The Wedding Party Collection. Кейт Хьюит
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lives are only as boring as we make them.” Ryan jumped to his feet and held out his hand. “No time like the present to kick things up a notch.”
Betsy accepted his hand and slowly rose to her feet. “Kick what up a notch?”
“Life,” Ryan said. “I suspect we’ve both been sitting on the sidelines playing it safe. It’s time to reach out and grab what we want.”
Betsy cast a sideways glance at Adrianna, who appeared engrossed in a conversation with Tripp.
“This isn’t about her,” Ryan leaned close and whispered in her ear. “This is about you.”
He stood so near that it seemed a shame not to slide her arm around his waist. She looked into his eyes, not caring what he might see in hers.
Whatever he saw must have pleased him because a slow smile spread across his face. “Are you ready?”
She’d been ready for him for years, but she’d like to hear exactly what he had in mind. She trailed a finger down his shirtfront. If he wanted to live dangerously, she was definitely in the mood. “For what?”
“I’ll show you.”
Riding a mechanical bull wasn’t exactly what Betsy had in mind. In fact, simply sitting on the back of the black-and-white monstrosity scared her spitless.
“This isn’t what I thought living dangerously meant,” she muttered.
Ryan’s hand ran down her leg as he checked her seat. “What did you say, sweetheart?”
She didn’t know why he’d started calling her his sweetheart, but she liked it. It made her feel connected to him in a very personal way.
“Hey, Ryan.” Heidi—or whatever her name was—suddenly appeared holding a bottle of beer loosely between her fingers. “What’s up with this? You can’t possibly think she’s going to stay on.”
Betsy lifted her chin. “I can make it eight seconds.”
Heidi’s peal of laughter felt like a swift slap. “Honey bunny, I hate to break it to you, but this isn’t a real bull. Fifteen seconds is what most people do on this one. You’ll be lucky to make it two.”
“Don’t listen to her.” Ryan’s voice took on a hard edge and his gray eyes were cold as steel. “We’re a little busy here.”
The woman’s gaze drifted from Ryan to Betsy, then back to Ryan. “So that’s how it is.”
“Yes,” Ryan said firmly, “that’s how it is.”
Flipping a strand of long blond hair over her shoulder, Heidi flounced off.
“I’m going to embarrass you,” Betsy said, suddenly miserable.
Surprise flickered in Ryan’s eyes.
“Hey, Harcourt.” The bored voice of the ride operator interrupted. “This ain’t no pony ride. Let me turn it on or get ’er off.”
“Shut up, Hank.” Ryan didn’t even look in the burly man’s direction. Instead his gaze remained on Betsy. “Do you want to do this?”
Betsy didn’t want to be on the bull. Didn’t like having all these people staring at her. But what Ryan said had struck a chord. Our lives are only as boring as we make them.
It was as if her life flashed before her and she realized she’d been living in shades of brown. A careful, well-ordered life designed to not draw attention to herself lest anyone compare her with her mother.
But her mother was dead and she was alive. And Betsy suddenly realized she didn’t want to be brown. She wanted to be red and purple and the vibrant orange that sometimes colored the skies over the Tetons.
“Betsy—” Ryan’s hand closed over hers “—it’s your decision. What do you want to do?”
“Turn it on.”
* * *
Ryan started having second thoughts when he saw Betsy’s legs shaking. This was supposed to be fun. “Are you sure?”
“I’m ready.” Betsy gave a decisive nod.
The resolve in her voice reassured him. And her legs had almost stopped shaking. He rested his hand on her shoulder. “Let me give you a couple of pointers.”
Ryan went on to explain the importance of squeezing with her thighs, of using her leg muscles to “root” her to the bull. Then he checked her grip and nodded his approval.
“Try to relax your upper body.” Even as he said the words, a shiver of unease traveled up his spine. He knew that most riders got rolled off when the ride operator had the bull bow down in front and the rear tipped up. “When the bull leans forward you lean back. Use your free hand for balance. Move with the bull instead of against it.”
He almost made her get off. The fear that she would be hurt hit him with the force of a sledgehammer. But she looked so determined, so brave, he couldn’t take the chance away from her.
“I can do this,” Betsy vowed, tiny beads of perspiration dotting her brow.
“I know you can.” He leaned over and kissed her. Not a peck on the cheek either, but one designed to make her toes curl.
“What was that for?” she asked, her eyes wide and oh so beautiful.
“For luck.” He winked. “Turn ’er on, Hank.”
* * *
At first, being on the bull reminded Betsy of riding one of those horses they used to have sitting outside the supermarket. If you put in a quarter, it would go up and down with a gentle rocking motion.
For a second, she felt confident enough to smile. This isn’t so bad.
Then the front of the bull took a nosedive. Thankfully Betsy had her legs pressed tightly against the sides of the mechanical animal or she’d have been tossed onto the cushioned mat right then. She remembered what Ryan had said and leaned back, waving her hand in the air for balance.
Had that “Yeehaw” really come from her throat?
Just as quickly as the bull lunged forward it rocked back. Betsy kept her upper body fluid and her lower legs tightly gripped.
Calls of “Ride ’em, Betsy” filled the air. Exhilaration fought with fear as the bull gave it everything he had to buck her off.
It was the wildest ride she’d ever been on, but thanks to Ryan’s tips, she was prepared. When the fifteen seconds was up, Betsy was almost disappointed her time in the spotlight was over.
As the crowd roared its approval, a cowboy she didn’t recognize plopped his black Stetson on her head. “Congratulations, cowgirl.”
Betsy smiled, feeling as if she’d just been crowned Miss America.
Ryan pulled her into his arms and, with everyone watching, gave her a big kiss. “That’s my girl.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Betsy saw Heidi turn and meld into the crowd, a sour look on her face.
“You did good, babe.” Ryan’s eyes looked like liquid silver in the light. “Full fifteen seconds.”
“I had fun.” Betsy’s breath came in short puffs. “I can see why you liked riding bulls. What a rush.”
He slung an arm around her shoulders and the crowd parted before them.
Betsy couldn’t believe all the congratulations she received, most from people she’d never met. “Adrianna is going to tell me I was crazy to do it,” she said, her words running together in excitement. “She doesn’t like anything connected with rodeo.”
But when they reached the table, it was just Tripp waiting there, a worried expression on his face.
“Where’s