Читать книгу The Bull Rider's Plan - Jeannie Watt - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Jess didn’t have a lot to say when he drove, so Emma read on her phone and left him in peace. Len had always wanted to get into his head before an event, and she figured Jess was the same. And even though she was being the perfect cab-mate, riding in silence, Jess kept cutting looks her way as if expecting her to speak.

What was she supposed to say? Thank you for taking me with you? She’d already said that, and Em wasn’t a big believer in repeating herself.

On the fifteenth or sixteenth look she finally broke.

“Nice day for a drive.”

He frowned at her.

“You wanted me to talk, right?”

“I was wondering why you weren’t talking.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

He gave her an I’m-not-falling-for-that look. Fine. He didn’t have to fall for anything. She went back to her phone. He wasn’t going to be able to complain that she was distracting him from mentally preparing for his ride.

“When did you become so quiet?”

“When I figured out that listening was as valuable as talking.” She scrolled to the next page.

“When did that happen?”

She gave a small shrug. “Years ago.”

“Not that many years ago.”

She couldn’t help scowling at him. “I was in college.” She’d dropped out shortly after Len died.

“Ah.”

That shut him up. Good. She wanted to read...except now she couldn’t focus. She turned off her phone, set it in the door compartment next to her. Union City wasn’t that far away and once they got there, they’d set up camp. Jess had a camper on the back of his truck that he’d borrowed from Gus. Since Em was short, and grateful to be along for the ride, she’d volunteered to sleep in the truck, thus giving him privacy.

They pulled into the Union City rodeo grounds a little after seven. Jess leveled the camper while Em rolled out her sleeping bag in the rear seat of the truck. Once the bag was in place she walked back to the camper and knocked on the frame of the open door. Jess was already testing out the stove. They’d agreed to take turns cooking on the road and tonight it was his turn.

In Emma’s mind, he was lucky to have her along. He didn’t have to partner up with anyone to share the driving and he was assured of a decent meal after competition. If he ended up in the hospital, he had someone there to watch his back. Though, honestly, after losing Len, the idea of anyone being in the hospital kind of froze her up.

Emma shoved the thought aside and stepped up into the cramped confines of the camper. Jess continued fiddling with the cooktop, so she stepped to the opposite side and scooted behind the built-in table, the upholstery on the bench catching her jeans and making it hard to slide properly. She propped her elbows on the table as Jess lit a match to test a burner—something she was certain he’d done before they’d left, because he was that kind of guy. He’d no doubt changed the oil on the truck and had the tires rotated, too.

“A little cozier than your last place.”

“The price was right.” After the burner caught, he leaned back, turning the knob to adjust the flame from high to low before turning it back off again. “Gus Hawkins used it when he was on the circuit.”

“Before he came to his senses and started tending bar?”

He gave her a sour look that made her want to smile, but since she was taking pains to steer them away from their old roles—Jess, the rule guy, versus Emma, the rule breaker—she settled for a mere twitch of the lips. Although she’d noticed on more than one occasion that Jess wasn’t so much about him following the rules, as he was about Emma following the rules.

Whatever.

“Since the stove is working, can we make some coffee?”

He sent her a look. “And stay up all night?”

“Coffee doesn’t affect me that way.”

“Then I’ll make you some coffee.”

“Going to have trouble sleeping?”

“Not if I don’t have coffee.”

“You don’t have to make coffee for me. I can do it.”

She started to slide out from behind the table, but he shook his head. “Stay put.”

Emma shrugged and scooted back, where she leaned against the upholstered foam cushion behind her. Darion would have stepped back and happily allowed her to make coffee. Darion probably wouldn’t have minded being in that tight space with her. Jess, on the other hand, had never liked being too close to her—little sister cooties or something.

She let out a low sigh. Why couldn’t things have been...better...with Darion?

“You okay?” Jess frowned as he filled the small coffeepot. He must have heard her sigh. Well, there were sighs and then there were sighs. This was a sigh of frustration, not a sigh of unhappiness, but she saw no sense in trying to explain that to him.

“I’m fine.” She spoke lightly. “Just going over some things in my head.” He scooped coffee into the basket, then set the pot on the burner. “What’s the schedule tomorrow?” she asked.

“I ride. We leave.”

“That’s what I thought.” So much for making conversation, but as awkward as this felt, it was nine hundred times better than dodging her mother and brothers. Not that her brothers were that much of a problem, but they were being nagged by Selma, too. And things would start to feel less uncomfortable between her and Jess as they put more miles behind them.

She tapped the tips of her fingers together as she tried to remember a time that things had been good between them. Couldn’t come up with one, which made her wonder why she trusted him so implicitly.

Maybe because he was the one guy she’d never been able to pull one over on?

Or maybe because he was such a Dudley Do-Right, as opposed to his twin, Tyler, who looked for and found trouble on an almost daily basis?

Did it matter?

Silence hung until the coffee started perking and Jess filled a ceramic mug up to the brim.

“Thanks.” She wasn’t about to ask for cream, but she’d be buying some tomorrow.

He nodded, then seemed to be at a loss as to where to perch himself in the confines of the camper.

“Do you want me to take my coffee to the truck and drink it there?”

“Why?”

“You look uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable. Just...cramped.”

“If I went to the truck—”

He let out a pained breath, which seemed to be his favored way of communicating with her, and then sat down on the short L of the bench around the table so that they were perpendicular to one another. She smiled at him over the top of the coffee cup.

“You make a decent cup of joe.”

“Thanks.”

She sipped, reminding herself again not to do what came naturally and trigger him. She owed him for this opportunity to escape, and since he’d said they would evaluate the situation rodeo by rodeo, she didn’t want to screw things up too early.

