Free Rough Road Home (The Circle D series) by Audra Harders Page B

mad as hornets I had to miss the Regional Finale out here in Casper.”
    “Mighty fine looking travelin’ buddy, Nick.” Jake snickered and held up a beer.
    “They don’t come any better.” He looked each hunter in the eye until the lot of them fell silent. A gust of wind rattled the windows as he cleared his throat. “Now, show Ms. Hill some sportsmanlike respect.”
    Gazes dropped, boots scraped the floor and beer cans whished open. The group muttered apologies.
    Nick grabbed the box out of her hands. “Get the door.”
    The look on her face was priceless as she stared at him a second before she reached for the knob and opened the door wide.
    “See ya, boys,” he called over his shoulder, hoping to lighten the mood a notch. “Remember, next Saturday, Casper. I’ll have tickets waiting at the box office for ya’ll.”
    “Yeah, thanks, Nick,” the guy with the vest called. He tipped his head. “G’night, ma’am.”
    As they stepped into the cold night air, Nick could almost see the wheels turning in Rachel’s head. Spooky how well he was getting to know her. She stopped at the edge of the porch.
    “The boys were only having fun,” she snapped.
    “Fun,” he repeated, the word forced out through clenched teeth. “As much fun as a toothache. Doesn’t it bother you that their fun was at your expense? I was trying hard to salvage your reputation, or don’t you care what folks think about you?”
    “Of course, I care, but your words weren’t going to change their minds. Besides, fans are fans. They just wanted to share in a bit of your glamour.” She reasoned with a flick of her wrist. “No harm done.”
    “Oh, so you’re part of my glamour? My own personal Buckle Bunny? Well, sweetheart, I care about my reputation and seeing my name in some rodeo gossip column doesn’t really light my fire.”
    The pair of porch lights on either side of the door bathed her in uneven shadows. “I don’t plan to light your fire, cowboy. Look, I don’t need you defending me like some sort of misguided John Wayne or Roy Rogers. Keep your glamour and savor it all yourself. Chivalry is a dying art, so don’t drag me into your dreams.” Rachel stepped off the porch and stomped away from the lodge at a good clip.
    Nick stared after her. Her, in his dreams? Not a chance. And at the first opportunity, he’d tell Mitch Cauldwell to mind his own business next time, Nick could find his own rides. He shifted the box and caught up with her, grabbing her arm and stopping her before she disappeared too deeply into the thick trees. “So you think I want glamour, eh? Well, the next time you decide to do what’s best for me, keep Jake and all his hunting buddies in mind. glamour is as glamour does.” He didn’t need to see her face to feel the furious emotion emanating from her. “And as far as my dreams go, you’re a nightmare.”
    A gust of wind blew around them as she stood rooted to her spot. A suspicious sniff caught his attention. All at once, his righteous anger dissolved. He hadn’t meant to make her cry, he’d only sought to even the playing field. Long ago arguments of two unhappy people fired through his memory, their hurt and anguish a burr in life’s saddle - the one that broke the bronc’s back, so to speak.
    Nick loosened his grip on Rachel’s arm. Life wasn’t fair. Women used tears to dissolve men to nothing more than cow piles. His conscience ate away at him each day for his past sins. This time, he had a chance to make one right. The sleeve of her jacket slipped from her grasp.
    “I’m sorry, Rachel. You didn’t deserve that.” She sniffed once as the wind blew her hair wildly about her face. In the pale light cast from the stars overhead, she looked small and vulnerable. Nick scanned the thicket of trees for some measure of guidance. He’d never get this man/woman interaction thing right. Why did he even try?
    “You’re forgiven.” The words came to him on the tail of the storm gust. He