by Em Petrova
Buck punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Just hold it together, okay, Ridge?”
“Yeah, because you never tried to beat the hell out of me and Ryder when you thought we were hiding something about Channing.” Ridge hardly remembered the circumstances, just that Buck had lost his cool.
Buck slid his gaze to Kashley, and Ridge moved to block her from his view. He didn’t need her receiving some secret eyebrow wiggles. “Move along, brother. I’ve got stuff to do.”
He started off with Kashley in tow. When they were a distance from the group, several reporters rushed them. “Oh fuck,” he muttered.
“You got this, Ridge. Just ignore the things you don’t want to answer and keep a level head.”
He growled low in his throat as a microphone was shoved under his nose. “Ridge, last time you were at an event you punched a fan. Have you faced any charges for that?”
Grinding his teeth together, he gave a curt, “No.”
“Have you heard anything about the woman you wanted to marry?”
His muscles locked, prepared for a fight. Only Kashley at his side kept him from laying into the person asking the question. He didn’t bother to answer and tried to push through the group.
“Who is this woman you’re with? She looks a lot like Anna—” The man never finished his sentence, because Ridge’s fist was in his face.
“Whoa! Holy shit!” Lane jumped into the fray and locked his arms around Ridge, muscling him away. Kashley was throwing out apologies and the cameras, those fucking horrible things, were everywhere.
West joined Lane, and they dragged him into a hallway that ran under the stands. “What the fuck are you guys? My bodyguard?”
“You need them, you ass. You can’t keep punching everyone who says something to you about Anna.”
It wasn’t the bit about Anna that had set him off—it was their comment about Kashley looking like her, because that wasn’t true at all. They were very different women inside and out.
“Get off me.” He shook away their hands, and they stood glaring at each other.
“I’m just trying to keep you from destroying yourself on this bender of destruction you’ve been on since Anna dumped you—” Lane never finished his thought, because Ridge swung at him. His knuckles glanced off Lane’s mouth.
“Ridge, stop!” Kashley’s voice broke through his anger just as West pinned him against the wall. Ridge huffed with fury as he jabbed a finger Lane’s direction. “Do not talk to me about her.”
“Kashley, I think you’d better put this asshole in the truck and drive him back home. He can’t keep his shit together long enough to compete.”
She put her hand on West’s arm, and Ridge locked his gaze on her fingers, aware of jealousy snaking through him. “You don’t give her commands,” he bit off.
She shot Ridge a narrowed look and gently pushed against West until he released Ridge. “Why don’t you guys go give some interviews, calm the masses, while I talk to him?”
Reluctantly, West and Lane nodded and moved away, Lane holding his mouth that was wet with a smear of blood. Remorse hit Ridge hard.
“Sorry, bro,” he said roughly, but Lane just gave him the finger. Lots of fingers flying lately. He imagined the film crew capturing every one and making a video collage of them, all blackened out to protect the viewers’ sensibilities.
As they left him alone with Kashley, Ridge issued a low groan. He bowed his head and shook out his hand, which ached after punching two men. He didn’t give a damn about the reporter but he felt terrible about Lane.
Kashley’s eyes loomed in front of him, worry creasing her brows. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
“Me either. Just…” He sliced the air with his hand, trying to conjure the words. “When they say things about Anna, I go kind of crazy.”
Hurt crossed her beautiful features. He’d just fucked her and here he was talking about his hurt revolving around his ex. What an asshole he was. He pulled off his hat and rubbed a hand over his face, shifting his weight off his bad knee. “I’m sorry, Kash. I don’t know why I let it get to me.” He leaned closer to her, drawn by her coconut scent and the soft glow in her eyes.
“Oh Ridge.” She put her arms around him and all thoughts of Anna fled. He leaned into Kashley, inhaling deeply. Her neck was especially sweet, and he detected his own scent on her. With a low moan, he nuzzled her throat, down to the top of her breasts.
