Authors: Lorelei James
Lainie cut sideways so she’d get a full- on view of the face. His face. Her father’s face. A face she hadn’t seen in such detail since she was five years old. The artist had perfectly captured the look of determination her father wore when seated on the back of a bull.
The twist to his lips. The squinty- eyed stare. The slight flare to his nostrils. The hard set to his jaw.
She blinked the moisture from her eyes as she drank in every facet. The tilt of his summer- weight cowboy hat, centered high on his forehead. The precise angle of his free arm thrown up in the air, parallel to his upper torso. The gloved fist wrapped in frayed bull rope. The forward pitch of his lean body, knees tucked tight, spurs digging in.
Other elements jumped out. The flowing look of the fringe on the chaps, as man and beast caught air. The deep creases and faded spots in his jeans. The worn- down runnels on the spurs. The scuff marks on the toes of the boots.
She gasped. How could she have forgotten those old boots?
A childhood memory surfaced of her father returning home from an event. She’d helped him air out his equipment bag, filled with a mixture of scents: wet leather, dust, and a hint of manure.
The pungent trace of liniment. The cool tang of metal. The oily scent of rope. The bitter, powdery aroma of rosin. The rich smell of chewing tobacco. The dirty sweat- sock odor of his boots.
His beloved ragged, stained cowboy boots. Her mother complained about his unnatural attachment to those boots and threat
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ened to throw them out. It’d been the only time Lainie had seen her laid- back, good- natured father mad enough to spit nails.
She’d asked him why he didn’t just buy a new pair. He’d told her those boots had absorbed a lot of great memories and brought him good luck. It seemed a waste for a man to throw good luck and memories away.
Jason Capshaw had been buried in those boots. A fact that she now realized would’ve pleased him.
Her focus returned to the figure astride the bucking bull. The artist had denoted the wrinkles of his shirt, as well as the gleam and size of the championship belt buckle centered between lean hips.
Her gaze lingered on his face before moving up. She’d definitely inherited her dad’s hair. Wild curls peeped out from the sides and back of his cowboy hat. Springy strands so perfectly detailed, she was half tempted to climb up and see if the ringlets smelled like the Prell shampoo he’d favored. But the shampoo never quite masked the leather scent left in his hair from his ever- present cowboy hat.
Lainie checked out the backside of the figure. The contestant number was pinned below his shoulders. Number one. He’d entered the bull riding competition that fateful day as the number one bull rider in the world.
Her gaze fell to the memorial plaque. It read:
In memory of Jason Arthur Capshaw—
son, husband, father, friend— a bull rider to the very end.
We miss you. We’ll never forget you.
Lainie didn’t bother to hold back the tears. She cried silently.
Her grief was almost worse now than in her childhood, as she faced everything she’d lost.
“Lainie.”
She wheeled around.
LORELEI JAMES 9
Hank stood in the shadows.
He held open his arms. She ran straight into them. Her sobs escalated. Hank merely held her tighter. He kissed her crown and murmured, “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”
Twenty years of grief poured out of her. Through it all, Hank stayed strong and steady. Holding her. Soothing her. Being there for her in a way no other man ever had. Once the storm of emotions subsided, she looked up at him.
The tenderness in his eyes as he gently wiped away her tears almost sent her into another sobbing fit.
Lainie managed to hold it in. Her throat was raw from crying.
Her voice was an unrecognizable rasp. “How did you know?”
“Tanna called me. She was worried sick about you.”
She couldn’t be mad at her friend for knowing exactly what she needed. “Did she tell you all of it?”
“Yes. I won’t chew you out for not calling me.
This time.
” He twined a curl around his index finger before pushing it behind her ear. “When Tanna told me you were coming to Cheyenne . . . I couldn’t get out of Omaha fast enough. I didn’t want you to deal with this alone, Lainie. Kyle’s mom picked me up at the airport and dropped me off.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Just an hour.” His thumb wicked the tears from her cheeks. “I was prepared to stay all night if I had to.”
“What if I’d chickened out?” She swallowed hard. “I had a devil of a time getting out of my truck.”
“I know. I watched you struggling. It about killed me, but I let you be until you needed me.”
Take a chance. Tell him.
“I’ve come to realize I need you all the time, Hank, not just once in a while.” Before he spoke, she blurted, “Cheyenne was just a pit stop on my way to Muddy Gap.”
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“Why?”
“Because I quit my job. But as I was driving here, I began to worry.”
“Worry about what?”
“I didn’t want you to think I was coming to you because I had nowhere else to go. You’re not a last resort, Hank. You’re my first choice.”
