“It’s a fun thing we do,” Hail explained quickly, probably noticing how I’d gone rigid. “Fake arrests during the tour-tourist events. People donate money to get their friends arrested and…and…the proceeds go to local charities.”
“Oh.” I forced out a laugh that sounded much too hollow. “That does sound fun.”
“You should let us arrest you sometime,” Dungar said with what was probably meant to be a friendly grin. “The tourists love playing prisoner.”
The room spun. “Maybe.”
Hail was watching me with growing concern, and I realized I needed to pull myself together fast. Acting like a spooked rabbit around law enforcement was only going to raise more questions.
“Actually…” I stiffened my spine and put on my brightest smile. “I’m excited to be here because I have some experience with rodeos.”
Both brothers looked at me with interest.
“Really?” Dungar asked. “What kind of experience?”
“Oh, you know, the usual.” I waved my hand vaguely. “I’ve been around horses and cattle most of my life. Grew up on a ranch.” The lies came easier than they should. “I’ve done some barrel racing, helped with organizing events. When I heard you were planning a rodeo here, I thought maybe I could help out.”
Hail’s expression shifted to confusion. “You didn’t mention that before.”
“I was more focused on the pottery job.” I gave him what I hoped was a convincing smile. “But I’d love to help with both if you need me.”
Why did I feel this desperate need to prove I was valuable to this family? Maybe because they were the first people in years who’d made me feel welcome. Or because I was terrified they’d realize I was nobody special and send me away.
“That’s fantastic.” Dungar’s cop wariness way way to genuine enthusiasm. “We could definitely use someone with real experience. What kind of events have you worked?”
My mind went blank. “Events?”
“Yeah, what disciplines?” He leaned forward. “I did a lot of research online. Probably more than needed but?—”
“Dungar ha-ha-has O of the CD,” Hail said.
O of the… Ah, I understood now. “OCD.”
“Yes, that.” Dungar flicked out his hand. “I made a spreadsheet, something I never would’ve thought of in the orc kingdom, but I find so helpful now. Do you like spreadsheets?”
“Um…sure.”
“What’s your specialty? Bull riding, bronc riding, team roping?”
I fumbled for words, trying to remember anything I’d ever seen in Western movies. “All of them, really. I’m very…versatile.”
“You said barrel racing.” Hail tilted his head, nudging the front of his cowboy hat back. His perceptive dark eyes narrowed. “Now all the-the-the others? That’s…that’s a lot of different…things to master.”
“Right. Yes. Obviously.” Sweat gathered at the back of my neck and started raking itself down my spine. “I mean, I’ve done all sorts of things. My family…felt it was good to try as much as I could to…find where I was best. Yes, that. Find where I was best.”
“And that’s…” Hail’s gaze remained locked on my eyes.
Would they give me away? “Um, bull riding.” I was digging such a big hole, I’d never find my way out.
Dungar’s brow ridge climbed higher. “You’ve ridden bulls?”
The question hung in the air like a trap waiting to spring. I opened my mouth, then closed it, scrambling for an answer that wouldn’t sound completely ridiculous.
“I… Well, it’s been a while,” I said weakly.
Hail was definitely suspicious now. I could see it in the way he watched me, the frown creasing his forehead. He knew I was lying, but he couldn’t figure out why.
“What kind of bulls did you ride?” Dungar asked, and there was something in his tone that suggested this wasn’tidle curiosity anymore. “Brahmas? Angus cross? What was your average ride time?”