“I brought cards,” she said. “I assume that strip poker is out, but maybe cribbage?”

“Did you bring a board?”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. Selma was an amazing cribbage player—something to do with her utterly controlling personality, no doubt—and she’d taught all of her children to play and play well. There had been no allowing the kids to win in order to build their confidence in the Sullivan house. Definitely a dog-eat-dog card-playing world that Jess had been introduced to when he’d become Len’s friend.

“Stupid question,” he muttered.

She reached for her giant Western purse with the silver and the fringe and the bling and pulled out a folding cribbage board made of bird’s-eye maple. Jess reached out to run a finger over it.

“Len made it for me.”

“I remember.” A shadow crossed his features, but Emma pretended not to notice. Grief had been her partner for too long and, while she acknowledged it, she no longer let it take over her life—for the most part, that is. There were always weak moments, but she wasn’t going to let this be one of them.

She pulled the cards out of her purse, shuffled once and set the cards between them. Jess cut a deuce, she cut an ace and picked up the deck. “I think we should play for money.”

“You don’t have any money.”

“Exactly. I need some.” She picked up her cards, quickly choosing two for her crib. Jess debated, chose his cards, then cut the deck. She turned up a jack and pegged two points. “A dollar a point?”

“No.” He played his first card and Emma paired it, pegging two more points. And so it went. They played two games, with Emma continuing to have crazy luck. After pegging her last point and skunking him, she drained the last of her coffee.

“This is good,” she said as she gathered the cards and put them back in the box. “You used up all your bad luck tonight, so you’ll have a good ride tomorrow.”

He didn’t look convinced.

Emma reached out to lightly pat his face, as she would have done with Darion or one of her brothers, only realizing as her palm made contact that this was Jess, not Darion or one of her brothers. Dear heavens. What was she doing?

And why was her stomach free-falling at the feel of rough stubble beneath her hand?

This was embarrassing.

She forced a smile and casually dropped her hand before reaching for her coffee cup. It was halfway to her lips before she realized that it was empty.

Did she fake a drink or get a grip?

She chose to get a grip and set down the cup. She’d touched Jess’s face. Big deal. He’d been like a brother to her for years.

And that was probably why he was scowling at her so deeply right now.

“Sorry,” she said. “I do that to my brothers.”

“No worries,” he said gruffly, but she’d felt him go still beneath her touch, knew that it had startled him as much as it had startled her. “I need to turn in early tonight.”

“Yeah. I know.” She slid out from the bench. “I want to catch a shower anyway over at the public facilities.” It’d been a while since she’d traveled the circuit, and she’d never traveled it as intensely as Jess planned to travel this one, but she knew the drill. On the nights you weren’t celebrating or driving, you got to bed early. A worn-out body wasn’t capable of peak performance, and with the schedule Jess had ahead of him, he needed to get all the rest he could while he could.

“What time will it be safe?” He frowned at her instead of asking her what she meant. “At what time can I enter the camper and find you decent?”

“Seven?”

“Seven is good. And if you can have the coffee on, that will be even better.”

* * *

PLAY FOR MONEY. Right. If he and Emma played for money, she’d have to buy the gas instead of him. She was a good player, but she also had the most ridiculous luck. Nobody pulled the fourth jack on the turn up. But Emma did. Len had been good, but Emma was a natural with numbers. She’d gone to college with the hope of becoming an engineer, but had quit after the funeral, settling at home and choosing to work a variety of part-time jobs.

Jess hadn’t really kept up with her, but he’d seen her around town, working in various capacities. Funny how Selma was nuts about her getting married, but hadn’t hounded her about finishing her education. Maybe because she knew, as Jess did, that Emma would finish it when she was ready.

He rolled over in the bunk. Maybe Selma had wanted Emma to get married because it would help ground her while she mourned. It was a dumb idea, but Selma was also mourning, and people didn’t always think straight during rough times.

A good example was him agreeing to let Emma travel with him.

For a while anyway. He didn’t see her lasting for all four weeks of his tour, but if it helped her to get away for a while, then he was game.

The next morning he was up early—well before seven—so when Emma knocked, he’d already showered and the coffee was on. He never ate breakfast on the days that he rode, and he rarely ate lunch, unlike his brother, who was counting protein calories and doing yoga. He settled into his head and waited for his ride, going over it, anticipating every move the animal could make, so that his reaction would be automatic. So far it had worked. He had a decent record, but if there was one certainty in bull riding, it was that there was no certainty.

The same rule kind of applied to Emma.

“You have coffee, right?” She was on the pot in a heartbeat, making Jess glad that he’d left her a cup instead of waiting until she got there to make more. He might have to buy a bigger percolator.

She brought the cup to her lips, her eyes closing as she first inhaled and then drank. “Sweet manna of life.”

“I didn’t know you were a coffee freak.”

She slid into her spot behind the table, resting her elbows on the surface and cupping the mug with both hands. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said, her full lips tilting up on one side. She really did have an amazing mouth. “Telling me to scram didn’t make you privy to my many secrets.”

He thought about it and had to agree. He didn’t know that much about her. Not the things that she held close anyway.

“What do I need to know?”

Her lips started to twitch in a way he didn’t like, as if she’d just heard a great joke but didn’t want to let him in on the punch line. “What?”

“That jerk Benny Two Feathers just asked me all snide-like if we were shacking up and I told him we were on our honeymoon. That shut him up.”

“Good one, Em.” He let out a breath. It didn’t matter. It really didn’t. And knowing Benny, he fully understood why she’d done that. The guy was a jerk.

He just hoped word didn’t get back to Selma. The last thing he needed was for her to set her sights on him as Emma’s future husband.