She sucked in a breath and cupped his head. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”
He nodded against her, closing his eyes at the dizzying need inside him. Right now he wanted to hook her legs around his waist and plunge his cock into her soaking pussy. He had to get control of his life, but first he wanted to erase the vision of her hand on West.
He raised his head and looked into her stormy gaze. “Give me your mouth.”
* * * * *
Kashley bounced on her toes, but it did nothing to release her pent-up energies—both sexual and nervousness. She was burning up after that mind-bending kiss. And Ridge was in the chute.
Please let his knee be all right.
She craned her neck to try to see how he was seated. If he was favoring his knee, then things would go south in a hurry. And the stubborn ass was definitely hurting a little more than he had been earlier. She couldn’t help but think she’d broken him during their playtime.
Despite the heat of the evening, goosebumps broke out on her bare arms. She rubbed them and bounced on her toes again.
A tall woman appeared next to her, standing almost as tall on flat feet as Kashley was perched on the bottom rung of the fence between the stands and arena. She glanced over at Wynonna.
With fiery red hair and wearing a western shirt with pockets covered entirely in rhinestones, she made Kashley feel plain every time she was around. “How’s he holding up?”
Did his family even know about his knee? She wasn’t going to add fuel to the fire. “I got him calmed down.”
With about twelve kisses and a grind-session against the wall.
After that, he’d definitely been distracted from his anger issues.
It hurt her that Anna still meant so much to him, especially when she’d just come under his tongue, hands and cock. But he hadn’t offered her commitment—she had to remember that.
“Is he favoring his knee?” Wynonna’s question socked Kashley in the stomach. She swung her gaze back to Ridge.
“Oh shit,” she said just as the chute opened and the bronco shot out. The animal took two steps and started bucking. Wildly. And spinning. Ridge clung to it for four seconds, and Kashley bounced up and down, this time screaming in excitement. He had a chance. He was going to make it.
Wynonna gave a cry too, but for a whole other reason.
He tipped in the saddle, tried to overcompensate and hit the dirt.
Right on his knees.
Before Kashley looked at his face, she knew he was hurt. That angle he’d fallen…
“Shit, he’s hurt!” Wynonna voiced it before she could find the words. Two cowboys ran in to help him up while the bronco continued to buck away from where Ridge lay.
He pushed onto his knees and collapsed. Kashley leaped down and slipped under the fence to rush to him. But by the time she’d reached him, he was on his feet, leg dangling and telling off the people who were trying to help.
“I got it. Let go of me.”
“I think you’d better see Doc,” the guy holding him up said.
When Ridge looked up, his brow was creased with pain, but as soon as he spotted the cameras aimed his direction, he masked it.
Kashley jogged alongside them as they led Ridge out of the arena to the yelling of fans. As soon as they got into the hall, two Calhouns were there. “We’ll take it from here,” Buck said.
“You know where Doc is?”
“We’ll find him.”
“It’s a her, but okay.” He relinquished his hold on Ridge to his brother, West, but Ridge shoved him away.
“I got it. Leave me be. And I’m not going to a damn doctor.”
“Bro, you can’t even bear weight on that knee.” Buck looked hard at Kashley, and unfortunately, Ridge picked up on it right away.
“Cut that shit out. Kashley, I thought you were on my side.”
She met his gaze, her heart tumbling. “I am, but Buck’s right. Let the doctor check you out.”
With West holding his brother up, Wynonna led the way to the doctor, waving aside fans extending papers and pens at them. Kashley felt helpless as she followed. Soothing Ridge didn’t seem likely—she’d seen him in more than one fit of temper, and he was about to erupt. She couldn’t blame him—rodeoing was his life, and he’d likely be told to sit out the season. Maybe even see a surgeon.
“What happened here?” The familiar voice gave Kashley an instant stomachache. She glanced away from Ridge’s tightly set features to see the guy everyone loved to hate—Chip Johnson. All around asshole.
As they all walked by him without responding, he grinned at Kashley.
