“Bring it, sugar.”

“I heard your name announced over the loudspeaker as the winner. Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re on a roll. The CRA seems to suit you better than the EBS. You’ve ridden what? Your last twelve bulls in a row?”

“Something like that. You must be my lucky charm.”

She rolled her eyes and turned to look out the window.

Kyle asked Hank, “Did you talk to Abe after all that shit went down with Celia?”

“Yesterday, while you guys were at the carnival.”

“What’d Abe say?”

“Truthfully? He wasn’t surprised. Said he suspected something like that, but wanted her to come clean about it before accusing her.”

“What’s he gonna do about it?”

“What can he do? She’s of legal age.” Hank slouched in the seat. The discussion about Celia wasn’t what’d bothered him about the call. It was the weariness in Abe’s voice. Abe indicated that when Hank and Celia were both home they’d all sit down and talk specifics about the future of the Lawson ranch. Hank felt sick when he thought about their home place being sold. He’d fight Abe to keep it.

Yeah? Why? You want it but you don’t want to run it.

The hell he didn’t.

You’re either a bullfighter or a rancher. Better to give your all to one thing rather than do a half-assed attempt at two.

Aware that he’d gone off into his own little world, Hank looked at Kyle, but he hadn’t noticed Hank’s distraction. Lainie had sacked out in the backseat. Hank pulled his hat down over his eyes and let the tharump, tharump of the tires lull him to sleep.

They made it to Red Lodge with thirty minutes to kill. Because the grounds were small, most of the contestants without horses parked in the lot across the road. Kyle’s buddy Breck had called and invited them to his impromptu cookout.

Everyone was blowing off steam, hyped up on the bonus of a multievent day. Winning, or the promise of it, plus reconnecting with friends made for a lively group. Beer and food flowed freely. Hank felt Lainie hanging back as they traversed the crowd, which freaked him out a little, because she’d never acted shy.

Maybe she’s embarrassed at being with two guys.

Kyle took them to Breck’s setup. Bratwurst were sizzling on a grill next to a pot of beans. Lawn chairs were arranged but no one was sitting. When Breck caught sight of Kyle, he beamed a smile.

“Glad you could make it and drag your friends along.” He held out his hand to Hank. “Good to see you again, Hank.”

“Likewise.”

Breck’s assessing gaze roved over Lainie, even when Breck had a brunette hanging off his arm. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Breck Christianson.”

“Lainie. And we did meet briefly in Denver, although I doubt you remember.”

“You’d be a hard one to forget.”

Kyle snorted.

Lainie smiled. “You had a pretty serious case of whiplash after getting tossed off a bronc. Doc sent you for X-rays to check for a concussion. I drove you to the hospital.”

“That was you?”

“Yep. I work for Lariat.”

“So what’re you doin’ with these two yahoos?”

“Keeping them healthy. Learning what you guys go through during Cowboy Christmas.”

“And your opinion so far?”

She flashed her teeth. “No comment.”

As they mingled, Hank realized he missed the socializing during a multiday rodeo. Racing from event to event limited their interaction. What was Lainie gaining from this experience?

Lainie chatted with a barrel racer who knew Tanna. When opening-ceremonies time neared, he and Kyle headed to the rodeo grounds and Lainie escaped to the camper to rest before the trip to Miles City.

Maybe it was his mood from earlier carrying over, but Hank was sorry Lainie missed the Red Lodge rodeo. High scores in the saddle bronc. A new record in tie-down roping. A couple of real close calls in the bull riding section. Kyle finished second. Not where he wanted but still in the money.

Another rodeo ended. Another trip to the winners’ tent. Another long walk to the camper. Lainie was there fiddling with the GPS, as well as studying maps spread out across the table. They dumped their duffel bags.

Kyle spoke first. “You sure you’re okay to drive? ’Cause the truth is, me ’n’ Hank are bushed.”

“I’ll be fine. You guys go ahead. I don’t need you to hold my hand, and if that changes, I promise I’ll wake one of you up.”

“Good, let’s go.”

On the road again, he and Kyle had flipped for shotgun and Hank won.

Before Hank drifted off, he said, “By the way? Because me ’n’ Kyle will be fully rested when we hit Miles City, we’ve got plans for you. Naked plans.”

That’d keep her awake, if nothing else.

Chapter Seventeen

Ten miles outside of Miles City, Montana, Lainie jabbed Hank in the ribs. His head was right beside her hip on the bench seat and she could’ve lovingly stroked his hair, but since he’d snored the entire way she wasn’t keen on being kind.

Even Kyle, who usually seized the chance to talk to her alone while Hank slept, had immediately started sawing logs like a damn chain saw. Two performances in one day took a toll on both men.

Maybe they won’t be up for a private performance with you.

But getting it up had never been a problem for either of them.