“What happened?” she prompted.
“He and the bull parted company two seconds out of the chute. He broke his arm and one rib. Last I heard, he’d given up bull riding in favor of his old job—selling shoes at a department store back home.”
She gasped. “Oh, the poor man!”
“Poor man, hell. Anybody who thinks riding almost a ton of bucking beef is a picnic ought to have his rear end busted. It’s no game for shoe wranglers.”
She studied Gene’s lean, hard face and let her eyes fall to his tall, fit body. “Do you ride; in rodeos, I mean?” she asked.
A smile touched his thin lips as he shot a quick glance her way. “Do you think I’m too old, cupcake?”
She smiled back. “No. I was just curious. I guess what you do at the ranch takes up most of your time.”
“It used to,” he recalled bitterly. “Until control of it passed to Dwight.”
“Dwight doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d take over everything,” she said slowly, not wanting to offend him. “I’m sure he was as upset as you were by what came out.”
He scowled. She hit nerves. “I guess he was, at that,” he said in a slow, even tone. “He inherited the business side of the ranch, which he hates, and I wound up with the day-to-day operation of it, which I hate. I don’t mind physical labor, you understand, but while I’m helping load cattle into trailers, Dwight’s committing financial suicide with the accounts.”
“Haven’t the two of you talked about that?” she probed.
He tilted his hat across his brow. “There’s Cody up ahead,” he said, discouraging any further comment.
When he parked the Jeep and helped her out, it occurred to him that he’d told her more about himself than he’d shared with anyone in recent years. And in return, he’d learned nothing—not one damned thing—about her. He looked down at her steadily as they waited in line for tickets.
“You don’t talk about yourself, do you?” he asked suddenly.
She lifted both eyebrows, startled by a question she hadn’t expected. “Well, no, not a lot,” she admitted.
“Is it deliberate?”
She shrugged. “I can’t learn very much about other people if I spend my time talking about myself.”
He tugged at her long ponytail mischievously. “I’ll dig it out of you before I’m through.”
“I’m shaking in my boots,” she assured him.
“You aren’t wearing boots.”
“Picky, picky,” she said, and laughed up at him. He was easily the most physically impressive man in the line, and the handsomest, to her at least.
“Well, hello, Gene,” a soft, feminine voice drawled beside them, and a striking raven-haired beauty with flashing blue eyes attached on to his arm.
“Hello, Dale,” he replied with a stiff nod.
“It’s been months. Why haven’t you called me?” the woman asked. She was dressed in rodeo clothes, with a white Stetson and matching boots. She was beautiful and younger than Allison by about three years.
“If I’d had anything to say, I would have,” Gene replied curtly, irritated by Dale’s possessive manner and the blatant way she was leaning against him.
Dale’s blue eyes glared at Allison. “Is she the reason?” she demanded, giving the older woman a hard appraisal. “She’s hardly a beauty, is she?”
Gene took her arm roughly and moved her aside, his eyes as threatening as his cold tone. “Get lost. Now.”
Dale tore away from him, glaring back. “You weren’t so unfriendly once.”
He gave her a mocking, icy smile. “I wasn’t sober, either, was I?”
She all but gasped. Realizing that they were attracting attention, she turned and stormed off toward the back of the arena.
“I’m sorry about that,” Gene told Allison, angry that she’d been embarrassed and hurt by Dale’s harsh remarks.
Allison only nodded. So his conquests weren’t in far-flung cities. She had a glimpse of how it might be if she married someone like him, and had to be constantly reminded of his wildness. Only a few months ago, the woman had said, and he was already resentful at having to see her again. Allison shuddered, thinking that she might have just seen herself in the future. She couldn’t look up at Gene again. She was afraid of what she might give away.
But he sensed her discomfort. When they were seated in the bleachers waiting for the first event to start, he stared at her until she looked up.
“I’m sorry,” he said curtly. His pale green eyes searched her wan face quietly. “That couldn’t have come at a worse time, could it?”
“She’s very pretty,” she voiced involuntarily.
“Yes. I was drunk and she was willing, and I thought that would be the end of it. But she’s tenacious. I’d forgotten that she was entered in the barrel-racing competition tonight.”
“Is she good?” Allison asked.
He glared at her. “In the saddle, or in bed?” he asked, taking the question at face value.
She averted her eyes. “In the saddle, of course.”
His face hardened. “You take some getting used to,” he said after a minute. “I always expect sarcasm from a woman. It’s hard to acclimate to honesty.”
“Maybe it’s your choice of women that’s at fault,” she replied, trying to smile. Hearing him talk so casually about one of his conquests made her uncomfortable.
He had to admit that Allison wasn’t like any of his other women. She appealed to a lot more than his senses. He scowled, because that bothered him. He clenched his hands togther as he stared toward the chutes. “Okay, honey, here we go,” he
