Chapter Four
D rew may have resigned himself to his role as glorified babysitter to an uber-rich reckless cowgirl, but he was a long, long way from being happy about it.
Apparently, Sammie had been the last of the women bronc riders, concluding the exhibition rides right before the start of the night’s official rodeo.
After speaking with his grandfather who’d then left with Drew’s dad to find Alec, Drew watched the women leave the platform above the bucking chutes. They’d undoubtedly gone to reclaim their saddles from their respective broncs’ stock contractors. He lost sight of a certain redhead, but he assumed she couldn’t be hurt—or find some way to go rogue —simply lugging a saddle. So, he returned to his usual spot next to Doc to watch the start of the regular rodeo.
“Did you find Peyton?” Doc asked when he reached him.
Drew took the time to thread his arms through the metal fencing and hook a cowboy boot heel on the lowest rung so he could lean on the fence. “I did.”
“And?” Doc ran a critical eye over him. The man had a lot in common with Drew’s grandfather. Neither one missed a thing.
“And I now understand why her family wants someone keeping a close eye her.”
Doc grunted.
Drew’s gaze flicked to where the women bronc riders and their camera crew were setting down their retrieved saddles and making a spot for themselves at the arena railing next to the bucking chutes. Still no Peyton. Maybe she was using the restroom or something.
As the mounted drill team performed their rodeo-opening routine, he and Doc fell silent out of habit and watched carefully. While they might not be competing in an event, the drill team members were nonetheless mounted on spirited, half-ton animals that were known to occasionally take exception to flags being waved past their heads with bone-breaking results. Thankfully tonight the drill team finished and charged from the arena without incident.
“A real pistol, eh?” Doc picked up their conversation as if they hadn’t stopped talking.
“Something like that.”
“Which one is she?” Doc tipped the brim of his cowboy hat toward the conspicuous line of Buckin’ Babes now seated atop the fence.
“She isn’t with the rest of them right now.”
Doc shot him a sharp look. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know.” He almost told Doc that the last time he had seen Peyton Halliday was when she’d laughed in his face and pushed her way past him after he’d failed miserably at telling her he’d been assigned to keep her safe. But disappointing Doc was about as appealing as letting his grandfather down.
“Then why are you standing here?”
Drew pointed at the med kit on the ground at their feet and gestured toward the arena as the first male bronc rider and his mount burst from a chute. The cowboy, a local kid who had gone to school with Alec, stayed aboard the sorrel bronc for a total of three hopping bucks before he sailed off. Both Drew and Doc stilled. The cowboy hit the dirt hard but popped up and scrambled away from the threat of flying hooves. They tracked his movements, watching for any hitch in his gate or droop of the shoulders, but he looked fine.
Drew opened his mouth with the intention of saying he was doing his job, but Doc’s slow head shake stopped him.
“I told you, your job—your only job—while Miss Halliday is visiting our circuit is to shadow her like the evening sun. I can handle this.” Doc flicked a hand at the next bronc rider currently trying to stay on one of Liam’s broncs while scoring as many points as possible. “Been doing it since before you were born.”
Which was precisely why Drew wanted to help Doc. He knew better than to argue though.
Doc continued, “Go. Find her. Make sure she isn’t up to something.”
As Drew turned away to do as he’d been told, he grumbled, “Yeah, ’cause that’s a great use of a medical degree.”
“Think of it as bedside manner training,” Doc called after him, then snorted a laugh.
Drew acknowledged Doc’s idea of humor with a wave of his hand and a “Yes, sir” as he walked away toward the women bronc riders perched on the arena railing being filmed hooting and hollering at the male riders. Drew wanted nothing more than to turn on his heel and walk away. But not too far because there was still a rodeo going on. And where there was a rodeo, there would undoubtedly be injured competitors. His conscience wouldn’t allow him to not render aid.
He had to weave his way through the knot of cowboys clustered behind the ladies, cowboys clearly more interested in the view of the ladies’ backsides than in the chance of getting on television. They definitely weren’t watching the rodeo.
Drew recognized one of the cowboys. “Hey, Danny. Don’t you have some of Bodie’s bulls to tend to?”
Danny Kline, one of Drew’s brother-in-law’s ranch hands, glanced at him. “Drew.” He lifted his chin in greeting. “Cabe is with our bulls. The view is way better here. What are you doing on this side of the arena?”
The locals were used to seeing Drew and Doc Tracer near their medical gear and the gate they always used.
Not sure if he should reveal the specifics of his assignment, Drew said, “I’m keeping an eye on…” He gestured to the women atop the fence.
Danny snorted. “Ain’t we all, brother. Ain’t we all.”
