Page 35 of Falling for the Cowgirl
How could he read her so well? She wanted to turn and study him but forced herself to stare straight ahead as a couple of busters roped Gordo’s bronc and brought him ’round. The past week since getting stuck in the bog, something had shifted in her relationship with Jericho. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was. They’d had normal conversations, talked about ordinary things, and she hadn’t wanted to strangle him once.
“I need the money.” She half raised her arm to swipe at the sweat trickling down her temples but then lowered it, afraid if she touched her face, she’d wipe away the soot.
Jericho’s attention was still riveted on Gordo.
“I’m surprised you ain’t wanting to win a quick dollar.” There were times, like today, when she didn’t think he was all that interested in their contest for the land. If he cared,wouldn’t he be seeking out more ways to increase his earnings? “You might be the only one who’d give me a fair challenge in the roping.”
“Fair challenge?” He scoffed. “I’d beat you in no time.”
“Doubt that. This ain’t a knitting bee.”
“Last one sure seemed like it.”
She tucked a grin out of sight. She loved bantering with Jericho. It reminded her of the way things used to be between them long ago. If only she knew how to keep things simple and friendly without heading back down a path of frustration.
She sensed he was doing his part to keep their conversations from veering in that direction too. Like now. He hadn’t once tried to stop her from participating in the competitions, even though he’d hinted that he didn’t want her to.
“Maybe you can distract Wyatt and Flynn during my ride.”
“What do you want me to do? Dress up like a clown?”
“That might work. Except you won’t need to dress up.”
This time his grin kicked up.
The sight of it sent her heart bucking against her ribs. Her lips twitched with the need to smile back, but she reckoned no one was gonna take Buster Bliss seriously if he was fawning over Jericho.
She pushed away from the fence before she ruined her disguise. “Wish me luck.”
His grin hit the dust faster than a greenhorn getting unloaded from a bronc. “Be careful.”
“Ain’t I always?”
“No.”
“I’ll be fine.” She ambled away, wishing she wasn’t attired in the men’s garments, that she was in one of her fancy outfitsearning his admiration. That night at the bog, he’d admitted she was pretty. He’d never said anything like that to her before. Even if he’d finished out the compliment by saying something about all the McQuaid women being pretty, he’d singled her out first.
He hadn’t hinted at the exchange since. But she’d brought along another change of clothing for later. And she fully intended to dress her best so that maybe he’d take notice. Maybe he’d even dance with her. Something he’d never done either, though she’d sure tried over the years to get him to ask.
She shook off the thought. She had to stay focused for now, remember who she was, and play the part of Buster Bliss to perfection. Her future depended on it.
The air got lost in Jericho’s lungs as he watched Ivy dismount at a run from the mare. She was beside the downed steer in an instant, had the rope knotted around one of its front legs, and was completing the three-legged cross tie before the steer knew what was happening.
As she hopped up and raised her hands, the crowd erupted into cheers.
Jericho allowed himself the first breath since she’d started the chase. She was good. No. She was better than good. She was the best roper for miles around. Too bad she couldn’t compete as herself. She deserved it the same way she deserved a fair shot at Steele’s land.
“You’re takin’ a heap of interest in that little fella.” Mack Custer leaned on the rail beside Jericho. The sour body odor of Elkhorn Ranch’s foreman should have warned Jericho of his approach—if he hadn’t been so focused on Ivy.
“He’s a decent kid.” Jericho rapidly composed himself, hiding his emotions away where they should have been all along.
“Said he ain’t Roman-style ridin’ today.” Custer’s eyes narrowed on Ivy. “Said he’s heading home soon as he’s done with the ropin’.”
Thank the Lord Ivy was following through on her promise not to compete in the dangerous race. If she’d entered, he would have slung her over his shoulder and carried her off. No doubt she would have been kicking and screaming the whole time.
“You wanna ride?” Custer’s question was casual, but Jericho could sense the anticipation in each of the three words. “You were the best. Reckon you still are.”
Jericho shouldn’t even consider it. But something inside longed for the thrill of competing. It was the same craving that grew inside him every time he closed in on his prey.
