The Cowboy Next Door (The Cash Brothers) (9 page)

* * *

J
OHNNY
DROPPED
A
LOAD
of dirty jeans into the washer, added detergent and closed the lid. There were lots of perks to living alone—he didn’t have to fight six siblings for the washing machine. After numerous brawls over the appliance, he’d assigned his brothers and sister a day during the week to do their wash. Now that he lived alone, he had to remind himself that he could clean his clothes any day of the week—not just Sunday nights.

When he stepped from the small room Shannon stood in the kitchen. Startled, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I knocked twice but you didn’t answer the door, and—” she pulled a chair out from the table and sat “—I needed to get off my leg.”

“Can I get you a drink?” he asked.

“No, thanks.” She smiled and Johnny’s pulse raced. From across the kitchen he caught the scent of her perfume and suddenly the cabin, which he’d believed had been plenty big enough, felt cramped. He admitted that Shannon had bruised his ego when they’d discussed their one-night stand in Gila Bend and she hadn’t protested much when he’d insisted that night had been a mistake. The least she could do was mope around the ranch, instead of focusing on rodeo and acting as if she didn’t give him or what they’d shared a passing thought.

He removed a frying pan from the cupboard next to the stove then two plastic food containers from the fridge. “I’m reheating leftover spaghetti for supper. You want some?”

She shook her head. “It’s seven-thirty. Why are you eating so late?”

“Took me longer than I’d expected to muck the stalls this afternoon.” At the last minute, Clive had backed out of helping Johnny, claiming he needed to run an errand in town. Ever since his boss had heard his daughter scream during her physical therapy session, he didn’t stick around when Rory showed up.

Johnny dumped the spaghetti into the frying pan, lowered the heat and leaned a hip against the counter, studying Shannon. Sooner or later she’d get to the reason she’d stopped by. In the meantime he’d ask a question that had been burning in the back of his mind since she’d begun therapy two weeks ago. “I didn’t know physical therapists made house calls on weekends.”

“My insurance covers twenty sessions. It’s up to me how far apart to space them and since Dynasty Boots has me competing in Chula Vista at the end of November, Rory’s agreed to work with me every day until I hit my limit.”

“How swell of
Rory.
” Johnny ignored the sudden hardening of his stomach muscles. Shannon was an attractive woman—it wasn’t any surprise that
Rory
was willing to make time for her every day.

“I need your help,” she said.

“What kind of help?” He stirred the noodles.

“I’d be grateful if you’d pull the mechanical bull out of the storage shed and put it behind the barn.”

“Are you crazy?” He whirled so fast sauce flew off the spoon and splattered the floor. Hank got up from his bed and licked the spots clean.

“No, I’m not crazy. I need to practice,” she said.

“You haven’t finished your physical therapy.”

“My Achilles tendon doesn’t need to be a hundred percent to practice.”

“What if you fall and reinjure the tendon? Then what?”

“That’s not going to happen.” She got up from the table. “If you don’t want to help, I’ll ask someone else.”

Probably Rory.
“I’ll take care of it.” He’d get one of his brothers to come over and help him.

“Thanks.” She limped to the door. “By the way, Dynasty Boots wants you and me and C.J. to attend the Douglas Rodeo the first weekend in November.”

“That’s next Saturday.” Relief mixed with dread filled Johnny. Relief that he’d earn another twenty-five hundred dollars, and dread that he had to put up with Rodriguez and his ego again.

“They want us there by noon,” she said.

“Shannon.”

“What?”

“How’d the talk with your dad go?”

“Same as always.” She opened the door.

“You’re his daughter. He’s going to be overprotective.”

“What about you?” she asked. “How do you feel about me rodeoing?”

“My feelings don’t matter. You’re not my sister, daughter or wife.”

“If I was one of those things?”

“Then I’d tell you to quit the sport and not put yourself in any more danger.”

“You don’t believe in me, either.”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe.” If he really felt that way then why did his chest physically ache when he imagined Shannon on the back of a bull?

“You’re right.” Her chin jutted. “Your opinion doesn’t matter.”

Ouch.

