Cowboy Crush(10)

“What if I’m on Facebook?”

She wagged a finger. “Nuh-uh, you would have recognized your friend. Would have known he’d gone bald. So what aren’t you telling me?”

At that moment a store associate in an orange vest passed them. Then she stopped and backed up. “Cal Lincoln?”

He donned the smile he put on each week when he stayed hours after the last ride to sign autographs for PBR fans. “Hey.”

“Oh. My. God.” The woman slapped her palms together and then emitted a high-pitched squeal that dogs three counties over could probably hear. “You’re my rider. You’re my rider!”

“Thank you,” he said, stretching out his hand just as a shopping cart slammed into his ass. He turned to find Maggie glaring at him.

“Sally,” the woman said grabbing his hand and pumping it up and down. “Oh, crap. I gotta get you to sign something. My son loves you. He even has a T-shirt with you on it. Wore it every Friday to school last year.”

“Here,” Maggie said, ripping off a piece of the yellow notebook paper and setting it over the list. “And here’s a pen so Cal can sign something for your son. For what? I don’t exactly know.”

Sally made an incredulous face. “You’re joking, right?”

“Not at all.”

Sally looked at him like Maggie was cracked. He shrugged and arched an eyebrow. “What’s your boy’s name?”

“Ryan. He’s seven years old. You’re his hero. Well, you and John Cena.”

“Good taste,” Cal cracked, scribbling a signature to the woman’s son.

“Oh, and would you mind taking a picture with me?” she asked, digging her cell phone out of her apron pocket. She handed it to Maggie. “If you don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” Maggie said, taking the phone and holding it up. Clicking the button, she took three photos and handed the phone back. After a few more seconds of Sally fawning on him, he started toward the back of the store. Normally, he didn’t have to worry about being recognized by fans. Oh, sure, every now and then someone recognized him, but usually he flew under the radar of even the most loyal of fans. But he was in Texas only thirty minutes from where he rode his first bull. People followed him avidly on the PBR tour around these parts. He heard Maggie behind him, pushing the cart with the wonky wheel.

She bore down on him like a field sergeant.

Finally he stopped in front of a collection of storm doors.

“That woman got your autograph, took a picture with you and called you her rider. You’re good at bull riding, aren’t you?”

“Two-time world champion.”

“Holy crap,” she mused, folding her arms over her chest again...which sucked because he liked the view of her rack. “You didn’t need this job. Why’d you take it?”

“I was bored.” Probably not a good answer. But it was the truth.

“Bored? You took a job helping me because you were bored? That’s insane.”

“I climb onto the back of two-thousand pound animals that could stomp a mud hole in me. I’m a little crazy.”

Maggie actually looked hurt. “Is this about the flirting? The kiss? Was this about getting a piece of ass?”

“Maybe.”

Her eyes widened. “Seriously? You admit it?”

He looked for the section that housed the ladders because the hole he’d dug had gotten deep as hell. “Look, this isn’t just about sex, okay? Yeah. I want you. I’ll be honest. I’ve been home for six weeks. Three of them were miserable as hell with my mother constantly in my ear about crap. This last wreck has her convinced I have a death wish. And I hurt like a son of a bitch. But when you walked into that diner, it was like a big ol’ glass of water set in front of a thirsty man. I had to take a drink...or try to.”

Maggie didn’t respond for a few seconds. Instead she studied him under the harsh lighting, framed against the prefabricated doors. “You could have asked me out to dinner. That’s the normal way a man goes about pursuing a woman.”

“But you needed help.”

“And you wanted to fix things for me?”

“Maybe a little. I felt bad for you and as I mentioned, I’ve been without much to occupy my time. My shoulder’s good enough to hold a paintbrush and hammer some nails. I need to get stronger and drop some pounds. There’s only so much I can do in a gym.” He dropped his gaze, taking in her tight body in the sundress and the toes he’d thought about nibbling. “And the scenery wasn’t bad.”

“I feel like an idiot. When you told me you lived in a trailer on your mother’s property—”

“You thought I was a loser? Didn’t have a job and lived with Mommy, huh?” He cracked a smile. But he had to admit, it would be easy to jump to that conclusion. He had been hanging out in a diner at 9:00 a.m. on a weekday. And he’d eagerly suggested he could help her with the ranch.

