Prologue
Three years earlier...
Dana Barrett found it hard to believe how something that had started with so much promise had turned into such a disaster, but the proof stared her straight in the face.
That line was pink. No mistake.
She tossed the pregnancy test in the garbage can of the small motel bathroom, then slumped to the floor with her back against the door and covered her head with her arms. She hadn’t gone on the pill because she hadn’t made up her mind as to how long the relationship would last. She normally avoided bull riders, the rock stars of the rodeo world, because of their egos and the danger they chased, but Tanner, with his good-natured charm, had won her over. He was fun and she’d fallen a little in love.
She should have listened to her head, not her heart. When things seemed too good to be true, it meant they usually were. Fun wasn’t enough. Not for her. She had her barrel racing career to consider. She’d begun to make money. How had this happened?
Thinking back, there had been a few mishaps early on when Tanner hadn’t withdrawn when he should. He’d been wound up after a ride, and they’d burned off enough excess energy between them that he’d claimed he was too tired to move. She’d straightened him out in that regard.
Apparently, not soon enough.
He knocked on the bathroom door. “Everything okay in there?”
No. It most definitely was not.
She had to tell him.
She pulled herself together and opened the door. “I’m pregnant.”
The smug, satisfied smile. The lack of surprise. They told her more than she wanted to know.
“This is fantastic!” he said.
The blood drained from her head to cradle the tiny bundle of cells sprouting limbs in her belly. Her brain wasn’t working, and she must have misheard. Misread his reaction. She groped for a chair. She needed to sit.
She stared at him. “Are you out of your mind? What’s fantastic about this?”
He went to one knee and took her cold hand. “We’re a couple, sweetheart. We’re in this together. Think positive. We’re starting a family.”
A couple. Together. Family.
She could think of only one thing. “What about our careers?”
“What about them? Come on, Dana. Neither one of us is going to Las Vegas.” He shrugged off all their hard work, as if they hadn’t spent years trying to make it to the Wrangler National Finals.
Maybe only one of them had. How well did she know him?
They’d partied together. They shared a lot of the same friends—the circuit was a close-knit community. He’d introduced her to a few of his friends outside of the rodeo world, too, and she knew his sister—another barrel racer—quite well.
But she couldn’t say how they’d ended up sharing motel rooms when they were at the same rodeo events, other than that the walls of her trailer were thin, and the neighbors didn’t need to know the details of what they were doing at night. On that, they agreed.
Especially since lately, all they seemed to be doing was disagree. He had a jealous streak in him that she’d attributed to a competitive nature. He expected her to align her schedule with his. When they did line up, he had to have her complete attention. And she was exhausted.
He continued to talk. She continued to stare. He had it all planned. Between them, they had money saved. They’d buy a small place in Grand, Montana. His hometown. They’d have a dozen babies. She had no idea where any of this came from. She had the horrifying suspicion he did.
“You wore me out, baby. Just give me another second to recover.”
She held up a hand and waved it, trying to get his attention and stop the flow of nonsensical words. “Tell me you didn’t plan this.”
She saw the guilt in his eyes before belligerence took over. “You’re a little commitment-shy, baby. So this speeds things along. So what? Tell me we aren’t perfect together.”
Was he trying to shift the blame for this mess onto her shoulders? The shocks kept on coming. How could someone so sweet, and so beautiful to look at, and with so much potential, be so insecure and selfish and spoiled? How had he seized so much control over her life? When had he become so dismissive of her hopes and dreams?
She shook her hand free of his. She stood. She crossed the small room to her suitcase, picking up scattered clothes off the floor as she went.
“What are you doing?” Tanner asked, curiosity, more than alarm, in his voice.
He thought he had her. That the future he envisioned for them was a foregone conclusion. That he’d won. She’d never been as angry with anyone as she was with him in this moment.
Anger solved nothing. Actions spoke louder than words. Especially with Tanner.
“I’m leaving,” she said, and snapped the clasps closed on her suitcase.
Chapter One
Dana adjusted her seat in the saddle. Leather creaked. She kept her eye on the open ride-through gate and the sunny arena beyond, blocked out the distraction of the stock pens on either side of the alleyway, and waited for the whistle to signal the start of her race. Lady trembled between her knees, muscles bunched, ears eagerly twitching. At sixteen years of age, she knew the routine as well as Dana. Better.