Then she was gone.

Johnny stared at the leftovers in the frying pan and lost his appetite. He chucked the food into the garbage, washed the pan, then sat down and called Mack. No answer—his brother was probably busy at the dude ranch.

Next, he dialed Buck. Same result.

Will’s phone went straight to voice mail.

Porter’s phone rang and rang without connecting to voice mail.

Well, damn.
The only one left was Conway—Mr. Romeo. Conway was more concerned with having a good time than doing anything productive.

“Hey, big brother. What’s up?”

Johnny heard music in the background. “It’s Sunday night. Are you at a bar?”

“The Wet Whistle’s open and I’m hoping to get lucky on the Sabbath and find
the one,
” he said.

Conway was always on the lookout for
the one.
“I need a favor,” Johnny said.

“When?”

“Tonight. I need your help at the ranch.” Dead silence. “You there?”

“Didn’t you hear what I said?” Conway asked.

“I heard. Forget about the girl. I need your help.”

“You need to get laid, Johnny. You’ve been in a crappy mood ever since you broke up with Charlene.”

“Are you helping me or not?” After all he’d done for his brother through the years...

“Yeah, okay. I’ll leave the bar now,” Conway said.

While waiting for his brother to arrive, Johnny finished his laundry, changed the linens on the bed, cleaned the toilet, then took Hank outside and sat on the porch.

At a few minutes before ten o’clock Conway’s truck turned onto the road leading to the ranch house.

“Thanks for coming,” Johnny said when his brother got out of his truck. “Sorry if I derailed your love life tonight.” He cut across the drive and Conway fell in step beside him.

“Are the rumors true?” Conway asked.

“What rumors?”

“That you’re romantically involved with Shannon? Is that why you broke up with Charlene?”

Johnny skidded to a halt. “Who told you I was involved with Shannon?”

“Hell, Johnny. Your brawl with Rodriguez at the Winslow rodeo is all anyone’s talking about on the circuit.”

“I’m not in a relationship with Shannon and she’s not the reason I ended things with Charlene.”

“But the brawl did happen?”

Was that humor he heard in his brother’s voice? “It’s not what it seems.” He opened the storage shed next to the barn. “There’s an old set of rolling dollies in the back. See if you can find them.”

“Sure, make me search through the dark and get bit by a spider.” Five minutes later, Conway had found the dollies and they shoved them into place. Carefully they rolled the machine out of the shed, then pushed it behind the barn.

“Crap, that thing is heavy.” Conway took off his hat and wiped his shirtsleeve across his brow. “So?”

“So thanks for your help.”

“Ha, ha. What’s up with you and Rodriguez fighting over Shannon?” When Johnny remained silent Conway asked, “Have you slept with her?”

His brother wouldn’t drop the subject—no wonder when his day-to-day life consisted of rodeo and female drama. Too bad Johnny knew how to shut Conway up. “You figure out yet what you’re going to do with your life?”

“Not you, too. Buck got all over me yesterday about finding a permanent job just because I asked if it was all right to bring Cindy Packard back to the bunkhouse to watch a movie.”

“It’s time for you to pull your weight.” They walked back to the cabin.

“You know what I think?” Conway said. “You guys ride my ass because you’re jealous of me.”

Johnny chuckled. “Jealous?”

“You guys wish women fawned all over you like they do me. I can’t help it if I’m the best-looking Cash brother.” He got behind the wheel. “Watch yourself with Rodriguez. He’s a ladies’ man. If he wants Shannon, he’ll get her.”

Over my dead body.

“Thanks for driving all the way out here to help tonight.”

“Dixie said she wants a big Thanksgiving celebration this year. Will bought a deep fryer and she’s cooking three turkeys.”

“Tell Dixie to count me in for dinner.”

As Conway drove off, Johnny thought he had little to be grateful for this Thanksgiving—then an image of him and Shannon in bed together at the Hacienda Motel flashed before his eyes and he changed his mind—he did have one memorable experience to be grateful for.

Chapter Nine

“Shannon!”

