“I like to pay my own way,” she said.
“I’ve got it, no problem.” He held her dark gaze, thinking how good it felt every time he stared into her big brown eyes.
Finally, she gave in and stuck the bills back in her pocket.
Only then did he rise. “’Scuse me.” She slanted her knees to the side, and he headed off toward the nearest concession booth.
It took a while. When he returned, Vanessa and Charity were whispering together, leaning over the empty seat they’d saved for him. As soon as he reached them, Vanessa scooted closer to Charity, as though his little sister might save her from his bad self.
Hiding a grin, he dropped down beside her and passed out the treats. On the dirt down below, bareback riding and steer wrestling had come and gone. And just after Earl Tillson announced team roping, some smart-ass a few rows back spoke too loudly for his own damn good. “Hey, look. That’s the fake Miss Bronco right there.”
“Yeah,” said some other fool, as Jameson slid his hot dog and root beer under his seat. “Where does she get off, stealing the crown like she thinks she’s got a right?”
Charity, Coke in one hand, hot dog in the other, started to stand to confront them.
Jameson reached behind Vanessa to clasp her shoulder. “I’ll take care of them,” he said quietly. “Be right back.”
“Wait—” Vanessa tried to stop him. Too bad she had both hands full.
And he was already on his feet, mounting the benches, striding straight up between seated spectators, scattering “’Scuse mes” as he went.
The two troublemakers, both of whom Jameson recognized as local kids a year or two younger than Charity, snickered as he reached their row. One of them sneered, “What’s your problem, man?”
“Gentlemen,” Jameson replied in an even tone. “The way I see it, we have two options at this point. You apologize to the rightfully chosen Miss Bronco here and now. Or you and me head on out to the parking lot where we can avoid blocking anyone’s view of the hardworking cowboys down in the dirt and discuss this unfortunate situation at length.” By then, both troublemakers were looking a tad worried.
“Apologize, you fools,” growled a middle-aged man down the row.
The skinnier of the two kids sent a glare at the older man and jumped to his feet. Sticking out his scrawny chest, he blustered, “Bring it!”
The other kid frowned, but he did get up.
Jameson led them out to the aisle and down to the ground. He was halfway to one of the side exits when he heard frantic whispering behind him. Counting silently to himself, he kept walking.
Five seconds elapsed before he heard two sets of boots take off at a run. Jameson turned to watch them flee—through the nearby exit and into the parking lot. He considered giving chase but figured the two had embarrassed themselves enough for one day. He headed back up into the stands again.
“Everything okay?” Charity asked when he sat down.
“Just fine. I think those two boys must’ve left the gas on at home. They ran off before we had a chance to communicate.”
Charity chuckled. “I remember them from high school. All hat, no cattle.”
Down below, a roper flanked and tied—smooth, clean and fast. The stands erupted in applause, the two troublemaking young fools long forgotten.
By everyone but Vanessa. She leaned close. “I am a schoolteacher, you know. I could’ve handled those two kids.”
That gave him another perfect opportunity to look into those deep, dark eyes again. “I know you could. But I see no reason why you have to fight every battle all on your own.”
The next hour and a half passed too quickly. To no one’s surprise, Geoff Burris triumphed, taking home a fine purse and the coveted Red, White and Bronco belt buckle. As they got up to go, Jameson had his mind on how to somehow get rid of his sister and then convince Vanessa to come to dinner with him.
A couple of Charity’s girlfriends came bouncing up just as the three of them were almost to the aisle. “Charity, party tonight out at the Kingston Ranch. You’ve got to come.”
Well, didn’t that just play right into his hand? Charity beamed him her sweetest smile. “I can get a ride home.”
One of the girls batted her eyelashes at him. “I’m driving, Jameson.”
“Fine with me. Vanessa and I will manage.”
Charity gave Vanessa a sheepish look. “Will you hate me for running off like this?”
