Rodeo King (Dustin Lovers Book 1) Read online

  “That’s bullshit! Uncle Zip knew. I asked him to tell your daddy.”

  “Zip left town about three days after you did, Caleb.” She gestured wearily. “And my daddy told me nothing. After he moved to Cody, Mama lost touch, probably on purpose. You know they only stayed together for Mason and me.”

  The words coated her tongue with bitterness, forcing her to recall how her folks fought, in public as well as in private. “The day after you left, Daddy punched out Zip and accused him of trying to romance my mama. Zip laughed in his face and took off. Then Daddy and Mama started really fighting, and it never got any better. He skipped town before Carson was born, and ended up in Cody. He’s got the John Deere franchise up there. Seems happy, but he’s only seen Carson a few times over the years. And that’s fine by me.”

  “You could have found out where I was, easily enough,” Caleb began, but she cut him off.

  “How, Caleb? Who could have told me? I woke up and you were gone. For God’s sake, you left in the middle of the night like you were ashamed of me! No email address . . . I wrote you several times and sent the letters out General Delivery to the State Rodeo Commission. They came back, ‘addressee unknown.’ Once you started making it big on the circuit, I searched the internet a few times for whatever I could find on you. But I gave up on that, too. What was the point?”

  Her temples had started to throb with an oncoming headache. The pain made her cranky as hell, and Rosemary found she’d reached the end of her patience. She snapped, “You didn’t leave me a thing. Not a note, not a phone number. Nothing. Just a clump of cowshit on the carpet from those damned rands you liked to wear.” She jerked a thumb at the scarred-up silver trim on his boot heels. “I see you still wear them.”

  “Don’t change the subject.” His voice had risen, attracting attention from a few folks wandering in and out of the brewpub.

  She stifled a sigh. The town had been nosy ever since she could remember, and trying to keep a secret was as much a wasted effort now as it’d been years ago when she first peed on a pregnancy stick and burst into tears when two blue lines appeared. Within a few months everyone in Dustin knew she was carrying Caleb Johnson’s baby, including her furious daddy and sad-eyed, disappointed mama. Time had made some things better, and other things worse.

  “Look,” she reasoned, “there isn’t a thing I can do about what happened years ago. You screwed me senseless for a week and then you left—”

  “Stop talking like that!” he protested. “What we had meant more than a week of screwing around.”

  “No. It didn’t. I stopped kidding myself a long time ago, Caleb. Around the same time I found out how much it cost to raise a baby.” She pressed chilled fingers to her temples. “Mama didn’t really forgive me for months, and Daddy never got over it. All he could see was the way history repeated itself, that I’d done the same thing as Mama, upped and got myself pregnant. Difference was, Mama made my daddy come home and marry her, so Mason would be legitimate. At first, I didn’t know how to find you, so I was on my own. That’s when I found out how hard it is being a single parent.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I would have done without Mason to help me get on my feet.”

  “Damn it, I would never have abandoned my son,” Caleb growled, stepping closer to the bench.

  Rosemary quaked with fresh anger, but held herself steady. “I’m not saying that, you dumb cowboy. I’ve got a good job at the credit union and a place of my own, so I’m supporting him just fine. I even make Mama accept a little babysitting money whenever she takes him while I’m at work. I’ve got a savings account building up and Carson’s happy. It’s all that matters.” She dropped into a low, serious rasp. “He’s all that matters.”

  She jumped off the bench before Caleb could react to her words. Rosemary pushed her heavy hair out of her face and took little satisfaction at the way Caleb watched her, as if starved for her. It made no difference, because he wouldn’t stay. She’d spotted how he favored his leg, and figured an injury had sidelined him. But he’d be gone again as soon as his leg mended. Rodeo was in his blood. In his soul. There wasn’t room for anything else, and she’d been an idiot once to imagine she could change him.

  She’d grown up a hell of a lot since then.

  “I have to go. It’s Carson’s bedtime soon and he’ll want a story.” She turned away, but Caleb grabbed her arm.

  “I want to get to know him.”

