Ride Rough - Tessa Layne Page 0,22

did." She pressed hands against pink cheeks, breath slowly coming back to normal and scrutinized him. "I don't know what in the hell that was, but it can't happen again."

He raised his hands. "Don't tell that to me, sweetheart. You kissed me."

She sucked in a breath, ready to disagree, but then let it out just as quickly. "You're right. I don't know what came over me. It definitely won't happen again," she said firmly with a shake of her head.

"I know what came over you." He flashed her the grin that always had women eating out of the palm of his hand. "You couldn't resist me."

"Can you hear my eyes rolling?" she said with exasperation. "I can totally resist you. This was just a... just a... a blip." She casually waved a hand.

He crossed his arms, staring down at her. "And that's why you're stuttering."

"Fine," she gritted. "It was temporary insanity. Definitely won't happen again." She slapped her hands together, and pushed out a breath. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll take myself on down the road."

Trace's brows knit together. The sheer stubbornness of this woman was something to behold. She could win an Olympic medal for obstinance. But if she thought he was going to let her walk that distance on her injured feet, she had another thing coming.

"So we're back to this again?"

"Don't you think it's for the best?"

"No," he scoffed with a shake of his head. "Your feet are still injured and it's still at least two miles to the arena." He opened the truck door and held out his hand. "C'mon, Cecilia, be reasonable." It was a risk, challenging her. He gave himself fifty-fifty odds that she'd march off, just to prove she could. From the look she gave him, she was thinking about it, too. Her eyes narrowed as she stared back, and he half-held his breath.

Then she seemed to reach a decision. "Fine," she acquiesced in clipped tones. "Just so long as there's no funny business."

Trace grinned broadly and moved to help her into the truck. "Worried you can't control yourself?" He lifted her easily, ignoring the sizzle of electricity that made his arm hairs stand on end when he skimmed his hands over her hips, helping her balance as she climbed into the seat.

She made a noise of disbelief in her throat and shook her head, but he didn't miss the dusky pink that flushed her cheeks. At the very least, the brief ride to the arena would be entertaining.

Cecilia did not disappoint.

He should have been prepared for what happened. Weston had warned him, but he'd been handled his whole career, and the interviews he gave during promotional tours were always softball questions - Tell us about your training regimin. What's your favorite color? Tell us what it was like working with "movie star of the week." He was utterly unprepared for the barrage of questions that began the second he placed the truck into gear.

She tilted in her seat so she was looking right at him with those razor-sharp eyes. "So. I've been meaning to ask you, what's your story?"

"What do you mean what's my story?"

"That. How'd you end up here in Prairie? I'm sure there are plenty of rodeo riding schools in California."

He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. "I'm an adrenaline junkie, and I wanted a change of pace." The stock answer was vague enough it wasn't exactly a lie. And he was a bit of an adrenaline junkie. And he could easily claim his path to self-destruction was some kind of an internal cry for a change of pace. Portia would probably agree.

She cocked her head, two lines appearing above the bridge of her nose. "So roughstock riding is a change of pace?"

She wasn't buying this at all. "Well, yeah. Life's pretty fast-paced in California."

"It is?" Her brows knit together, deepening the creases above her nose and she made a noise of pure disbelief. "So how's that connected to you volunteering at Resolution Ranch?"

"Well, that's easy. I wanted to give back." He forcibly loosened his grip on the steering wheel. His palms began to sweat.

"That doesn't make any sense. You're volunteering at Resolution Ranch, but paying for roughstock riding school?"

"Yep." Better to keep his answers brief.

"How are you managing that?

"I have some money."

"How did you even find out about Resolution Ranch?"

"Google."

Her head popped back and she crossed her arms. "You Googled volunteer opportunities in Prairie, Kansas? The only reason people find this town is because they