by BA Tortuga
Rose couldn’t help moving, her entire body shifting against Les’ thighs. His body rocked against her in return, his muscles like steel bands under her legs and hands. When she pushed his shirt off, she could see a smattering of bruises from his rides, right there on his chest.
“Baby…” She leaned in, kissed each bruise gently.
“What?” Peering down at himself, Les chuckled. “It wasn’t all that bad.”
“Still. Poor cowboy.” She kissed the bruises again. “You smell good.”
“Yeah?” His fingers worked through her hair, freeing it. “I love your hair, honey.”
She flushed dark, let her head fall back.
“It’s so heavy, so good in my hands.”
Her whole body flushed as his fingers dragged through her hair, petting her. Nuzzling in under the side of the heavy fall, Les licked along her neck, his fingers finding her nipples. He never stayed in one place too long, just explored all of her.
Soon she was arching, crying out for him, begging for him. “Les…”
Les nodded, panting a little. “Need you, honey. Can I… We still got these pesky bottoms.”
“Uh-huh.” She stood up, stripping off her jeans like the worst kind of slut.
Les struggled out of his so fast she figured he’d leave skid marks. Then he was pulling her back down. She straddled him, leaned in to bring their lips together. Her cowboy.
She was just as much his too. She loved the way he felt against her, the way his chest hair rubbed her and made her more than a wee bit crazy. His hands slipped down her sides, fingers wrapping around her hips.
“My girl.” He grinned at her before rolling up a little to nibble at her neck.
“Mmmhmm. That feels so good, cowboy.”
“You taste good.” They were basking in each other, but that was okay.
She chuckled, brushing through Les’ hair. So thick, heavy, and a little bit slick. It clung to her fingers right next to his skull, slid away when she got out toward the ends. It was kind of fascinating. She moaned softly, rocking on his lap. “I could touch you forever.”
“Well, I ain’t gonna argue with that.”
“No? Might scare some guys away.”
“Not this one.” His hands moved over her, sure and confident. Never faltering.
“Good.” She took herself another kiss, her body sliding up along the hard shaft.
“Uh-huh. Real good.” That man could sound plumb dirty when he wanted to.
She leaned back, fingers wrapping around his hardness so she could rub the tip against that tiny bundle of nerves that felt so good.
“Oh, honey.” He shuddered, and his skin rose up with goosebumps.
“Uh-huh.” Her eyelids were heavy, need pulsing in the pit of her belly.
“I can’t wait no more, Rosie.” Les moved her into position, shifting her so he could push inside. She took him all in, moaning long and low as he stretched her wide. Les moaned, too, his forehead resting against hers. God, he was hot and fine.
“Cowboy.” She clenched her thighs and started moving, riding up and down, everything inside her singing. Les’ singing was a little more tangible. He did like to make noise. Her strong, silent cowboy. She tightened as she pulled up, his shaft dragging inside her. That made him grunt, made him grab at her hips. Those hands clamped down on her skin, Les yanking her down, then helping her back up. Down. Up. Things got a little wild then, her sounds more and more embarrassing, louder and louder.
They were together in it, though. Les slapped against her, a little crazy, getting a little clumsy.
“Les!” One of his hands slid around, touched her right where she needed it.
“Yeah, honey. So wet for me.” He moved his fingers in time with his hips.
She nodded. For him. Just for him. Her body tightened, her toes curled. Just as if she was an overwound spring, she snapped when Les hit that spot inside her, his fingers pressing her hard at the same time.
Rose heard him cry out, distantly, the moan almost like she’d done it herself. Les’ eyes went wide and hot, and the man bucked like a bronc, and he filled her deep, wet and good.
His arms held her close, fingers sliding down her back in long strokes.
“My girl.” He sounded so proud. Happy. She’d done that.
“My cowboy.” She sighed and cuddled, leaning hard.
“You know it, Rosie. Balls to bones.”
She thought she could live with that.