“Asshole,” Ridge muttered and pulled free of West’s hold. He took two limping steps and paused.
“I got him,” Kashley said, slipping under his arm to support his weight. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d hauled his injured body somewhere, but he’d packed on a lot of muscle since then.
West and Wynonna let her take over, probably relieved to be out of Ridge’s line of fire. They didn’t have far to go. The makeshift triage was a few steps away. With Ridge’s arm weighting her shoulder, she assisted him behind the white curtain.
“Looks like a knee injury,” the female voice said immediately.
Medics stood by in the arena to help in emergencies, but it was quiet back here, with only the doctor and a nurse standing by.
“I’m Doctor Bullers. Get him on the table,” she said. This woman with the exotic appearance was far from what Kashley expected. Her rich light brown skin revealed a mixture of ancestors, but her eyes had a slight slant at the corners that hinted to Asian descent. Her average height was draped in loose pants and a gauzy white top, and she had a piercing in her nose. Along with the small braids in her dark brown hair fastened with metal beads, she looked more like a new age hippie than a doctor.
“I’m in the room, and I can take instructions,” Ridge snapped.
“Just let her do her job, Ridge,” West added. A sudden tension rose up, and Kashley pivoted in time to see a strange look pass between West and the doctor.
A slight smile appeared on Dr. Bullers’ lips as she trained her gaze on Ridge. Kashley sensed a kindred spirit. She’d definitely dealt with more than one ornery cowboy. But what had just transpired between her and West? Oh well, it wasn’t her business.
Ridge hopped onto the table and winced as he tried to straighten his leg. But it was clear that letting it dangle hurt too.
Kashley drew her brows together as she looked on. “He’s been having some problems with this knee for a while, but he landed on it.”
“I can see it’s swelling through your jeans. Do you think you can manage to get them off? Maybe with some help?” Dr. Bullers looked to Kashley, and she nodded.
Ridge slanted a look at Kashley, and a shiver of want ran through her. That definitely wasn’t a platonic help-me-get-my-pants-off-for-the-doctor look. It was a there’s-no-stopping-me-if-I’m-not-wearing-pants look.
“I’ll give you some privacy.” Dr. Bullers nodded to West, who flushed, and they left with the silent nurse.
The instant they were gone, Ridge let Kashley see the pain on his face, and all sexy thoughts fled.
“Oh Ridge. Is it bad?”
“I think I can manage with a few painkillers and icing it tonight.”
“You’re going to have to admit this needs more than some ice.”
They stared at each other for a long heartbeat. Finally, his pain must have won out. “Help me with my jeans, would you?”
He unbuckled them and pushed them down his hips. When he got to his thighs, she took over, easing the denim over his knees to puddle on his boots. Using his arms, he levered himself onto the table again.
“Fuck, it looks bad,” he ground out.
“I bet it feels bad.”
“Worse. Dammit.”
“Are you ready?” Dr. Bullers asked from behind the curtain, and Kashley replied they were.
The doctor began her examination. Asking him how long the knee had been bothering him and if he’d felt anything snap or crack during his fall. He hadn’t, which was a good sign, but Dr. Bullers didn’t look convinced that he’d be finishing out the event.
She stood back and folded her arms over her chest. “I definitely think you have some strain in this knee, but my years working with rodeo guys tells me you might have a tear. I can give you some names of top sports surgeons—”
Ridge grunted before she finished and dropped off the table onto his good leg. Then he bent and yanked his jeans back up. “No surgeons. No knives. I have broncs to ride, and I’m not slowing down, Doc. Now bind my knee and give me some ibuprofen.”
The doctor looked to Kashley for help, but she didn’t think she’d be able to budge the stubborn man either. Finally, she nodded, and the nurse started locating drawers on a cart, coming out with a fat roll of stretchy bandage.
Ridge sat again for her to wrap his knee, and Kashley watched closely to remember how it was done.
“Ice, elevate and these anti-inflammatory pills taken three times a day with food. Rest the knee. And consult a surgeon,” Dr. Bullers said. “Good luck, cowboy.”
