Rodeo King (Dustin Lovers Book 1) Read online

  RODEO KING

  CHAR CHAFFIN AND CHERYL YEKO

  Text copyright © 2015

  Char Chaffin and Cheryl Yeko

  All rights reserved

  We’d like to dedicate Rodeo King to all our readers, for their encouragement and support. We couldn’t do this without you!

  Acknowledgment

  To our BFF, Callie Hutton. We love you, girl. Write on!

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter One

  Caleb carefully stood, trying not to put too much pressure on his aching leg. He tipped his well-worn Stetson to the young girl sitting with her grandmother in the seat across from him.

  “It’s been a pleasure, ma’am,” he said solemnly.

  The little cutie had talked his ear off the entire way to Dustin, Wyoming; all seven hours. Her sweet chatter helped keep him from dwelling on his potentially career-ending fall as a professional bull rider, and the two months of rehabilitation afterward.

  Now the memory pushed to the forefront, and locking his jaw he stepped off the bus and shoved down the anger that still roared hot and bright inside him.

  Crawling home with my tail between my legs.

  How the mighty had fallen. From King of the Rodeo to washed up cowboy by the age of twenty-eight.

  He glanced up and down Main Street, lit only by streetlights and the signs from nearby businesses as night settled in, and wondered if Rosemary still lived here. He hadn’t heard that she’d moved or anything. His heart thudded hard against his ribs at the thought of seeing her again.

  He’d taken notice of her when she was fourteen and budding into womanhood. She’d been a sweet little thing, with a kind heart and a quick smile. And she’d had a crush on him. But being three years younger, as well as his buddy’s little sister, and knowing Mason would kick his ass if he touched her, Caleb had kept his distance.

  Then, as her body filled out, Rosemary Carmichael had every cowboy in town salivating for a taste. Jealousy had eaten at him, but he’d been determined not to give in to his desire for her, already knowing he’d be leaving town for bigger things.

  At twenty, so cocksure of himself, he’d headed out of town to find fame as a bull rider. And he’d been doing just fine until three years later, during a break from the rodeo circuit, he’d come home for a visit and ended up taking Rosemary to bed. He knew it wasn’t a smart move on his part. But he’d wanted her like a starving man wanted a nice juicy steak.

  And like a bastard, he’d seduced her, even knowing she wasn’t some buckle bunny he could just screw and walk away from.

  At least not with a clear conscience.

  Images of Rosemary in his bed, naked and trembling with desire as he’d introduced her to the pleasures of sex, flashed across his mind. Barely nineteen, she’d been the hottest girl in town, with a bold attitude for life and huge amber eyes that turned molten gold when she came.

  How in the hell was I supposed to know she was a virgin?

  Caleb’s body tightened even as guilt filtered through him, like it always did when he thought about Rosemary, and their short time together. He swallowed hard, remembering the way her fiery red hair hung loose around her slender shoulders, the sexy sway of her perfect breasts as she sat astride him. She’d been a quick study, and during the week he’d held her in his arms, Caleb had been tempted to stay, whispering sweet promises in her ear.

  Then reality set in, and the fact that he even wanted to stay and give up his dreams scared the mother lovin’ shit out of him. And like a thief in the night, he’d left without so much as a kiss goodbye.

  Even now, six years later, guilt burned through him with the destruction of a blowtorch.

  And he still wanted her. Had wanted her since the day he left, never able to completely shut her out of his mind.

  “Caleb Johnson, is that you?” a woman’s voice called out.

  He turned to see Charlotte MacDonald crossing the dusty street with her husband, Mac. Even in the dim lighting, Caleb spotted the look of disapproval on the older woman’s face as she and Mac headed his way.

  Damn. He’d just gotten off the bus. What could have her panties in a bunch already?

  Caleb set his suitcase down and tipped his hat. “Hello, ma’am. Mac.”

  “Hi, Caleb.” Mac was smiling as they neared. “What’s brought you back our way?”

