sparks that had ignited between them. “What about me, Cassidy? Do I mean anything to you?”

Her sharp intake of breath and flustered denial should have been enough of an answer for him.

It wasn’t, and Shane was more than prepared to see exactly how deep—or not—her feelings for him ran.

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