Read Learning the Ropes Online
Authors: T. J. Kline
Sydney heard the unmistakable pounding of horse hooves on the packed ground behind her and moved closer to the vehicle on her right. Usually there was more than enough room for riders and their rigs in the walkway, but with the unexpected turnout at the rodeo today, there was barely room to maneuver. The horse was jogging pretty quickly and she didn’t have anywhere else to go, especially since another truck and trailer had chosen that moment to pull out of the gate ahead of her. The driver of the truck spotted her and waved her on. She tried to hurry through the opening he’d left her at the gate, but the rider behind her chose to slip between them, his mount’s shoulder knocking her into the gatepost on her right.
Sydney reached up to massage her shoulder before registering the surprise on the face of the driver of the truck.
“Are you okay, Sydney?” It was Bobby Blake, a friend of her father’s who must have been delivering some panels in the back of the arena.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she assured him before raising her voice. “I guess chivalry really is dead,” she yelled at the cowboy’s back.
She saw him jerk his mount to a stop before glancing back over his shoulder at her. “Look, honey, I don’t have time for you girls who don’t belong back here. This area is for contestants, not their groupies.”
“Want me to set him straight?” Bobby asked.
Sydney smiled her appreciation. “No, but thanks Bobby. I’ve got this.”
“Go get him, honey,” he teased. “He doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. By the way, congratulations.”
“Thanks, Bobby.” Sydney made her way toward the obnoxious cowboy seated on the sorrel. “Look, I don’t know who you think you are, but around here we tend to have a sort of unspoken code. When that walkway is packed with cars and horses like that, you slow down and you certainly do not push your way between a truck and someone walking. I don’t really appreciate hoofmarks across my back.”
She looked up at him as she came closer, refusing to let him intimidate her from his seat on the horse. “And as for being a groupie, I could probably outride you any day of the week,” she challenged.
The cowboy arched his right brow and a slow smile spread across his face. “Maybe we’ll have to see about that later.” With a tap of his heels, the horse jogged forward a few steps toward one of the stock pens.
Sydney narrowed her eyes as he left. What a jerk, she thought. Shaking her head, she rubbed her shoulder again and searched the back of the arena for the stock contractor’s trailers, noticing a lanky cowboy setting up folding chairs beside a Findley Brothers stock trailer.
“Excuse me,” Sydney began, making her way across the short grass. “Can you tell me where I might find Mike Findley?”
A weathered face returned her smile and Sydney realized he was much older than she had first assumed. “What’s that?”
Sydney realized that he probably couldn’t hear her over the clattering of stock panels as the cattle moved into the pens. “Mike Findley? Do you know where I can find him?”
“Oh, no, I’m not Mike. I’m Jake,” the man hollered.
“Hi Jake, I’m Sydney Thomas.” She raised her voice as well. “I was just crowned rodeo queen and I’m looking for Mike to see if we might carry the sponsor flags or run cattle for him today.”
Jake turned and faced her, crossing his arms. The cattle had quieted so he toned down his voice as well. “Well, Mike’s up with the announcer right now working out of a few details. But he’s not who you’d want to talk to about that.” He leaned back against the trailer, crossing his ankles as if getting relaxed for a long conversation.
Sydney raised her brows in expectation. When Jake didn’t say anything, she pressed. “So, who should I talk to instead?”
“That’d be Scott Chandler.”
Sydney sighed, finding it difficult to restrain herself from punching something. First she’d been shoved into a fence post and now a cryptic cowboy was obviously enjoying a joke at her expense.
“And where would I find Mr. Chandler?”
The Cheshire-cat grin on Jake’s face made her heart sink. No, life couldn’t possibly be that cruel. Her gaze followed the direction of his finger as he pointed to the cowboy atop the sorrel at the stock pen, obviously eavesdropping on their conversation. Swallowing the dry lump that had suddenly materialized in her throat, Sydney squared her shoulders and raised her golden eyes to meet the black eyes of her foe.