Oh, boy.
What had lit her father’s pants on fire this morning? Bracing herself, she limped out of the kitchen. Her father stood by the front door—head lowered, nostrils flaring.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“You know darn well what’s wrong.”

Feigning ignorance, she said, “No, I don’t.”

His cheeks puffed out, and then a gust of air escaped his mouth. “Follow me.” The front door slammed behind him.

Shoring up her defenses, Shannon trailed after him. Halfway across the drive she saw a hay bale fly out of the door at the top of the barn. The feed landed on the ground near a flatbed trailer. As she drew closer, she got a better view of Johnny, wearing only jeans and boots. When he tossed another bale, the glistening muscles across his chest and shoulders rippled. Two more bales sailed through the air before he saw her.

He stared, chest heaving from exertion. She tried—really tried—to keep her gaze on his face, but her eyes drifted lower and lower to where a thin line of dark hair began below his belly button and disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. When she found the strength to tear her gaze from the crotch of the threadbare denim, she noticed his grin. So what if he’d caught her ogling him—it was no secret that she liked his body. She turned the corner of the barn and found her father waiting next to the mechanical bull.

“What’s the meaning of this?” He jabbed his hat toward the machine.

She heard the creaking of the hayloft door above her head but resisted glancing up. “I need to practice before I compete at the end of November.” And she hoped the more she worked out, the weaker her nightmares would grow until they eventually disappeared.

“You haven’t finished your physical therapy.”

“Rory said my leg is fine.” She crossed her fingers behind her back and hoped she wouldn’t get caught in the lie.

“You’re still limping.” Her father’s pacing plowed a furrow in the dirt. “Tendons take time to heal. If you push yourself too soon, you’ll do more damage.”

She appreciated that he worried about her safety and health, but the sooner he accepted that she wasn’t giving up her hunt for a title, the better for both of them. “What happened to the man who told me to stop bellyaching and get back on my horse after I’d fallen off and skinned my knees?”

A tense thirty seconds passed before her father broke eye contact. “I’ve never hated your mother as much as I do right now.” He disappeared into the barn, leaving Shannon shaken.

She glanced up at the hayloft seeking reassurance from Johnny, but the doorway was empty.

* * *

F
RIDAY
MORNING
J
OHNNY
dropped a large piece of plywood on the ground and dust billowed into the air. He and Clive had finally cured Odyssey of his fear of loud noises and now Clive had asked him to work with a different gelding on loading. The horse was terrified of trailers and refused to leave the corral. He approached Gentle Ben, took the reins and coaxed him toward the plywood, but the horse backed away. Johnny would have to sweeten the lesson. He went into the barn for a bucket of grain.

When he returned to the pen, he spotted Shannon in the distance, walking along the road leading to the ranch house. Five days had passed since he and Conway had moved the mechanical bull behind the barn and Shannon had used it every day for hours at a time. Johnny thought she was pushing herself too hard but he kept his opinion to himself. Keeping one eye on her and the other on Gentle Ben, he scattered a handful of grain across the top of the plywood. The horse’s nose twitched at the scent. “C’mon, boy.” Gentle Ben inched closer and stretched his neck to nibble the treat.

While the horse ate, Johnny watched Shannon. The closer she drew to the house, the more pronounced her limp.

“Shannon, come here a minute,” he called out.

Sweat stains marked her T-shirt and her face was flushed from exertion. “Having trouble with Gentle Ben?” she asked when she stopped next to the pen.

“The horse won’t load.”

“What’s up with the plywood?”

“He doesn’t like the feel or sound of metal, so I’m using a wood ramp.” Johnny motioned to the animal’s hooves, which were planted firmly on the edge of the plank.

“What happens when he moves inside the trailer?” she asked.

“I’ll cover the metal floor with several inches of hay.”

“When do you think he’ll be ready to load?”

“Two or three days.”

Her gaze drifted to the bucking machine and he said, “I can spot you, if you want.”

The furrow across her brow relaxed. “I don’t need a spotter.”

“I haven’t seen you practice your dismount yet.”

“Been spying on me, have you?” The corner of her mouth curved up.

