Road to Glory (9 page)

“You’ve got something to say, say it.”

“All right, I will. You think that’s wise? I mean, for Hargrove to stay at your place with just you and Alma there?”

Glory tugged on the reins, and Sultan paused at the gate. Mitch’s question made her want to laugh, and yet, if she were honest with herself, she’d thought about nothing else. She’d had a crush on Travis ever since the rodeo in Cheyenne a few years ago. He’d drawn a difficult bull and ridden him well, dropping off right in front of her. She remembered their glances meeting, and he’d given that same lazy smile he’d offered her the other day. Her heart had twisted, and from that moment on she’d followed his career, even going so far as to keep clippings of his winnings.

Now he was at her ranch. The idea of him staying had her torn in two, one side elated while the other side lived in fear of having him see what she was truly like. Glory swallowed. Then there was that accidental embrace at the arena, not to mention the kiss earlier today. She couldn’t deny the shiver of delight that had circumnavigated her spine and made her heart beat overtime. Something touched her leg, and she glanced down to find Mitch’s hand against her thigh, his face filled with concern as he stared at her.

“Glory?”

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

For a quick beat the conversation hung in the balance as Mitch fought for words. Removing his hand, he stared off toward the horizon. “You were a mile away,” he remarked.

“Was I?” She hoped she sounded surprised. “I was thinking about something Mickey said.”

Her words were met with silence as if he didn’t believe that any more than she did.

“I don’t want you hurt, Glory,” Mitch said. “You’ve grown special to me. I see you so close to your dream. I don’t want you to give it up over some used-up cowboy.”

Used up
? Why, the gall of the man! She wanted to reach over and smack him upside his big fat conceited head. Travis was far from being washed up. Unable to hide her anger, the words that followed were clipped. “No need to worry about me or Alma. We’re fine with Travis staying there.” She lifted the reins, and Sultan nudged the gate with his nose. “Travis is working for the rodeo, so don’t be surprised if he comes to look at some of your stock.” With a swivel of her head, she gave him a withering glance. “Oh, and I expect you to be civil.”

“If you’re sure,” Mitch responded and stepped to open the gate. “Remember, I’m just a phone call away.”

She walked her horse through the opening. “I’ll be in touch. No one’s gonna spirit me away.” With a tap of her heels, the horse began a slow jog down the road that separated the two ranches.

“Take care, Glory,” he called out.

Glory raised her hand, then tapped her horse’s sides once more, and he sprang away.

Chapter Seven

Glory gave Sultan his head and leaned over the stallion’s neck as he raced along the winding dirt road that connected the mighty Rocking R to the Glory B. If only it would be as easy to race away from her troubles. Mickey interrupting that kiss sure didn’t help, and now Mitch had questions… She didn’t need male egos to complicate her chances of landing a contract for one of her bulls. Emptying the worry from her mind, she focused on the horse’s drumming hooves.

Some minutes later, she slowed Sultan to a jog and then to a walk. The horse snorted, his sides heaving from the run. “Good boy,” she whispered and leaned down to pet his damp neck. “Felt good, huh?”

The animal tossed his head as if to agree. She only wished she had the same euphoric feeling he seemed to have. So many fragmented questions rolled about her brain, all of them demanding answers. Most centered on a cowboy whose kiss had left her breathless. There had to be a way to convince Travis to take a chance on riding once again. Yet if he couldn’t, what type of relationship would they have? If he couldn’t face his fear of bulls, what type of evaluation could he really give of her stock or that of other ranchers in the area?

Her head began to pound. Then, to complicate matters further, there was Mitch. Glory couldn’t stop the groan that slipped from her mouth. “I hope Alma has plenty of pain reliever meds in the kitchen cabinet. I sure am going to need it.”

A half hour later, she dismounted at the open double doors of the barn and led her horse into the center aisle. A ranch hand moved out of the tack room.

“Let me take that saddle for you, Miss Glory?”

“Thanks, Hank.” She handed over her equipment, glancing at his clean jeans and fresh shirt. “Aren’t you supposed to be at Miss Minnie’s for dinner?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He colored slightly. “She’s making fried chicken tonight.”

Glory tried to smother the grin that shaped her lips as she picked up a brush. “Well, she doesn’t like folks being late. I can take care of this. You go and have a good evening. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He turned to walk away but paused to look back.