“Lainie. Darlin’, I love you. Love you like crazy. I tried to tell you before but you didn’t want to hear it.”
“I wanted to hear it. God, I wanted to hear it more than anything. I didn’t tell you how I felt when you were in the hospital because I didn’t want you to think I’d said it out of pity. After the attack I worried that
you
tried to say it to me out of pity. That’s why I asked for time to think. Not for me, for you. I wanted you to make sure
I
was who you wanted.”
Hank lifted a brow. “Good Lord, woman, you’re a bossy little thing. How is it that
you
get to decide how
I
feel about you?”
She blinked at him. “What?”
“Don’t you know I’ve been half in love with you since I saw you helping an elderly lady find her way back to the stands? I fell the rest of the way in love with you after you started traveling with us and I got to know you.”
“I thought you’d say you fell the rest of the way after we slept together.”
He flashed her that sinful smile again. “Oh, I definitely fell in lust with you. But lust fades. What I feel for you won’t. I believe that with all my heart, Lainie.”
“I do too. When I realized I loved you, it scared me. For the first time I understood why my mother walked away from the rodeo life after my dad died. For all her faults, she loved my father.
After she lost him, she needed to start over.”
A beat of silence passed between them.
LORELEI JAMES 9
His eyes searched hers intently. “Did you pick me over Kyle because you couldn’t see yourself with a bull rider? Or because you didn’t want to repeat the path your mother had taken?”
“No. I chose you because I love you, Hank. Bullfighter, garbage man, it doesn’t matter. I want to be with you.” She smiled. “If you’re willing to take on an unemployed med tech.”
“I’ll take you on anytime, anyplace, baby.” He touched her cheek. He couldn’t seem to not touch her, just another sweetness about him she loved. “So you quit, huh?”
“Yeah. My mom advised me to sue everyone in sight, but her husband is a lawyer, so I’m considering the source.” She smirked.
“Besides, I want to be done with it. Really and truly move on this time. Getting caught up in legal battles isn’t the way to do it.”
“I agree. I made some threats to Bryson that in hindsight I ain’t proud of. After all the garbage that’s happened with the EBS . . .
I’m taking this as a sign to go back to full- time ranching. To be honest, I’m looking forward to moving on too.”
“Not even part- time bullfighting with the CRA?”
“Nope. It’s time to let Celia chase her dream, now that I’ve found mine and she’s standing right in front of me.”
“But you like being on the road as a blacktop cowboy, Hank.”
He swept a damp curl from her cheek. “Now I have a more compelling reason to stay corralled at home.”
She blushed and stared at him, her heart racing, her hope soaring.
“Is there anything for you in Colorado Springs?” he asked softly. “Any reason you have to— or want to— live there?”
“No.”
Relief crossed his face. Then he pushed back and dropped to one knee.
“Hank! What are you doing?”
“Since I can’t ask your daddy for your hand in marriage, I fig
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ure it’d be fitting if I asked you to marry me here, in front of his likeness.” Hank snatched both her hands and squeezed them in his.
“Lainie Capshaw, will you marry me? Make a home with me? Let me spend my life loving you? For all those reasons and about a hundred others I can’t remember because I’m so damn nervous.”
Lainie thought she was through crying. Not so. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Yes, Hank. I’ll marry you.”
He jumped to his feet and let out a whoop of delight that was very un- Hank- like. But it made her smile.
“Hot damn. We have lots to talk about.”
“I know. Like what I’ll do for a job.”
“There’s plenty of work on the ranch, if you’re interested. Abe told me how much you helped him out after my injury. If you want to stay active in the medical field, I’m sure the hospital or any of the clinics in Rawlins have openings. But if you need some time to think about what you really want to do, that’s fine too.”
“Really?”
“Really. Lainie, I don’t care, just as long as we’re together.”
Hank pushed a curl from her damp cheek. “Let’s talk about this on the way home.”
Home and Hank. Two words that fit together perfectly. Lainie looked at the statue of her father one last time. Then she faced Hank, faced her future, and finally left her past behind.
“Come on, cowboy. Take me home.”
Portrait of author by Russell Lloyd Jensen © Sage Studios
When
Lorelei James
isn’t squirreled away behind her laptop writing sexy contemporary erotic romances set in the modern- day Wild West, she’s reading, practicing yoga, shootin’ for fun, watching the Professional Bull Riders tour, and running a kids’ taxi service, all in the guise of avoiding housework and rustlin’ up vittles. Lorelei is a fourth generation South Dakotan, and lives in the Black Hills with her family— and a whole closetful of cowgirl boots.