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Chapter One
Loretta Keller
November
San Antonio, TX
The November sun beat down on the San Antonio Rodeo grounds, unseasonably warm even for Texas. Loretta Keller wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, grateful for the shade of her pop-up pavilion. Her seven-month-old son, Georgie, was contentedly bouncing in his exersaucer next to her. His chubby legs propelled him up and down, and his blond wispy curls fluttered with each movement.
“At least one of us is having fun,” Loretta muttered, adjusting the display of her watercolor paintings.
The United Professional Rodeo Circuit’s show was in full swing, and the air vibrated with the distant roar of the crowd, punctuated by the occasional blare of a loudspeaker. The UPRC had undergone some emergency management changes last year, but luckily it hadn’t affected ticket sales or the events too much.
Loretta’s booth, tucked away in the vendors’ area, saw sporadic foot traffic. She’d sold a few small pieces today, but nothing substantial enough to ease the knot of worry in her stomach. Money was tight now that the rodeo season was coming to a close. Sure, she could follow Taylor to Mexico and South America, but not with a little one. It had been hard enough lugging her booth from town to town while she was pregnant. She couldn’t fathom doing it with everything she’d need for the baby in another country. At least in the States, she could rely on her sisters’ help.
Nope, she was heading back home to her parents’ home in Paris, Texas, at the end of the season while Taylor, her boyfriend and Georgie’s dad, stayed on the circuit. Hopefully, Taylor would stick to bullfighting instead of bull riding, but he would probably chase the money. He knew how to handle an angry bull on the ground. He was an expert at it, taught by his father Barney, who was a famous rodeo clown. The problem was when Taylor got on the back of the bull, he tended to let his ego get in the way of a good ride—and usually wound up on his ass. And injured.
Not to mention that bull riders got more ass than a toilet seat.
Bullfighters, not as much. Although, Loretta didn’t know why. Sure, a cowboy riding a raging bull was kind of hot. But that was just for eight seconds. Her man was out there every ride, daring the bull to take a piece of him.
That was inferno hot. In a slightly insane testosterone way.
Lorretta saw herself worrying about Taylor from her old bedroom in her parents’ house while trying not to wonder if a cute little buckle bunny was making moves on her man. And while Loretta knew Taylor wasn’t the type to run around on her, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d been cheated on. Hell, it would be the third. To make matters worse, she’d have to listen to her parents tell her what she should have done differently in her life so she wouldn’t have had to start over.
Again.
Last time, the lectures had been a toss-up between she should have become a pageant queen or a barrel racer like her sister, LeAnn, or a professional cheerleader like her other sister, Dolly. Funny, they never said Loretta should have become a veterinarian, like her sister Reba. But in any event, it all boiled down to the fact that, as the oldest, Loretta should have been leading the pack instead of always playing catch-up to her sisters.
Georgie let out a happy squeal, drawing her attention. She couldn’t help but smile at his toothless grin. “You’re right, buddy. We should just be grateful that we have a home to go to.”
But the trouble with gratitude lately, was that it made Loretta feel like a loser. She had been grateful when five years ago, her parents had let her move back home when her marriage exploded in a tabloid-infused hell. At the time, her husband had been the lead singer of a rock band named Firestorm. Loretta had been so proud of him when the band got booked on their first world tour.
“We made it, baby,” Connor had said.
Loretta had finally seen a light at the end of the tunnel for their finances. They could stop living from motel room to motel room. She could quit working dead-end jobs to supplement what little they made from his music. They could buy a house and she could work on her career and start a family.
Then the rumors started. A model in Paris. A geisha in Japan. A bier fräulein in Germany. And then the nail in the coffin: A lesser member of the royal family in England.
Connor Putnam had been the hottest eligible bachelor in the world.
Except he hadn’t been a bachelor.
He had still been married to her. It had been terrible when it was just her private shame and heartache, but then The Sun did some background work and realized that wifey poo was bagging groceries at the Piggly Wiggly while her rock-star husband was attending polo matches.
The settlement after the divorce was enough that Loretta could go back to college and finish her art degree.
