The gun went off and so did the horses. Nash was in his glory right now, she thought. He came in second, after Royce. Nash laughed and shook hands with the winner before he glanced back at her and shrugged sheepishly.
A few minutes later the attendant released a calf into the arena. Royce went after it, snagging the animal with a lariat and taking him down. Nash was the last man out. He hardly chased the calf, snapping the rope around its neck, sliding to the ground, and had four legs tied in seconds. He hopped to his feet, his hands in the air. The crowd roared, then in another second, when his time flashed on the big digital screen, the crowd howled again.
"I suppose that's a good time?" Hayley said to the girl beside her, applauding him.
The girl looked at Hayley as if appalled that she didn't know. "Nash Rayburn has never been beat. Not in five years."
Hayley swung her gaze back at Nash. He tipped his hat to her, then released the calf.
When the bronc riding began, her fear climbed as each man took to the field. The horses were merciless, kicking and bucking the first three men off. The third rider got his hand caught in the saddle rope when he was thrown, and the horse dragged him, slapping him against its side. This was nuts, Hayley thought as the young man hit the ground with a teeth-jarring thud. The girl beside her screamed his name and didn't relax until he stood up and strode back to the pens.
Royce held on for six seconds and then was thrown, hitting the fence. Moments passed before he shook himself and climbed to his feet, obviously disgusted with his performance.
Then it was Nash's turn. The crowd hushed. Across the dirt ring, he met Hayley's gaze, grinning in the face of her worry.
Hayley's heart thundered as he tried controlling the horse inside the chute. The door flung open and he bolted forward. Oh, God, he's going to break his neck, she thought, watching him get bounced up and down.
Yet he held on, his hand high in the air and a huge grin on his face. The crowd counted down the time to eight seconds. Nash held on, the black devil nearly upending himself to get him off. Hayley smothered the scream curling up her throat.
The buzzer sounded. Nash flung himself off the horse and the roadies corralled the animal back into the pen.
The announcer proclaimed him the winner.
Hayley was on the edge of her seat, battling between wanting to bust his chops for risking his life and being so proud of him.
She shouted his name, pride winning hands down. He looked at her, then started walking toward her. She leaped off the rail and ran to him, jumping into his outstretched arms.
"You fool!" she said above the noise. "You could have been hurt!"
"Nah," he said, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around. "What kind of breeder would I be if I let an old paint like that best me?"
"That was incredible!"
He stared down at her excited face and knew he couldn't stop himself.
He kissed her, wildly, passionately holding her head, the motion knocking off her hat as he took her mouth while thousands watched.
The crowd whistled and howled. The announcer made some comment she didn't hear above the roaring in her ears. She looped her arms around his neck and Nash staked his claim on her, the kiss lush and hot and way too short for his liking. He pulled back, loving her blush, loving the way she shoved at his shoulder and gave him a chiding look that didn't have much weight behind it. He didn't set her down and, instead, swept her up into his arms and carried her off the field.
She was beet red with embarrassment and buried her face in his shoulder. "Put me down."
"Nope." His gaze clashed with hers. "I like having you wrapped around me."
Hayley wanted to heed the warnings going off in her head, but she ignored them and admitted, "I like it, too."
He stopped, releasing her legs and letting her slide down the length of his body. He was still breathing hard and having her so close increased it. He didn't want to say anything that would sending her running. He had a feeling she'd been near that point earlier, so he simply smiled. "Good, 'cause we fit right nice." He kissed her again, quickly and possessively, then put his arm around her waist and led her out of the arena.
A young roadie raced up with her hat, handing it to her and congratulating Nash. He thanked the boy by name and the boy beamed. Nash's friends and employees came up to him, and he accepted congratulations and teasing over their kiss as they worked their way to a vendor stand. He bought cold drinks, and Hayley watched him drain a bottle of water, then take out a handkerchief to wipe the dust and sweat from his face and throat.
"I'm too old for that," he confided.
"You looked good. The girls beside me were drooling over you."
"Right. Like they'd drool over their father."