Free Kissing the Bull by Kerri Nelson Page B

surveying her
calmly, and the look on his face wasn’t one of kindness.
     
    ****
     
    She took a bread basket out of
her aunt’s hand as Melba was bringing the last of the dishes out of the kitchen
to the table.
    “Mel, let me help you with
those.” Baylor set the bread on the table and then turned toward the kitchen to
see what else needed to be served.
    “Oh it’s all here, dear. You
just sit down and relax.”
    Baylor took her seat at the
table and found herself right across from the man her aunt had introduced as
Wyatt. He was still eyeballing her, and she didn’t know if she’d be able to
withstand his penetrating stare for much longer.
    Uncle Duane started serving up
his plate with heaps of corn, green beans, mashed potatoes, and roast beef. He
had his napkin tucked under his chin and his eyes were gleaming with merriment.
    Baylor couldn’t help but grin
at him as he handed her the bowl of corn. Anything was a welcome distraction
from the uncomfortable scrutiny of the man across the table.
    “We are so happy to have you
here, peanut. You don’t worry about a thing. You’ll be right at home in no
time.”
    “Oh, thanks so much for letting
me stay here, Uncle Duane. It really means a lot to me.” Baylor found herself
unexpectedly choked up with emotion.
    “Oh, you’re most welcome, and
Wyatt here will introduce you to the guys tomorrow and show you around. Isn’t
that right, Wyatt?”
    Baylor looked up at Wyatt, and
he gave her a small smile as he spoke his first words of the evening in her
presence. “Don’t you worry, Duane. I’ll take extra
special care of peanut.”
    Baylor’s face flushed as his
sexy voice rattled off her childhood nickname.
    Despite her best intentions,
her treacherous eyes betrayed her by seeking out the source of her
embarrassment once again. That was when he winked at her.
    Good Lord, I’ll never make it through this dinner with that man across
from me.
     

 
    Chapter
Two
     
    The bright
lights. The roar of the crowd. The smell of dirt
and hay and sweat. The rodeo.
    Wyatt mounted the snorting
beast carefully and adjusted the strap around his hand. The beast shook and
bucked beneath him. The bull didn’t like being ridden, and could smell fear a
mile away. But Wyatt had no fear. He was a pro. Tonight was his two hundredth
ride and there was a big celebration planned after tonight’s show.
    “Okay, boys!” He gave the go-ahead to open the chute’s
gate and out they went. Man against beast. Trying to tame
something that didn’t want to be tamed. The toughest
of the tough, the bull rider.
    And then, pain and flashes of
light. The sound of a monitor beeping nearby and the smell of
antiseptic. The feeling of helplessness. The inability to move or speak or wake up from this dream. If I could just wake up from
this dream.
    Panic and
suffocation. Can’t breathe. Help me!
    Wyatt sat up in bed. His heart was
racing a mile a minute. His back was wet with sweat. He shook his head to ward
off the remnants of the nightmare. Only it was no nightmare.
    He swung his bare legs off the
side of the bed and pushed himself off onto the floor, savoring the coolness of
the hardwood beneath his feet. The pain in his left knee stabbed as he hobbled
over to the window.
    He watched the faint light of
sunrise over the horizon as it crept into view. He pressed his hand against the
windowsill for balance and slowly stretched out his knee while he took deep breaths
to manage the pain.
    Every morning it was like this.
The pain would be with him for the rest of his life. His knee and his back
would keep him from doing what he loved to do. Well, that and the fear of
dying.
    He grunted at his own mental
admission of fear.
    Dammit. I’m the fucking sheriff. Get a fucking grip.
    He chastised himself as he bent
down from the waist to stretch out his stiff back. He might have old wounds and
old ghosts still chasing him, but he’d be damned if he’d let himself start back
down that road again. Self-pity