She was grateful for that.
There was that word again: grateful.
And two years ago, just when she thought she could trust her heart again, it had gotten broken by her art professor. Donny Lawton had told her he loved her. He had treated her like a queen. And it turned out, he was happily married with two kids.
She was grateful that her sisters had been there as support, and this time the scandal wasn’t anything that the tabloids would be interested in. The humiliation still stung like a bitch, though.
No sooner had Loretta finished organizing her artwork, than a woman approached the booth, a toddler in tow. “These are lovely,” she said, eyes scanning the paintings. “Do you have any with barrel racing?”
Loretta’s heart sank. She’d meant to paint some barrel-racing scenes, but between caring for Georgie and managing her booth, she hadn’t found the time. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t at the moment, but I could certainly create a custom piece for you.”
The woman’s face fell. “Oh, no, that’s all right. I was hoping to get something today for my sister. She’s competing later.” With an apologetic smile, she moved on, her child whining for cotton candy.
Loretta sighed, slumping back down in her camp chair. Another missed opportunity. She glanced at her watch—four hours until closing. The thought of packing up early crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. She couldn’t afford to miss even one potential sale.
“There’s my favorite nephew,” a voice called out, startling Loretta from her brooding. “Of course, you’re my only nephew—for now.”
At least Loretta had that going for her. She had given her parents their first grandchild. Out of wedlock.
That didn’t matter to Loretta as much as it mattered to her parents. That was probably where they would focus their lectures when she arrived home.
Dolly, the next oldest after her, started snapping pictures on her phone like she was the paparazzi. Loretta fought a scowl and the urge to flip her off. “I look like hell,” she said between her teeth in a fake smile.
“No one is looking at you,” Dolly said airily. “They’re looking at your fabulous paintings and this little guy.”
“Don’t put Georgie on the social media accounts,” Loretta said. Dolly did all the PR work for the UPRC.
“I wouldn’t,” Dolly said with an exasperated sigh. She put her phone away and picked up Georgie in one big scoop. “Georgie and I are going on a walk.”
Loretta was torn between gratitude and annoyance. Annoyance because it was hot, and she was sweaty and gross, and Dolly looked as fresh and sweet as a cool glass of water. But Dolly and their other two sisters now worked at the UPRC, and they always made sure Loretta had some time to herself during the day.
So gratitude won.
That word again.
And because Loretta was seconds from crying for no particular reason, she asked plaintively, “Can you pick me up an iced coffee?”
“Can do,” Dolly said. “Come on, Georgie. Let’s go see what Donnan is up to.”
Donnan was a Highland calf that was a big hit in the petting zoo at the UPRC. Their younger sister, Reba, and her husband Shane owned him. Shane and his Viking Ranch supplied stock for the UPRC’s rodeo and Reba was a veterinarian who worked for both her husband’s ranch and the UPRC. Reba had planned on quitting the UPRC and working solely for the Viking Ranch, but Loretta had a sneaking suspicion that Reba had changed those plans so she could be with her and Georgie.
As Dolly disappeared into the crowd with Georgie, Loretta allowed herself a moment to breathe. She loved her son more than anything, but the constant juggling of motherhood and her struggling art career was taking its toll.
A couple approached Loretta’s booth, their eyes scanning the paintings. “Honey, look at this one,” the woman said, pointing to a watercolor of a bucking bronco. “Wouldn’t it be perfect in the den?”
Loretta straightened, putting on her best smile. “That’s one of my favorites. It really captures the spirit of the rodeo, don’t you think?”
The man nodded, but his eyes widened slightly at the price tag. “It’s nice, but…do you have anything smaller?”
Smaller: aka cheaper.
Swallowing her disappointment, Loretta directed them to a selection of postcard-sized prints. As the couple deliberated over them, Loretta’s mind wandered back to Taylor. Her boyfriend would be in front of the crowd soon, not riding the bulls but facing them head-on as a bullfighter. The thought made her stomach churn with a familiar mix of pride and fear. He was working the women’s bull-riding events today, keeping her baby sister, LeAnn, safe.
