Handful of Sky Read Online Free Page B

barebackriding form: The “dude’s” free hand was held high, and both his dull spurs were planted high in the horse’s shoulders. Zeus seemed to be suspended in midair, all four hooves off the ground and his body bowed into a shuddering arc. It was the image of a prize-winning champion, not the first-time novice he’d fooled Shallie into believing he was.
    Zeus landed hard on his forelegs with a shock which almost always unseated whatever pesky human was attempting to stay on his back. The sunglassed cowboy absorbed the shock effortlessly, his right arm seemingly welded to the leather rigging. His timing was so perfect that he and Zeus appeared to have choreographed their moves. For eight seconds this unknown cowboy epitomized the best in rodeo, the mastery that was much more fluid grace than brute strength. Shallie became so caught up in it that she forgot the anger which had surged through her when she realized she’d been made a fool of.
    The crowd was absolutely silent as Zeus bucked into two more high, wild jumps that didn’t even jiggle the cowboy’s sunglasses. The horn blared out, signaling the end of the eight seconds, and the rider, timing his moves perfectly, let Zeus loft him up into the air so that he landed on his feet. The stunned crowd broke into bleacher-pounding applause. As the cowboy retreated to the back of the chutes, he stopped directlyin front of Shallie. With exaggerated chivalry, he swept his silver-gray hat from his head, unloosing a thick headful of dark, sweat-dampened hair, and bowed toward her.
    Embarrassment and anger heated Shallie’s cheeks. Cahill and Hoskins weren’t merely snickering anymore, they were laughing openly, delighted by the humiliating trick that had been played on the boss woman by the obviously experienced rider.
    “Pecos,” she barked. “Get up here and finish running the bareback. Wade, get the calves ready for the roping.”
    Shallie’s boot heels pounded a furious tattoo on the planks of the catwalk, then down the metal steps at the end of the chutes. She looked over her shoulder and saw the bronc rider coming after her. The soft earth slowed her escape, but she plowed forward determined that he was not going to enjoy any more cruel sport at her expense. The ecstatic cheering rang in Shallie’s mind like one long jeer.
    His hands broke through the nimbus of rage whirling about her and gripped her shoulders. The full length of his taut, muscular body pressed against her back, the rider held her the same way he’d ridden the bronc; with a pressure that was both firm and masterfully light. Again Shallie felt the inexplicable, smothering claustrophobia. She could smell the freshly laundered scent of his shirt combined with a mild tang from thesweat he’d worked up riding Zeus. As his body slid next to hers she could feel its warmth envelop her, penetrating the thin material of her blouse. His thumbs pressed against the taut muscles at the back of her neck. His hands spanned her shoulders, his fingers plunging over her collarbone. Their size made Shallie feel as if her shoulders—well-developed from years of riding and ranch work—were tiny, delicate as a bird’s wing beneath his palms. She knew her heart was beating rapidly as a trapped bird’s too and wondered if he could feel it. She was infuriated by everything, by the joke he’d played on her, by her own gullibility, but most maddeningly of all by his effect on her.
    “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. I wasn’t intending to make a fool of you.”
    “Well, then I congratulate you.” Shallie heard her words come out tight and angrier than she really felt at that moment. “Because you succeeded in doing exactly that without even trying.” Whether to add emphasis to her words or to make herself believe them, Shallie folded her arms in a furious barricade across her chest.
    The instant she did, though, she realized she’d made a mistake because the action pushed her breasts upward until their