Reunited With The Bull Rider. Christine WengerЧитать онлайн книгу.
enough work to do being the personal assistant to the Beaumonts. “Um, uh...maybe when I have everything organized, having a reunion is something to think about.”
“Don’t you ever have fun, Callie?”
“Basically...no. Not since high school. I’ve been juggling many balls in the air. I have responsibilities and obligations.”
“Responsibilities and obligations? Sounds serious.”
“It is. They are.” She decided to change the subject because she sounded like such a dud. Maybe she was, but such was life. “I liked the prom. If I remember correctly, Tiffany McGrath, head cheerleader, was the prom queen and you were king.”
“I wonder what Tiff is doing now.”
“She lives on Maple Street and has three kids. She married Josh Nelson. Remember how everyone called him Nerdy Nelson? He’s not. He’s a full-time investment broker and a volunteer firefighter. Tiff has her own gift shop on Main Street—Gifts by Tiff.”
“Tiff had dreams of working for the United Nations. She was studying three languages.” He shook his head. “She wanted to move out of Beaumont and go to a big city.”
“Things change, Reed. People change. She told me that she wanted to raise her family in Beaumont.”
“That’s nice.” He paused, as if he were thinking, then asked, “Do you ever regret not going to New York?”
“Maybe, but here I have responsibilities and—”
“Obligations,” Reed finished.
“Yes.”
She couldn’t leave if she wanted to. She was entrenched in Beaumont, and her mother had her own local doctors who’d saved her from breast cancer ten years ago, and she hoped they’d be able to do it again now.
Her twin brothers would be leaving for college soon, but Beaumont was where they loved to be right now—in the small bungalow on Elm that she’d bought for them. Well, the bank owned it, but as long as she kept working as hard as she had been and kept up with the taxes and the monthly payments, no one would ever evict them again.
Never.
“Is the TV station still on Wells Avenue?” Reed asked.
“Yes. And we’re cutting the time short. You won’t have much time to prepare.”
“I’ve done a million of these things. I don’t need to prepare. ‘Reed, what made you become a bull rider?’ I’ll answer, ‘I love the adrenaline rush and the friends that I’ve made. And being with my brothers is another reason why I love riding. To love what you’re doing and make money doing it...well, it doesn’t get any better than that.’”
Callie chuckled. “I guess you don’t need to prepare after all.”
“If he asks me that question first, I’ll buy us coffee.”
“If he asks you that first, I’ll buy us lunch,” Callie said in a moment of exuberance she hadn’t felt in a long time. Goofy bets with Reed had been some of the best times of her teen years, and no one else she’d dated since he’d left had made her laugh like he had.
Callie parked in front of the station and they both hurried into the lobby, where Reed was whisked away to the booth. Callie was directed to a viewing room, where she settled into a comfy chair.
The announcer nodded to Reed. “With us is champion bull rider Reed Beaumont. Reed, tell the audience why you decided to ride bulls.”
Reed looked at Callie through the window of the booth, grinned and winked. Then he launched into his memorized speech.
Callie enjoyed watching him. He was in his element, casual and charming, informative and humble. She could tell he was excited about all aspects of bull riding and appreciated the PBR.
She used to be that excited about studying advertising and marketing. The internet had made everything so exciting. Besides, facts and figures were her strong suit, and developing spreadsheets was exhilarating. And who didn’t adore pie charts?
She studied Reed. He was sitting on a chair with wheels and his left arm was up in the air. Callie could hear how he was retelling one of his rides on Cowabunga, his nemesis.
Reed’s face was animated; his now sapphire eyes were twinkling—it was clear he simply loved the sport.
Then his interview was over and he stared at his crutches for a few seconds before he picked them up. She was probably the only one who noticed the slump of his shoulders and the droop at the corners of his mouth when he looked at them.
He wanted to be riding bulls. Even Beaumont probably ran second place to his love of riding bulls.
“Callie, do you want to grab that lunch you owe me? I’m famished. It’s on me because you drove me here.”
“It’s on me. I lost the bet. Besides, I don’t need any payback.”
“I know, but I’d like to treat you.”
She smiled. “I really should get back to work.”
“You pick the place,” Reed said as if he hadn’t heard her.
“If you like Italian food, I’d suggest Poppa Al’s Restaurant on Main and Willow.”
“Sounds great.” He moved, but his crutches didn’t. She could see the pain register on his face and how it hurt when his right leg bore some weight.
They walked toward Callie’s SUV. “I’m hoping that this thing heals fast because I keep my rank.” He stopped walking and turned to her. “Okay, who’s your favorite rider?”
“Probably your brother Luke,” she lied. “He can ride anything with hair.”
Reed put his hands over his heart. “I’m wounded.”
“Yes, you are.” She pointed to his leg, then aimed the key fob at her ancient SUV to unlock it. Sometimes it worked; sometimes it didn’t. Today it didn’t, so she unlocked the driver’s side manually and leaned over to open the passenger side for Reed.
“You need to let your knee heal. You shouldn’t have done that interview.”
Reed sighed. “Rick said it’d be good publicity for us and for the PBR. I was committed to it.”
“Committed to it? You didn’t even remember—”
“That’s why I need a personal assistant, Callie. I got so much on my mind.”
“By going back to riding too soon, wouldn’t you be jeopardizing your life? I mean, if you have a knee injury that hasn’t healed yet, when your ride is over, can you hurry and run away before the bull pounds you into the dirt?” Callie asked.
“I might be a little slow getting away.”
“Then you are jeopardizing the lives of the bullfighters whose job it is to protect you.”
He paused for a while. “I’ll give them a heads-up. But you have to remember that almost every bull rider rides with injuries.”
“I suppose so, Reed, but I hate to see you hurt.”
“It almost sounds like you care.”
“Yeah, I care. I do. I don’t want to see any of you riders hurt.”
Reed put his hand on her shoulder and left it there for several beats. Her mouth suddenly went dry and her heart pounded in her ears.
She steeled herself and sternly reminded her heart that she’d had four serious relationships that never ended at the altar for various reasons.
And she was counting Reed, too. He’d been the first one.
Callie didn’t want Reed touching her, even if it was on top of a blouse and a sleeveless plaid vest. She’d sworn