It had been difficult not to watch her while he’d mucked stalls in the barn or worked with the horses.

“Okay, sure. I’ll try my dismount.” She walked away.

Johnny sprinkled more grain on the plywood to keep Gentle Ben busy, then met Shannon behind the barn. “Need a leg up?”

“Nope.” She hopped on and found her seat.

Johnny set the level at one. The bull swayed.

“I can handle more power.”

He flipped the switch to level two and observed her for signs of pain or distress but his thoughts strayed. The undulating movement of the machine caused her spine to arch, which pushed her breasts forward. He closed his eyes and fantasized about her riding naked, save for her cowboy hat. He envisioned her dewy skin, glistening in the afternoon sunlight, her legs gripping him instead of the...

“Johnny?”

His eyes popped open. “What?”

“Are you okay?”

“Sure, why?”

“I asked you to turn it up a level.”

He granted her wish and the machine jerked sharply, causing her to lose her balance. Hanging half on and half off, she struggled to regain her seat. He jumped forward, planting his hands on her rump and pushed her back onto the bull.

“Thanks,” she gasped. After a series of erratic spins, she slid again.

This time he couldn’t get a solid grip on her fanny and she fell, carrying them both to the ground where she landed on top of him. Her breath puffed across his face and he wanted to kiss her so badly he could taste it. Her softness touched his hardness in all the right places and the contact sent a jolt through his body.

Don’t do it.

To hell with right or wrong.

He captured her mouth and thrust his tongue inside, mimicking Shannon’s sultry dance on the bull. She sagged against him, her pert nipples zapping his body a second time. He nibbled her lower lip, biting gently until he drew a soft moan from her. Then her fingers found their way inside his shirt and he groaned.

Gentle Ben neighed, the sound bellowing inside Johnny’s head like a horn blast. He moved Shannon off of him and crawled to his feet, then helped her to stand. Neither spoke for the longest time, only the bucking machine’s grinding gears filled the silence.

“Johnny?” Her green eyes softened and he prayed for the strength to keep from taking her in his arms again.

“What?”

“You’re attracted to me.”

He didn’t bother denying the charge.

“And I’m attracted to you,” she said. “So why fight it?”

No matter how much he cared about Shannon and desired her, too much stood in their way. He owed it to his siblings to do everything in his power to hold on to the pecan farm, and right now working for Shannon’s father was the only way he could pay the mortgage on the property and keep his promise to his grandfather. Besides not wanting to do anything that might jeopardize his job at the Triple D, he couldn’t look past the fact that he disapproved of what Shannon was doing—knowingly putting herself at risk and disregarding the feelings of those who worried about her and loved her.

Whoa. Love?
He admitted that he cared about her deeply because she’d been a part of his life for so long and he felt responsible for her welfare. He might even be able to overlook their age difference if she took his feelings into consideration, but the fact that she’d risk her life when the odds were stacked against her proved that she was unwilling to take his feelings into consideration. Falling in love with Shannon when she was determined to put her personal agenda before any future they might have together was a heartache in the making.

“I need to work with Gentle Ben.”

“Don’t forget the Douglas Rodeo is tomorrow,” she said.

How could he forget—another soap opera episode of
How the Rodeo World Turns.

* * *

“I
RIDE
IN
twenty minutes.” C.J. stopped in front of the Dynasty Boots stand.

Shannon handed a signed T-shirt to a young teen. When the girl walked off she stared at C.J. “So?”

“Aren’t you going to walk me to the chute and kiss me for good luck?”

Aware of onlookers Shannon batted her eyelashes and whispered in C.J.’s ear, “Over my dead body.” Resigned to playing the role of the smitten cowgirl, she gathered her personal things and walked with C.J. to the cowboy ready area. As they maneuvered through the swarm of fans at the Douglas Rodeo, she searched for Johnny in the crowd. He’d dropped by the booth a while ago, then had wandered off to who knew where.

A couple of young boys chasing each other cut in front of them and she and C.J. had to stop suddenly. The sharp pain that sliced through the back of her leg stole her breath and she grasped C.J.’s arm to steady herself.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine.” She forced a smile. “Just playing the adoring cowgirl.”

