Chapter ThreeCollision Course
The rhythmic pounding of hooves echoes through the arena, and I can't help being riveted by the sight.
Jo Callahan is a blur of auburn hair coupled with a look of fierce determination as she careens around each barrel with the kind of precision that would make a Swiss watchmaker green with envy.
I'm frozen just watching the former rodeo queen, unable to tear my gaze away from Jolene Callahan.
"Come on, Jo!" someone screams from the stands. But that person's voice is drowned out by the collective roar of the crowd.
I find myself silently cheering her on too.
It's more than her skill that captivates me.
Her relentless competitive spirit sets my heart to racing every time she rounds another barrel.
Jo Callahan is suffused with firecracker energy that could light up all of Tampa.
Who would've guessed that I, Clay McKendrick, would get so caught up in the spectacle.
As Jo rounds the final barrel and sprints towards the finish line, I lean forward on the railing, my own body tensing as if I'm the one in the saddle.
As she crosses the line, Buck's excited voice crackles over the loudspeaker.
"And that's a new arena record set by Jolene Callahan of the famed Callahan family of rodeo royalty! "
The entire arena erupts in a wall of deafening cheers.
Yet there's Jo, dismounting her horse, as cool as a cucumber.
Composure must be her middle name, or at least that's what she lets the world think.
I can't stop watching her. She's amazing, and a fleeting thought rushes through my mind.
What would it be like to make love to the rodeo queen?
"Bet she's got ice running through those veins," I whisper to no one in particular, a half-smile playing on my lips.
Yet a deeply buried part of me is itching to know if anyone's ever melted her icy core. Does she ever let down those guardrails and expose the raw, unfiltered side of Jolene Callahan? The thought of becoming the one who glimpses that side of her...it makes the hair on my arms shiver erect.
Still mesmerized, I watch Jo leading her horse away.
She looks every bit the former Miss Rodeo Colorado.
I'm alone at the edge of the arena, ruminating over records and walls coming down.
Jo Callahan, you're one heck of a puzzle---and I reckon I've never been good at riddles.
But something tells me you might just be worth figuring out.
While I strap on my chaps, I muse about the way worn leather almost smells better than food, and how I'd love to fuck Jo on a blanket with green grass beneath it.
Yeah, it's definitely been way too long since I got any action.
But I need to focus on the task at hand---getting ready for a hard ride.
Every buckle slides into place with a familiar clicking sound that usually steadies my nerves.
But this evening, I'm distracted. I fumble with the last fastening as Jo rounds the corner, heading for the stalls, paying no attention to me.
"Whoa" is all I can manage to say before we collide.
Her shoulder rams into my chest with enough force to send my hat flying.
"Jesus!" She stumbles backward, one hand still gripping her horse's reins, and shoots me a scathing look. "Are you planning on setting up camp in the middle of the walkway?"
Our eyes lock, and for a brief moment, I swear something gentler flickers behind that tough-as-nails facade. Maybe it's surprise or even a hint of embarrassment. But it's gone before I can be sure, replaced by that trademark Callahan stoicism.
"Congratulations on the record," I offer, bending to retrieve my hat. "That was impressive riding."
She tilts her head, studying me as if I'm a new species of rodeo creature she's never encountered before. Then she finally speaks, though her words are clipped. "Thanks, McKendrick. Good luck out there. Sounds like you might need it."
Before I can respond, Buck's voice booms over the loudspeaker.
"Next up, folks, we've got Clay McKendrick from the McKendrick Ranch in Montana!
This young man has been making a name for himself on the circuit, first as an amateur, and now as a pro.
His father's accident kept him off the circuit for a spell, but now he's baaaack! "
Not sure my dad would enjoy hearing his problems aired out in public, but Buck means well. He visits the ranch at least twice a month.
Jo's expression shifts subtly. Is that...sympathy? Whatever it is, I don't want it, not from her.
"Better get out there," Jo suggests. She shuffles a little closer to me, her voice a touch softer than before. "They're waiting for you. And I'll be watching---from the stands."
