Ride Rough - Tessa Layne Page 0,53

of you is the first-aid guy?" she demanded going into full-on crisis mode. Next to her, Trace groaned and shifted, grabbing for his helmet. "Don't move. Just stay put. Can you wiggle your toes?"

"CiCi." Colton spoke sharply. "You're in the way. Give us some space."

She nodded, hands trembling, and scooted back to let the men take care of him. Her throat felt so tight, it was hard to breathe. She couldn't seem to catch her breath, no matter how much air she sucked into her lungs. Robbie's hand landed on her shoulder. "He's fine, Ceece. He just had the wind knocked out of him."

"Are you sure?" Cecilia's voice rose to a feverish pitch. "How do you know he doesn't have a concussion?" She'd written articles about post-concussion syndrome. She knew the awful statistics.

"He landed on his shoulder. He's fine." She recognized Robbie's firefighter voice, but it didn't do a thing to calm her. Robbie stepped in front of her, grabbing both her shoulders, dark eyes staring into hers. "CiCi, I'm giving you my EMT's opinion. You need to take a slow breath or you're going to pass out."

Cecilia shut her eyes and pulled in a slow breath, counting to eight and slowly blowing it out.

"See? He's standing now."

She scrambled to her feet, not ready to trust Robbie's words. She had to see for herself. "Trace?" His eyes swung to hers and the rest of the world fell away. His gaze was at once reassuring and confident with an undercurrent of heat that acted like a magnet. Cecilia stumbled forward, not caring what the others thought. As long as she could feel his heart beating strongly under her palm, she'd be okay. He caught her in an embrace. "Tell me you're okay," she murmured.

"I'm fine. Just landed wrong, is all."

She lifted her eyes, fingers fluttering over his face, checking his cheekbones, skimming over his beard, feathering across his mouth. "Are you sure?" she whispered, "I was so scared."

His mouth tilted up. "Don't worry sweetheart. The crown jewels are still in working order."

She socked him in the shoulder, not that he even felt it through all the padding in his vest. "Maybe I was worried about more than the crown jewels," she retorted.

Colton clapped his hands. "All right, gang. Back at it. I want all of you in the money tomorrow at the rodeo. Trace, if you need to take a few, go right ahead. But after a tumble like that, you're not leaving until you ride again. I want your last ride of the day to be a good one. And CiCi." Colton narrowed his eyes. "Next time leave the first-aid to the professionals. This ain't our first rodeo."

"I overreacted, didn't I?" she said low enough only Trace could hear as they walked out of the arena and toward the barn. Now would be a good time for the earth to swallow her up.

Trace slung an arm across her shoulders. "Oh you totally overreacted, darlin'," he said with a wink. "But I don't mind. Just means you can't resist me."

"Oh stop with that."

"It's true, you can't, can you?" Trace dropped his helmet on a bench just inside the barn door, then led her all the way back through the practice bulls and gym equipment, to the locker area. He unzipped his protective vest and draped it over a broomstick that was suspended like a curtain rod. Then, not taking his eyes off her, he slowly rolled up his shirtsleeves moving closer to where she lurked in the doorway. "Why'd you come running? It's not like you haven't seen me get bucked off before. Hell, I got bucked off yesterday."

"It was different this time." Cecilia's heart caught in her throat. How could she even begin to explain the icy fingers of dread that had slithered through her? The fear of losing what was so new and different? They'd only known each other for a few weeks. These feelings roiling through her were... ridiculous.

There was an almost feral light in his eyes that turned her body to liquid heat as he kept pressing into her space until she'd backed into the wall. "Why was it different, Cecilia?"

Oh lordy. He was saying her name in that gravelly, deep way that made her panties damp. He braced an arm above her head, so close now she was enveloped by the pure masculine scent of him that never failed to short-circuit her brain. She itched to run her palms over his chest, grounding herself in the