Page 1 of Head Over Spurs

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JULES

He looked like Robert Redford’s version ofThe Sundance Kid. And as he met her gaze from behind the chutes, she swore she recognized the familiar glint of a mischievous, outlaw spirit in his blue-green eyes. His mustache twitched with a smile as he lifted a hand to tip the front of his ten-gallon hat to her.

Lifting her camera in return, she captured the handsome cowboy perched on the top of the fence with her lens. He watched her with amusement as another cowboy lowered himself onto the horse in the chute beside him. It was only when the chute opened, and a bucking bronco flew out that Sundance turned his attention to the rider.

She swiveled towards the scene as well. After all, she only had eight seconds per competitor—if that. And being in the infield with her photographer’s pass, she had to be on alert in case the horse veered her way.

Five and a half seconds. The cowboy was down. She took the opportunity to glance back at the outlaw doppelgänger. He was watching her again—with such intensity her mouth went dry.

Another mustache twitch. Then he was the one climbing into the chute, positioning himself and securing the reins in hishand. All it took was a nod before his horse launched out the gate. Jules watched him through her lens, captivated by his control. He was good. He wasreallygood. The way he managed to find his seat between each attempt from the animal to throw him.

Eight seconds later, he was making his way across the infield towards her. She rested her camera in her lap as he strode over confidently. The low Texas sun blazed behind him, making him look every bit the classic leading man.

As he dropped down beside her, the fringe of his chaps spraying outward in the movement, their gazes met. He flashed her an alluring grin. One that she just knew had swept countless women off their feet.

Jules smiled back with satisfaction as he held out his hand. Normally, she wouldn’t fall for such a smile, but there was something about him that made her come alive under the attention.

Slipping her hand into his, she offered her own alluring grin. “Hi, Sundance.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up higher in understanding. Bonus points to him, then. “I haven’t seen you ‘round the circuit before. Are you new?”

“Who said I was a part of the circuit?”

His gaze dropped to the red lanyard around her neck and the laminated pass clipped to it. “Let’s say context clues,” he replied smoothly.

“Some clues can be misleading.”

Another competitor was out the chute now and she lifted her camera to capture the man flying through the air. He wouldn’t qualify for a score. A cloud of dust created a soft haze around him as he landed on his side and scrambled to get back on his feet.

All the while, Sundance kept his sights set on her.

“When you’re done here, can I buy you a drink?”

Straight shooter, she liked him already. Tucking a strand of her long, strawberry blonde hair behind her ear, she rose and pulled him up with her. “I can be done now.”

She wasn’t here for a magazine this time; she could leave whenever she pleased. And she felt a strong pull to leave with him. “Unless you need to?—”

“We’ll go now,” he replied. “I’m Riley, by the way.”

“Jules.”

Her pulse thrummed with the music that flowed through the hole-in-the-wall bar. The floors were sticky and the lighting was low.Thiswas a real country bar, and exactly what she needed tonight.

With Riley pressed close to her side, Jules passed by the dance floor and weaved through the high-top tables. Using the heels of her hands to lean forward on the bar, she shouted, “whiskey sour,” to the bartender.

“You got it, sweetheart,” the gruff man called back before turning to her companion.

“Bourbon on the rocks,” he ordered, taking a seat on the empty vinyl barstool beside her.

Her attention swept over him, her body humming with appreciation at the sight. Between the messy hair peeking out from under his hat and the classic looking mustache, he truly was a young Redford. Taking time now to admire his details up close, she noted that he was even more handsome than she originally realized. Dangerously so.

“So,” he started, “are you from ‘round here?”

“No, I’m no Texan. Colorado. What about you?”

“Wyoming,” he replied, accepting their drinks from the bartender and handing over payment. He passed her drink toher, his warm, rough hand grazing hers as she reached for it. A thrill ran through her at how his hands would feel on other parts of her body.

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