Drew touched a finger to his hat and continued to press his way through the crowd. He finally made it to where Sammie was seated, her long, chaps-encased legs swinging inside the arena.
“Sammie,” Drew called up to her.
All of the women turned to look down on him.
Her pretty face erupted in a wide smile. “Hey, it’s bull boy!”
He heaved a sigh. While he didn’t regret intervening to stop their high jinks with Red Rum, maybe he could have handled it differently. “Do you know where Peyton is?”
She twisted on the top rail to face him more. “She didn’t hurt your family’s bull. We were just playing around—”
Drew held up a hand. “No, that’s not why…” He sighed again and planted his hands on his hips. “I just need to find her.”
Her smile turned speculative, just as it had when he and Alec had told her and Peyton they were part of the Wright Ranch family. “She’s in her trailer.”
Fully aware there was a virtual sea of competitors’ trailers behind him, he pushed for specifics. “Which is where, exactly?”
She raised a hand to point, but the brunette next to her nudged her with an elbow and shook her head.
Finally, someone with sense. Revealing the location of one of Buckin’ Babes’s trailers in front of a bunch of fanboy cowboys wouldn’t have been the smartest thing to do. Unfortunately, smart discretion wasn’t what Drew needed at the moment.
“Will she be back?” He glanced at the camera crew in time to see the woman he’d assumed to be the producer staring right at him and tugging on the cameraman’s arm. Drew shifted so the cowboy next to him provided a screen for him. He seriously doubted her family, not to mention his, wanted any of this to become a part of the Buckin’ Babes show.
The brunette said, “But there’s the meet and greet at two, tomorrow.”
Sammie’s smile widened. “That’s right. All of us will be available for selfies and autographs tomorrow.”
“At two,” he repeated.
Her smile turned sugary sweet. “At two.”
Drew pressed his lips together but actually was relieved by the women protecting each other. “Right. Okay. Thanks.”
While he had no intention of waiting until two o’clock tomorrow afternoon to talk to Peyton again, let alone waiting in line, he knew that short of knocking on every single competitor’s trailer, he wasn’t going to be able to start his new assignment tonight. Unless she returned to join her fellow riders, which was why he had no choice but to remain here as part of the ogling crowd of cowboys.
And if she didn’t return? Drew could only hope Peyton Halliday didn’t do anything stupid until tomorrow.
*
The bang of knuckles knocking on the closed metal door of the trailer brought Peyton’s attention up from the bronc rein rope she’d been rebraiding. After speaking with her father and agreeing to allow Andrew Neisson to shadow her to forestall any of her brothers from showing up, which would probably end with her locked inside her trailer while they hauled it back home to Texas, she hadn’t felt like returning to the arena for Nat’s candid footage with the rest of the girls.
Peyton preferred to hold her pity party in the privacy of her little trailer, with no one the wiser. Besides, she’d grown to love being alone in her cozy little haven, with no one asking how she was or what she intended to do next. She was free to simply be.
Afraid it was Nat coming to haul her out to join the other girls or, worse, a particular Neisson coming to try and start his babysitting gig, Peyton remained still and quiet.
The door rattled again beneath another pounding knock. Then the door handle jiggled as whoever it was tried to open the locked door.
Peyton dropped the soft braided rein to her lap. Who—?
“Peyton? Open up. It’s Sammie.”
Peyton blew out a relieved breath. “Just a second, Sammie.” She set the rein aside on the bench and rose to go unlock the trailer door.
The second she’d freed the latch, the door jerked outward, and Sammie stepped up into the trailer. She was still wearing her fringed chaps and dirt-streaked baby-blue shirt she’d ridden in. But being Sammie, her long blonde curls were still perfectly formed and bouncy beneath her cowboy hat, and her lip gloss looked fresh.
“Did he come here? Were you locking him out?” Sammie asked in a rush, her gaze searching the interior of the little trailer.
Though she figured she already knew, Peyton asked, “Who?”
“Bull boy.”
Peyton raised her brows.
“The cute cowboy who told you to stop messing with his family’s bull. He’s looking for you. Earlier, he was at the arena asking where you are.”
Peyton went back to the bench and sat down, pulling the bronc rope back into her lap and picking up the unraveled end she’d been working on. “What did you guys tell him?”
Sammie removed her wide-brimmed felt hat from her head and deposited it next to Peyton’s on the table. “The truth. That you had gone back to your trailer. Because dang, Peyton, he is fine .” She made a show of fanning herself.
Dread swelled in Peyton’s belly, and her gaze automatically jumped to the small window over the little table. The cheery blue and white checked curtains were still pulled open to allow in the warm glow of the portable lights set up around the temporary village of trailers and RVs the competitors lived in while traveling the rodeo circuit. Neisson was undoubtedly tall enough that she’d be able to see him approach, just as he’d be able to see into the trailer. She quickly reached to yank the curtains closed.