Glory lowered her brush and waited.

“Oh, Mickey said to tell you he’s planning to bring a small herd up from the valley tomorrow. He got permission from the mayor to take some over to the pens at the county fairgrounds for this weekend, and we’ll be hauling some of the feed and hay over, too.”

Glory nodded. “Yes, he’s going to be conducting some bull riding clinics with our guest Mr. Hargrove.”

“He said he’d be leaving about seven, if you wanted to ride along.”

She smiled. “Thanks, Hank. I just might.”

Glory brought the brush across the horse’s neck and coat, making it gleam. As she worked, her thoughts turned back to Mitch’s words,
You’re something special to me.

She heaved another sigh. Why did she feel like such a heel? Mitch had befriended her from childhood, protected her from schoolyard bullies, and she’d been his go-to girl when he needed a date for the senior prom, after Linda Kay dumped him. Occasionally, they’d go to dinner together or to a stock function, but there was nothing serious in it. Her hands stilled. Or was there?

Glory searched her memory and tried to find some romantic connection. To her dismay none surfaced. “Why did he say anything?” she wondered aloud. Moving to the horse’s head, she ran her hand down his nose. “I’ve got myself in quite a pickle.”

Sultan nickered softly and pushed at her chest, hoping for the offer of a treat. She ran her hand into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a lone sugar cube, offering it to him on her flattened palm. “There you go.”

She slipped under the rope and moved to his left side, where she mimicked her first brush strokes. Her thoughts turned to the stories she’d heard about her parents. Alma had called them soul mates. One couldn’t take a breath that the other didn’t know about. Then, when her mom got pregnant and things went wrong, she made her dad promise to raise her “good and proper.” The story made Glory smile. She knew it was that promise that kept him going after her mom died in his arms. “Yes, that’s just the type I want,” she murmured. “The forever kind.”

Stepping back, she admired her handiwork, only to see Sultan’s ears pitch forward and his head draw up. She glanced toward the doorway. Glory nearly dropped the brush. Her heart thudded to a stop. There, standing in shadow against the bright sunlight, was Travis Hargrove. Had she conjured him up out of thin air, or was he really there? She waited, almost afraid to breathe.

“I saw you ride in.”

His warm mellow voice melted over her skin, leaving a luxurious feel in every pore. She glanced down at her hands. “Yeah, rode him over from Rocking R. It seemed a waste of gas to use the trailer. Our, um, ranches have a connecting dirt road.”
God, could she think of nothing but a travelogue?

“I wanted to…to talk to you, if I could.” He stepped over to Sultan’s head.

The fragrance of his cologne mixed with the leather of the bridle created a scent too sexy for words. Her heart thumped hard enough to rattle her ribs, and in the corner of her vision she caught his strong hand stroking the horse’s velvet nose. Despite her best effort to avoid it, a shiver slithered along her spine and her shoulders twitched. Her gaze was transfixed on his movements. A part of her yearned for his hand to move down her back and warm her skin, like it had during that kiss that made her toes curl inside her boots.

Glory dampened her dry lips with a swipe of her tongue and turned away, not wanting him to read the want lingering in her eyes. She swallowed and pretended not to be drawn beneath his spell. “Well, talk away, cowboy, I’m right here.”

“Yeah, you are,” he said, not missing a beat.

The tone of his voice sent electrical currents across her body. Warmth coiled itself deep within her, sending her senses reeling. Ignoring the tension in the air as well as she could, Glory put some distance between them and stepped back to Sultan’s flank. As she drew the brush across his rump more heavily than she intended, the horse gave an angry stamp of his hind foot. Heat radiated up to her cheeks. “Sorry, Sultan. Let me put this brush away.” She moved to the tack room and dropped the brush back into the box.

The thud echoed in the tiny room. Glory closed her eyes for a moment, wishing there was a crack in the floor she might sink into. From the aisle of the barn, she heard Sultan’s feet stomp against the hard-packed ground, the sound followed by Travis’ soft voice calming the horse just as he had done her. Hiding behind the door wasn’t going to solve any of her problems. She opened her eyes and stepped back into the center of the barn, swallowing her pride and asking, “So what do you want to talk about?” Then, fingers crossed behind her back, she sent up a silent prayer,
Don’t let it be that kiss.

