Chapter Four

Shane

Shane found Churrascaria easily enough and walked right in. When he saw who was at the big table, he almost turned around and walked back out again. But Abigail had zeroed in on him. His ex-wife lifted up her wine glass in a challenging toast. It was that extra half a second that he wasted that allowed the other guys at the table to turn around and spot him.

Keith, Nash, Taylor, Ronnie Sunderland and his wife Vanessa, and two women he didn't know were just being served their drinks.

"Shane," Abigail called out. "Come and join us."

Bitch.

She knew he hated eating dinner with a bunch of people he didn't know or like. Keith didn't seem too happy with the idea, but Nash and Taylor turned in their seats with welcoming smiles.

"Yeah, there's always room for one more," Ronnie said, hopping up to grab a chair from a nearby table. "Scoot down."

Shane was about to turn them down and just go grab a burger somewhere when the smell of fried onions, garlic, and fresh-baked bread hit him in the gut.

"It's all you can eat," Taylor said, grinning.

Shane reluctantly sat at the open space at the end of their table. Unfortunately, he was at the exact opposite side from where Abigail was. She looked like the Queen of Hearts, lording it over the entire group. She was still pretty, although Shane could see the years of living on the road in her face. All the makeup in the world couldn't hide the cynicism in her eyes and the twist of her ruby red lips. She still had a rockin' body, but Shane wasn't even the least bit interested. Even if her fiancé wasn't still glaring daggers at him, Shane had zero desire to see if Abigail was still an animal in bed.

He was currently distracted by Reba Keller's soft mouth and generous curves, not to mention the fierce intelligence in her eyes and the way she could make him smile with a tart comment. Shane wished he was the type of man who would have invited himself along on Reba's family night. At the very least, he could have pushed to take her out for drinks afterward.

But he figured that she'd be the dessert, and he didn't want to offend her by just offering up sex. That was the old Shane. Or rather, that was the younger Shane. He was now older and hopefully wiser. Yeah, he wanted to dance in the sheets with Reba Keller. But he also wanted to talk to her, too.

He didn't want to talk to his ex or these youngsters, who even though they were less than ten years younger than him, made him feel like he was their father's age. After Taylor and Nash introduced their dates, Wendy and Becky, Shane placed his order with the waitress for a caipirinha.

"What's in that?" Becky asked.

Shane pointed to the menu. It said cacha?a, lime, and sugar.

"What's cacha?a?"

"I guess I'll find out."

"That's what I love about you bull riders. You're always willing to take chances on everything," she gushed.

"It's not that daring," Abigail droned. "It's basically Brazilian rum." She waved her phone at Becky. "Google, darling. It's your friend."

"And Shane's not a bull rider," Keith said.

"Not anymore," Taylor added. "He used to be a champion."

Shane hid a wince. Was anything worse than being called used to be? Where was his drink? He looked around, but the waitress hadn't even made it to the bar yet. It was going to be a long night.

"What happened?" Wendy asked.

"He wrecked," Abigail said.

"Badly," Shane added.

"I'm so sorry," Becky said. "That must have been awful."

"What do you do now?" Wendy asked, with a slight frown.

"Believe it or not, there is life after bull riding," he said.

Sometimes, Shane even managed to convince himself of that. Unfortunately, today was not one of those days. He wished his brother Rick was here on behalf of the bulls and Shane was with these idiots drinking and thinking about victory tomorrow.

"The hell you say," Taylor said, taking a swig of his beer.

"What do you know about it?" Keith said. "You're just a clown."

"A clown who saved my bacon," Ronnie pointed out.

"And one who just might let a bull tromp on your skull if you don't stop being such a dick," Taylor said good-naturedly.

Shane smirked. He did not like Keith. At first, he was worried that it was because he was banging Abigail. But no, that wasn't it. They deserved each other. Keith was a turd in a cigar box.

"I hate that we can't smoke in here," Ronnie's wife Vanessa said.

"You can go outside," Ronnie said.

"And miss all the fun?" Vanessa pouted.

Yeah, this was fun.

The waitress, bless her, handed him his drink and he knocked it back. It burned nicely. "It's got a bigger bite than rum," he told Becky. "I'll have another," he said to the waitress before she had moved away from the table. "But make this one with the dragon fruit this time."

"It's not like you to water down your drinks with mixers," Abigail said, even as she swirled a swizzle stick around what was probably a Hendricks gin with lime and seltzer.