As they walked, Shannon did her best to hide the pain, but her leg felt on fire inside her boot.

“Hey, Shannon...C.J.!” They waited for a reporter to catch up with them. The man held out a mini–tape recorder and his sidekick snapped photos.

“I saw you limping back there.” The reporter spoke to Shannon. “Will you be ready to compete against C.J. at the end of the month in Chula Vista?”

“Of course I’ll be ready to ride.” A cold chill raced down her spine. It wasn’t that she couldn’t sit a bull and ride, because she could. It was the dismount that worried her. If she landed wrong and reinjured her Achilles, there was a good chance she might not be able to get out of the way of the bull’s hooves fast enough, which would end her quest for a national title.

C.J. had a sudden coughing fit and the reporter moved the recorder closer to him. “C.J., is Shannon going to make a comeback and be competitive enough to give you a run for your money?”

“I hope so. I’d hate to win our competition by default, even though I am the better bull rider and all-around athlete.” He winked at Shannon.

“That’s a pretty bold statement. What do you have to say to that, Shannon?”

“C.J.’s a dreamer. He’ll find out sooner rather than later that I’m his reality check.”

The cameraman laughed.

C.J. grasped her arm and tugged her after him. “You know, the least you could do is acknowledge my talent,” he said.

During the short time they’d been a
real
couple, C.J. admitted no one close to him had ever showered him with praise. “You’re right,” she said.

He stopped at the chute and put on his Kevlar vest. “I’m right about what?”

“You’re one of the better cowboys on the circuit,” she said. “But—”

“I knew you couldn’t give a compliment without a qualifier.”

“Your ego gets in the way of you being the best our generation has ever seen.” There, she’d said what all the other cowboys on the circuit thought but wouldn’t admit out loud.

“What do you mean my ego’s in the way?”

“You’re more concerned with your playboy image and entourage of buckle bunnies that half the time you’re distracted when you leave the chute.” She shook her head. “I can only imagine how many wins you’d rack up if you concentrated on the bronc and not all the other stuff going on in the arena.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’ll take your words under advisement, Douglas.”

“Ladies and gents, it’s time for...”

Shannon blocked out the announcer’s chatter and searched for Johnny among the milling cowboys. He was supposed to be hamming it up with C.J. and preparing for his own ride. All of a sudden the rodeo reporter took off running toward a man dressed all in black—
Johnny.

He stared at her as he strolled closer—the heated look in his eyes reminding her of the night they’d made love.

“Like I said before,” C.J. whispered in her ear, “he’s not acting.”

Music exploded from the sound system and the rodeo announcer continued with his spiel. “There he is, folks. The Man in Black.” Applause drew Shannon’s gaze to the JumboTron displaying Johnny’s image.

“While Shannon Douglas’s broken leg mends, Rodriguez is putting his bull-riding on hold and is challenging Cash to a second go-around on broncs.”

When Johnny stopped at her side, she said, “Nice outfit.” He must have brought the clothes with him and changed in the bathroom.

“Thought I might as well play the part.” He nodded to the chutes. “Rodriguez is about to ride.”

Shannon hurried to C.J.’s side and scurried up the rails, biting the inside of her cheek when her left leg rebelled. She waved to the fans, then dipped her head toward C.J., her hat blocking the cameras. “Break a leg,” she said.

“Real funny.” C.J. pulled back and waved his Stetson. The fans cheered and Shannon dropped to the ground.

A moment later the chute door opened and Cyclone went to work. C.J. appeared in control until the bronc dipped his head and whirled right, the move sending his rider flying into the air at the six-second mark.

“Well, that’s too bad, folks. Rodriguez almost made it to the buzzer. Looks like it’s up to Johnny Cash to see if he can make it to eight on his bronc.”

“You ready?” When Johnny didn’t acknowledge her question, she asked, “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t like my draw,” he said.

She admired the horse’s ebony coat as the rodeo workers loaded him into the chute. “What’s wrong with him?”

“There isn’t a speck of life in his eyes.”