The Bull Rider's Plan. Jeannie Watt
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June rain. After too many nights spent alone, second-guessing himself, he wanted noise and lots of it. A way to shut off his brain and focus on things other than the fact that he’d just given up a steady job to follow the rodeo for four weeks.
It was the right choice. His twin brother was tearing up the professional bull-rider circuit, and Jess knew he should take a shot before it was too late. He was a good bull rider, better than Tyler in some respects, but he was also cautious—not about rough stock, but he did have a backup plan for when things went awry. That was why he was going the rodeo route. If things worked out, he’d join his brother on the pro circuit come January. If not, he’d go back to work for the construction company that sent him all over Montana overseeing the assembly of steel-framed buildings.
But even though he’d made his decision, it was surprisingly hard to shut off the voice of sanity and reason—possibly because for most of his life he’d been that voice for both himself and his brother. Tyler had a penchant for wild behavior—or he had until he hooked up with his now-wife, Skye Larkin. Jess was no saint, but compared to Ty, he was...well...kind of boring.
No. Not boring. Careful.
He crossed the crowded floor to where his friend Gus Hawkins was standing behind the bar. He waited his turn behind a group of college girls, smiling at one of them when she turned and gave him a flirtatious once-over. Apparently, she liked what she saw.
“Hi,” she said with a dimpled smile. “I’m Talia.”
“Jess.”
Talia’s friend turned and pushed a drink into her hand, then made a gesture toward a group of guys on the other side of the room. Talia gave a helpless shrug as her friend grabbed her wrist and started pulling her away.
“Maybe I’ll see you later,” she called with a laugh before disappearing into the crowd.
Maybe. It’d been a while since he’d dated anyone and he felt kind of rusty. Something about twelve-hour days and being on the road too much. Well, he was about to be on the road too much again, but in a different way.
“This is a surprise,” Gus said as Jess stepped forward to rest his hands on the edge of the bar. “For a minute, I thought you were Tyler.”
“Easy mistake to make.” Even their mom made it sometimes.
“Because even though he’s on the road most of the time, I still see more of him than I do of you.”
“And that will continue,” Jess said. “I’m hitting the rodeo circuit.”
Gus gave a satisfied grunt. “Finally.”
“It’s now or never. The body’s not getting any younger.” Taking a beating on a bull was truly an occupation for the young.
Gus set a glass in front of him and poured a shot. “On me. For luck. How are you traveling?”
“Bedroll in the back of my truck.”
Gus held up a finger before moving away to take an order from an old guy in a cowboy hat. He drifted back toward Jess and said, “Take my camper. I’m not using it. I’m just too lazy to sell the thing online.”
“That would be...great.” It would certainly beat the bedroll in the back of the truck, which was how he and his brother had operated during the three years on the Montana circuit before Tyler went pro and their parents sold the family ranch and moved to Texas. At that point, Jess realized that neither he nor Tyler would have a place to live if one of them didn’t get a full-time job and keep the home fires burning. Tyler hadn’t really needed home fires, because he was rarely at home. When he finally did come home for a spell, he’d moved onto a neighboring ranch and had become engaged to the owner.
That had been a turning point. That had been when Jess decided that maybe he did have enough money in the bank. That he was only responsible for himself, which was an odd feeling for an identical twin.
“When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow afternoon for Union City.”
“Come by and see the camper tomorrow morning. If it’ll work, take it.”
“I’ll pay you—”
Gus leveled a deadly look at him. “I don’t think you will.”
Jess simply nodded. He’d pay something if he used the camper, but he’d wait until he got back rather than argue with Gus now. He continued to stand at the bar, talking to Gus as he drank. Across the room, Talia smiled at him and raised her glass in a small salute. He smiled back, thinking it might be time to make his move. But before he could push off the bar, a small crash at the other end made his head jerk around.
Emma Sullivan’s wide gray gaze came up from the mess of broken glass and beer on the bar. She instantly started apologizing to Gus’s uncle Thad, who was standing only a few feet away.
“I’m so sorry. That guy bumped into me.” She began stacking the smaller pieces of glass onto the larger pieces as she attempted to clear the mess.
“No harm done—or there won’t be if you stop trying to pick up the glass,” Thad said sternly.
“Sorry.” Emma pulled her hands to her chest, holding her fists against the blue-gray sweater she wore. Her eyes came up again and this time she zeroed straight in on Jess. Her lips parted as she recognized him, then she looked over her shoulder at the door.
Excellent. Unless he was misreading the signs, Emma, his late best friend’s little sister, had had too much to drink.
He set down his whiskey. “I’ll be back,” he said to Gus. Just as soon as he made certain that Emma wasn’t alone.
“Jess,” she said as he approached. She attempted to sound offhand, but the end of his name came out just slurred enough to confirm his suspicions.
“Are you here with someone?” he asked, reaching out to take her elbow as someone jostled her from behind, making him think that her story about the guy bumping her was true.
“Watch it,” he growled. The guy turned, half ready to defend himself until he saw the deadly look in Jess’s eyes. He gave a grunt and moved a few feet away. Jess turned back to Emma. “Are you here alone?”
“I came with Jonesy, but I haven’t seen her in a while. I think she might have left with someone.” She spoke the last part in a stage whisper that had Jess rolling his eyes.
A table close to them emptied and he gestured toward it. “Sit. I have to get my drink.”
Drawing in a breath, he headed to the other end of the bar, retrieved his whiskey, which he might as well enjoy, because it might be his last drink of the evening, and headed back to where Emma sat with her elbows on the table.
“What’s going on, Em?”
“My drink spilled when that guy bumped me.” She gave him an encouraging look. “I could use another.”
“I’m not buying you a drink.” He refrained from saying she’d had too many, because nothing brought out the fight in Em like being told she couldn’t do something. Or that she had to do something. Something about being one of the youngest members of a large blended family. Her stepmom had her hands full raising a lot of kids, but that didn’t keep her from trying to control every move they made.
She tightened one corner of her mouth, which was wide and full and frosted with shimmery stuff. He used to tease her about her mouth being too big for her face, but he’d been wrong. She’d finally grown into that smart mouth of hers. It looked...good. And the corners were once again drooping.
“Selma is driving me crazy,” she suddenly blurted, as if needing to explain why she was in the Shamrock alone, having a few. “I need to get married to get her off my back.”
Jess downed the rest of his whiskey and considered ordering another. Across the room he saw Talia flirting with another guy, then turned his attention back to Em. “Are you