Her Cowboy Lawman. Pamela Britton
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as the announcer droned on about something she couldn’t quite catch. Her son’s hair stuck straight up, but instead of the scowl she expected to see, all she spotted was something close to stunned surprise.
“You’re Brennan Connelly.”
Whoa. Wait. What? She knew the name. Her big brother had told her all about the man who’d walked away from the sport of rodeo to join the military. The world champion turned lawman.
“I am,” he said with an easy smile.
“Your poster is hanging on my wall.”
That’s why he looked so familiar. That’s why she’d been taken aback by the eerie sensation that she’d met him before. She had met him before. In her son’s bedroom. Every night she saw this man’s face when she kissed her son good-night, a much younger version, more lean, less...friendly looking, but still devastatingly handsome. If she were honest, she’d gone back to her own bedroom and...
No, no, no. Don’t go down that road. Not now. Not with the real thing standing here in front of you.
“My poster?” Bren asked, including her in his grin. “How the heck did you find one of those?
“I ordered it online. My uncle Jax told me about you. About how you lived close by and about how you won the world championship, but that you walked away from it all right after and became a Green Beret. I looked you up, watched your ride on the internet. It was awesome.”
Green Beret? No wonder the man oozed testosterone.
“These days he coaches our high school rodeo team,” said the same old man who’d greeted him earlier. He patted Bren on the back. “Taken them all the way to the national finals four years in a row. Almost won the whole shebang this year. We would have, too, if Will’s hand hadn’t slipped out of his wrap.”
“You teach kids how to ride?”
It was Kyle who’d spoken and she recognized the tone in his voice. She knew what was coming next, moved to intercept the words. “Nice to meet you, Sheriff Connelly. Thanks for helping settle my nerves.”
“You were nervous?” her son asked before turning back to Brennan. “Can you teach me?”
“Of course he can,” said the gray-haired man Lauren suddenly wanted to kill. He had skin as worn as his blue jeans, but the blue eyes were still sharp as a tack. “Been teaching kids for years.”
“Now, Samson,” Bren said, patting his friend on the shoulder. “This nice young woman doesn’t want my help.”
“I want your help,” said her son. “I really need to learn how to ride, but my mom won’t let me practice because she thinks all bull riders are dumb. Actually, she thinks everything to do with the rodeo is dumb. I’ve been trying to tell her that isn’t true, and that I could get a scholarship or something for college if I’m good enough and that I could make lots of money. Ouch.” Her son jerked away from her. “Mom.”
She hadn’t even realized she’d dug her hands into her son’s shirt.
Earth, just swallow me whole.
When she spotted the amused twitch in Bren’s eyes, she felt her face flame with color, too.
Dumb, huh? his grin seemed to ask.
“Kid’s right,” Samson interrupted with a firm nod. “There’s intercollegiate teams that compete for titles. Sure, it’s not as glamorous as, say, football or basketball, but it’s a good, clean sport.” The man all but wagged a finger at her. “You don’t hear about no bull riders beating up their girlfriends or making money on fighting dogs. Rodeo’s an honorable sport that’s known for turning boys into men. Just look at Brennan here. Rodeo team in college. Went pro for a couple years, then went off to serve his country.”
Oh, dear Lord.
“I know.” She glared at Kyle, silently telling her son they’d have words later. Kyle had the grace to look slightly abashed. “But he’s never ridden anything in his life. We just moved to my brother’s ranch outside of town and now Kyle thinks he’s a cowboy, and I told him it takes more than petting a horse to make you a cowboy. Now he’s got it in his head that he can be a bull rider, and my brother encourages it all. The man all but blackmailed me into entering him today, something I didn’t want to do, because I think he needs to learn how to ride a horse before he can ride a steer, and clearly I was right about that because he didn’t stick on for more than a second today.”
“It was longer than a second,” Kyle protested.
She was rambling, feeling stupid and out of place and, yes, guilty thanks to the look of recrimination on the old man’s face.
“Who’s your brother?” Bren asked.
The question threw her for a moment. “Jax,” she said. “Jax Stone. He owns Dark Horse Ranch.”
She should have known the name would be recognized. If she knew anything about Via Del Caballo, it was that it was a small town and everyone seemed to know everybody.
“That’s that newfangled therapy ranch at the old Reynolds place, isn’t it?” Samson asked. “For army vets.”
“Actually, it’s for veterans with post-traumatic stress disorder, and he only bought a portion of the Reynoldses’ place. He didn’t buy it all.”
But he could have. Her brother could afford to buy pretty much whatever he wanted, like her son’s new bull-riding vest and the helmet, which had been a birthday present to Kyle last month. She’d wanted to kill her brother at the time, only she’d spotted the pride and joy and excitement on her son’s face, emotions she hadn’t seen since before Paul had died.
“I’ve heard a lot of good things about Jax Stone,” Bren said. “Been meaning to drive over to his place and introduce myself.”
“You could do that today,” Kyle said excitedly. “He’s here at the rodeo.”
“I’m sure Mr. Connelly has more important things to do than meet my brother,” Lauren said gently, forcing a smile.
“Actually, I don’t.”
She should have known he’d say that.
“Mom, pleeeease?” Kyle begged. “Let’s go over there right now, ask him what he thought about my ride.”
The announcer’s voice grew loud again and they all turned to watch as a steer burst from the chutes, its rider clinging to its back. One jump, two, three. The steer bucked left and then right, the kid never once losing his grip.
“That’s Pete Hale, one of Bren’s students,” Samson said. “Gonna make it big if he keeps this up.”
The air horn blew. The boy made it look as if he hopped off a carousel horse. Kyle’s hand found her own. She glanced down, and she saw it then. The hope. The desire. The need to be good at something when he’d only ever been bad at sports. Too short for basketball. Too skinny for football. Perfect for riding steers.
Don’t ruin this for him.
She’d been angry about Bren Connelly saying that, but he’d been right. If her son had seen how badly she’d been affected by his ride, he might have realized just how much she didn’t want him riding. He’d give it up for her. He was that kind of kid. Always had been—even before Paul’s death.
Damn it.
“All right. Let’s go.”
“Awesome!” Kyle cried.
Nervous mothers.
They were the bane of a bull rider’s life. His own mom had given up going to rodeos. He suspected Kyle Danners’s mom would be no different. Once she let go of the apron strings, she’d realize it was