Rough Rider (Hot Cowboy Nights, #2)(11)

“So what, Sunshine?”

She sighed. “Do I really have to spell it out?”

“Guess so.”

“Coarse. Crude.”

He winced, a gesture that made his face hurt but her words made his head pound even worse. “Is that how I rate with you, Sunshine? Coarse and crude? If that’s the case, I wonder why you’d lower yourself to be with me.”

“Of course, I don’t mean you!” she protested. “It was just a generalization about the bull riders. If you still want to rodeo, why don’t you switch to roping? You and your brother could team rope together. It attracts a much better class of people. Besides, if you roped Daddy could get you endorsements. He has a lot of connections and even golfs with the CEO of Lariat Ropes.”

Grady’s roping joke came to mind. Dirk couldn’t suppress a smirk.

“What’s so funny?”

“Something Grady said, but I doubt you’d appreciate the humor.”

“Grady?” she scoffed. “I’ll bet. And that’s precisely what I mean. He’s too vulgar and rough. Continued association with him will only drag you down.”

“Now you’re concerned about my association with a champion bull rider?” Grady was a bit rough around the edges, but most cowboys were.

“He may be a champion today, but what’s he going to be tomorrow? Ten years down the road he’ll have nothing to show for it but scars, broken bones, and a stupid belt buckle.”

“It’s more than the buckle and you know it.”

“But there’s more to life than the thrill of the ride, Dirk.”

“Is this you or your father talking now, Sunshine?”

She gnawed her lower lip. “You can’t make a living at rodeo—not a decent one anyway.”

“Don’t need to. My truck’s paid for and I’ve got a roof over my head as long as I want it.”

“But what about us? Don’t you care what I want?”

He felt a pang of conscience. His voice and posture softened. He cupped her cheek. “I do care, but I’m just not ready to think that far ahead yet, Sunshine. Maybe I will be soon, but not right now.”

“But we’ve both graduated. Isn’t it time to think about the future?”

The future? Shit. By the looks of things “the future” was suddenly now. Damned if the sneaky bitch hadn’t crept up from behind and caught him with his pants down.

Part of him couldn’t blame Rachel. She’d never hedged about her expectations, but he hadn’t anticipated it all happening so soon. But pressuring him about it, especially tonight, only got his back up.

“A bottle of Coors,” Dirk quipped. “That’s in my future—the immediate one anyway.”

“But what about the pictures? The photographer’s been waiting all this time on you. Please Dirk.” She gave him a beseeching look. “If you don’t want to go upstairs and change, maybe you could just borrow Daddy’s jacket.”

“Your father’s jacket?” Dirk shook his head with a derisive chuckle. “I’m sorry, Sunshine, but your Daddy’s jacket won’t fit me any better than his shoes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll figure it out. I’m going to the bar now. You want anything?”

“No. Thank you,” she snapped.

When he moved to kiss her cheek, she jerked away.

“I’m not waiting on you anymore, Justin Dirk Knowlton.”

“C’mon. A few more minutes won’t make any difference.”

“That’s not what I meant. You’ve taken me for granted long enough.” Standing as tall and defiant as her petite frame would allow, she anchored her hands on her slim hips. “I think it’s decision time for us.”

She was telling him in no uncertain terms to ante up.

He opened his mouth and then closed it again, biting back the apology that had sprung to his lips only seconds ago. He wasn’t about to kowtow to someone else’s expectations and desires—even Rachel’s. It was his life, damn it! He was only twenty-two. He needed to live a little before settling down.

When he failed to respond, her pretty mouth molded into a mutinous expression. “I mean it, Dirk. I’m done with waiting…I’m done with you.” With an angry toss of her blond head, she spun on her boot heel, leaving him staring after her.

She’d issued her ultimatum. He’d balked. And now she’d broken it off. This entire night had turned to pure shit! First the bull ripped his arm out of the socket and tried to impale him and now his girl dumped him? Maybe he’d gone too far, but he still couldn’t regret his actions. He refused to be led by his nose—or any other body part.

She’d strung him along for four years with promises that made him salivate. That wasn’t to say he hadn’t had a taste of her. He had, and she was a fine dish indeed, but the appetizer had only made him all the hungrier for the main course. He doubted he could have held out much longer if she hadn’t reciprocated in kind. Although she’d compromised her vow of purity to keep his interest, she’d also made it abundantly clear that anything more would require a multifaceted, two-carat emerald-shaped promise on his part.

He knew what she needed now, sure enough, what he could do to make things right at least for a little while. Ten minutes in a janitor’s closet with his face buried in her snatch would have her purring like a kitten again. Only problem was there were too damn many people around for them to disappear together, especially with a magazine photographer in the house. He wouldn’t take that risk. She was right about her reputation. He could just imagine what kind of photo spread would hit the newsstands if Miss Rodeo Montana got caught with his tongue up her twat—one far better suited for Hustler than American Rodeo Magazine.