  Charlotte waved a finger under his nose before he could answer. “It’s about time, young man. You should be ashamed of yourself, running off that way!”

  Running off? His brows arched. Had Rosemary told folks what happened between them? Yeah, it’d been a crappy thing to do, but the Rosemary he remembered wasn’t the type to blast her personal life to any of Dustin’s town gossips.

  Before he could respond, Mac cut in. “Now, Charlotte, leave the boy be.” He offered an apologetic shrug and took his wife’s hand, tugging her away. “Glad you’re back, Caleb. I think you’ll find some things have changed since you left.” Mac’s soft chuckle followed in his wake as he swept his wife down the street. Charlotte managed to shoot Caleb one more glare over her shoulder before they disappeared around the corner.

  What the hell was that about?

  He shook his head, reaching down to rub his throbbing leg. The doctors told him he’d get full mobility back, but it was too soon to tell if he’d ever be able to ride again. Caleb was still mulling that over, wondering what he’d do if the worst happened and his career was over before ever really getting started. He loved bull riding, and eight years wasn’t nearly long enough. He wasn’t sure he could give it up.

  Would I really have a choice?

  Caleb flicked a glance toward the Bronco Inn, two blocks down from the bus station. Since his folks had moved away shortly after he’d graduated high school, a temporary place to stay was first on his agenda. He’d grab some food, then get a room for the night and start apartment hunting. He’d managed to save up a considerable nest egg, enough to tide him over for a while.

  Even though he was loath to admit it, he knew the reason he’d chosen to come back to Dustin was because of Rosemary. They had unfinished business. She was like a burr under his saddle he couldn’t dislodge. Maybe if he had another taste or two of her, he could get her out of his system and move on.

  Maybe.

  He just hoped she was still here.

  As he walked down the mostly deserted streets, everyone inside drinking, having dinner, or shopping, with a few stragglers wandering about, he glanced at his watch. Six-thirty. There’d be time to catch a bite and a beer before grabbing a room. He might look up Mason. Word was his old buddy still lived here, and had the veterinary clinic he’d always dreamed of.

  Good for him.

  A tight knot curled in Caleb’s gut. He should have kept in contact with Mason, but he’d let their friendship fall away after sleeping with the man’s sister. He raked his fingers through his hair and blew out a strained breath.

  When did I become such a bastard? But he knew. It was the moment he’d slipped from Rosemary’s bed and hightailed it out of town.

  Now in serious need of a drink, Caleb hoofed it down the street, albeit at a slow pace, toward the local brewpub. It was a warm, muggy evening and his shirt stuck to his back as he approached the pub. He licked his dry lips, ea
ger to taste the cold brew. As he headed up the sidewalk, a door flew open a few buildings from the pub, and a man stepped out, calling his name.

  Caleb turned slightly and recognized Mason standing just outside the door under a sign lettered with ‘Mason’s Veterinary Service.’

  He set his suitcase down again. “Damn, Carmichael,” he said, grinning, “how the hell are you, man?”

  Mason’s expression darkened ominously and Caleb lost his smile.

  Well, I guess that answers that question.

  When Mason came toward him with murder in the tense lines of his body, Caleb didn’t even try to defend himself as the man brought his fist back and swung at him. He deserved the beat-down he was about to take. It wasn’t a glancing blow and pain radiated through his jaw as he fell onto his ass. His Stetson flew off his head and landed on the sidewalk.

  He stared up at his former friend as he fingered his jaw, rotating it to see if it was broken. It wasn’t. Not yet, anyway. “Feel better?”

  Mason stormed toward him, reaching down to grip the front of his shirt, and jerked him to his feet. The movement sent fire shooting through Caleb’s leg and he gritted his teeth against the pain.

  “Not by a long shot, you son of a bitch.” Mason reared back to punch him again.

