Free When Last We Loved by Fran Baker

barreled out of the chute. The horse twisted and bucked in a frantic attempt to throw the rider off its arching back.
    Hoyt jerked her forward then, and before she could utter a sound, his mouth came down on hers in a harsh kiss that set her head spinning like a top. Everything about his kiss revived the memories she'd tried over and over again to shake. A languorous warmth curled through her body and she almost— almost let herself drown in a whirlpool of sensations. His hands moved possessively, claiming territory that Cassie had once given him freely.
    “No!” She pushed away and her arm flew up in an automatic rejection. She was through being used. The stinging crack of her palm against his cheek filled her with an intensely savage pleasure that shocked her.
    “The last person who tried that woke up in the hospital.” Anger seeped into Hoyt's eyes, lighting them with a vicious blue warning. He cupped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “I'd hate for you to have to explain to an audience where you got a bruised eye.”
    “I hope you break your neck!” She spun and ran for the van, pursued by a stampeding herd of memories. “Damn you, Hoyt Temple, and damn everything you stand for!”
     
     

Chapter 6
    “Hey, Cassie, Mr. Temple has saved us some real good seats so we can watch the rodeo.” Scrappy stood outside the van.
    Cassie raised her head from the steering wheel, where she'd laid it while fighting to regain her composure. The first cool breeze of the day caressed her flushed face, and sunset streaked the western sky in a glorious riot of color. How long had she been sitting there?
    “Come with me,” Scrappy coaxed. “I haven't seen a good bronc-busting contest in a dog's age. Besides, there's an old friend of Allen's in the stands and he wants to meet us.” He opened the door and tugged gently at her arm. “Believe it or not, the guy is a record promoter. Maybe this is the break we've all been waiting for.”
    Cassie let herself be helped out of the van.
    “What's the matter with you, girl? You look like your last friend just kicked you in the teeth.”
    A ghost of a smile played around Cassie's lips. How could Hoyt even suggest that she dump Allen and the Twisters? They were her family, her best friends. No amount of money could buy that kind of loyalty.
    “I think I'm about ready for a nice long vacation, anything that doesn't involve music,” she said as she strolled with Scrappy toward the stands. “This has been the hardest ten months of my life. What do you say? Let's lay low for a while, find some sun on a quiet beach and rest.” Her lips still tasted of Hoyt's kiss and she rubbed them with the back of her hand. “I'm tired of this hectic pace. Allen's customers and the rest of Dallas can dance to a jukebox for a while.”
    “We'd better see what this promoter has up his sleeve first,” Scrappy said. “If this doesn't work out, then we'll talk about a break.”
    “Do you ever wonder where all of this chaotic rushing around that we do is finally going to lead, and whether it's worth the toll we're paying?” Cassie hoped he didn't misunderstand her reason for asking, but she had to talk about her feelings, try to get some perspective on her problems. “Sometimes I think it would be easier to settle for a vine-covered cottage out on the prairie and call it quits.”
    He nodded slowly, as in tune with her now as he was onstage. “I know what you mean, Cass. This whole scene gets to me every now and then, too.”
    “How have you stood it for so long? What is it that makes you want to get up on that stage every night and put your ego at the crowd's mercy? How do you stay so calm and— and sane?”
    “It wasn't always that way, babe, believe me. Remind me sometime when we've got a couple of hours and I'll tell you how looks can deceive.” Scrappy kicked a pebble along the ground with the scuffed toe of his plainer-than-mud boots. “I've been on the outside looking in for so