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,