Page 17 of September’s Cowboy Travis

Then Travis backed his horse into the box. I set my cup down and wrapped both hands around the rail.

The gate opened.

The steer broke hard, with Travis charging after it and another cowboy keeping pace on the opposite side. Travis slid from the saddle and hit the ground running, his hands catching the horns while his boots dug into the dirt. For one awful second, the steer fought the turn.

Then Travis shifted his weight. The animal went over. The crowd erupted, and I realized I'd leaned halfway across the rail and shouted along with everyone else.

The announcer called his time. From the reaction of people sitting around me, it was good.

Travis got up, brushed dirt from his jeans, and looked toward the stands. Toward me.

His grin hit before I could pretend I wasn't waiting for it.

I picked up my iced tea instead of smiling back like an idiot.

I went back to the office and pulled the invoices in front of me again. The work should have been easy enough to disappear into, but I made it through the same line twice before realizing I hadn't absorbed a number.

Apparently watching Travis throw a steer into the dirt had been more distracting than I thought it would be.

I forced myself through another page before the door to the office opened. Addison leaned against the frame, still wearing her rodeo sash and an expression that made me immediately suspicious.

“So,” she said.

“No.”

“I didn't ask you anything.”

“You didn't have to.”

She laughed and stepped into the office. “He had a good run.”

“I noticed.”

“I bet you did.”

I pointed my pen at the door. “Don't you have rodeo-queen responsibilities somewhere?”

“This is community outreach.”

“Go outreach somewhere else.”

She waved then disappeared through the door as my phone started vibrating on the desk.

The message was from the bank contact helping me trace the transfer into Travis's account. The five thousand dollars hadn't come from some random account with Cedar Draw typed into the memo field. The originating account had a legitimate connection to one of the modern entities that had absorbed older Cedar Draw holdings.

It didn't explain why Travis had received the money, but the connection was real.

I requested the additional records and set my phone aside. I had a new lead, but without the documents behind it, anything else would be guessing.

“Hey, Harper.”

I looked up.

Travis stood in the doorway. He’d cleaned up, although dirt still streaked across his forearm. His competition number was gone, his hat sat farther back on his head, and the satisfaction on his face told me he knew exactly what I'd done during his run.

He crossed the room and stopped at the edge of the desk. “You watched me.”

“Against my better judgment.”