Colby (BBW Western Bear Shifter Romance) (Rodeo Bears Book 3) by Becca Fanning

on a pair of sleek black shades that somehow made his face even more holy than it already was. “How do these make me look?”

    Ridiculously gorgeous.

    “Hideous,” she answered. “You look like an alligator trying to blend in with crocodiles.”

    “That makes no sense.”

    She batted her eyelashes. “That’s only because you’re not smart enough to understand.”

    To her irritation, he laughed again. “You heading to Mesa for the big competition?”

    “Only if Papa makes me.”

    “So no then.”

    “Not likely.”

    “When was the last time you’ve been to the rodeo?”

    Mary Beth swallowed. “When I was fifteen, after my mama died.”

    Owen softened. “Is that why you don’t like to go?”

    “No. I don’t like to go because it smells like muck and it’s full of rednecks who call themselves gentlemen but don’t know the difference between a knife and a fork.”

    “You should go to Mesa with your father,” Owen persisted. “Remember where you come from. You were born a cowgirl. You can take the girl out of the rodeo, but you can’t take the rodeo out of the girl.”

    “You can take the rodeo and shove it,” Mary Beth countered. “I was born in Beverly Hills, and that’s where I plan to stay.”

    ***

    Her mansion sat on a lake in the far stretches of Los Angeles. Well, technically it was her papa’s mansion, and it was more of a ranch, built of whitewash stone walls and Spanish roof tiling with stables and barnyards surrounding it. There was very little Mary Beth liked about the Wild West, but she did like the mansion. It was the only home she had ever known.

    In the drive, she stepped out of her black convertible and handed the keys to the valet, who would park it in the nearby garage with the rest of the cars. Most were her papa’s collection of old classics, but the convertible was all hers. It was fast. She liked fast.

    “Papa!” she called when she entered the house, realizing she hadn’t seen him in days. He had the virtues of an early bird. She was a cat in the night, clubbing until sunrise and sleeping most of the day away, unless there was shopping to be had. That’s where the sunglasses came in handy. Sunglasses could hide eyes that were red and weary from a party gone right.

    When her papa didn’t answer, Mary Beth turned to the intercom on the wall. “Papa, it’s me. Are you home?”

    “I’m in my room packing for Mesa,” he answered through the box. “Come on up.”

    She kicked off her heels and left them by the door for the housekeeping staff to put away before heading upstairs to her papa’s bedroom, enjoying the feel of her bare feet against the cool marble flooring. The marble was Italian. It was the best of its kind. Her family never settled for anything less than the best.

    In his room, her papa had his suitcase sprawled open on his bed, which he neatly folded his fringed and embroidered rodeo suits into.

    “You should really hang those in garment bags,” she recommended.

    “Someone will take care of the creases in Mesa,” he returned, sounding tired. It was unusual for him. He was usually as peppy as a showman, even in his sleep.

    “Do you have to go to Arizona?” she asked with concern as she sat on the foot of his bed. “You look awful. Take a day off. Get some rest.”

    “Mesa is one of the biggest events of the year. I own it. I’m in charge. I have to go. Plus, it’s special to me.”

    “It’s not worth your health. You can go next year. For now, send someone else to oversee it. Or hire a double.”

    He chuckled. “A double couldn’t pull of my energy or charm.”

    “No,” she agreed. “But they can run one show without you. Stay.”

    Her papa answered by changing the subject. “Owen called. He said he ran into you.”

    “He was probably following me,” she huffed, though she knew it wasn’t true.

    Sighing, her papa put the last of his suits into his suitcase then started on his socks, which lay in a neat row