Shane wasn't going to get into it with her. Handling Abigail with a slight smile and ignoring what she said was the best way to defuse the situation. Six months of marriage had taught him that there wasn't anything she liked better than getting the last word in. It used to be his mission in life not to give in to that. Now, he just didn't give a fuck.

Although, he still felt the sting of betrayal every now and then. She'd left him when he had needed her most. Would it have killed her to give it a little more time? Abigail had upped and left at the first sign of trouble. Their marriage was probably doomed from the start, but he would have liked to have ended it when they were both on equal footing. Instead, Shane had to wonder if he was still riding bulls if they'd be still together. He didn't think so, but it niggled at him.

"You got it," the waitress said. "What can I get y'all?"

"Now, don't fill up on plantains and the rice and beans," Nash said. "That's a rookie mistake."

"I think I should just get a salad," Wendy said.

"You don't come to a place like this for a salad," Shane said. "You've got to try all the meat."

"What if I can't eat it all?" Wendy said.

"I'll help," Taylor said.

"To be fair," Becky said. "That's an epic-looking salad bar. I see shrimp and crab legs."

"Well, in that case," Shane said. "Let's go check it out."

Vanessa, Becky, and Wendy stood up with him. Abigail glared, and if she had been a cat, her tail would have been slamming down on the table.

Shane had to admit, he could have made a meal out of the spread at the salad bar but the servers walking around with slabs of tantalizing-smelling meats on vertical skewers had him selecting just a few pieces of seafood.

When he got back to the table, their waitress was explaining the process. She held up a coaster. "This is rodizio-style serving," she said. "What that means is that if the gauchos see green"—she held up the coaster showing the green side—"they're going to keep bringing over skewers of different meats to try until you tell them to stop by turning over to the red side. Now, you can change your mind after a quick break. Just turn it back to green and that will let them know you're ready for round two."

The gaucho behind her had a skewer of pink beef, just dripping with juice.

"What's that?" Vanessa asked, shuddering dramatically.

"This is picanha," the waitress said. "It comes from the top of the rump. It's tender. You'll love it. We season it with coarse salt and garlic."

"Set us up," Nash said.

"Enjoy." The waitress left, and the gaucho sliced several chunks off from his skewer and served everyone.

Vanessa quickly turned her coaster to red.

They had barely enough time to finish that when the next gaucho handed out sausages, and another one right behind them sliced off some chicken wrapped in bacon. The picanha had melted in his mouth and he wanted more. But he was happy to sample the rest of the meats as well. Lamb followed and then beef ribs.

"What's this one?" he asked the waitress as she served him his second drink, barely swallowing his mouthful.

"That's fraldinha. It comes from the bottom of the sirloin, near the flank. We slice it thin against the grain and marinate it with soy sauce, lime juice, garlic, and spices."

"I'm in heaven," Shane said.

"I'll get you some more." She signaled the gaucho.

"Well, they say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach," Abigail said. Her coaster was still green. Shane had always admired her appetite, both in and out of the bedroom.

Pork ribs followed, then pork loin, and by the time round two came around, Shane flipped his side over to red. Abigail gave him a triumphant look and accepted another slice of the picanha. There would have been a time when he would have flipped the coaster back to green just so she wouldn't win. But he was no longer competing with her, and, damn, but it felt great.

The only thing better was if he could have shared this experience with Reba. He wondered if she preferred the picanha over the fraldinha, or how she would drink her caipirinha. He should have taken a picture and texted her it, but that just wasn't him. Shane watched as Becky and Wendy took shots for Instagram and shook his head. He wasn't even on social media. He thought his brother might have set Viking Ranch up on there, but he'd never bothered to check.

"You never said what you did for a living," Becky said, having long since turned her coaster to the red side.

"I work on my family's ranch. We're bull breeders."

"Oh," Wendy said, her eyes sparkling. "Those dangerous beasts are yours?"

"Some of them, yeah."

"That Sverre is a bastard," Keith said, sneering.

Every bull rider at the table agreed.

"He is indeed." Shane raised his glass to toast his bull, but no one took him up on it. He drank anyway.

"I'm going to be the first to go eight seconds on him," Keith said.

"Of course, you will," Abigail purred, putting her hand on his forearm. She still wore her candy apple red nails long. This time, she had put sparkling gems on them that caught the candlelight of the restaurant.