That age-earned experience was what Dana needed right now. What Lady no longer possessed in speed her long, barrel-racing career more than made up for, and they were favored to win.
The whistle sounded. Lady shot down the alleyway and exploded into the arena to the wild cheers of the crowd. She took the first barrel like the champion thoroughbred she was. Dana leaned into the turn, the toe of her boot kissing the dirt, and helped to cut the turn close, but not close enough to tumble the barrel. They approached the second barrel and shot it a hair’s breadth too wide. Dana’s confidence in Lady remained. This race was theirs.
By the time they reached the third barrel, however, something was off. A misstep had Lady taking the barrel too wide to recover.
Then, on the home stretch dash for the gate to trigger the end of the ride, Lady flagged. The speed wasn’t there. They blew through the gate and pulled up at the end of the alleyway in a thick cloud of dust. Dana drew Lady around and waited for their time to be announced.
17.351 seconds. The crowd groaned a single, unified, sonic boom of dismay that nearly drowned out the announcer. “Oh! Too bad, Lady Dana. Better luck next time.”
She hated that nickname.
Her heart sank, the joy sucked from the ride for a whole other reason. She’d needed fifteen seconds to qualify for the next round. 14.202 seconds to win. She stroked Lady’s neck, trying hard not to let her disappointment transmit to her horse. The fault wasn’t Lady’s. She’d done her best—as she’d been doing for eleven years now. The sad truth—the one Dana had been doing her best to ignore—was that Lady was ready to retire. The signs had been there awhile.
She slid from the saddle. She’d give Lady a rest for a few days, then exercise her with care, and hopefully, when they rolled into the next rodeo venue on her roster, they’d both be back in top shape. The season wasn’t over for them by a long shot. But there was no question that Lady would need to be replaced, and sooner rather than later. And why shouldn’t she be? She’d earned her retirement. Dana was the one hanging on, and for her own selfish reasons. It meant one more loss in her life—one more change—and those were becoming increasingly difficult to face.
A shadow fell past her shoulder. Hands reached for the reins, tugging them from Dana’s grasp before she could speak up and refuse help she didn’t need. She could look after her own horse, and preferred to do so, but for the past three years, the tightknit rodeo community had been treating her as if she were delicate. Fragile. Broken.
She was none of those things. But she understood why they might think so.
“Great ride,” Chance Avery said, patting Lady’s steamy flank.
“Thank you.” They both knew the ride hadn’t been great.
A fellow barrel racer in the men’s division, Chance had made it plain on more than one occasion that he had a strong interest in Dana and was undeterred by her past. He was eye-catching, for sure. Dana might have been tempted if he didn’t want more from her than she was willing to give, and cowboys on the circuit didn’t gossip worse than church women at a quilting bee. She wasn’t about to be pegged as a man’s property ever again, and that was where a hookup with a circuit cowboy would lead.
She packed her disappointment into a tight little box and slammed the lid. She was private by nature, but after Tanner Shannahan’s very public death in the arena, privacy was a thing of the past. She had so many eyes on her, every minute of every day, even after nearly three years, that she’d forgotten what privacy was like.
She’d also begun to forget what it was like to be intimate with a man, and late at night, alone in her bed, she couldn’t say which she missed more.
“A bunch of us are going out for burgers and beer before the street dance tonight,” Chance continued, undeterred by her cool tone. “We thought you might like to come along.”
“That sounds like fun, but I already have plans.”
“Lady Dana! Mind if I take a picture?” someone asked, and before Dana could say that yes, she did mind, the deed was done.
The woman pocketed her phone. “I followed Tanner Shannahan’s career. Huge fan,” she said. “He was going places. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Dana smiled but said nothing. Offered no encouragement. The woman clearly wanted to talk about Tanner and Dana did not discuss him. Not with family. Not with friends. And certainly not with a stranger. He’d left her life in a mess, and she’d never forgive him for it.
Which wasn’t what his superfans wanted to hear.