Chapter Sixteen
Rose pulled into the parking lot of the Roy H. Laird Memorial Hospital, sliding into a visitor spot near the doors of the emergency room.
Les had called half an hour ago, saying he was heading in, he’d gotten stepped on. Don’t worry. No big deal. Right.
No big deal, except that Les was in the emergency room.
She ran inside, headed right up to the big window. “I’m here for Les Jacoby.”
“Sure, honey. He’s right back in exam three.” Well, the admission lady didn’t seem worried, so that was a good sign.
“Thank you, ma’am. Buzz me in?” She smiled at the girl, nodding as the door opened. Three. God, she hated hospitals. “Les?”
“Rosie?” She heard his voice, a little rough, but talking. To her. Knowing her name.
“Yes.” No crying. None. Zero. “I got here as fast as I could.”
“Well, hey. Honey.” Les smiled at her when she got where she could see. The gash on his arm was almost all stitched up already.
“What happened?” No puking. No crying. No hysterics.
The little doctor man just chuckled but kept working without saying anything.
Les shook his head. “Well, I didn’t get out of the way fast enough, did I?”
She winced, took a step closer. “A horse get you?”
“Uh-huh. Pick up man.”
“Ouch. Do you… Do you need anything right now?”
“I could use a water, honey.” He smiled gently at her, calm as still water.
“Okay. I’ll grab a bottle.” She nodded, heading out of the bay, down the hall. She made it to the bathroom before the tears came, the sobs hitting her so hard they scared her a little. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t. The last time she was in a hospital she’d been with Timmy. Timmy’s body because he’d been dead before he even left the arena. Broken.
Gone.
“Oh, God. Please…” She’d loved Timmy, so much, and she loved Les now, and she just… She couldn’t do this.
She let herself cry it out, cry until she didn’t have anything left, then she washed her face with the coldest water she could stand.
Okay.
Okay.
Mascara. Powder. Water for Les.
Coping.
Coping.
She’d decided to love her a cowboy again—a rodeo cowboy—she could damned well cope. She wasn’t a baby.
When she got back to the bay, the doctor man was gone, and Les was resting back on the gurney, which was set up like an adjustable bed.
“Water. How long do you have to stay before I take you home?”
“Huh?” He looked a little woozy, one eye drooping a bit. “Oh. They want me to stay and get a shot or something.”
“’Kay.” She opened the bottle and handed it to him, then perched on the uncomfortable plastic chair.
“Thanks, honey.” His gaze sharpened a little. “You okay, Rosie girl?”
“I’m not the one to worry about, Les.” No. No, she wasn’t okay, but she wasn’t a giant dingbat, either. Now that the storm had passed, she could soldier on.
“Oh, I’m all right.” He chuckled, sounding gravelly. “I swear, honey, I was sitting on my butt watching the bull riding.”
“Damn bull riders.” She winked, tried to keep it together.
“Shit. It was the bull. He crashed the gate, knocked three of us off the fence. The pick-up man ran me over when I bounced.”
“Who was it? Gerardo Pena or Jim Hostler’s boy?” Gerardo’s wife, Mariposa
, made the best tamales, ever.
“Hostler.” Les laughed out loud. “You do know your stuff.”
“I used to be married to a bull rider. I know how it works. You learn quick to know all about rodeo because it’s the most important thing.” Those men were cowboys first, husbands second.
“Yeah.” Les sobered a little. “I’m just fine, honey.”
“I’m glad.” She dug around in her purse for some Tylenol. “What do you want for supper?”
“Something that’s not crunchy.” He laughed a little. “Maybe breakfast food?”
“Waffles and bacon it is.” She found the little bottle, took two. “How’re you doing?”
“Well, it hasn’t started to throb again, yet.” Les held out a hand to her. “Come sit here?”
“You sure?” At his nod, she slid over, fingers twining with his.
No crying.
None.
Zero.
“Uh-huh.” He pulled her close. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t.” She leaned in hard. “I’ll get better at this. I promise.” After all, she loved him.