"Good luck," Shane said, even though he didn't mean it.

"His price goes down when I do, right?" Keith said.

"Not by much." Shane shrugged. "If it goes down too much, there's always other rodeo organizations."

Abigail leaned forward. "So you're not on an exclusive contract with UPRC?"

He couldn't let Abigail know how much this line of conversation interested him. "Not yet," he said.

"Anyone ready for dessert?" the waitress asked.

There were satisfied groans at the table, but Abigail glared up at the woman. She didn't like to be interrupted.

"I'll have the tres leche cake," Shane said.

"Same," Abigail snapped out.

The bull riders opted out of dessert and ordered more drinks for them and their ladies instead.

"It must be important for you that the bulls toss us off more often than not," Nash said.

Shane wondered what Nash was getting at. It was asked casually, without anger, but he sensed that his answer would be important to Nash for some reason. "I've been where you are," he said. "No one wants to ride a tame bull. You wouldn't be in this sport if you didn't like the challenge of pitting yourself against two thousand pounds of rage. But if you go eight seconds on Sverre and break his streak, good for you. I've got five other bulls coming up in the next year that will give you a run for your money."

"But Sverre can't command the same price once he's been ridden for eight seconds," Abigail pointed out.

"Depends," Shane said. "There are plenty of championship bulls that command a great price and they've all been ridden for eight seconds."

"That's the key, though," Nash said slowly. "You've got to give the cowboys a good ride and you have to give the crowd a good show."

"That's the name of the game," Shane said. It was a strange line of questioning that Nash was following. A bull rider knew these things. Maybe he was showing off for the ladies?

"That must be a lot of pressure," Nash said. "Your paycheck is riding on animals that you can't control."

"It's all in the breeding and the training," Shane said. "And my family has been doing it for years."

"My uncle is thinking of getting into the business," Keith said.

"Isn't he a veterinarian?"

"Yeah, but it gives him an edge. He can take care of his own bulls instead of hiring out. Although, he's looking to hire Killer's sister away from the UPRC to help him out."

Shane forced himself not to react. Not bloody likely, based on how Reba reacted to him.

"I think she likes her job with the rodeo," Ronnie said.

"She's a bitch," Vanessa said.

"Watch yourself," Shane said.

Ronnie glared at him, and Shane figured that it was his time to leave.

"Do you know this Reba well, Shane?" Abigail said with fake sweetness.

Standing up from the table, Shane threw a couple of hundreds by his plate. "She looked after one of my bulls."

"And Starshine," Ronnie said, turning the glare onto his wife.

"She sounds like a paragon of virtue," Abigail said icily.

"I hope not." Shane flashed her a grin and then walked away without looking back. He didn't need to because he knew she was seething for not being able to get in the last word.

What could he say? Sometimes old habits were hard to break.

*

Reba helped herselfto a big spoonful of scalloped potatoes, mashed potatoes, and French fries.

"Are you on the anti-Atkins diet?" Dolly asked. Her plate was perfectly sectioned with a slice of grilled chicken, a side of asparagus, and a lemon wedge.

"You mind your dinner and I'll mind mine," Reba said.

"At least put some meatloaf on that plate." Her other sister, Loretta, shoveled a spatula portion on top of her potatoes.

"I was getting to that." Reba added some grilled onions and mushrooms before heading back to their table.

LeAnn and Dylan were already digging into their prime ribs. Their parents had decided to go play cards with friends, so Reba no longer felt guilty that they had flown the coop on them tonight.

When they were settled back at the table, Dolly took pictures of all their food and made LeAnn and Dylan pose with their steaks.

"No one cares what we eat," LeAnn said, between her teeth while posing with a toothy smile.

"Wrong," Dolly said. "Five thousand followers and three hundred likes can't be wrong. But we can do better for your site. Thank you for wearing your new Cowgirl Couture outfit."

"Thank them for the fat check this month," LeAnn said.

"Tell me something exciting about the rodeos," Loretta said. "Let me live vicariously through you."

"I had to put a bull on a diet," Reba said.

"That sounds thrilling," Loretta deadpanned.

"I delivered a calf that was stuck, using chains."

"We're eating," Loretta complained.

Reba shrugged and went back to her potatoes.

"You should come with us for a season," LeAnn said.

"Someone has to stay home with the 'rents," Loretta said.

"Why?" Reba asked. "They're fine. Don't let them fool you."