Chance brushed up against her, holding Lady’s reins in one hand, and lazily draped his free arm around her shoulders. Dana stiffened. Her smile fixed in place. Every inch of her retracted, screaming for her to shrug him off. She disliked the show of possession, no matter how good his intentions might be. She’d been down that road once. Never again.
“Thanks,” Chance said, dazzling the woman with charm. “Got to take care of the horse right now, though.”
The woman moved off. Dana eased from under Chance’s arm and pried Lady’s reins from his hand. He had no choice but to let go. He didn’t, however, know when to quit.
“She looks like she might have pulled a muscle,” he said.
She’d done no such thing. She was arthritic and Dana could no longer ignore it. She’d had her eye on a warmblood breeder’s horses in Grand, Montana. A man named Otto Hart. Tanner had introduced her to him. They had been neighbors.
Dana didn’t want to go to Grand. She didn’t want to run the risk of bumping into Tanner’s family. She’d gone to great lengths to put distance between herself and them. She was not their son’s widow, and she didn’t want to encourage any continued connection.
But Lady had earned her retirement and Dana needed a horse to replace her. Her backup, Crackerjack, was skittish around crowds. She hadn’t ridden him in competition since he’d thrown her, although the fall had been partly—mostly—her fault. While he’d do in a pinch, he wasn’t a winner.
Grand was on the way to Billings, her home. She could duck in, see what she could arrange with the breeder in terms of payment, and hopefully, she’d soon have a new horse to train.
Even though it broke her heart to admit it, this would be Lady’s last season.
* * *
A horse’s hind end was its engine, and Dana’s horse lost speed in its hocks. Lady lacked acceleration as she rounded the barrels, something that became particularly apparent on the home stretch. To Levi Harrington, who’d watched the race from the rails, that shouted arthritis.
A mixture of horse and dust thickened the air. A dull sky threatened rain, despite which, the stands around the outdoor arena were full. The crowd was rambunctious but good-natured, as rodeo fans usually were. The only event with a larger fan base than women’s barrel racing was bull riding.
Levi had come to the Bremner rodeo to check out the stock—the bulls, to be more precise. Miles Decker, the Endeavour Ranch’s rodeo manager, had convinced him to head up the Endeavour’s new breeding program. It hadn’t been a difficult decision on Levi’s part. Weldon Scott, his former boss, was a hard man to work for.
Even though Levi was here for the bulls, when he’d noticed Dana’s name on the barrel racing roster, he couldn’t resist stopping to watch. He hadn’t seen her since Tanner’s funeral.
She was as pretty as he remembered.
He also remembered that her eyes were the darkest shade of blue he’d ever seen. A thick fringe of lashes made them appear darker still. Long, spiral curls danced between chestnut and chocolate. Her skin brought his grandma’s homemade, whiskey-laced, vanilla ice cream to mind.
He remembered other things, too. Boots, jeans, and a blue checkered shirt looked as good on her today as the short, sassy skirts she preferred to wear for a night on the town. She liked to dance. She liked white wine and drank beer from a glass, not a bottle or can. She glowed when she smiled, which was rare.
And she’d been his best buddy’s girlfriend, not his, meaning he had no business remembering anything about her that didn’t involve Tanner, too. He packed up his memories and prepared to get back to business. One bull in particular, Nobody’s Baby, was on his agenda.
His path to the stock pens took him past the alleyway where Dana lingered, engaged in conversation with Chance Avery, a fellow barrel racer, who had hold of her horse’s reins. His heart tapped his lungs when the cowboy dropped an arm around her shoulders, and for a split second, he thought Dana must have moved on with her life. If so, her choice was mildly surprising. Avery was one of many cowboys who’d competed for her attention and got nowhere before she’d struck up with Tanner.
Dana eased from under Chance’s arm in the casual way women moved when a situation was uncomfortable for them, but they didn’t want to draw attention to it and escalate things. Levi had sisters and was familiar with the evasive, drop-and-roll maneuver.
Tanner used to tease her about her aversion to public displays of affection. She hadn’t earned the nickname Lady Dana solely thanks to her horse. He’d claimed that her ladylike image was for the public, because in private, she was a much, much different woman.