“Well, I think you just finished telling him off.” Jake grinned, anticipating the showdown to come.
Sydney had a few choice words that might have suited this moment if her mother hadn’t ingrained in her how unladylike it was to curse. A blush crept up her cheeks as Scott Chandler dismounted his horse and bowed deeply before her.
“Your Majesty,” he mocked. “I am at your disposal.”
She realized that the noise from the stock pen hadn’t kept him from overhearing her conversation with Jake. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know who you were.”
Sarcasm colored his chuckle. “Somehow I don’t think it would have mattered if you had. Now, I am busy, so what did you need, Miss Thomas?”
Sydney took a deep breath and ignored the warmth flooding her cheeks. “I came to see about carrying the sponsor flags and returning the cattle during the rodeo.”
“Experience?”
“Well, I’ve worked for Marks’ Rodeo Company for the last four years doing both, as well as training for the last eight years, five of those professionally.” Sydney’s chin rose indignantly as she felt his gaze weighing heavily on her. She felt suddenly self-conscious in her red jeans and red-and-white plaid Western shirt. Did she look like an immature girl?
Scott gave her a rakish, lopsided grin. “Oh, that’s right. You can outride me.” His brow arched as he articulated her words back to her. “Any day of the week.”
It took everything in her to try to ignore how good-looking this infuriating man was. He towered over her, well over six feet tall, and the black cowboy hat that topped a mop of dark brown hair, barely curling at his collar, gave him a devilish appearance. With sensuous lips and a square jaw, his deeply tanned skin reflected raw male sexuality. She wasn’t sure if he was actually as muscular as his broad shoulders seemed to indicate due to his unruly Western shirt, but his jeans left no imagining necessary to notice the muscular thighs. However, his jet-black eyes almost unnerved her. Those eyes were so dark that Sydney felt she would drown if she continued to meet his gaze.
So much for ignoring his good looks, she chided herself. “Give me a chance out there today to prove it.”
“I don’t see why she can’t run them, Scott.” Jake must have decided that it was time to break up the showdown with his two cents. “She is certainly experienced enough, more than most of the girls you let run flags.”
Scott glared at Jake before turning back to Sydney. She caught Jake’s conspiratorial wink and decided that she liked this old cowboy. Scott would be hard-pressed to find a reason to deny her request now that Jake had sold him out.
“Fine, you can do both. But if anything goes wrong, if a steer so much as takes too long in the arena, you’re finished. Got it, Miss Thomas?” The warning note in his voice was unmistakable.
Sydney flashed a dazzling smile. “Call me Sydney, and it’s no problem.” She clutched her shoulder. “Unless I’m unable to hold the flags since someone ran me into the fence post.”
His look told her he didn’t appreciate her sense of humor. “I mean it. Rodeo starts at ten sharp. Be down here at nine thirty, ready to go.”
As the sassy cowgirl walked away, Scott shook his head. “What in the world possessed you to open your mouth, Jake?”
“Aw, Scott, she’ll do fine. Besides, you did run her down with Wiley at the gate. You kinda owed her one.”
Scott watched Sydney head for the gate, taking in her small waist and the spread of her hips in her red pants and down her lean, denim-encased legs. That woman was all curves, moving with the grace of a jungle cat. With her full, pouting lips and those golden eyes, it certainly wouldn’t be painful to look at her all day. “I guess.”
Scott mounted Wiley and headed to change into his clean shirt and show chaps, but he couldn’t seem to shake the image of Sydney Thomas from his mind. He knew that she’d been attracted to him—he’d seen it in her blush—but he’d had enough run-ins with ostentatious rodeo queens over the years, including his ex-fiancée, to know that they simply wanted to tame a cowboy. It was doubtful that this one was any different, although she did have a much shorter temper. He chuckled as he recalled how the gold in her eyes seemed to flame when she was irritated. He wondered if her eyes flamed up whenever she was passionate. Scott shook his head to clear it of visions of the sexy spitfire. No time for that, he had a rodeo to get started.