Loretta shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "What would I even do? I'm not an athlete." She gestured to LeAnn. "Or good with animals." She inclined her head at Reba. "Or into social media like Dolly."

"You could learn. I mean, I'm sure Reba could use an assistant," Dolly said.

"No," Reba said. "Loretta has delicate sensibilities."

"I do not," Loretta said.

"What would you do if you stepped in cow manure?"

"Ew, I'd throw my shoes out."

Reba nodded. "See? Why don't you have her work with you?"

"If she doesn't like bullshit, she's not going to like working in public relations." Dolly clinked glasses with LeAnn.

"I think I can handle hypothetical bullshit," Loretta said.

"It's not hypothetical, but if hanging out with Mom and Dad is giving you cabin fever, you're welcome to bunk with me in Dallas."

"Let me think about it. I still play around with the idea that I'm going to go back for my art history degree."

Reba shot her a hard stare. "Just not at Paris Community College, right?"

"Right," Loretta said. "Although, Professor Singer is getting a divorce."

"No, he's not," Dolly said, and with a few taps of her fingers brought up Loretta's former professor—and boyfriend's—Instagram page. There were several shots of him laughing with his wife and two kids.

"I didn't know he had a family. I had just wanted to forget about Derek."

Derek was her jerk of an ex-husband.

"I know, honey," Dolly said. "Singer was a rebound and a fling. You deserve better than both Derek and him."

"That's what Mom and Dad say." Loretta scowled into her plate.

"Well, just because they say things over and over again doesn't mean they're wrong," Dolly said.

"Maybe I do need a change of scene."

Reba felt bad for Loretta. She was the oldest and Mom and Dad had such high hopes for her. But she quit college to marry Derek who was an aspiring rock star. Only to dump him when he knocked up one of his groupies. His Instagram was a party page, too. Reba made Dolly check on him every so often. Reba kept hoping to see that he'd had all of his guitars stolen or that he'd come down with a raging case of syphilis or something.

Then Loretta had gone back to college and had a torrid affair with her professor. Loretta had found out at a school event that the asshat was married and had kids. So Loretta had quit college and was living with their parents until she figured out what her next move was going to be. But at least she had her art. She drew caricatures at local events and took commissions for artwork on Etsy.

"Maybe you could paint rodeo scenes and sell them at all of the venues we go to?" LeAnn said.

"I'd have to get started now to build up inventory," Loretta said, but she perked up and, for the first time in a long while, seemed really happy about something.

Reba hoped it worked out. "You can travel in the RV with me, if you want." It wasn't as if she needed all the room when it was just her and occasionally Dolly. "But we should see if Mom and Dad will relent and let us take Siegfried and Roy with us. Siegfried was her orange striped cat and Roy was her pittie. Both had been rescues that had been abandoned at Kilgore Veterinary. She missed her pets.

"That discussion is all on you," Loretta said. "I don't think Dad would give up his daily walks with Roy. And Mom loves to have Siegfried on her lap when she's watching television."

That was news to her. Her parents had been vehemently against taking in her pets all through her childhood. Of course, Reba had brought home everything from snakes to tarantulas to birds and turtles, in addition to the odd stray cat or dog.

As her family finished up with dinner, Reba felt like someone was watching her. Like there were two holes drilling into her back. She got a bad feeling in her stomach, but she refused to turn around.

"Dolly," she said and waited until her sister looked at her. "I don't want you to react. But look over my shoulder. Is Dr. Kilgore sitting behind me."

Dolly flicked a glance over Reba's head. "Not that I can see. Why?"

Reba had told everyone at the table that she'd seen him in the bullpens this morning. Dolly filled Dylan in on the history behind Reba and Dr. Kilgore. Of course, Dolly didn't know the whole story. No one did. And the more time that passed, the less she wanted to bring it up. But Reba knew she was just burying her feelings. Maybe like a bad infection that healed over, she had to lance it to get the poison out.

"I never knew he threw a glass jar at you," LeAnn said.

"Technically, he threw it at the wall. We didn't tell you because we didn't want to distract you on the circuit," Reba said. "It didn't matter." It still didn't matter. It was over. And things would get better as soon as they were out of Paris, Texas, and on the road again.

"It matters," LeAnn said, glaring around the restaurant.

LeAnn scraped her chair back loudly. And glared around the room as if she was looking for Dr. Kilgore.

