The Bull Rider's Cowgirl. April Arrington
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attention away from the battle and back to survival. He wrestled his hand free of the rope and leaned to the side as Sonic writhed in the air, allowing the momentum to sling him from the bull’s back and tumble him across the dirt.
He sprang to his feet and ran. Sonic followed, charging twice before the bullfighters distracted him and directed him back toward the pen.
Colt spotted his Stetson in the dirt. He scooped it up, settled it back on his head, then tipped the brim at Sonic. The bull snorted, kicking the metal gate one more time as he bulldozed his way into the pen.
Colt pulled his mouth guard out, shoved it in his pocket and laughed. “Nice meetin’ you, too, you big bastard.”
He waved at the cheering crowd, then made his way out of the ring, rubbing a hand over the sore muscles of his lower back and grimacing at the sharp ache in his left ankle.
Judd met him at the gate, handed him his phone, then slapped his shoulder. “I think you just locked this one down, man. No one’s going to pull off a better ride than that tonight.”
“Let’s hope not,” Colt said, breathing hard. “That bull made me earn it.”
Judd laughed. “I gotta get back and spot another rider.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder as he left. “Your fan club’s calling.”
Colt glanced toward the stands. Tammy stood on the floor beside the front row, laughing and waving her hat wildly. Karla was at her side, whistling through two fingers and making catcalls. Jen stood nearby with a blank expression, clutching a beer.
Colt made his way over but slowed when Jen’s dark eyes ran over him, hovering on the slight limp of his left leg. His grin widened and that tingle of satisfaction returned.
“That was fantastic,” Karla yelled over the noise in the arena.
“Fantastic?” Tammy threw her arms around his shoulders and squeezed. “It was phenomenal!”
A chuckle escaped him despite the painful twinge Tammy’s snug hold caused. “Glad you thought so.”
“Are you all right?”
Jen scrutinized his left leg. Her eyes lifted and locked with his, the gentle concern shining there sparking an unwelcome yearning in his chest. It made his palms itch with the need to reach out and tug her to him. Made him miss the friendly banter they used to share.
“Why?” Colt slipped out of Tammy’s embrace and flashed a cocky grin, teasing her like he used to. “Worried about me, baby?”
Jen didn’t respond in kind as he’d hoped. Just scoffed, her mouth flattening as she cut her eyes away.
He wasn’t sure what got under her skin more. The suggestive tone he’d used or the arrogant smile he’d adopted. Though it could’ve been the wink he’d thrown in, too.
What he did know for sure was that the damage he’d done that night in the bar caused all three actions to fall flat and made him feel like more of a heel than ever.
Tammy’s small fist punched his chest. “Watch it, Colt.”
Duly chastised, he ducked his head and ignored the heat singeing his cheeks.
“After you collect your check, we need to pack up and head out,” Tammy said. “That big money pot is still up for grabs at the Davie Pro Rodeo tomorrow night and I could use the extra time to prepare. I really need that win if I’m going to make it to the finals this year.”
“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” Colt said, squeezing her shoulder.
Tammy’s brows rose. “Oh yeah, I do. You think Jen felt bad about placing second tonight? I’d have killed for that spot. I was fifth, Colt. Fifth.”
“I know, but—”
“And I was eighth,” Karla added, tucking a short strand of black hair behind her ear. “Tammy and I have already crunched some numbers. Jen can get by without another win this weekend, but if Tammy and I don’t place in the top three at Davie, we’ll be so far behind we’ll never qualify for Vegas.”
“You’ll make it,” Colt said, meeting Tammy’s uncertain expression with a determined one. “I know you will.”
“Not if I don’t place at Davie tomorrow night.” Tammy shook her head. “Without that win, I’m out.”
Colt nodded. A trip to Davie was just in time. Maybe he’d have more luck finding a woman there who stirred his interest. One who would help him shake off this lust he had for Jen. Then maybe he’d have a decent shot at rebuilding their friendship.
“So we’ll head to Davie.” He grinned and patted his front pocket. “Right after I collect my check.”
Yep. That was the way he liked it. No baggage. No responsibilities. Just an endless string of nights filled with fun and freedom. All provided by the bulk of bills lining his pockets. Money he’d earned himself on the back of a bull. Free and clear of his corporate raider father.
The phone in Colt’s hand went off, jerking with rhythmic pulses. He glanced at the screen. Mead Enterprises again.
He groaned. John W. Mead wasn’t giving up tonight. Might as well get it over with.
“Gotta take this.” Colt nodded in apology to the ladies, exited the arena and accepted the call, striving for a nonchalant tone. “Before you ask, I’m headed south. In the opposite direction.”
Silence hung heavy on the line. There was no sharp reprimand from his father. No cynical comeback. Just empty air.
Colt huffed out a breath and kicked the ground. The old man was trying a new tactic. “Go ahead. Lay that guilt on thick ’cause it doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in joining up with the company. I have business of my own to take care of.” Bulls. Beaches. And beauties. Not necessarily in that order. “You hear me, Dad?”
“Mr. Mead? Colt Wyatt Mead?”
He stilled. The voice on the other end of the line was feminine. Hesitant but businesslike.
“You got him. Who’s this?”
“This is Angela Reed. Your father’s secretary.”
Colt’s fingers squeezed the phone, his laugh hesitant. “You’re working late tonight. He ask you to pass along new marching orders to me?”
“Sir.” A swift intake of air sounded across the line. “I’m sorry to deliver news this way but...” An odd tapping started, as if a phone cord was being jiggled. “There was—” Her voice cracked. “Your father’s partner, Jack Evans, has been trying to reach you. He asked me to call and tell you...”
He froze. “Tell me what?”
“There’s been an accident.” Her words were short and swift. “Your father’s jet crashed this morning. I’m sorry to say he didn’t make it.”
Colt’s stomach heaved, a wave of nausea surging over him. “What?”
“I’m very sorry, Mr. Mead,” she whispered. “But Mr. Evans wanted you to know in time to return home for the funerals if you desired to do so. Services have been arranged for Sunday afternoon.”
“Funerals?” Dear God. Meg. “My sister. Was she—”
“No, sir,” she said hastily. “Your sister wasn’t on board. Just your father and Mrs. Mead.”
A strange tingling spread over him, buzzing through his blood and clouding his vision. The ground warped beneath his feet. He moved closer to the paddock fence in front of him and grabbed at the top rail.
His father. His stepmother. Dead.
“Mr. Mead?” The secretary’s voice softened. “Your sister is the other reason for my call. There are several matters that require your attention. May I tell Mr. Evans that you’ll be returning?”
Colt