T. J. Kline was raised competing in rodeos and rodeo queen competitions from the age of fourteen and has thorough knowledge of the sport as well as the culture involved. She has written several articles about rodeo for small periodicals, as well as a more recent how-to article for
RevWriter
, and has written a nonfiction health book and two inspirational fiction titles under the name Tina Klinesmith. She is also an avid reader and book reviewer for both Tyndale and Multnomah. In her spare time, she can be found laughing hysterically with her husband, children, and their menagerie of pets in Northern California.
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Give in to your impulses . . .
Read on for a sneak peek at eight brand-Ânew
e-Âbook original tales of romance from Avon Books.
Available now wherever e-Âbooks are sold.
By T. J. Kline
T
HE
W
ALLFLOWER
W
EDDING
S
ERIES
By Vivienne Lorret
By Lena Diaz
B
OOK
T
HREE:
T
HE
M
C
B
RIDES
By Jennifer Ryan
A
B
ILLIONAI
RES AND
B
IKERS
N
OVEL
LA
By Cynthia Sax
A
T
RUST
N
O
O
NE
N
OVEL
By Dixie Lee Brown
A
H
ARD
I
NK
N
OVELLA
By Laura Kaye
A
F
RENCH
K
ISS
N
OVEL
By Gwen Jones
Â
An Excerpt from
By T. J. Kline
From author T. J. Kline comes the stunning follow-Âup to
Rodeo Queen
. Reporter Angela McCallister needs the scoop of her career in order to save her father from the bad decisions that have depleted their savings. When the opportunity to spend a week at the Findley Brothers ranch arises, she sees a chance to get a behind-Âthe-Âscenes scoop on rodeo. That certainly doesn't include kissing the devastatingly handsome and charming cowboy Derek Chandler, who insists on calling her “Angel.”
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“A
ngela, call on line three.”
“Can't you just handle it, Joe? I don't have time for this B.S.” It was probably just another stupid mom calling, hoping Angela would feature her daughter's viral video in some feel-Âgood news story. When was she ever going to get her break and find some hard-Âhitting news?
“They asked for you.”
Angela sighed. Maybe if she left them listening to that horrible elevator music long enough, they'd hang up. Joe edged closer to her desk.
“Just pick up the damn phone and see what they want.”
“Fine.” She glared at him as she punched the button. The look she gave him belied the sweet tone of her voice. “Angela McCallister, how can I help you?”
Joe leaned against her cubical wall, listening to her part of the conversation. She waved at him irritably. It wasn't always easy when your boss was your oldest friend, and ex-Âboyfriend. He quirked a brow at her.
Go away,
she mouthed.
“Are you really looking for new stories?”
She assumed the male voice on the line was talking about the calls the station ran at the ends of several news programs asking for stories of interest. Most of them wound up in her mental “ignore” file, but once in a while she'd found one worth pursuing.
“We're always looking for events and stories of interest to our local viewers.” She rolled her eyes, reciting the words Joe had taught her early on in her career as a reporter. She was tired of pretending any of this sucking up was getting her anywhere. Viewers only saw her as a pretty face.
“I have a lead that might interest you.” She didn't answer, waiting for the caller to elaborate. “There's a rodeo coming to town, and they are full of animal cruelty and abuse.”
This didn't sound like a feel-Âgood piece. The caller had her attention now. “Do you have proof?”
The voice gave a bitter laugh, sounding vaguely familiar. “Have you ever seen a rodeo? Electric prods, cinches wrapped around genitals, sharp objects placed under saddles to get horses to buck . . . it's all there.”
She listened as the caller detailed several incidents at nearby rodeos where animals had to be euthanized due to injuries. Angela arched a brow, taking notes as the man gave her several websites she could research that backed the accusations.