Loretta both loved and hated when that happened. She loved it because there was no one she’d trust to protect LeAnn from a rampaging bull more than Taylor. But that also meant that her baby’s daddy was facing a two-thousand-pound menace with horns and a temper. Luckily LeAnn was as good a bull rider as Taylor was a bullfighter, distracting the bulls from going after the riders.
“We’ll take these three,” the woman said, breaking into Loretta’s thoughts. She handed over a few bills, and Loretta carefully wrapped the prints in between sturdy cardboard so they wouldn’t bend easily. That would keep them safe from damage until the buyers got home.
“Thank you so much,” Loretta said. This would pay for diapers and formula until the next rodeo. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
A group of teenagers stopped by the booth, giggling over a painting of a handsome cowboy tipping his hat. Loretta put on her sales smile once again, answering their questions and eventually selling a few more postcard prints.
As a wave of people walked by, Loretta’s sales trickled in—a lot of little purchases. Each sale was a mix of relief and frustration. She was grateful for every dollar, but it was hard not to feel discouraged. This wasn’t the art career she’d dreamed of.
After her divorce and the disastrous affair with Donny, Loretta had put together a five-year plan to be independent of her parents and back in control of her life. She would go out on the rodeo circuit with Dolly in their family’s Winnebago and sell her paintings at the events. Meanwhile, she’d investigate all the cities they went to and put in job applications at the companies in the towns that she could see herself settling down in.
Along the way, though, she’d met Taylor Keating. He was a real cowboy. A gentleman. Polite to women. Brave and hardworking. Sexy as hell. It wasn’t supposed to have been anything more than a summer fling. But mistakes had been made and a few months into dating, Loretta’s period had been late. And then nine months later, while Taylor was riding a bull named Firestorm, (the irony of that—that it was the same name as her ex-husband’s band—hadn’t been lost on her) Loretta had given birth to their son, Georgie.
Taylor didn’t go the eight seconds and wound up with a dislocated shoulder from the fall. Loretta had a C-section, so they’d both been recuperating at the same time in her parents’ home.
That had been fun.
Not.
Surprisingly enough, Taylor hadn’t run away screaming. Instead, they took Georgie and the family’s Winnebago back on the rodeo trail as soon as they could.
Dolly came back with her iced coffee, but not her son.
“Thank you,” Loretta said, drinking half of it in several glorious sips. “That was everything. Where’s Georgie?”
“Grandpa Barney has him.”
Taylor’s father was scheduled to warm up the audience for the bull riders today. He was a world-famous rodeo clown. People flocked to the rodeos that he was in. He had trained Taylor ever since he was a toddler, and she knew that Barney had his eye on doing the same thing with Georgie, once he was old enough.
“He doesn’t have him out in the arena with him, does he?” Loretta almost dropped her precious cup.
“He wanted to introduce him to the crowd.” Dolly held up her hand when Loretta grabbed her purse, ready to storm the bullfighting area. “The bulls were secured and the riding hadn’t started yet so he took him to the back area to brag to all his friends.”
“Isn’t he supposed to be working the crowd?” Loretta said, still not sure if she should go and collect her son.
“Shane said he’d take him when Barney was on.”
“Maybe you should have taken the stroller.” Loretta frowned down at it. Georgie could get squirmy and heavy after a while. And then there was an inevitable diaper change and bottle that he’d be needing sooner or later.
“I’ll take it over to him.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, not a problem. Just concentrate on selling out your stock so you can spend the winter break painting.”
Wouldn’t that be nice? Loretta knew just the place she’d set up. She could put Georgie in his playpen in her parents’ sunroom and lose herself in her oils and canvases. Maybe going home wouldn’t be so bad.
It would be nicer if you had your own place, a hateful little voice whispered.
Loretta pictured it as a green gremlin, and she mentally whacked it on the head with a giant rubber mallet.
Dolly grabbed the cooler with the bottles, and the diaper bag, slinging them into the stroller. “Do you want me to pick you up lunch?”
“No, thanks. I packed a sandwich,” she said and hugged her sister.
