For the danger-charged seconds ahead, he needed to ignore the feeling that somewhere, in that vast sea of faces, was the one he’d told himself he never wanted to see again.
No one had told him that Val was in Las Vegas. But it made sense that she would be here for her family. And Tess’s reticence yesterday had confirmed it. Val was here. He could almost feel her watching him. But right now he couldn’t allow that to matter. He had a job to do.
At a nod from McClintock, the gate swung open. Whirlwind exploded out with a giant, twisting leap that raised a dust cloud when he landed. The leap was followed by a storm of spinning kicks, so high that his silver body was almost vertical. Whirlwind had already learned that if he could make the rider lean back, a twist of his rump would be enough to fling him to the dirt. But McClintock stayed in place, arm raised, legs forward, in perfect position as the digital clock spun off the seconds. Four . . . five . . .
Casey could almost sense the young bull’s frustration as he bucked harder, trying tricks that had thrown off lesser riders in the past. When his spin suddenly changed directions, away from the rider’s hand, McClintock leaned dangerously, almost sliding off to the side. But he was still hanging on when the eight-second whistle blasted the air. The crowd erupted with wild cheers as he freed his hand from the rope, slid to the ground, and rolled clear, unhurt.
As Whirlwind trotted out the open gate, the score for the ride was posted—46.5 points for the rider, 46 points for the bull, for a spectacular 92.5 total, enough to put McClintock solidly in the lead and assure Whirlwind’s place as a rising star.
Job done for the night, Casey took off his straw Resistol hat and wiped a sleeve across his damp forehead before heading back through the chute area to the locker room. Tess and her sisters would be over the moon. As a friend, there was no way he could leave without taking time to congratulate them.
Would he see Val? Did he want to?
For now, that decision was out of his hands.
He found Tess by the holding pen, where she’d just unfastened Whirlwind’s flank strap. She was watching the bull disappear down the passageway. For the moment, she was alone.
“So, how does it feel, Tess?” he asked her.
She turned, and he saw the tears flowing down her cheeks. “Oh, Casey! It’s too much!” She stumbled into his open arms. He hugged her like a brother, patting her back as she sobbed. Tess was one of the least emotional women he’d ever known, but tonight had opened the floodgates.
“Excuse me, am I intruding?” The deep voice broke them apart. Brock Tolman had just stepped around the chutes.
Tess wiped her eyes and squared her jaw. “Not at all,” she said.
“I just came back to congratulate you on your bull,” he said. “That was quite a show he put on.”
“Now you know why we wouldn’t sell him,” she said. “But thank you, anyway.”
He nodded, his expression darkening. “I won’t keep you,” he said, “especially since I’ve clearly interrupted something. Enjoy the glory while it lasts, Tess.” He turned away and vanished in the direction of the exit. Looking past him, Casey saw R.J. McClintock striding toward them, with Lexie behind him. She was bouncing like an excited puppy.
There was no sign of Val. Maybe his hunch had been wrong, and she was still off in La-La Land trying to be a star. Or maybe, by now, she’d married some rich used car dealer and put the Alamo Canyon Ranch behind her for good. Whatever—he couldn’t let it matter anymore. And things were getting crowded back here. It was time to leave the Champions to their celebration.
He gave Lexie a high five, then headed back toward the locker room to shower and change. He had just stepped inside when he realized his straw hat was missing.
He recalled having it in the arena. He’d taken it off to wipe his forehead after the last ride. Distracted, he must’ve dropped it. He’d had the fool hat for so long that it had become a sort of lucky talisman. If he didn’t get it now, it would be swept up and thrown in the trash. With a mutter of impatience, he left the locker room to retrace his steps.
By now, most of the fans had left the arena. The cleaning crew was already at work. Casey spotted his hat where he remembered taking it off. It was lying undamaged on the dirt. With a wave to the cleaners, he jogged out into the arena, picked up the hat, and walked back toward the gate.
At the last moment, something—a sound, perhaps, or just a feeling—made him turn around and look back across the arena. Coming down the steps from the upper tier of seats was the lone figure of a woman in jeans, a denim jacket, and a baseball cap. He couldn’t see her face or even her hair, but as he watched her he knew, with a certainty that crushed his heart in his chest, that it was Val.
* * *
Val had stayed in her seat, waiting for the crowds to clear before making her way down to find her sisters and Shane. She’d had her reasons for not leaving earlier. Being packed tight in a mob of strangers had always made her nervous. She also knew that the area around the chutes would be busy until the press and other people involved in the event had packed up and gone. There was no reason to rush down there, she’d told herself. Lexie and Tess knew where she was. They wouldn’t go anywhere without her.
But Val had delayed for another reason—a reason that vanished like smoke in the wind when she looked across the arena and saw Casey standing by the gate, looking up at her.
She had hoped to avoid him, knowing that whatever they had to say to each other was bound to hurt. Now it was too late. He had seen her, and she had no place to run.
He stayed where he was, waiting for her to come to him. Val forced herself to keep moving. What would he say to her? Did he hate her for what she’d done? Or would Casey’s big, forgiving heart still hold some love?
Love would be the worst. Hate would make things so much simpler.
Please hate me, Casey, she thought.
She could see him clearly now, as she crossed the walkway at the foot of the arena and descended the steps to the floor. He stood with his head up, his hat in his hand. His body, made bulkier by the padded armor beneath his loose-fitting shirt, appeared as strong and fit as ever. But his face had a careworn look, the eyes creased at the corners, the hair touched with gray at the temples.
His impassive expression masked his emotions. But that was no surprise. Casey was a proud man, and even though it had been years ago, she’d hurt him deeply.
She stopped an arm’s length from him. He made no move to reach out to her.
“Hello, Casey,” she said.
He cleared his throat. “Hello, Val. I had a feeling you might be here.”
“I almost didn’t come. But Whirlwind . . .” The words trailed off. She remembered how they used to talk for hours, lying on an old sleeping bag in the bed of the pickup, gazing up at the stars. She could tell him anything back then. Now they’d become uncomfortable strangers.
“I understand why you’re here,” he said. “You want to support your family. I guess you and your sisters will be celebrating tonight.”
“I doubt there’ll be much of a celebration, with Lexie pregnant and me on the wagon. And you know Tess—she’s always been a stick in the mud. We’ll probably just go to bed.”
Val gave herself a mental slap. She hadn’t wanted to mention anything about her personal life, especially any hint that she’d been in rehab.