  Yanking her arm from his grasp, Rosemary spun and shoved a hard finger in his chest. “He has a name. And you have no rights, other than being a sperm donor. You gave up those rights when you snuck out of my bed after popping my cherry. Hell, Caleb, I didn’t even warrant a goodbye. Just ‘slam, bam, thank you ma’am,’ then you were gone. How do you think that made me feel?”

  She darted past him, and this time Caleb made no move to stop her. When she glanced back, he stood there like a chunk of stone, and from the short distance between them she could read stark misery on his handsome face. It would have broken her heart if she’d had anything left to break. But what she’d felt inside for him had been sliced into pieces a long time ago.

  “Rosie.”

  Hearing her childhood nickname on Caleb’s lips did an emotional number on her, but she schooled her face to utter calm as she spun back around on a boot heel. “What, Caleb?”

  “I’m . . .” He paused and rubbed his hand over his jaw. “Hell. I’m sorry. I really want to get to know my son. Please, Rosemary. I just want to be around him a little.”

  The tears she’d held back all evening spilled down her cheeks, but she wouldn’t wipe them away. Rosemary stood tall and replied hoarsely, “I need to think on it some, all right? Just let me—let me think.”

  She didn’t want to act like a selfish bitch. She sure as hell didn’t want to hold anything over Caleb’s head the way her mama had done to Daddy. She and Mason had grown up in a shaky, uncertain household, privy to hourly bickering, daily arguments and the kind of knock-down-drag-outs no kid should have to endure. All because their father had felt trapped in a loveless marriage, and their mother had tried to hold on to her husband with guilt and duty. To this day Mason had a strong aversion to a serious commitment, and Rosemary would probably go to her grave unsure of whether her birth had been an attempt at reconciliation or just another accidental pregnancy.

  What kind of life was that for a little kid?

  No way. She’d never do that. For the sake of her son she’d pulled herself together, mended the broken bits, and given all of them to Carson.

  Unable to stand there much longer and not break down completely, she fled.

  She had nothing left for the King of the Rodeo.

  Chapter Three

  Stepping up to the Bronco Inn’s registration desk, Caleb dinged the little bell sitting on the counter. After a minute or so, the pocket door separating the lobby from what was the living quarters of the owners slid back as Nash Gardner stepped out, wiping his mouth on a handkerchief.

  “Hey, Nash.” Caleb nodded to him.

  “Johnson.” Nash tossed the handkerchief aside. “What can I do you for?”

  Nash had been a couple of grades ahead of him in school, raised on state welfare. Caleb was impressed at how the guy had dug himself out from the crap side of town and bought The Bronco Inn.

  Caleb leaned his elbows on the glass-covered counter. Nash had made a decent motel out of a mere skeleton, no mean feat. While the rooms wouldn’t win any awards, they were clean and reasonable, with comfortable beds and showers that didn’t smell like mildew. But after only two days, Caleb was already feeling claustrophobic and needed a bigger place. “That apartment complex over on Dart still up and running?”

  Nash scratched at his goatee. “Far as I know.” He pondered for a moment, staring at Caleb. “How long you thinkin’ of hanging around? I got a bigger room set up as a studio. Full bath. Living room. Even got a kitchenette with a stove and a decent sized fridge. More than enough for one person. I rent i
t by the week or month. It’s empty right now. I can show you.”

  “Yeah?” Caleb’s interest was piqued by a month-to-month agreement. Most apartment leases tried to lock you into six months, minimum. Hell, he didn’t have a clue what might happen, between his healing leg and the question of going back on the circuit. Not to mention Rosemary. And the boy.

  Nash opened a drawer and extracted a key with an oblong room number tag attached. He slid it across the counter. “Tell you what. My food’s getting cold and I want to finish eating. Go take a look for yourself. All the way to the end. Number Fourteen. I can give you a weekly deal to start.” He named a figure that was only a few bucks higher than what Caleb had paid on Room Five for the last few nights, total.

  “Okay, I will. Thanks, buddy.” Caleb crossed to the door.

