Re-ride at the Rodeo Part of the Wayback, Texas Series from The Wild Rose Press Saddle bronc rider Clay Tanner is looking for a good time and the tempting little blonde who’s working the beer concession at the rodeo looks like she could use one—except she turns him down. Feeling like he’s been bucked off before the eight second buzzer, Clay’s betting he can score if she’ll give him a re-ride. But qualifying may call for more than he’s prepared to give. Dusty Morgan’s nonplussed when hard-bodied cowboy Clay Tanner hits on her. She doesn’t exactly have the kind of figure that attracts Texas cowboys. Besides, even though Clay’s deep timbered voice sends tingles clear to her toes, he’s an undependable rough stock rider and a player to boot. Though he may be what she desires, Dusty knows from experience he isn’t what she needs—or is he?

A few people scurried by, coke and popcorn spilling from their hands. Dusty wiped the perspiration from her face and stole a look at her reflection in the shiny metal of the fountain.

She hated wearing her hair up. It was long and, when pinned on top of her head, it was heavy. She squinted at her blurry image and fiddled with one of the loosened pins.

“Personally, I’d take it down.” The unfamiliar voice was rich and husky and its deep timber sent a little shimmer through her.

Taking time to get the pin right, she turned around. A tall, lean cowboy with slate-blue eyes gave her the once-over. His lips curved into an unexpected smile. The sexiest smile she’d seen in a while. Too long awhile.

She felt a little off-kilter staring into those clear blue orbs framed by lashes too thick to be wasted on a man, like her knees would give out any second. Years of being a waitress had taught her how to school her features into an expressionless stare even as his gaze traveled from her face to her waist and back up again, lingering at her small chest for an extra split second. About all the attention most men thought it was worth.

“How many?” she asked in her most business-like voice. No way would she let him see he’d had any effect on her. That handsome, boyish face, shaded by a black Stetson, no doubt had left countless broken hearts along the way and was used to unbalancing women. He wouldn’t get any satisfaction from her.

“How many times have I taken down a woman’s hair?” That smile became lopsided. Those eyes sparkled. And her heart skipped a beat.