  Caleb narrowed his eyes, but didn’t fight back, although anger bent the edges of his control. He’d let Mason get in a few more punches before he defended himself. It was the least he could do after sleeping with his pal’s baby sister.

  But Caleb’s patience only went so far . . .

  “Mason. Stop!” The feminine voice shot across the semi-darkness and both men froze.

  Mason glared at him. “You have no goddamn idea what you did, do you, asshole?”

  Caleb couldn’t help it as images of making love to Rosemary flooded his mind. He chuckled. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

  Yep. He really did deserve the next punch Mason threw his way, reconnecting with his aching jaw and sending him back a few feet, though he managed to remain standing. The force of the blow made him bite hard on the inside of his cheek.

  “Mason, no!” Rosemary rushed toward them.

  A different woman’s voice called from the same direction. “Hit him harder next time, Mason.”

  Caleb spat blood. “Are we done?”

  “Not even close,” Mason growled.

  Rosemary grabbed her brother’s arm and tugged. “Mason, don’t, damn it.”

  Caleb shifted his gaze to Rosemary, and every muscle in his body seized along with his breath, as she flipped her long, wavy hair over one shoulder. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. He wanted to bury his hands in those thick red locks and take her sweet mouth in a kiss. Her heart-shaped face held a healthy freshness, her lips plump and rosy, but her figure now fully a woman’s, generously curved in all the right places.

  Fucking perfection.

  His body responded to her lush beauty, just like it always had, and he was thankful for the dim light as he shifted slightly to relieve the pressure under his button fly.

  Another woman he recognized from high school had come up behind her, but he couldn’t recall her name. A little boy held her hand, his small frame tucked against her leg.

  Regret filled him. They were fighting in front of a kid. He turned back to Rosemary, ignoring her brother completely. “Hi,” he said softly, his heart pounding fast.

  Her mouth tightened. She didn’t act happy to see him, and rather than return his greeting, she glanced up at her brother. “Let’s just go.”

  Go? Hell, no! Caleb didn’t want her to leave, he just wanted to stare at her a little longer. She was like candy to his soul and he was starving for her. By the hard expression on her face, she didn’t want a damn thing to do with him.

  And who could blame her?

  Dickhead! What had he been thinking, walking away from this woman?

  Mason’s posture relaxed as he glanced over to the woman and little boy. His kid? Caleb hadn’t heard about Rosemary’s brother getting hitched or anything.

  “Mommy, can we go home now?” the boy asked in a soft voice.

  “In a moment, sweetheart,” Rosemary replied gently.

  Caleb’s world went black, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe as his legs shook beneath him, the implication of what just happened like a crowbar to the kneecaps.

  He turned toward the little boy, peeking out from behind the woman who still held his hand. Inhaling sharply, Caleb stared into eyes that mirrored his own, a child wearing his face and shocking red hair like his mother’s.

  His son.

  Chapter Two

  With a soft, despairing moan, Rosemary Carmichael registered pain she’d thought long buried. Those hot green eyes hadn’t changed a bit, and they were focused on Carson. Her innocent baby, who looked far too much like his daddy despite the red hair he’d inherited from her.

  She’d been young, in love, and stupid as well, to think Caleb Johnson would ever settle down in a two-bit place like Dustin. He’d been too talented and already too well-known, riding bulls like nobody’s business and winning every local and then state championship the Wyoming rodeo circuit could offer. But God, she’d wanted him. And she’d had him for one short, soul-destroying week.

  Hungrily, she drank him in from the top of his tangled, dark blond hair to the tarnished tips of his battered Dan Posts. A pair of faded-out Levi’s rode low on lean hips she could recall gripping in the throes of a passion that could still break her out in a sweat to think on, all these years later. His denim shirt was just as faded, creased from travel, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The pale blue fabric strained against the breadth of his shoulders and whipcord muscles she knew he’d honed during years on the pro rodeo circuit. He looked bigger, more powerful, more intimidating. Sexier than hell.