He glanced down at the horse. “About that kiss?”

Ah, crap
, she swore to herself as her heart flipped and her legs seemed to take root. Staring at the man before her, she waited for him to continue.

“It was a…” He paused. “A mistake on my part.”

Her mouth went dry. Glory tore her eyes away from him and stared at the horse’s feet as her heart plummeted to her boots. “A mistake,” she repeated. Closing her eyes for a moment, she pushed back the memory of another dashing cowboy, his blue eyes asking forgiveness, saying nearly the same words, using her for room and board yet all the while flirting with Angel and giving her lessons in making love.

Letting out a ragged breath, she steadied her heart and stepped over to Sultan to unhook the lead lines from the bridle. “Well, thanks for telling me.” Her hand wrapped around the leather until the knuckles turned white. Glory refused to glance in his direction. Determined not to humiliate herself by crying, she focused on the job at hand. Unclipping the first lead line, she summoned up her courage and said, “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

Only Travis didn’t move. “It’s not what you think,” he replied.

A harsh breath of air rushed from her lips. Her pent-up anger seemed to explode. Suddenly all the hurt from Jax and the humiliation of being caught in a kiss by Mickey surfaced. With clenched teeth, she narrowed her vision and focused her hardened glare on the man of the hour. “Right, cowboy. It’s not what I’m thinking. I got your message loud and clear. In the heat of the moment, you took the liberty of a kiss. You got caught. You’re embarrassed, but you don’t want me to take it as an invitation to something more.”

Once the shock wore off, Travis responded, “Well, yeah.”

Anger ramped up the beat of her heart. Glory was on a roll and couldn’t stop. Turning to face him, she took a step toward him and watched as Travis let go of the horse and took a step back. “I’ll go even further,” she pointed out. “You’ve got a job to do here, and you want to keep it friendly, not get involved with some girl you think might put some kind of chains around you.” Her voice shook. “Well, I’ve got news for you. I’d already forgotten that meaningless encounter, so don’t lose any sleep over it.” She paused to let the barb hit home. “I sure won’t.”

Travis’ brow puckered. “No, that’s not it. I just don’t want you to think—”

“Think!” she hissed. “Well, I’m not sure which one of us wasn’t thinking, but I can assure you—it won’t happen again.”

Before Travis could say another word, Glory clucked and turned Sultan around, forcing the man back even further. All she wanted now was to put some distance between them. Her steps lengthened as she moved down the center of the barn, Sultan jogging at her side in order to keep up.
How dare he
, she fumed.
Were all cowboys this self-absorbed?
Opening the wooden gate, she led the horse through and took off the bridle. Sultan kicked up his heels and rushed across the green grass, happy to be free. Glory wished she felt the same. Securing the latch, she moved toward the house, trying to forget she’d ever heard of a bull rider with the name Travis Hargrove.

****

Alma Butler wasn’t born yesterday. The firm press of Glory’s lips and the curt greeting before she went on through the kitchen and fled upstairs were a dead giveaway that something was wrong. Holding the mixing bowl against her hip, she watched and held her tongue and listened to the upstairs door slam. “Hmm,” she mused, flipping the batter of cornmeal, eggs, and milk together in a lumpy paste. “Somebody rained on that girl’s parade.”

She turned back to the counter and set the bowl down. Through the kitchen window she caught sight of the cowboy moving across the lawn. Alma smoothed a hand on her apron and pulled the curtain back so she might get a better look. “Yes, indeed.” She chuckled. “Now, that’s one miserable man.” She let the curtain drop and moved to the stove, still contemplating what she’d witnessed. “A woman’s got to wonder if they’re related in God’s great scheme of things.”

Moving her heavy cast iron skillet to the burner, she poured in enough oil to cover the bottom and turned the fire on. While she waited she leaned her hip against the edge of the counter and folded her arms across her chest. Yessiree, that wasn’t like her Glory. Her Glory always had a smile on her face. Something definitely was troubling her. Alma’s glance moved back to the window. “Humph,” she snorted. “Don’t take a bright man to figure it out, either, if they’d look past the end of their nose.” With a shake of her head, Alma picked up the bowl and moved it closer to the pan.