“What?”
“This place is clean, Jake.” She turned a half circle, looking around the place.
“I’m not an eighteen-year-old bachelor out on his own for the first time, Cal. I know how to keep my place clean.”
“And how is that?”
“I hired a maid.”
She laughed in spite of herself. “I should’ve figured.”
The whole inside of the house was immaculate, too. Nice. Her family ranch in the small Eastern Oregon town of Lone Rock was damn near palatial. So it wasn’t that she wasn’t used to nice. It was just that accommodations on the circuit were different. She had opted not to stay in the elaborate trailer that her father brought when they were traveling around to different locations, and she tended to camp, or crash in the horse trailer, or crash in a motel, whatever worked for the situation.
She’d heard her dad make comments over the years. About her mama needing a fancy-ass RV or a nice hotel if they were going to travel. Remarks about how the other cowgirls needed softer beds, nicer places to sleep.
He’d said it was why there were fewer women in the rodeo.
Her dad didn’t openly see women as less, or anything like that. Rather he was... Well, he acted like they were more breakable.
And Callie had determined she’d never show her weakness like that. She could handle uncomfortable beds, cramped conditions, whatever. If it was good enough for the boys, it was good enough for her.
Her anger bristled anew. She’d earned this. Every time she’d bunked in a horse trailer. Every time she’d gone camping and complained less than her brothers while it poured down rain on them. Every time she’d cut herself or bruised herself or fallen and gotten back up without so much as a whimper.
The trouble with breaking your arm was you didn’t get to stop and make a choice about whether or not you howled in pain and cried like a baby.
One moment of vulnerability. Just one.
And it was like her dad had suddenly noticed she was a girl and therefore potentially breakable.
Jake straightened, hefting her duffel bag down to the floor and pushing his black cowboy hat up on his forehead with his knuckle. “Okay. Explanation time.”
She let out a frustrated growl. “You know what I want.”
He arched a dark brow. “Do I?”
“Yes. You do. I want to ride saddle bronc. I want to do it more than anything. It’s in my family’s blood—why wouldn’t it be in mine? Just because I’m a woman?”
“Historically speaking, I guess that’s the school of thought.”
“But it’s not yours, Jake. It never has been. You always treated me like I could do whatever I wanted. You have. You’ve been my biggest support—hell, you were the one who encouraged me to get up on the back of that horse and try it for the first time. You were the one who showed me that I couldn’t live without it. The exhilaration. The... The everything. You’re the reason that I know how much I want this. And now I need your help to make it happen.”
“You are going to have to get creative to figure out how the hell you draw a line from saddle bronc to needing to marry me.”
She shrugged. “It’s not even that creative. It’s that my dad... Look, he couldn’t specifically bar women from the competition. But the fact of the matter is the insurance insists women are at greater risk than male saddle bronc riders. If I want to ride, the cost goes up for entry. For everyone. So he’s put me in a position where I would make things harder for everyone else, and where I can’t afford to pay my own entry. I don’t have that kind of cash just from barrel racing and traveling around with the rodeo. I’m not like you. I’m not a bull rider—I didn’t do the big events. Barrel racing... It doesn’t get treated the same. There’s not an expo in Vegas for everyone to watch. There aren’t endorsement deals on the level that you get.”
“Cal, if you need money...”
She’d known he’d do that. That he’d try to just fix it that way. By throwing money at it. Being her protector and all that, in the way he was. But that was just what she didn’t need. And she was aware there was a little irony in needing his help but refusing a certain kind of help.
But this was like... The difference between giving a man a fish and teaching a man to fish.
Taking his money was a gift fish she could only use once. Marrying him and getting her trust fund was a fishing rod.
“No. I need freedom. That’s all. Just the freedom that I deserve to have as a grown woman.”
“And explain to me how marrying me is going to give you that freedom?”
“I have a trust fund.”
“Well... Hell. I knew you guys were fancy, but I didn’t know you were trust fund fancy.”
“My father isn’t the commissioner of the rodeo for nothing. He’s from a big old oil family. Lots of money that he kicked into programs over the years. But, anyway. That’s not the point. The point is that if I really want to have freedom, I need access to that trust fund. And I’m not waiting until I turn thirty. It’s too far away. The only other way that I can get my hands on it is to get married.”
“So, you want me to marry you. Marry you. Like sign a document, link up our tax filing status, marry you.”
“Yeah, that about sums it up.”
Something in his face changed, and she didn’t like it. It made her stomach feel weird. And a slow smile slid across his insolent mouth. “Wedding night?”
She felt like she’d been doused in liquid flame. Her whole face went burning hot.
A wedding night.
A wedding night.
For a minute there, her brain sort of stalled out. He was teasing her, of course he was. He liked girly girls with big hair and big boobs. With shiny smiles and shinier sequins. And that was all fine because she wasn’t that, and she didn’t want to be.
Couldn’t be.
Didn’t care to be.
She’d made that choice a long time ago and she didn’t regret it. And he was screwing with her, anyway. To get a reaction, which he had. Which was dumb.
She ground her teeth together, gritted out the heat.
“No. It’s a temporary thing. Just until everything is set up with the trust fund. I need to get married as soon as possible so that everything can get rolling, and I’ll have the money. I need to cover the excess on everyone’s entry fees.”
“One problem with that,” Jake said, walking away from her, heading toward what she guessed was the kitchen. She scurried on after him, confirming what she thought. He opened up the fridge and took out two beers. She grabbed one from his hand and popped the cap off on the edge of the counter. “How many of those cowboys are going to like the little rich girl playing around a competition, paying their entry fees.”