He set his lips into a fine line, avoiding Kashley’s stare. But the minute they were alone, his gaze landed on hers, allowing her to see the torment he was feeling.
She moved close and put her arms around him. “It’s going to be okay. I’m not going to say that I agree with the doctor, because you’re going to do what you want.”
He snorted. “At least someone understands me.”
Her heart lifted at his words, but she resisted throwing herself at him more. He had enough going on in his life, and she didn’t know if she was a distraction or a complication right now. She leaned toward the latter.
When he wrapped an arm around her back and fitted her under his chin, she couldn’t help but hope again. “Thanks for being here for me, Kash. Let’s get back to the room and find that ice, okay?”
She nodded against his soft cotton shirt and then pulled away to look into his eyes. “I’ll see about borrowing some crutches.”
“No fuckin’ way. I’ve got this.” He jumped off the table and limped toward the door.
Now that was the Ridge she knew and loved.
* * * * *
They didn’t make it out of the arena before they were swarmed by reporters and their very own Rope ‘n Ride film crew. Kashley stuck by his side as they pushed through the throng.
The scents of beer and popcorn turned his stomach, and he realized some of his nausea was caused by his knee pain. It hurt like a motherfucker, and it took everything in him to walk with a normal gait so his limping steps weren’t recorded and splashed onto every TV screen in the country.
“Have you heard about Wynonna?” a reporter asked.
Ridge shot a look at Kashley. She was staring right back, eyes wide with surprise.
“Are the Calhouns trying to cause mayhem by beating up fans?”
Ridge’s mind knotted the two questions from different people into one. Wynonna—beating up fans.
He snagged Kashley’s sleeve and barreled through the crowd, pushing his way to the end of the hallway where he spotted West pacing. The minute their gazes locked, Ridge said, “Fuck.”
“What is it?” Kashley whispered. Several reporters still galloped along next to them, clinging to the hope that he’d give an interview or they’d catch him trying to propose to a new woman.
He pushed out a growl and steered her toward West by the elbow. Her bones felt fine and delicate in his grip, but strong muscle
connected them. He’d seen her toss hay bales that would knock some men flat.
“Is your name Kashley Cross?”
She threw him a wild look. He nodded to say, Yeah, word gets around.
“Are you and Ridge dating?”
He threw up a hand to block her face from the camera, but it was too late. She was compromised—exactly what he didn’t want. She hadn’t signed up for this reality hell, and she didn’t deserve to be attacked with rumors or worse.
“Take her. Get her out of here.” Ridge shoved her at West, who wrapped an arm around her and hauled her off. As Ridge turned to face the paparazzi, he caught Kashley’s desperate look just before she and West disappeared.
“Okay, I’ll answer your questions,” he drawled to the group.
“Will you marry me, Ridge?” came from a petite brunette at the front of the group.
“I’m sorry, but no. The Calhouns only like blondes.”
A titter of laughter through them all.
“Are you aware that charges are being pressed against you for striking that fan?”
“Don’t know anything about it.”
“Will you be helping Wynonna get out of her charges after the cops pulled her off the woman here in this very arena half an hour ago?”
Jesus. The cops? What the hell had Wynonna done? She’d just left him and Kashley. Of course, thirty minutes was nothing for his baby sister to hide a body.
Fighting back a growl, he responded, “Calhouns stick together. That’s all.” He thumbed his hat in farewell and twisted from the group. Cameras flashed. A cameraman from a popular TV show—that loved to show the worst in people—clung to him until he finally plastered his palm over the guy’s face and shoved him away.
Of course that was caught by another camera.
He stomped out to find West and Kashley—and his little sister—while battling his knee which threatened to give out.
Buck appeared at his side. “Calhoun circle. Now.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”
Buck looked down at his leg, which was wrapped in a huge bandage. “What’d the doc say about your knee?”
“It’ll be fine. What the hell happened with Wynonna?”