"LeAnn," Reba warned, but it warmed her heart that her sisters believed her. Maybe she could trust them with the rest of it. Not tonight, of course, and probably once they were out of state, just in case they decided to make it personal with Dr. Kilgore. If they believed her that he had made a pass at her. Reba still wasn't sure they would.

"Let me check with Uncle Lou and see if he knows what Kilgore wanted." Dylan pulled out his phone and began to text. LeAnn reluctantly sat down.

"You don't have to," Reba said. She was so thankful her job let her travel from state to state, just in case there were any other Dr. Kilgores around. Reba was lucky that the UPRC had hired her on full-time. It was her dream job. It kept her safe and sane. She liked where she was, and she wouldn't go back to working in an office for anything. What she needed to do was to move out of her comfort zone and start reintroducing herself into social situations so her default move wasn't to run and hide.

"I'm going to go out with a new guy," she blurted out, hoping to change the subject.

That stopped the conversation flat.

"Who is he?" Dolly said, her eyes gleaming and her finger poised on her phone.

"Shane Calland," Reba muttered, already regretting saying anything.

LeAnn cocked her head. "Who's that?"

"He used to be a bull rider," Dylan said. "A damned good one. Now he works with his family as a bull breeder."

LeAnn nudged him with her elbow. "Grill Lou about him."

"No," Reba said. "No grilling. No stalking him on the internet. We're just going out for dinner in San Antonio. It's just dinner." She stressed the last part, but she knew she might as well be talking to the wall.

"Is he hot?" Loretta asked.

Dolly flashed her a picture from her phone. It was an older one from an old Men's Professional Rodeo Circuit program. "He was something else when he was riding."

Loretta gave a slow whistle. "He looks like a Viking in a cowboy hat."

He did a bit.

"Just be careful with your heart," Loretta said.

Reba nodded. All she was looking for was one good kiss. One that would make her forget about the last one she'd had to endure. She hoped Shane was a good kisser. And who knew, maybe it would lead to something else. It had been a long time for that, too.

The back of her neck still itched like she was being watched. Reba should probably call it an early night before dessert so she could be well rested for the drive to the next rodeo tomorrow.

"I'm just going to get some dessert. Anybody want anything?" LeAnn asked.

"No," Reba said. "I think I'm going to get going. I'm beginning to get paranoid. Maybe I should just head out to San Antonio early."

"You better wait until tomorrow. There'll be hell to pay if you don't say goodbye to Mom and Dad," Loretta said.

"Yeah, okay. I'll see you in the morning. I'll take care of the check and the tip. You guys stay as long as you want." Reba stood up and turned.

As she made her way over to the register, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Dr. Kilgore was smiling broadly and was walking fast toward her. Every instinct in Reba told her to run. But she calmly turned her back on him and handed her credit card to the cashier.

Hurry. Hurry.

While she waited for the credit card machine to finish processing, she risked a glance over her shoulder. He was almost upon her.

"Reba, what a coincidence," he said, reaching out to her.

Then out of nowhere, LeAnn flew at him. She had been carrying a large bowl of chocolate pudding in both hands. There was enough pudding there for their entire family, topped with whipped cream. It was too timed, too perfect to be accidental. LeAnn tackled into him. The pudding bowl toppled into his face.

"Whoops," LeAnn said, crashing down on Dr. Kilgore's leg so they both hit the ground. The pudding bowl cracked open.

Kilgore thrashed and snarled.

Dylan was suddenly there, helping LeAnn to her feet. "Darling, are you all right?" he asked.

"I must have tripped on that rug," LeAnn said with fake innocence. "I'm so sorry." She then grabbed a napkin off a nearby table and tried to mop up the mess while Dr. Kilgore sputtered and flailed.

The cashier handed Reba back her card. She gave her sister a grateful look and walked out of the restaurant.

This was bullshit. She should walk right back in there and confront Kilgore. Tell him to fuck off and leave her alone. But it would make an even bigger scene and she'd probably have to restrain all her sisters from kicking the shit out of him after they found out what he had done.

Or Dr. Kilgore could turn the restaurant against her. After all, he was a beloved local veterinarian and she had quit his practice. He told her before that if she pressed the issue, he'd blacklist her. He no longer had that power, but it still made her want to run and hide. Reba knew her fear was irrational. If she could only convince her stupid brain to stop the fight-or-flight nonsense, she'd have a better shot of standing up to the fucker.