Lonesome Cowboy (Honky Tonk Hearts) by Stacy Dawn Page B

diminish the dark shadow that hovered so close to the surface.

Chapter Twelve
    Fierce muscles pounded beneath him as dust flew up like a smoke screen until Marshall could see nothing but the head of the bull, its heavy breath snorting dust in smoky ringlets away from them.
    He held on tight, rallying with the monstrous beast beneath him. No way was this thing going to beat him today. With gloved hand fisted around the rope, the muscles of his thighs and calves straining to hold on, every movement hinged on the bull.
    The whistle went, and he timed the bucking to release and dismount, hightailing his ass out of the way of the still furious beast.
    Two former bullfighters, now ranch hands for Chase, distracted the animal and attempted to corral it back toward the pen.
    Marshall shot a look back, the grin on his face widening as he watched White Fire kick his legs and storm around the ring. Damn, that felt good .
    Hell, everything felt good right now. He hadn’t felt this light in ages.
    “I don’t know if I should congratulate you or be pissed.” Chase’s laugh came with the hand extended toward him as he exited the ring. “Damn good ride. You were on fire there. Surprised you didn’t take him right down.”
    He shook the hand then slapped his buddy’s shoulder. “Got lucky is all.”
    “Good job there, son,” Elwood offered. “You should be good to get that title again this year.”
    “Right,” he agreed automatically.
    Though he’d told the old man he had no interest in going back to the rodeo umpteen times, Elwood never let up. He took the ensuing good natured thump to the back of his protective vest just as a red sports car drove up.
    Marshall shucked his gloves one finger at a time as long legs in a short business skirt exited the vehicle.
    Lee-Anne smiled as she approached, stopping to give Elwood a peck on the cheek. “Hey, Gramps. Chase, when are you going to get those damned potholes fixed? They’re hell on my shocks, not to mention my undercarriage.” She made her way to stand in front of him. “Marshall.”
    He should have known she’d be back for round two.
    Chase’s cousin crossed her arms over the crisp white blouse, pushing the cleavage higher into the opening. He chuckled. Maybe it worked for her other clients, but he wasn’t interested.
    “I’ve made my decision, Lee-Anne.”
    “Come on, Marshall.” A pout pushed the ruby lips forward as she brushed a finger down his sleeve. “After all I’ve done for you. I thought a good night’s sleep would change your mind.”
    An incessant honking pulled everyone’s attention to a truck careening into the space beside the sports car as more dust flew up than on his ride atop the bull.
    “Thank goodness!” Elwood exclaimed, hands swinging up in relief. “This doesn’t sound like a conversation a grandfather wants to hear.” He hobbled over to the truck where his old friends sat waving to the group. “See you at breakfast. Andee said the special was Texas-sized hotcakes today.”
    When the truck skidded off, Chase’s brow lifted in his direction, and Marshall shook his head. “Don’t even.” He’d never had any interest in his friend’s ambitious cousin, and Chase knew it.
    Marshall turned his attention back to the lady in front of him. “And no, I haven’t changed my mind. I’m not selling anymore. Take the place off the market, Lee-Anne.”
    She dropped her hand. “First you turn down some good offers over the last two years, and now you want the whole thing off the market? It doesn’t make sense. I never understood why you bought that run-down house in the first place. But what are you going to do with it now?” She stepped closer. “Come on, Marsh. We could make a lot of money off this if you let me do it my way.”
    He stepped away, taking off his Stetson to wipe his brow. “It was never about the money for me, Lee-Anne.”
    And he realized yesterday that it was never his to sell either. He’d bought the bed and