  “Wait a sec.” Nash called him back. When Caleb turned, Nash was holding up another set of keys. “If you’re gonna stay more’n a week or two, I got a truck you can borrow now and then. It’s kind of beat up but it runs good. That little red Dodge on the back lot.” He jerked his chin toward a side exit. “I don’t need it and you know a truck’s gotta be driven or else the engine ends up choked. Just keep it filled with gas and we’re square.” He hung the set of keys in a wall cabinet that had a small press-button lock. “Combo’s three-six-ten-five.”

  “Nash, that’s really generous, but I—”

  “Use it when you need it, Johnson.” Nash regarded him soberly. “You helped me out some, years ago. Loaned me money a couple of times and never asked for nothing back. I’m glad to return the favor.” He cocked his head to the side and gestured toward Caleb’s face with a sudden grin. “That jaw’s lookin’ better. Nice and yellow instead of black and blue.”

  “Kiss my ass, Gardner.”

  Nash rasped out a guffaw, then nodded sharply. “Got to finish my meal. Let me know if you want the studio.” He disappeared behind the pocket door, sliding it shut behind him.

  Caleb stood for a few seconds, undecided. He hated being beholden to anyone, but Nash’s offer of a vehicle was too good to pass up. Dustin was small enough that he could walk just about anywhere he needed, even on a bum leg. Still, the truck would come in handy once in a while.

  Heading out the front door, he sought out Fourteen. The two-room unit wasn’t grand, but it was spotlessly clean and functional. He could relax in here and map out his time in Dustin. Figure out what to do about Rosemary. She’d been avoiding him the last couple days and he’d let her, not yet ready to face her.

  His plan had been simple when he’d decided to return. A short-term lease, something he could get out of when his leg was healed enough to climb back onto a bucking bull. It was supposed to be easy. Check into town, see if Rosemary was still around, then head back out to the circuit when the time was right. Maybe even taking her along for the ride if things worked out.

  Staring into the eyes of his son had thrown that out the window.

  Caleb crossed to the door and stepped outside, resigned to taking the studio. The weekly rent sure wouldn’t break him, and he’d be able to spread out some. At least enough until he figured out what the hell he was going to do now.

  An hour later he’d moved his stuff over from the other room and shoved a few things into the highboy drawers; hung up some shirts. A fast shower and shave made him feel more human, and he relaxed on the loveseat with a cold longneck in one hand and the TV remote in the other, flipping through channels.

  The world was still in chaos, the local cops were trying to find the kids who scrawled curse words on the school building, and the weather was cool, but seasonal.

  And he was a father. If that didn’t just blow his ever-lovin’ mind!

  “A son.” He said the word aloud, trying to wrap his head around it. Carson. The same as his grandfather. Even after the way he’d acted, Rosemary had thought about him when she named their son. That had to mean something . . .

  A loud growl from his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten in hours. What he needed now was a burger and another beer. Caleb slapped his hat on his head, pocketed the room key, and headed out.

  Five minutes later, he pushed open the door to DeeDee’s, the first sense of true welcome to hit him since he’d gotten off the bus two days ago. He hardly counted Mason Carmichael’s punch to his face a welcome.

  He headed straight to the bar area and grabbed a table, then gestured to the burly bartender, busy polishing glasses. “Hey, Mikey, get me a Bud.”

  “That you, Johnson?” Mikey offered a huge grin. “‘Bout time you decided to drop by. I thought you was knocking ‘em dead on the rodeo circuit. What the hell you doin’ back here in this shithole?”

  “Ain’t nothin’ like a warm welcome, huh, Caleb?” The deep, sexy voice of Evelyn, Mikey’s wife, washed over him like warm water.

  Caleb nodded in the woman’s direction. Perched on a bar stool, she was still slender, her age slowly catching up with her. But the small wrinkles bracketing her mouth and fine lines softening her eyes just added to her prettiness.

  “Good to see you, Evelyn.”

  “Same here, cowboy.” She uncrossed her long legs, clad in faded denim, and stepped over to the table, reaching out to rub his shoulder fondly. “You home for good?”

  “Hell, I’m not sure.” Caleb offered a smile he knew fell short. “Maybe.” He gestured toward the swinging half-door beyond the liquor display. “Dee Dee still around?”

  “She retired to Florida, oh, maybe two years ago. We bought her out. She gave us a good deal, just asked us to leave the name as DeeDee’s, which wasn’t a problem for us.” Evelyn grinned. “Crotchety old biddy. Then she gave us that fancy sign to hang outside and it was a done deal.”