  Yet she wanted to slap the shock right off his darkly tanned face; wanted to scoop up her child and run a thousand miles away. Until she couldn’t see the way his full lips had begun to form the question she sure as shit didn’t want to answer—

  “Mine?” The rough gravel in his voice made her swallow nervously, which got her anger cooking at the guilt trying to rear up and smother her.

  I’ve got nothing to be guilty about. Rosemary jerked her chin high, her lips pursed in annoyance. “Mine.”

  Caleb’s jaw clenched. One wide, long-fingered hand reached for his stained hat and he slapped it against his leg before dropping it back on his head.

  Damn it, nobody in the world had the right to look that sinful in a black, worn-down Stetson. The instant she thought it, Rosemary squelched it. She wasn’t nineteen any longer.

  “Tell me whose boy this is.” Caleb obviously wasn’t going to back down, which she knew would piss her brother off.

  Sure enough, Mason reacted predictably, stepping close to Caleb and bumping boot-tips with him. The similarities between her brother and the man she’d given everything to almost brought a smile to her face. Both of them handsome, tough, tall, broad. Intimidating. And best friends no longer. My fault. The words hovered, fueling fresh heartache.

  As Carson huddled closer to Susan Lewis, honorary aunt and Rosemary’s best friend since first grade, Mason’s lip curled in his customary sneer. “None of your fucking business. You lost those kinds of rights when you took off.” He leaned in, lifted a hand and flicked at Caleb’s Stetson, deliberately knocking it off. It spun once and landed back on the ground, brim-up.

  Caleb’s face darkened. “You son of a—”

  “Susie-Q, take Carson home, okay?” Rosemary broke in as calmly as possible, certain Susan’s temper could blow at any second. Her hair might not be red, but when she went into ‘aunty’ mode, nobody was more protective.

  For a second she thought Susan would explode anyway, because she had that look in her pale blue eyes that usually meant her claws were out and ready to shred skin. But her arm curled closer around Carson’s small, sturdy body and she nodded, sending jet-black corkscrew c
urls sliding over one shoulder.

  “Come on, Lil’ Tuff.” She gently led him away, Carson turning with a gap-toothed grin and one hand waving in Rosemary’s direction. Off they skipped, her boy’s high, sweet chatter floating on the air along with Susan’s deeper chuckle.

  Blinking back a sudden sting of tears, Rosemary turned, and met Caleb’s piercing stare. A feeling of unease swept over her.

  “Carson. You named him after my granddad.” It wasn’t a question.

  She fought the need to slump in defeat, instead stiffening her spine. “Mason, can you take off for a bit? I need—I need to talk to Caleb.” She shot her brother a ‘don’t-say-anything-more’ look.

  He visibly bristled. “Not smart, Rosie.” He folded his arms across his chest and loomed close, overprotective as usual.

  “I’ve got things I need to say, Mason. It’ll be all right,” she assured him. “Come on. Give me a little breathing room. You can be the big bro tomorrow.” Her gaze locked with his, eyes the same deep amber as hers.

  Mason huffed in anger and turned to face down Caleb, who’d collected his hat off the ground and was brushing dirt off the crown. “If you make her cry, I’ll make you suffer.” Both hands fisted, he stomped off to catch up with Susan and Carson.

  His expression visibly bleak, Caleb watched as Mason took Carson’s other hand and walked away, her son gleefully jumping and swinging between two of his favorite people.

  Rosemary swallowed the choking lump of emotion lodged in her throat and gestured toward one of the wooden benches the Chamber of Commerce had installed around Dustin a few years back. “Okay, ask your questions.” She perched on the edge, ready to jump and run, uncomfortable at the thought of sharing a seat with him.

  But Caleb remained standing, shoving his hands in his back pockets. For a moment he stared off down the street, before turning and pinning her in place with a narrow gaze. “I want to know why you never told me.”

  She hunched a shoulder in a defensive shrug. “Nobody knew where you were.”