“Can I contact you for more information?” She heard him hemming. “You don't have to give me your name. Maybe just a phone number or an email address where I can reach you?” The caller gave her both. “Do you mind if I ask one more questionâÂwhy me?”
“Because you seem like you care about animal rights. That story you did about the stray kittens and the way you found them a home, it really showed who you were inside.”
Angela barely remembered the story other than that Joe had forced it on her when she'd asked for one about a local politician sleeping with his secretary, reminding her that viewers saw her as their small-Âtown sweetheart. She'd found herself reporting about a litter of stray kittens, smiling at the animal shelter as families adopted their favorites, and Jennifer Michaels had broken the infidelity story and was now anchoring at a station in Los Angeles. She was tired of this innocent, girl-Ânext-Âdoor act.
“I'll see what I can do,” she promised, deciding how to best pitch this story to Joe and whether it would be worth it at all.
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An Excerpt from
The Wallflower Wedding Series
by Vivienne Lorret
Delany McFarland is on the hunt for a husbandâÂpreferably one who needs her embarrassingly large dowry more than a dutiful wife. Griffin Croft hasn't been able to get Miss McFarland out of his mind, but now that she's determined to hand over her fortune to a rake, Griffin knows he must step in. Yet when his noble intentions flee in a moment of unexpected passion, his true course becomes clear: tame Delaney's wild heart and save her from a fate worse than death . . . a life without love.
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S
he
had
been purposely avoiding him.
Griffin clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace around her in a circle. “Do you have spies informing you on my whereabouts at all times, or only for social gatherings?”
Miss McFarland watched his movements for a moment, but then she pursed those pink lips and smoothed the front of her cream gown. “I do what I must to avoid being seen at the same function with you. Until recently, I imagined we shared this unspoken agreement.”
“Rumormongers rarely remember innocent bystanders.”
She scoffed. “How nice for you.”
“Yes, and until recently, I was under the impression that I came and went of my own accord. That my decisions were mine alone. Instead, I learn that every choice I make falls under your scrutiny.” He was more agitated than angered. Not to mention intrigued and unaccountably aroused by her admission. During a season packed full of social engagements, she must require daily reports of his activities. Which begged the question, how often did she think of him? “Shall I quiz you on how I take my tea? Or if my valet prefers to tie my cravat into a barrel knot or horse collar?”
“I do not know, nor do I care, how you take your tea, Mr. Croft,” she said, and he clenched his teeth to keep from asking her to say it once more. “However, since I am something of an expert on fashion, I'd say that the elegant fall of the mail coach knot you're wearing this evening suits the structure of your face. The sapphire pin could make one imagine that your eyes are blueâ”
“But you know differently.”
Her cheeks went pink before she drew in a breath and settled her hand over her middle. Before he could stop the thought, he wondered whether she was experiencing the
fluttering
his sister had mentioned.
“You are determined to be disagreeable. I have made my attempts at civility, but now I am quite through with you. If you'll excuse me . . .” She started forward to leave.
He blocked her path, unable to forget what he'd heard when he first arrived. “I cannot let you go without a dire warning for your own benefit.”
“If this is in regard to what you overheardâÂwhen you were eavesdropping on a
private matter
âÂI won't hear it.”
He doubted she would listen to him if he meant to warn her about a great hole in the earth directly in her path either, but his conscience demanded he speak the words nonetheless. “Montwood is a desperate man, and you have put yourself in his power.”
Her eyes flashed. “
That
is where you are wrong. I am the one with the fortune, ergo the one with the power.”
How little she knew of men. “And what of your reputation?”
Her laugh did nothing to amuse him. “What I have left of my reputation will remain unscathed. He is not interested in my person. He only needs my fortune. In addition, as a second son, he does not require an heir; therefore, our living apart should not cause a problem with his family. And should he need
companionship
, he is free to find it elsewhere, so long as he's discreet.”
