The Cowboy Way. Christine Wenger

watched Beth’s face as she rode. She focused intently, yet she had a look of pure pleasure. A gentle breeze blew her golden hair back from her face, and her lips parted in a slight smile. Her eyes were bright, and she seemed to have more energy than she had the day before.

      That’s what he liked about the Gold Buckle. It gave the guests the opportunity to experience new things—things they couldn’t do at home.

      Wheelchair Rodeo was part of that, but to see a sunrise on a cool, crisp Wyoming morning, to see the eagles fly and the mountains up close…well, there was nothing better.

      It was a good stress reliever, and Beth Conroy needed to relieve a lot of stress.

      Maybe he’d find time to take her on a trail ride of their own. They could camp in the wildflowers at the foot of Old Baldy. Then they’d take a nice, cool skinny-dip in the little creek that runs along the trail. He’d get Cookie to pack one of his special picnic lunches and throw in a cold jug of his homemade lemonade.

      He’d build a campfire and they’d sleep under the stars, snuggled together. He’d catch some fish for breakfast, and he’d filet and cook them while Beth made the coffee….

      He had to be loco. Maybe that was his idea of a perfect date, but Beth didn’t seem the camping type. She’d probably want to get dressed up and go somewhere fancy. Besides, camping would mean leaving Kevin in the bunkhouse with the cowboys. She’d never agree to that.

      And for what he was thinking, he couldn’t take Kevin.

      But it didn’t make sense to get any closer to her. Women liked hearth and home. That was his experience, anyway. Oh, they might like sex once in a while, but basically they really wanted to settle down.

      Not him. He followed the rodeos and the bull riding. When he was healthy, he traveled to about forty events a year—about thirty of those were strictly bull-riding events where his ranking qualified him for the Finals in Las Vegas. Another dozen or so were small rodeos where he rode more bulls just to keep in shape.

      He was a bull rider. It was more than what he did. It was who he was.

      Beth deserved someone who could be a husband to her and a father to Kevin.

      Why was he even thinking along those lines? When he was stomped on by White Whale in Loughlin, some of his brains must have leaked out on the arena dirt.

      No settling down for him. Even if he were the type, he certainly wouldn’t marry Beth Conroy. She had baggage. He had goals. He was going to be on top again. He was going to win the Finals in October.

      He glanced at Beth. She had her face turned up to the summer sun. He pictured her in that little slip of a nightgown she had on this morning, and thought again of making love to her.

      The sun must be cooking his brain.

      “You should wear a hat,” he told Beth. “The sun’ll get to you after a while.” Just like it was getting to him.

      “This is wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.” She leaned over to pat Thunder’s neck.

      “Glad you’re having fun.”

      “I am.”

      It did his heart good to see her finally relaxing and not worrying so much. He could tell that she needed a break from everything, especially the demands of caring for a physically challenged child.

      He turned his face up to the sun and grinned. This was one benefit of Wheelchair Rodeo he hadn’t counted on—and probably neither had Beth.

      Following Jake wasn’t easy, or maybe it was. Beth couldn’t keep her eyes off his backside. His jeans were taut across his butt, and his butt was firmly planted in the saddle. As Lance walked, Jake swayed.

      His crisp, checkered shirt was tucked into his jeans as usual. Silver conchos on his brown leather belt glinted in the sun, calling attention to his slim waist.

      He was driving her crazy.

      She attributed her fascination with him to the fact that she’d been without any kind of male companionship for several years. Even when she was married to Brad, she’d felt alone. Brad had found companionship with his cases of beer and with his pals at work and at the golf course.

      Brad had never wanted her to work, claiming “breadwinner” status. It was what he’d wanted, and truthfully she enjoyed puttering. She had never wanted for anything, other than a sober husband and father to Kevin. Her only diversion had been making their house into a showpiece.

      “It’ll help my career,” Brad had insisted. “The house will reflect the fact that I’m well-off and successful, and I’ll attract higher caliber clients.”

      Just as she was about to divorce him, Brad had tried once again to remain sober. After he died and she was sorting through his papers—their papers—she discovered thousands of dollars’ worth of outstanding bills that a whole battalion of high-caliber stock investors couldn’t pay for.

      Since he’d never let her take care of the finances, she hadn’t known how far beyond their means they were living. It was stupid of her for not insisting that they at least share the financial tasks. It was even more stupid to stay with Brad for as long as she had, but she didn’t want to end up like her parents, with seven marriages between them. She’d thought it would be better for Kevin to grow up with both parents, but apparently she’d been wrong.