  Caleb remembered Dee Dee well. Mean, grouchy, and no-nonsense, with a face like a horse and as wide as she was tall. “Well, I hope she hooks up with some hardbody on the beach and gets herself a regular lube job.” While Evelyn snorted with laughter, Caleb called over, “Hey, Mikey, where the hell’s that beer?”

  Mikey slid one over. “Sorry, buddy, here ya go.”

  Evelyn coughed out a final chuckle, then gave Caleb a steady stare, her eyebrows raised in question.

  “What?” But Caleb had a feeling he knew what she wanted to ask.

  “Nothing, honey. Glad you’re back.” With a final pat, this time to his unbruised cheek, she picked up an empty tray and headed toward the billiard room to collect dirty glasses.

  “You want a burger plate?” Mikey asked.

  “Yeah. Loaded.” Caleb rested his booted foot on his thigh to ease the stiffness in his sore leg, and gulped half the bottle of beer.

  Mikey shouted the order to the bearded cook working behind the kitchen window, then turned back to Caleb. He wiped the bar with a wet towel. “You seen Rosemary yet?”

  Fuck. Does the whole town know?

  “Yeah. I saw her.”

  “You seen her boy?”

  “You mean my boy.”

  “The little guy sure looks like you.”

  “I noticed.” Caleb finished off his beer and motioned for another one.

  Just as Mikey set it down, his daughter Adrianne strode from the kitchen and slammed a plate in front of Caleb. “Nice of you to come back, you bastard.”

  Whoa. This was getting crazy. If things kept up, he’d be run out of town. Did they still tar and feather undesirables?

  “Hi, Adrianne, good to see you, too.” He flashed the smile that got him plenty of action on the circuit, and quite a bit here in town, too—back in the day.

  “Don’t try that crap on me, cowboy.” Adrianne drew up a chair and sat, her elbow on the table, resting her chin on her palm. “You seen him yet?”

  Before he could answer, she reached out and grasped his chin, turning his head one way, then the other. “From the look of that fading shiner, I’d say Mason got hold of you already.”

  “If you’re finished prying into my personal business, I’d like to eat my dinner.”

  Adria
nne shrugged and snapped her gum. “Sure. Have at it, cowboy.” She stood and swiped his longneck. Tilting her head back, she downed it in one long, easy gulp. “Thanks for the beer.” Holding the now empty bottle, she sauntered away.

  Caleb stared after her, marveling at how fast the girl could drink down a full longneck, and then walk without staggering. “More and more like her mama, isn’t she?” He glanced at Mikey, who nodded and puffed out his chest proudly.

  “That she is. But smart with it. Ev and I never have to worry about Adrianne. She can hold her own.”

  “She’d have to in this cow town, wouldn’t she?” Caleb muttered, digging into his food.

  Well, so far his welcome home had pretty much sucked. He hadn’t expected a brass band to meet him at the bus stop or the mayor to present him with the golden key to the city, but neither had he figured on getting punched out by his best friend.

  And aside from all that, he was faced with a genuine problem. He had a son. Carson.

  Fuck me twice.

  If his calculations were correct, the kid was about five years old. Did he even know who his father was? Did Rosemary ever talk about him? And if she did, was it to let the boy know his daddy was a loser who ran out on his mother?

  A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. “Hiya, Caleb.”

  Caleb turned to face Dave Jamison, former high school football star, and from the looks of it, current deputy sheriff. Great. Was a jail cell his next stop?

  “Hey, Dave. How’s it going?”

  Dave grabbed a chair and straddled it. “Good. Real good.” He rested his arms on the back of the chair, and gave him a steady look. “I heard you’ve been back a few days.”

  Caleb laid down his half-eaten burger. “Small towns. Lots of gossip. Folks around here need to get some hobbies. I can’t figure why my coming back to the town I was raised in would be such a newsworthy event. Why don’t y’all go chase the kids who scribbled on the school building?”

  Dave broke into a grin. “Don’t see why you’re getting yourself all worked up. I just came by to say hello.”