Levi took an unplanned left turn. He’d made a point of avoiding her since long before Tanner was killed. He hadn’t planned on approaching her today, either. But there had always been a delicate air to her that made a man long to protect her, and right now, she looked like she could use an escape route. He’d be happy to provide one for her—on Tanner’s behalf, of course.
He arrived in time to hear Chance’s comment about a pulled muscle, which summed up how much attention the other man had paid to Dana’s ride. No wonder he’d never made pro. Not if he couldn’t spot the early signs of arthritis.
Dana had retrieved her horse’s reins. Her ponytail, restrained by an indifferent pink clip, draped over one shoulder like a discarded silk shirt on a delicate chair. She hadn’t seen Levi yet.
Then, she glanced over. It took a second for recognition to widen her twilight eyes, and wariness traipsed in. His heart curled into a ball. She’d known how he felt about her, even though he’d done his best to hide it from her. From Tanner, too. He was a terrible friend.
“Hi, Dana, you looked good out there,” he said, keeping it casual, glossing over a ride that had to be a huge disappointment to her. He forced his attention to Chance. “Hey, buddy. How’s the season been treating you?”
“No complaints.”
Chance Avery was not a bad guy. Men liked him. Women did, too. He was outgoing and friendly and always willing to lend a hand, but overall, he wasn’t especially bright. Even if he succeeded in attracting Dana’s interest, which was unlikely, he’d soon bore her, and she’d break his heart.
She’d been on the brink of breaking Tanner’s. But that might have been wishful thinking on Levi’s part.
Terrible friend.
Levi shoved guilt aside and took a read of the current situation. The three of them found themselves in that awkward social place where no one knew what to do next. Should Dana push off and leave the men to continue their conversation without her? Should Chance tell Levi to push off so he could continue to strike out with Dana? Should Levi push off, or continue to act as if he’d stumbled across an old rodeo friend and wished to renew his acquaintance, despite Dana being all he could see?
He’d at least ask after her horse before he looked after minding his business. “Lady looks in good shape,” he said. A tall, slim thoroughbred with long, elegant legs and a gorgeous, glossy black coat, she was a beauty. She had a slight swelling in her rear left hock, which explained the poor turn on the last barrel, but nothing too obvious. Yet. “Is the arthritis manageable with exercise alone, or does the vet have her on steroid injections?”
“Arthritis?” Chance echoed, taking a closer look at the horse.
“It’s too soon for injections. She’s got a lot of years left in her and I worry more about stomach ulcers than her joints.” Dana’s cheeks had pinkened, as if he’d let out a big secret she hadn’t planned to reveal.
Maybe he had. The hesitation before her response—the way her gaze boomeranged off Chance and snapped back to him—suggested as much. She was competitive—single-mindedly so—but unlike some high-level competitors, not at the expense of her ride. She’d always taken good care of her horses. She had to know that Lady was no longer fit for serious competition.
Stop talking, his common sense warned, because he could see plain as day that he’d hit on a sore subject, but his mouth kept on going as if it had a mind of its own. “No reason to cripple her, either. Crackerjack is a good horse, too.”
Dana’s spine stiffened and her chin snapped up as if some puppeteer had pulled a string taut. Ice hardened those deep-blue, fathomless eyes. She was five-eight to his six feet, but she managed to look down her nose at him, nonetheless.
“I know my own horses and what they’re capable of,” she said, her tone the correct side of polite but nudging the line.
He heard so mind your own business loud and clear. He kicked himself. She’d never been good with being told what to do. Or, for that matter, showing weakness. He’d seen firsthand how she’d fallen apart in the stands when Tanner was killed. She’d been sitting with Tate, Tanner’s sister, watching his ride. Within minutes, photos of the two women had been all over social media, because people loved sensation, and it wasn’t until the Women’s Pro Rodeo Association intervened that most of the photos came down. But not all. Since then, Dana had cut enough interviews short that reporters had learned not to ask her about it.
Except all she’d accomplished was to heighten public interest in her personal life.
She pivoted on one booted heel. Spurs jangled. She tugged Lady’s reins and the horse obediently followed, without the slightest hint of a limp. Levi’s heart sighed like a leaky balloon. She was gorgeous. Mind-numbingly sexy. And as much out of his league as she was everyone else’s.
“I see you still have a way with the ladies,” Chance said.