“You sell yourself so easily, believing your worth is nothing more than your father's account ledger,” he growled, his temper getting the better of him. He'd never lost control of it before, but for some reason this tested his limits. If
he
could see she was more than a sum of wealth, then
she
should damn well put a higher value on herself. “If you were my sister, I'd lock you in a convent for the rest of your days.”
Miss McFarland stepped forward and pressed the tip of her manicured finger in between the buttons of his waistcoat. “I am
not
your sister, Mr. Croft. And thank the heavens for that gift, too. I can barely stand to be in the same room with you. You make it impossible to breathe, let alone think. Neither my lungs nor my stomach recalls how to function. Not only that, but you cause this terrible crackling sensation beneath my skin, and it feels like I'm about to catch fire.” Her lips parted, and her small bosom rose and fell with each breath. “I do believe I loathe you to the very core of your being, Mr. Croft.”
Somewhere between the first
Mis-Âter-ÂCroft
and the last, he'd lost all sense.
Because in the very next moment, he gripped her shoulders, hauled her against him, and crushed his mouth to hers.
Â
An Excerpt from
by Lena Diaz
As a trained assassin for EXIT IncâÂa top-Âsecret mercenary groupâÂDevlin “Devil” Buchanan isn't afraid to take justice into his own hands. But with EXIT Inc closing in and several women's lives on the line, Detective Emily O'Malley and Devlin must work together to find the missing women and clear both their names before time runs out . . . and their key to freedom is thrown away.
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“I
want to talk to you about what you do at EXIT.”
“No.”
She blinked. “No?” Her cell phone beeped. She grabbed it impatiently and took the call. A few seconds later she shoved the phone back in her pocket. “Tuck's outside. The SWAT team is set up and ready to cover us in case those two yokels decide to start shooting again. The area is secure. Let's go.” She headed toward the door.
“Wait.”
She turned, her brows raised in question.
He braced his legs in a wide stance and crossed his arms. “If I'm not under arrest, there's no reason for me to go to the police station.”
Her mouth firmed into a tight line. “You're not under arrest only if you agree to the deal I offered. The man who killed Shannon Garrett and the unidentified victims in that basement is holding at least two other women right now, doing God only knows what to them. All I'm asking is that you answer some questions to help me find them, so I can save their lives. Doesn't that mean anything to you?”
Of course it did. But he also knew Kelly Parker, and anyone with her, couldn't be saved by Emily and her fellow cops. It was becoming increasingly clear that Kelly was the bait in a trap to catch
him
. The killer would keep her alive, maybe even provide proof of life at some point, to lure Devlin to wherever she was being held. Did he care about her suffering? Absolutely. Which meant he had to come up with a plan to save her without charging full steam ahead and getting himself killed. Because once the killer eliminated his main preyâÂDevlinâÂhe'd have no reason to keep either of the women alive.
He braced himself for his next lie. If Emily thought he was bad to supposedly get a woman pregnant and abandon her, she was going to despise him after this next one.
“Finding and saving those women is your job,” he said. “I have other things to do that are a lot more fun than sitting in an interrogation room.”
The shocked, disgusted look that crossed her face was no worse than the way he felt inside. Like a jerk, and a damn coward. But if sacrificing his pride kept her safe, so be it. He had to get outside and offer himself as bait to lead his enemies away from the diner before she went out the front. He strode past her to the bathroom door.
“Stop, Devlin, or I'll shoot.”
He slowly turned around. Seeing his sexy little detective pointing a gun at him again seemed every kind of wrong, especially when his blood was still raging from the hot kiss they'd just shared.
“Seriously?” he said, faking shock. “You're drawing on an unarmed man?
Again
? What will Drier say about that? Or Alex? I smell a lawsuit.”
She stomped her foot in frustration.
The urge to laugh at her childish action had him clenching his teeth. She was the perfect blend of innocence, naiveté, and just plain stubbornness. Before he did something they'd both regretâÂlike kissing her againâÂhe slipped out of the bathroom.