I jam my hat back on my head and square my shoulders. Something about knowing that Jo will be watching me perform makes my stomach flutter in a very unmanly way.
"Don't worry about me," I assure her with more confidence than I feel. I'm not nervous about being in the spotlight. It's her presence that knocks me off kilter just a little. "I've been doing this since before I could walk straight, Callahan."
A hint of a smile plays at the corner of her mouth. "Never said I was worried."
Jo ambles toward the stalls.
As I swerve my attention back to the arena, I catch her glancing back at me repeatedly. Interesting . I push the thought aside and focus on what's ahead---sixty seconds that could make or break my week.
The crowd cheers for the roping team, which includes me and a few others. As I enter the arena, I settle into the saddle, not the least bit anxious. This is my home territory---the rodeo world. Thunder and I move as one unit within the whole team, muscles tense and ready to go.
Denny Garrison is my partner in the team roping event, a partnership that's worked for two years.
Our roping team works like a well-oiled machine as the calf sprints out of the chute, and I'm right after it, rope swinging overhead in a perfect loop.
The throw lands clean around the horns, and I dally the rope around my saddle horn with practiced precision.
Denny's right where he needs to be, coming in from the side.
Six-point-eight seconds. Not bad, but not great either.
The crowd offers polite applause as we exit, and I know without looking at the leaderboard that it won't be enough to beat Sterling. His run with his partner had been virtually flawless, with six-point-two seconds of textbook roping that had the sponsors in the VIP section practically salivating.
"Solid run," Denny says, patting my back as we lead our horses away from the arena. "We'll get 'em next time."
As I exit the arena, Jo is still there, leaning against the fence with her arms crossed. Her horse stands patiently beside her with the reins looped over her arm. "Not bad, McKendrick."
"Faint praise, huh?" I saunter up to her, pulling off my gloves with more force than necessary. "You know what they say. Second place won't pay the bills, sweetheart."
The endearment slips out before I can squelch it.
"Could've fooled me." Her green eyes narrow as if she thinks she can humiliate me with the sly smile that's playing across her lips. But her expression softens. "Looked like you knew what you were doing out there."
"Knowing what I'm doing and getting it done are two different things." I wipe sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, still wound tight from the adrenaline and disappointment. "Sterling's got this whole thing sewn up tighter than a tick on a hound dog."
Jo's horse nudges her shoulder, and she absently strokes the mare's neck. "You sound like a man who's already given up."
"Not by a long shot." I use adjusting my gloves as an excuse not to look at her. "I'm only stating facts. My first PRCA event went sideways. That's a fact."
"A fact?" Jo's eyebrow arches in that challenging way that makes me want to either walk away or step closer. I haven't decided which. "The fact is you're two-tenths of a second behind, not two minutes. That's nothing in the grand scheme of things."
I snort, adjusting my hat for no reason. "Easy for you to say, Callahan. You just set a new arena record."
"Yeah, after placing third in the last four events.
" She runs her fingers through her horse's mane, her gaze steady on mine.
"You think I just woke up one morning and decided to be exceptional?
This game is about persistence, McKendrick.
Showing up even when you're beat to hell and just want to sleep for a month. "
There's something in her voice, a raw honesty that catches me off guard. For a moment, the mask slips, and I glimpse something real beneath Jo Callahan's perfect exterior.
"I show up," I all but snarl through my teeth. "Every---damn---time."
Jo shakes her head. "Then stop acting like second place is the end of the world."
I roll my eyes. "You kinda suck at pep talks."
She steps closer, close enough that I catch the scent of leather and something floral. "You've got talent, McKendrick. Anyone with eyes can see that."
Coming from Jo Callahan, that's practically a declaration of undying admiration. I'm not sure how to respond, so I default to what I know---deflection. "Careful there, Callahan. Someone might think you're paying me a compliment."
Her lips quirk upward. "God forbid."
We stand here for a beat too long, the air between us charged with something I can't quite name. Her horse whickers softly, breaking the moment, and she leads her mount away.
Jo Callahan is beautiful. But no way can I ever get involved with her. Focus on the goal, Clay, not the girl.
I've got more important things to worry about.