Beauty and the Bull Rider by Victoria Vane Page B

of the same thing?” he said. “That I won’t measure up? That I’ll screw it up? I hope to hell I don’t, but I’m not going to let that fear keep me from going after what I want.”
    â€œAnd what’s that?” she asked.
    â€œThe same things you want—a home, a family. I came back to Oklahoma hoping to set down some roots. Maybe you came here for slightly different reasons, but you’ve stayed because you also wanted something to call your own. But the ranch isn’t enough anymore, is it? None of it has made you happy.”
    â€œNo,” she confessed in a whisper. “It hasn’t.” Although she tried to convince herself otherwise, she wasn’t content with her life.
    â€œSo then you poured your heart and soul into cattle . . . but bottle-feeding baby calves still wasn’t enough, was it?”
    â€œNo,” she said. It had only made her want more. Zac had seen right through her and forced her to confront the truth.
    He reached for her hand and placed it on his chest. “I have a hole here too.”
    She held her breath at the sensation of his strong, steady heart beating under her palm.
    â€œThere’s a heart in there all right,” he said. “It beats steady and does its job without complaint, but there’s something missing. I’ve been going through the motions for too damned long, and I think you’ve been doing the same. You think a baby’s gonna fill that hole, and maybe it will. But what if it’s still not enough? You’re a beautiful, intelligent woman. You should have everything life has to offer. Why settle for less? Why sell yourself short? You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be loved. You deserve to be with a man who appreciates you . . . and I’d like to be that man.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
    D elaney said nothing as Zac put the truck in gear and pulled back onto the road. His confession had shocked her speechless. How could she have known this man for so long, yet not know him at all? She stole a glance at him, vividly reminded of the adage about still waters. For almost eight years she’d worn her heartache like a badge of honor, but in less than a week this big, broody bull rider had reduced it to a barely perceptible twinge. She wanted so badly to be able to trust him. She longed to be held and kissed and touched . . . to be needed . . . to be loved . . . but things were happening so damned fast.
    The rest of the ride was short and silent, which only amplified the tension. Delaney’s nerves were stretched as taut as high-tensile wire by the time they pulled through the gate of the Circle B. It was a sprawling complex that included a main house, a bunkhouse, and a number of corrals and outbuildings. The main house was built in the style of a Mexican hacienda and sat on over ten thousand acres, which stretched out over grassy plains all the way to the river.
    The ranch had belonged to Tom Brandt. He and Ty’s father, Will, had been best friends and business partners in a rodeo company in their younger days. Tom had played around with Mexican fighting bulls back then, but his interest had died a sudden death when one of his prized animals gored and trampled Will Morgan to death. After that, Tom shut down his contracting business and shifted his main operation to raising Texas longhorns. He’d also taken on the role of surrogate father to Ty.
    Because Ty and Tom were close, Delaney had spent a lot of time at the Circle B during the first few months of her marriage, but things had changed after the divorce. Although Tom had never made her feel unwelcome, it wasn’t the second home to her that it was to Ty.
    She was surprised when Zac drove her around to the back rather than parking in front of the house. “I thought we were having dinner.”
    â€œWe are,” he replied. “But I have something to show you first.” He parked his truck adjacent to a maze of chutes and