Sammie went to the small refrigerator and opened it. “Don’t freak out. I didn’t tell him which trailer is yours.” She pulled a green bottle of sparkling water from the fridge and twisted it open with a hiss of carbonation then slid onto the table bench.
Peyton nearly deflated with relief. She retrieved the rope from her lap that she’d unwittingly dropped.
“But…” Sammie trailed off with a poorly suppressed smile.
Peyton froze.
“Laura did tell him about the meet and greet tomorrow at two, and I mentioned how we would all be at the arena then signing autographs and taking selfies with people.” Sammie stretched her legs out and took a swig of water. “That way you’ll be all primped and pretty when he shows up to see you. You can thank me later.”
Peyton dropped her head back against the bench. “He doesn’t give a rat’s patootie what I look like. He’s only looking for me because he has to.”
Sammie instantly sobered. “Your family?”
Peyton lifted her head and met Sammie’s worried gaze. While the other woman might not know everything about Peyton, they had grown close enough for Sammie to be able to put more than a few things together. Namely how overprotective her family was and how the endless smothering fueled Peyton’s need to bust loose.
“Yes. Apparently, they—or more specifically, my father—has arranged for him—Dr. Andrew Neisson—to keep an eye on me while I’m here in Pineville.”
“He’s a doctor?”
Peyton nodded. “With the sports medicine clinic.”
Sammie snorted. “I can think of worse fates than having a guy like that keeping an eye, or all sorts of other things, on me.”
Not sharing the sentiment, Peyton simply huffed in response.
“A doctor and a member of the Wright Ranch family.” Sammie sighed wistfully, then reached into her pocket for her phone.
Peyton watched Sammie type something into her smartphone, then spend a moment reading. “What are you doing?”
“Googling your babysitter, of course. There’s not much on him, besides where he went to school, and that kind of boring stuff, but it says he has three brothers and a sister, and—”
Dreading the thought of what anyone could find out about her and her family from the internet, Peyton cut Sammie off. “No offense, but I don’t care. Really. All I care about is how annoying he’s going to be.”
Sammie tucked her phone away and sat up. “Well, there’s one way to keep him from being annoying.”
“How?”
“Just wrap him around your little finger. He’ll let you do whatever you want then.”
Peyton groaned, remembering how formidable he’d looked when he’d blocked her path to the catwalk.
Undeterred, Sammie said, “So what are you going to wear for tomorrow? How are you going to do that amazing hair of yours? Curly or straight?”
Peyton released another noisy breath. “I’ll probably wear these jeans. And I’ll wear my hair however it dries after I wash it. Which will probably be curly.”
Sammie rolled her eyes at Peyton’s lack of concern for her appearance. Then she grinned. “I have an idea. Let’s see if Nat will pay for us to go shopping tomorrow morning. We can get you some new jeans for the meet and greet.” She eyed Peyton’s well-worn and well-loved jeans as if they were molded from cow pies.
Peyton rolled her own eyes but had to admit Sammie’s idea wasn’t bad. Being filmed trying on clothes would be far better than having to spend another morning sitting with her fellow female bronc riders talking about how hot the local cowboys were. Peyton simply wasn’t interested. The last thing she needed was another guy telling her what she shouldn’t be doing.
Especially when she knew she’d have one in particular on her mind.
*
Drew stifled a yawn and scrubbed a hand over his face as he drove through town on his way to the rodeo grounds from the Wright Ranch. He hadn’t slept much at all, mostly drifting from one worst-case scenario involving Peyton Halliday and bucking broncs to another. Obviously, none of them ended well. Except for the one where he stuffed her in a feed sack and locked her in the old barn. He was kind of fond of that one.
He turned his truck onto Main Street, operating mostly on muscle memory. How did her family expect him to keep her from harm when she was doing what she was doing? Riding saddle broncs and harm went hand-in-hand, for Pete’s sake. If they were so concerned about her safety, why didn’t they simply keep her safe at home?
He’d already driven by the cluster of women, laughing and smiling with their many shades of long hair flowing from beneath the array of colorful cowboy hats before they registered in his brain. Since groups of pretty women weren’t by any means a rarity in town, the rodeo court being a case in point, it wasn’t until Drew spotted the camera crew trailing behind them that he slowed his truck enough for a backward glance. Sure enough, the shortest of the group had long waves of beautiful dark red hair lifting in the breeze beneath her cream hat.
Peyton Halliday.
Just her name elicited a very unwanted endocrine response.