“What was that for?” Dolly asked, bemused as she hugged her back.
“For being here.”
Dolly smiled. “You were there for me when I needed it.”
“Not when you really needed it,” Loretta said, feeling guilty that she hadn’t known when Dolly had been in trouble.
“That’s because I didn’t let anyone know about it until much later. And when I did, you were in my corner.”
“That’s what sisters do,” Loretta said.
“Exactly. Either me or LeAnn will be back later to help you pack up.”
Loretta watched Dolly push the stroller over to the bullfighting area. She was lucky that Georgie had so many people who loved him here.
Sitting down again, Loretta finished her iced coffee. Even with the extra jolt of caffeine, it was hard not to fall asleep in the afternoon haze. Just as she was about to nod off, a young woman approached Loretta’s booth, her eyes wide with admiration as she gazed at one of the larger paintings. It was an oil painting of Donnan. Loretta hadn’t really expected to sell it and was secretly planning to give it to Shane and Reba at the end of the rodeo season, or as a Christmas present, if money got tight. Because of the materials, the size, and the work she had put into it, Loretta had priced it at eight hundred dollars. The average rodeo goer didn’t plan on dropping that much cash, but it was an eye-catching piece and it brought people over to her booth. She had smaller watercolor ones featuring the Highland calf that she offered when the customer got sticker shock.
“Oh my God, this is gorgeous,” the woman breathed, leaning in for a closer look.
“Thank you,” Loretta said.
“Baby,” the woman called over her shoulder. “Come look at this.”
Loretta hoped “Baby” was a sugar daddy, but her stomach plummeted when she saw who the woman was waving over. Donny Lawton, dressed as a duded-up cowboy, stopped dead in his tracks, the indulgent smile on his face freezing when he caught sight of Loretta.
“Is he your art professor?” Loretta asked.
“You know Donny?” the woman said, looking between them uncertainly.
She would have thought Donny would have learned his lesson about sleeping with his students when he’d almost been caught with his pants down with her. But apparently not. All men cheated. It was a sad fact of life.
He could pay for the painting without blinking, especially if he was trying to impress this chick. Loretta remembered him showering her with expensive gifts and trips. She wondered if his wife ever saw his credit card bills.
Loretta glanced at the young woman, really seeing her this time. She was pretty in a fresh, scrubbed co-ed way. She wore short shorts and a halter top that made Loretta hope she had put on a lot of sunblock.
The eight hundred dollars danced in Loretta’s mind, taunting her. It would ease a lot of worry about living expenses until she got to her parents’ house. Or even better, she could sock it away in her savings account for an apartment. The one-month deposit and first month rent upfront was a deal breaker for her in every decent place Loretta had looked at. It wasn’t that she minded living in her family’s Winnebago—she was used to it—but Loretta wanted something for herself. Someplace permanent where she could put down roots, but not have to worry about moving out when things ended with Taylor.
Donny might pay the cost of the painting for hush money. She caught his gaze. His eyes were wide and panicked. She wondered if she had time to add a one in front of the eight-hundred-dollar price tag. But then she looked at the woman again. Someone should tell her. It might already be too late, and she might have already given the jackass her heart. But on the off chance that she hadn’t, Loretta kissed the sale goodbye.
“I know his wife and kids,” Loretta said.
“W-what?” the woman said, her jaw dropping.
“Yeah, he’s such a devoted father. Not so much a devoted husband, since he sleeps around with his art students.”
The woman flinched back. “You’re a liar.”
“Ever been to his house?” Loretta asked flatly.
“That’s none of your business,” she snarled, backing away.
“You don’t have to believe me. Just look up Barbara Lawton on Facebook and check out her photos. A picture is worth a thousand words.”
Or in Loretta’s case, seeing his happy family had broken her recovering heart.
Donny didn’t come a step closer. The young woman was furiously scrolling on her phone. As they walked away, Loretta could hear the woman peppering him with questions. Well, there went eight hundred dollars. She looked at the painting of Donnan.
“Worth it,” she said, and a piece of her broken heart fit back into her soul.
End of Excerpt
