Montana Sky

different way of taming them. We’ll see,” she added, then let out a whoop as the chute opened and horse and rider shot out. “Ride that devil, Jim!”
    He careened by in a cloud of dust, one hand thrown high.
    When the eight-second bell clanged, he jumped clear, rolled, then gained his feet to the wild cheers of the onlookers.
    “Not bad,” Ben said. “I’m coming up.” With manhood and pride at stake, he cupped his hands under Willa’s elbows, lifted her up, and kissed her. “For luck,” he said, then swaggered off.
    “Think he’ll take our Jim, Will?” Billy wanted to know.
    She thought Ben McKinnon could take damn near anything. “He’ll have to ride like a hellhound.”
    Though the blonde shifted under his arm in a bid for attention, Billy tugged Willa’s sleeve. “You’re up against him in the target shooting, aren’t you?”
    “That’s right.”
    “You’ll take him, Will. We all put money on you. All the boys.”
    “Well, I wouldn’t want you to lose it.” She watched Ben climb over the chute. He tipped his hat to her, a cocky move that made her grin back at him.
    When his horse leaped out of the door, her heart did a foolish little roll in her chest. He looked . . . magnificent, she decided. Riding straight on that furious horse, one hand grabbing for the sky, the other locked to the saddle. She caught a glimpse of his eyes, the dead-focused concentration in them.
    They look like that when he’s inside me, she realized, and her heart did another roll, quicker. She didn’t even hear the bell clang, but watched him jump down, the horse still kicking furiously. He stayed on his feet, boots planted. And though the crowd cheered, he looked straight at her. And winked.
    “Cocky bastard,” she muttered. And I’m hip-deep in love with him.
    “Why do they do that?” Tess asked from behind her.
    “For the hell of it.” Grateful for the excuse to think of something else, Willa turned. Tess had turned herself out for the day. Tight jeans, fancy boots, a bright blue shirt with silver trim that matched the band on her snowy-white hat. “Well, ain’t you a picture. Hey, Nate. Ready for the race?”
    “It’s a tight field this year, but I’m hopeful.”
    “Nate’s helping out with the pie-eating contest.” Tess chuckled and tucked an arm through his. “We were hunting up Lily. She wanted to watch, since she helped make the pies.”
    “I saw her . . .” Willa narrowed her eyes and searched the crowds. “I think she and Adam were helping out withthe kids’ games. Egg toss, maybe, or the three-legged races.”
    “We’ll find her. Want to tag along?”
    “No, thanks.” Willa shrugged off Tess’s invitation. “I may catch up later. I need a beer.”
    “You’re worried about her,” Nate murmured as they zigzagged through the crowd.
    “I can’t help it. You didn’t see her the day she came back from the cemetery. She wouldn’t talk about it. Usually I can goad her into talking about anything, but not this.”
    “It’s been over two months since Jesse Cooke was murdered. That’s something to hang on to.”
    “I’m trying.” Tess shook herself. There was music, people, laughter. “It’s a hell of a party. You do throw amazing parties out here.”
    “We can start throwing our own anytime you say.”
    “Nate, we’ve been there. I’m going back to LA in October. There’s Lily.” Desperate for the distraction, Tess waved wildly. “I swear, she glows all the time now. Pregnancy certainly agrees with her.”
    Nate thought it might agree with Tess as well. That was something else they could start—once he’d finished pecking away at this stubborn idea of leaving.
     
    T HE FIRST FIREWORKS EXPLODED AT TWENTY MINUTES PAST dusk. Color leaped over the sky, shadowed the stars, then bled down like tears. Willa let herself be cuddled back against Ben to watch the show.
    “I think your daddy likes sending those bombs off more than the kids like to watch.”
    “He and Ham argue over the presentation and order every blessed year.” Ben grinned as a gold starburst bloomed overhead with a crackling boom. “Then they cackle like hens, taking turns lighting fuses. Never would let Zack or me have a hand in it.”
    “It’s not your time,” she murmured. That, too, would come. That, too, was continuity. “It was a good day.”
    “Yeah.” He covered her hands with his. “Real good.”
    “Not miffed ’cause I beat you shooting?”
    It still stung, a little, but