The Bull Rider's Homecoming. Jeannie Watt

shoulders a shrug and despite the pain beating through him, and the very real concern that he’d set his rehab back by a week or two, Trace found himself wanting to smile.

      * * *

      ANNIE TOLD HERSELF—firmly—that there was no need for her to feel self-conscious about picking up Trace Delaney and giving him a ride to his truck, which was parked where she parked every day. It was the natural thing to do. The neighborly thing to do.

      They were kind of neighbors...several-miles-apart neighbors, but they had the same zip code.

      She pulled her car up to the gate at the end of Trace’s walkway. The dogs shot out from behind the house, leaping up and down, their heads appearing and disappearing from behind the fence, and a few seconds later Trace came out of the house, looking dark and withdrawn.

      He held his shoulder stiffly and his arm wasn’t in his jacket sleeve, which concerned her, but having grown up a bull rider’s sister, she didn’t say a word about it and pretended not to notice the grimace of pain that flashed across his face as he got into her car.

      “Thanks for doing this,” he said politely as he folded himself down into the seat. Apparently he felt self-conscious about being ferried back to his truck. Men.

      “Not a problem.”

      Once Trace was in the car and the door was shut, Annie couldn’t decide if the car was too small or if he was too big. Only he wasn’t big. He was tall and lean. Wiry, as bull riders tended to be. But the car felt different with him in it.

      And whereas he’d smelled like a guy who’d been fighting in the parking lot the night before—which Annie had been surprised to find she didn’t mind one bit—today he smelled of soap and man. She didn’t mind that, either.

      She bit her lip as she stopped at the end of the driveway. Since Trace seemed to prefer silence, she decided to honor his wishes and not make small talk. She did enough of that in the line of duty and it really wasn’t that bad driving in silence.

      He was the one who finally spoke as they hit the Gavin city limits. “Do you want to bring your girls to ride sometime?”

      She sent him a frowning look, wondering where that had come from. “They can wait until Lex comes home.”

      “Yeah. Well, I’ve never spent time around kids, so I kind of panicked when they asked, but after you left I realized that I really had nothing to do with the matter. So, you’re welcome to come...if you still care to.”

      There was something in his voice that had her glancing away from the road to him. “You’re hurting and the last things you probably need are a couple of rowdy—”

      “Annie.” She shot another look across the small space. “I’m not the kind of guy who usually fights in parking lots.”

      Annie’s eyebrows shot up as she realized what his concern was. “I wasn’t worried about that.” She let out a huff of breath. “Besides, I saw what happened. Shelly attacked you from behind when you were trying to help her. And you know what?” Another quick look his way. “You could have taken that douche bag despite your shoulder. He was tiring, you know.”

      She pulled into the lot and parked in her usual spot, fifty yards away from where his black truck stood close to the Shamrock. When she turned to take her purse from the backseat, she saw that he was studying her with a bemused look.

      “I grew up with bull riders. You think I haven’t seen a scrap or two in my day?”

      She pushed the door open and got out. Trace did the same and she realized that perhaps she’d accidentally discovered the secret to feeling more comfortable around a guy who was putting her totally on edge. Treat him like her brother.

      He smiled at her then over the top of the car—a slow smile that made Annie’s nerves start to thrum.

      Uh...no...the brother thing wasn’t going to work.

      It had been a nice idea, but she was going to have to come up with something else. She managed a look of concern.

      “Are you sure about this? You won’t feel invaded?” Because she thought he would, and pointing that out might be a great way to sidestep this rather generous offer.

      “It’s not my place. If the girls want to ride, they’re welcome. I’ll probably stay in the house, out of the way.”

      Annie lifted her eyebrows. “More likely out of harm’s way.”

      “Well, like I said, I have no experience with kids.”

      Annie fought with herself. He was being nice because of what had just happened between them and the words “no, thank you” would solve her problem nicely and put her out of harm’s way.

      “How about Sunday at ten o’clock?” she heard herself say.

      “Sunday at ten o’clock,” he echoed. Then he gave her a quick nod before starting for his truck.

      And Annie gave herself a moment to watch him go.

       Chapter Four

      Late Saturday afternoon, on the day after he’d gotten walloped in the parking lot, Trace went back to the Shamrock. He wasn’t one to avoid a place just because he’d gotten the snot beat out of him there—if he were, he wouldn’t be a very successful bull rider—and he wanted to say hello to Gus. He pushed through the door and saw Gus behind the bar and no sign of Silver Pants or Black Hat.

      “Delaney!” Gus spotted him before he was halfway across the room and came out from behind the bar to meet him. “I’d man-hug you, but I don’t know what part of you hurts.”

      Trace laughed as they shook hands. The truth was that his shoulder hurt like crazy, and he was concerned about the number of weeks he’d put himself behind in rehab by butting his nose into someone else’s business.

      “Let me buy you a drink,” Gus said as he headed back around the bar. “Or better yet, wait five minutes until I’m off shift and I’ll join you.”

      “Sounds good.” Trace headed over to a table by the door. Five minutes later Gus showed up with two frosted mugs of beer.

      “I don’t usually end my day this way,” Gus said as he raised his glass to his lips almost as soon as he sat down. “But there are days.” He took a drink. “Speaking of which, I heard what happened with Shelly last night.”

      “I imagine most everyone has heard by now.”

      “Pretty much,” Gus agreed. “My uncle banned her from setting a foot in the place for a month about an hour ago. She threw a fit, so he made it two months and if she shows up before that, he’ll call the sheriff and ban her for life.” Gus gave his head a quick shake. “You have no idea the trouble that woman can cause.” He smiled a little. “No. I guess maybe you do.”

      “Firsthand,” Trace agreed. “If she’s such a troublemaker why not ban her for life now?”

      “Because her father is—” Gus made quotation marks in the air “—important.”

      “He must be very proud of his daughter.”

      “Unfortunately, I think he is.”

      Trace gave a soft snort. What would that have been like? To have a father who was proud of you?

      “Sorry to hear about your dad,” Gus said, keying in to the direction of Trace’s thoughts. “Gramps mentioned that he’d passed and that the ranch was for sale when I spoke to him a couple months ago.”

      “Yeah. Well, as you know, we weren’t that close.” Not even close enough for the old man to let his firstborn know that he’d suffered two heart attacks before the one that had killed him.

      Would it have changed anything? Trace didn’t know, but