He deflected. “Everything in my life went to shit after my injury. After I healed enough to get around, Ma was pissed that I turned down her boyfriend’s offer to sell used cars in Cheyenne.”

“Selling used cars don’t interest you at all?”

“No. Hell, no.” Kyle squirmed in his seat. “Bein’ laid up, I had nothin’ to do but think. I realized riding bulls is what I know. What I do best. But it ain’t something I can do for the long haul. So I figure if I save money like a miser and focus on my riding, not chasing every hot piece of ass that crosses my path, maybe I’ll earn enough to buy myself a chunk of dirt someplace.”

“What was this event purse?”

“Twenty-two hundred.”

“Not bad for sixteen seconds’ work,” Hank said, grinning at their old joke.

“I ain’t complaining. But I’ve been on the famine end of riding. Bein’ bucked off a dozen times in a row sucks.”

A semi roared past, the amber and red lights bright against the dark road and dark sky, and Kyle blinked, surprised to feel sleepy.

“If you wanna crash, go ahead. I’m wired.”

“Thanks.” Kyle closed his eyes.

Seemed he’d just fallen asleep when the truck lurched and jolted him awake. An orange sodium glow flooded the window. “Where are we?”

“A truck stop outside Colorado Springs. I thought we’d fill up and call Lainie before we burst in on her.”

Kyle stretched. “Man. I was out that long?”

“Yeah. And you talk in your sleep too. ‘Oh, no, please don’t spank me, master, I’ll be good,’ ” Hank mimicked in a falsetto.

“Fuck off.”

“Your turn to pay at the pump.” Hank bailed out of the truck.

While Kyle filled the big diesel gas tank, he watched Hank talking on the phone, trying to cover a yawn. The man was wiped out. No way could he drive to Muddy Gap.

Kyle loaded up on caffeine-laced soda and returned to the truck after paying. “Was Lainie up?”

“Says she was sleeping but I don’t buy it. We’re not too far from her place.” Hank yawned again. “Damn. I’m gonna need to crash. You okay to drive after we pick her up?”

“No problem. You sure you wanna keep goin’?”

“Yeah.” Hank muttered directions to himself, squinting at the street signs.

Lainie lived in an apartment complex, which surprised Kyle. But the truth was, he didn’t know much about Lainie beyond the physical, and that was something he aimed to change.

She waited under the security light of her building. A duffel bag and a backpack were at her feet, an enormous pillow tucked under her arm. She’d secured her riotous curls in a ponytail and jammed her hands in the front pockets of her jeans. She looked very young, although he and Lainie were the same age. Were they taking advantage of her? Would any of them walk away from this situation unscathed?

Probably not.

Both he and Hank got out to help her load up. Kyle asked, “Either of these bags need to go in the cab? Or can they both go in the truck bed?”

“The backpack can go in the cab if there’s room.”

“That pillow is looking mighty tempting,” Hank said.

“Here. Have it. I’m wide-awake now. Am I driving?”

“Kyle’s driving. I’m beat.”

Lainie’s eyes narrowed, then scanned him head to toe. “What happened tonight?”

Crickets chirped in the sudden silence.

“Hank?”

“Ah, darlin’, it wasn’t nothin’.”

“Don’t make me get out my rubber gloves and check you myself first thing. Tell me.”

“Just a little misunderstanding between me and the bull. I went left; he was supposed to go right, but he didn’t. Caught me on the quad. I’m sore. But mostly I’m tired. No worries, okay?”

“Fine. I’ll let it go for now, but I want to take a look at it in the morning.”

Hank muttered, grabbed the pillow, and limped off to climb into the back cab of the truck.

While Kyle had the chance, he pecked Lainie on the mouth. “Nice to see you out here waiting for us.”

“Were you afraid I’d chicken out?”

“Nothin’ is a sure thing.”

Lainie returned his smooch. “Lucky for you, I am.” She situated herself in the passenger side. “Need me to navigate?”

“Nope. I reckon this truck can almost drive itself to Muddy Gap. We’ll head north on I-25 to Cheyenne and then west on I-80 to Rawlins. You ever been in that area?”

“Doc keeps me to the Southwest and Midwest areas for the CRA, which is why I always run into Hank.”

“Lucky Hank,” he muttered. Kyle wouldn’t admit it to them, but it bugged him that Lainie and Hank had known each other longer.

“No sniping,” she warned.

Might be a long couple of weeks.

Settled in, with the truck on cruise, he asked, “So even when you live in Colorado Springs you’ve never worked the ‘Daddy of ’Em All’ in Cheyenne?”

Lainie’s body went stiff. She shook her head and aimed her gaze out the window.

Way to stick your boot in your mouth.

Kyle felt like a total f**king heel. Of course Lainie hadn’t worked Cheyenne Frontier Days. Frontier Park was where her father had been killed. He grabbed her hand from the console. “Sugar, I’m sorry. Sometimes I don’t think before I open my big trap.”