The Buckin’ Babes were entering a women’s clothing boutique that shared the same type of old west facade and linking covered boardwalk as every other building on Main Street. Drew had never in his entire life been inside the boutique, despite it being on the main drag in town and located directly across from the diner everyone in the area, including him, frequented. While he doubted the shop contained anything that could cause even the most reckless of cowgirls harm, after the sleepless night he’d just had, he didn’t want to make a mistake by not keeping eyes on her as much as he could.
And because of the sleepless night he’d just had, Drew pulled his truck into a street parking spot in front of the specialty coffee shop at the end of Main Street, bought himself a coffee, and then hustled down the boardwalk. The hard heels of his cowboy boots were loud against the rough-hewn planks. No way would he risk the chance to improve the clinic by not being able to say he kept tabs on her no matter what she was doing, and there was no better time to start than now.
He took up a position in front of the boutique with his shoulder propped against one of the rough-hewn posts supporting the boardwalk’s cover to drink his coffee. Even from outside, he could hear the women. They were clearly enjoying themselves.
The boutique’s door opened, and Sammie emerged, her attention firmly on Drew. Her smile widened. “Bull Boy! I thought that was you. Why are you lurking around out here all by your lonesome?”
Before he could respond in any way, she hurried toward him and grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the post toward the door. “Come on! Join us.”
While it was the last thing he wanted to do, he allowed her to pull him along as she yanked open the boutique’s door. Once inside, Sammie turned as if to speak to him, but her name being called stopped her. The brunette who had told him about the meet and greet was beckoning her. Sammie gave his arm a pat and released him so she could rejoin the women, and Drew came to a grinding halt.
It took him a moment to process what he was seeing. The tiny women’s western wear shop was teaming with people, the three-member camera crew—dressed all in black, for some reason—stood out to him first. They were already filming the group of happily chattering women bronc riders. Then he spotted Peyton within the group, and he had to fight the overwhelming urge to back himself right out of the boutique.
Peyton, sans cowboy hat and boots, was modeling a new pair of very sparkly, very snug jeans and what he thought at first glance to be a red and white bandanna but turned out to be a halter top. Drew’s mouth went dry despite the coffee he’d just sipped as he watched her toss her beautiful long red curls over her shoulder and look back at the camera, her smile outshining the crystals and rhinestones decorating the pockets of the jeans she was trying to highlight with a not-so-subtle arch of her back.
Her beauty and obvious spunk hit Drew square in the chest in a way he’d never experienced before. Sweat popped out beneath the brim of his hat, and the palm of his hand grew damp against the paper coffee cup. He had to fight the urge to back out of the shop again. But he wasn’t standing here because of Peyton’s obvious allure. He was here because he had to be to protect the future he’d been working toward for years now. If his reaction to her was any indication, he was in big trouble.
He’d best keep his perspective. This was a job, and he’d tackle it clinically just like he had every other aspect of his job. He would not allow any sort of personal connection with his assignment .
Nat, with her dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail and a black T-shirt tucked into black jeans, turned toward the door, and caught sight of him. After saying something to the cameraman who nodded in acknowledgment, she gestured for him to come forward.
Drew stayed put. He was absolutely not here to be on television.
“Hey,” Nat said and came toward him when he didn’t move. “You’re from the rodeo, right?”
While her question would be answered in the affirmative by pretty much everyone in Pineville, he gave a short nod by way of acknowledgment and took another drink of coffee.
Nat’s gaze traveled over him in a sharp, speculative way. “Do you want to be on TV?”
“Absolutely not.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Then why are you in here?”
He lifted his chin toward Peyton, who was laughing, a surprisingly husky sound that tightened his stomach, as she did an exaggerated imitation of a runway walk. “I’ve been asked to keep an eye on her.”
“By her family?” Nat didn’t sound at all surprised.
Drew met her dark brown eyes. She probably knew more about the Hallidays than Drew. “Yes.”
She offered him her hand. “Natalie Polk. Executive producer. Call me Nat.”
Drew shook her hand. “Drew Neisson.”
She pointed at his shirt. “Dr. Andrew Neisson?”
He glanced down at where she had pointed. He’d forgotten he was wearing his official sports medicine shirt with his name embroidered in red over the breast pocket of the white button-down as well as the mobile clinic’s logo. “That’s me.”
She nodded knowingly. “Makes sense. It’s a good thing you have advanced medical training. You’ll need it around that one.” She gestured toward Peyton.
At that exact same moment, Peyton’s gaze caught on them, and her entire expression changed. The lightness fell away from her pretty face, replaced by what Drew could only think of as wariness. After saying something to Sammie who’d joined her, Peyton dipped back into one of the changing rooms.
Nat continued, “Yep, that one’s a handful. But she makes for damn good television.”
Drew brought his back teeth together. Not anymore, if he had anything to say about it.