Cowboy Resurrection: Cowboy Cocktail, Book 2 by Mia Hopkins Page A

hat, jeans and new cowboy boots from Bakersfield, felt right at home in the mud.
    As Monica made her rounds, some of the visiting competitors, all fit young cowboys, flirted openly with her. They invited her for drinks at the Silver Spur or at their trailers after the next round. Flattered, she turned them down under Harpal’s indignant gaze.
    “They’re so dirty,” her sister-in-law said under her breath. “Disgusting.”
    Monica wholeheartedly disagreed with her, but none of the handsome cowboys came close to the only one she was looking for in the crowd.
    Because of Monica’s careful planning and orchestration, the opening parade and all the events went according to plan. Bo Walker’s bulls were crowd-pleasers, and the commentators and barrel man kept the huge crowd’s attention.
    All around her, Monica heard the ka-ching of ringing registers—concessions, alcohol, merchandising, tickets, entry fees, sponsorships. She smiled as she thought about all that money flowing into Oleander. The Rambling Ranch Inn was fully booked. Looking into the stands, she was proud to see, scattered here and there among the cowboy hats, a few Sikhs in turbans, enjoying their day at the rodeo with their families.
    She was on her way to the VIP box when she finally saw the person she was searching for.
    Dean stood by the chutes. He was chatting with Bo Walker and the young bullfighters hired by Miller-Davis for the bull-riding events. A crowd of bronc riders and bull riders had gathered around him too. They hung on every word he said. Women and kids in the stands leaned over to ask Dean for autographs and photos. He had a friendly smile for every single person who approached him.
    Monica wasn’t prepared for the pain that flooded her from head to toe when she saw Dean. He was so handsome that looking at him sharpened her senses. He was wearing a white straw hat, a freshly pressed blue shirt and one of his championship belt buckles. Even from afar, his dark beard couldn’t hide the sharp lines of his cheekbones or the strong angle of his jaw.
    The commentators spotted him from the announcing stand. One of the event’s cameramen rushed over to get a shot for the big screen.
    “And here today is Oleander’s very own Dean MacKinnon, two-time freestyle bullfighting world champion. Looks like he’s giving our Miller-Davis bullfighters some pointers, there. Boys, listen up. You’re getting schooled by the best. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s give Dean a warm hometown welcome.”
    The crowd cheered. Dean waved at the camera and smiled. Monica heard some wolf whistles and ladylike shrieks from the audience.
    When the camera cut away, Dean looked up and locked eyes with her. His smile faltered for a moment before he put it back on and turned back to Bo.
    Almost gleefully, Harpal poked Monica in the ribs. “Come on. Stop looking at him. We’re blocking traffic here on the stairway.”
    Monica frowned at her sister-in-law before turning and walking up the stairs.
    * * * * *
    Packed with people, the Oleander Community Center was sweltering. All the doors had been thrown open to let in fresh air. Visitors were stacked five deep for beer and whiskey at the bar. The band, Mason Crow and the Wildflowers, played nonstop boot-scootin’ country, whipping the crowd into an energetic frenzy. Around the room, old-timers sat at tables, watching the younger people flirt and pair up on the dance floor.
    After Harpal went home to put her kids to bed, Monica took a moment to sit with her father and uncles at a table near the door. Her Uncle Dev’s truck wash and repair shop was a rodeo sponsor, as was the Rambling Ranch Inn. Though they didn’t drink alcohol, her father and his brothers were having a good time. They congratulated her on all her hard work and enjoyed themselves making outrageous suggestions for next year’s rodeo.
    Laughing at her Uncle Dev’s idea for “Turban Cowboy” T-shirts, she didn’t notice the man standing behind her until