“I hope you won’t have to.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m not much of a rodeo man, really.”
“I know that gets in your blood. I know.” She did. She’d loved a bull rider. They were the worst.
“I do it to make money.” That chuckle vibrated against her arm. “I can’t complain. It got me you.”
“It did.” She was his. All of her.
“Well, we just need to get me that shot of germ killers and we can get on out of here.” Les’ nose twitched, and she knew it was all that antiseptic smell getting to him.
She nodded, kissed his chin. “We’ll take my truck home and then I’ll get somebody to drive me out here after you’re settled to pick yours up.”
“Oh, I can get one of the boys to bring me out tomorrow, honey.”
The doctor man saved her an argument, coming in with a sterile tray. “This will be just a load of antibiotics. Your tetanus is up to date, thankfully.”
“Is the muscle okay? It’s just skin?”
“There’s not going to be any permanent damage.” The doctor smiled and patted her shoulder before going to do the hand sanitizer and glove thing. “It will be sore, certainly. There’s some tissue swelling. He’ll need to elevate.”
“I can do that. Are you sending him home with pain meds?”
“I can write a prescription if you like. Over-the-counter NSAIDS will be a great help, too.”
“Just tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll take care of him.”
He was hers, after all.
“I’ll give you a list.” Quick as a bunny, the doc did his thing, which was real nice, she figured, because usually they made a tech do all that.
Les didn’t fuss any, which didn’t surprise her. Hell, the money was the worst part. Damn little shows didn’t have a sports medicine team.
* * * *
They finally got on the road, Les folded into her truck without too much trouble. Bless his heart.
“Do you want me to take you straight home and then fill your prescription?”
“Oh, honey, you don’t have to do that tonight, you don’t want to.” Les was already nodding a little, eyelids so heavy.
“Hush.” She’d just stop on the way home and he could nap in the truck. Maybe she’d buy herself a little bitty bottle of rum and a Coke, just to take the edge off.
“Okay. I can wait in the truck.” He patted her hand, a little clumsy.
“Okay, sweetheart.” She pulled into the Brookshires, picking up a few groceries, bandages, Neosporin, and a cheap bottle of wine while she waited on the pharmacy.
The lady at the pharmacy counter wanted to ask, she could tell. Thank God she didn’t, or Rosie might have burst into tears. She got her bill paid, got the stuff to her baby truck, smiling at the sight of Les sleeping in the passenger seat.
She was so screwed.
So utterly screwed.
* * * *
Lord, Les was sore. Itching. Tired.
And feeling like a heel because he’d snapped at little Presley for stepping on his arm. What kind of idiot yelled at a dog just because he was aching?
Rose had hopped right up, given him pills and a Coke, then taken Presley for a walk, promising to bring home some burgers. She was a queen among women, but Les hated that she was walking on eggshells around him. He really did.
It didn’t make sense and it made a load of sense, all at the same time. Cowboys got hurt—rodeo or not. Fencing, roping, riding, critters, there wasn’t a bit of the work that couldn’t get a man injured. Still, he figured getting hurt in the rodeo made Rosie more sensitive to his mood, more jumpy. That didn’t seem right, but he sure didn’t know how to stay near her without riding to make the money.
He got up, started pacing, trying to not feel like there just wasn’t enough room to stretch out in Rosie’s baby apartment. It was just his mood, not something real. Les wasn’t one to dwell on shit—the day was too short usually. Rosie was worth some thought, though. Worth giving up the show, one hundred percent.
Maybe he could make some side money working construction instead. Or building fences. There was enough of that work in Longview that he could stop being lazy and trying to make easy money riding.
Once he got home—got her home, really, because that’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? His girl, home with him at the ranch—then he’d be okay. The boss was a solid man and that family had owned the land for generations. Les’ daddy had been the foreman there until he’d passed and he figured, eventually, that’d be his spot too.