“So why didn’t you tell me you were, like, some celebrity bull rider?”

“You didn’t ask.”

“I’m asking now. What else? Do you have a girlfriend? A...wife?” Her mouth tightened.

“No. The last girl I dated seriously was in college. The only other thing I can think of to tell you is I’m currently ranked fourth, my nickname is Hollywood, I modeled in a Hugo Boss ad, and if you hear something about an orgy in Denver, I was not there. No matter what anyone says.” He spread his hands out and hoped she didn’t start hurling the doorknobs still sitting in the cart at him.

Maggie gave an ironic laugh. “Oh, is that all?”

“Yep. I’ve totally come clean.”

She picked up the list with a heavy sigh. “If someone would have told me I’d be standing in a Home Depot in McKinney, Texas, with a guy who models Hugo Boss underwear, I’d tell them they’d been smoking some bad shit.”

“It wasn’t underwear,” he said, taking the shopping cart. “It was a suit. But I wore my gold buckle.”

Maggie merely shook her head and fell in step behind him. “Okay, Hollywood, let’s get this list completed so we can get back and cure your boredom.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “What did you have in mind? Because the lubricant aisle is right over there.” He pointed toward aisle five. He had no clue what was in aisle five. He just wanted Maggie to smile again. To maybe consider getting naked with him at some point.

“But I need caulk,” she said. Though she made it sound dirty.

Like maybe he didn’t need that ladder, after all.





6


MAGGIE SNITCHED ONE of Cal’s French fries from the Burger Boy bag and slid another look at him as he drove through the intersection.

Two-time world champion, huh?

Not such a loser, after all.

Okay, she’d never thought him a loser. She’d wondered why he lived with his mother and didn’t seem to have a job, but she’d never judged him. Humble beginnings were her middle name so she never looked down or up on the social ladder...though she was constantly aware. Paid to be aware of one’s surroundings. It had helped her to navigate a gilded world of charity dinners and boardrooms with Bud. She knew firsthand the rungs were often broken or slick.

But she’d never imagined Cal would have people calling him “their” rider...and wanting autographs...and knowing his rehab schedule. So strange. And somehow so intriguing. She’d been attracted to him before she knew he was a rodeo rock star, but now she couldn’t stop looking at him. Of course, that might make her shallow. Or merely honest with herself. After all, most women preferred a hot successful guy over a hot unemployed one still living with Mama.

She swiped another fry.

“Hey, lay off my fries, woman,” Cal said, making another turn, taking them farther from the center of the small city. “You better not eat them all before we get there.”

“Get where?”

“You’ll see.”

Ten minutes later, after a bone-jarring ride over a rutted dirt road, they emerged into a clearing beside a small lake. The sun glittered off the waves. Thick grass and small trees crowded the banks. “A lake?”

“A picnic,” he said, lifting the bag of food from between them and opening the door. The hot Texas wind blew inside the cab, urging her out. She obliged, sliding down to the yellowed grass waving against the running board.

Cal had angled the truck parallel to the lake and lowered the tailgate, creating a bench for them. All of the supplies they’d bought at Home Depot were piled into the back, held with several bungee cords. There was just enough room for both of them to sit, legs dangling over the edge of the tailgate. Above them birds hopped along the branches of the large oak tree.

“It’s nice out here,” she said, digging her grilled chicken salad from the depths of the bag, handing him the cheeseburger he’d ordered, swiping another fry in the process. “How’d you find it?”

“I dated a girl from McKinney in high school. We came here to make out.”

“Of course you did.”

“What? Don’t tell me you didn’t have a favorite make-out spot back in Philly.”

“I didn’t,” she said, shaking her head and then using her teeth to rip off the tab for the fat-free dressing. “I lived at Briarcliff my whole life. My mom and I had a garage apartment and there wasn’t really a place for making out. Though I did kiss the gardener’s nephew in the gazebo once. Didn’t last long. He was only there for a weeklong visit. So no nooky on the estate.”