Not that he wanted anything to happen to the gent holding the job now. Montgomery was a good man. Solid as the day was long.
One way or the other, he wanted to take Rosie home and show her his mountains, play with her in the snow, take her out riding in the springtime. His girl would wear pink ropers, he’d bet, and they’d get her a small mare, surefooted and calm.
The door opened and in came his girl, carrying a bag of burgers, Presley trailing along, nose in the air, sniffing. Les didn’t blame the little feller. The bag of burgers smelled good.
“I brought greasy lunch and walked him hard so he’d sleep.”
“I sure am sorry I snapped.” He smiled at her, hoping to help ease things, let her know he’d had an attitude adjustment. “But thank you.”
“You’re hurting. I get that.” She grinned at him, warm as could be. “You got something to drink still? I couldn’t juggle dog and food and cups.”
“I do. You want a Coke?” He wasn’t laid up or anything. He could walk to the fridge.
“Please, thank you.” She offered him a smile that warmed him down to his toes.
“You got it.” Rosie liked those red drinks, so he grabbed one for her and a bottle of water for him.
The burgers and fries were spread out all fancy on the table, the sight making him grin.
“What?” she asked and he shrugged.
“I like how you make the world a prettier place, Rosie.” Les liked all the little touches, the way she wanted things to be nice for him. It made him want to do for her, as well.
“Enough of the world is harsh, huh? This should be good.”
“You’re amazing, sweet lady.” He brought over the drinks, stopping to kiss the top of her head.
“Well, you’re my cowboy and I intend to keep you happy, so…” She lifted her face and he kissed her lips.
He intended to keep her too—he just had to figure out how to do it without screwing up everything.
Chapter Seventeen
Rose did her best to not cry when Les headed off each weekend. It wouldn’t do any good. It hadn’t with Tim—that was for sure.
Rodeo people were rodeo people—the good and the bad parts—and she either had to live with it or leave and she couldn’t make Les leave. She didn’t want to.
She tidied up the apartment, th
en sat down at her little desk to maybe write a letter or two. She had to send a birthday card to Timmy’s daddy, and— Oh, who was she kidding? She needed to get out for a bit.
She grabbed her phone and dialed Lindsay, hoping that she wasn’t in the middle of huge plans with her husband, Frankie.
“Hello?”
“Linds? It’s me. You busy?”
“Busy sitting on my fat ass. Matt’s golfing. You?”
“Going stir crazy. Wanna go shop flip-flop clearance or something?” Old Navy always had a good deal or two.
“God yes. Please? Come get me?”
Twenty minutes later she had a very pregnant best friend in her truck and they were heading into town. They sang along with Miranda Lambert, the air cranked up so Lindsay didn’t get nauseated.
“So, how’s things with tall, blond and cowboy-y?” Lindsay asked.
Rose cackled and shook her head. “That was bad.”
“He is, though. Come on. Tell.” Lindsay poked her ribs.
“Les is… Well, he’s amazing. I’m trying so hard to be a good girlfriend, you know? Understanding about the rodeo and all?” It was hard, though, because, while she understood just fine, she still didn’t love it. She loved Les.
“Have you told him about Timmy?” Linds scowled. “Why do you have to be understanding? Why can’t he?”
“Because he’s working. I don’t know. He’s not like Timmy.” Timmy had been in love with the idea of cowboys. He’d thought the rodeo was all about romance and what you saw in the movies.
Les, he was so practical. Darned humble. And he was riding the circuit in Texas to stay close to her. How could she bitch?
“Well, I still think you should tell him it bothers you.”
“He knows, I think. I sort of almost passed out at the one event I came to.”
Lindsay looked at her askance. “You did not!”
“Almost. I did go to the bathroom and puke. That’s so gross. You hate for people to hear that in the stalls next to you.”
“Tell me about it.” Lindsay patted her pregnant belly.
Rosie grimaced. “You win. I swear, you tossed your cookies every hour for three weeks back at the beginning.”
