Her Lucky Cowboy

by Jennifer Ryan

  “I want to talk to you.”

  “Okay. Do you have a question about your injuries?”

  “No. Um, this is actually harder than I thought.”

  “Dane, if you’re not hurt, and you don’t want to ask me about your injuries, what is this about?”

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  He let out a sigh filled with frustration. Her agitation built the longer he took to get to the point. She hated when she missed social cues that others picked up on so easily.

  “Uh, did you have to work late tonight?”

  Bell narrowed her eyes and sat back in her chair again. “I got home about an hour ago. Why?”

  “What are you doing now?”

  She checked the clock beside her. Nine-thirty at night. She wondered what he’d been doing. “How many pain pills did you take?”

  His deep laugh rumbled through the phone. “I’m not doped up, Doc. I had dinner with my parents after Gabe and Ella dropped me home. I took one pain pill and my antibiotics after I ate. My parents went home and left me alone in this big empty house. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I called your office number. Now I’ve got your real phone number.”

  “Ah, okay. I still don’t get why you called me.”

  “So I can talk to you.”

  “About what?”

  “We’ve covered this, Doc. I want to know about you. How’s your head?”

  “Oh, it’s fine. No more headaches. The concussion is healed. Even my shoulder is feeling better.”

  “Good. That’s good.”

  “Okay, then. Have a good night. I’ll see you at your appointment early next week.”

  “Doc, I’m not done talking to you.”

  “Oh. Um, okay.”

  “Did you have dinner?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you have?”

  “A salad at the hospital cafeteria.”

  “My mom made fried chicken, potato salad, and fruit salad. She’s a really great cook. How about you?”

  Bell held the phone in front of her and stared at it, trying to figure out this strange phone call. She put it back to her ear. “I’m an okay cook, but I mostly eat out because I’m usually working.”

  “You didn’t have to cover the clinic tonight?”

  “No. One of the other doctors took the shift.”

  “Do you like working there?”

  “It’s a nice change of pace. I like keeping my skills current, working with the varied patients that come into the clinic with their many injuries and illnesses. It fills up my time.”

  “Why do you need to fill up your time? Don’t you like to do anything but work?”

  “Um, why are you asking me all of this?”

  “It’s called a conversation, Doc. I’m trying to get to know you better.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think you’re an interesting woman, and I want to.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you have any friends?”

  That made her heart sink. She’d never been good at personal relationships. Inevitably, people found her weird. Most of the time, they stopped talking to her, thinking she wasn’t interested in them or the conversation. Most of the time, she didn’t know what they were talking about and couldn’t contribute. She didn’t understand the references to TV shows or pop culture. She’d never seen TV or listened to songs on the radio until she’d gone to college. Even then, it had all seemed so strange to her. She thought attending a smaller college in Oregon, and then medical school at the University of Washington in Seattle, wouldn’t have been such a culture shock. She’d been wrong. Everything had seemed so different from her life in Montana. The psychologists she’d seen at both schools tried to give her tools to cope. It helped, but she’d still been out of place without the background and experiences others took for granted.

  She’d dedicated her life to learning everything she could in her classes and becoming a doctor so she could support herself. As soon as she was able to pay off the last of her student loans, she’d move into her own place. She hated being here with her grandmother, but she felt obligated to care for her—despite the woman’s relentless antagonism—because of her grandfather.

  “I, uh, work with lots of nice people.” Casual acquaintances were more her speed. She kept things about work. Sometimes she asked questions about them when she caught snippets of conversations they had with others. Like whether Heather’s sister enjoyed her vacation to Hawaii, or if Becky’s daughter had gotten over her recent flu bug.

  “Do you ever hang out with any of them? Go to dinner? To a movie?”

  “Uh, no. Sometimes I sit with colleagues in the cafeteria.” She defended herself. The longer this conversation went on, the more socially inept she felt. Both on the call and in her life. Why did he point these idiosyncrasies out?

  “I’d like to take you to dinner sometime. When I can actually drive again.”

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  “Same reason I called you tonight. To get to know you better. What’s your favorite food?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s a simple question. You have to like something more than your salads and Greek yogurt. Chinese? Italian?”

  “Pizza,” she admitted. Her first night at the college campus, she went to the cafeteria. She didn’t know what a lot of the menu items were. Corn dogs. Chicken nuggets. She’d never heard of such things. Then she’d seen the pizza with the melted cheese. God, it had looked so good. Smelled even better. The first bite hooked her.

  “A girl after my own heart. I bet you ate a ton of pizza at college. It’s kind of a prerequisite, right?”

  “I guess so.”

  “What’s your favorite topping?”

  “All of them. Depends on my mood. Sometimes it’s pepperoni with black olives and mushrooms. Other times it’s chicken with spinach, bacon, tomatoes, and garlic sauce.”

  “You almost lost me on the chicken on pizza, but that actually sounds kind of good.”

  “There’s this brick-oven place by the hospital. I love going there. They make the best pizza.”

  “We should go together when I’m up on my crutches. I want to try one of those chicken pizzas.”

  “Don’t you have something else to do?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sure there are a dozen women you’d rather spend your time with.”

  “None of them is you. Blake should be home with my horses and truck in a couple of days. You said you wanted my horse all those years ago.”

  “Are you going to give it to me?” She didn’t think that’s what he meant, but she couldn’t help asking him. She loved seeing the horses on her drive home.

  “If you want him, he’s yours. He’s a bit of a spoiled brat, but he loves a good long ride.”

  “What would I do with a horse?”

  “Ride it.”

  “I don’t know how to ride a horse.”

  “What? You live in Montana. How . . . never mind. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I’ll teach you to ride. You’ll love it.”

  “Why did you say sorry?”

  “Uh, I forgot your grandmother doesn’t have any horses or cattle on the property.”

  “Right. Nothing but me and her here. That’s what you meant. You had dinner with your father. What did he tell you?”

  “Nothing.” The word came out too quickly.

  She didn’t believe him. Bell had given Dane her version of what happened after his accident all those years ago. She’d left out what happened when his father had come calling. Looking back, she felt like such a fool for the way she’d reacted. She hadn’t known any better. Now she did. The embarrassment rose up to her throat, choking her.

  “You’re not a very good liar.”

  “I’m sorry for what happened.” He sounded sincere, but she heard and felt his pity.

  He knew what happened with his father. What a complete idiot she’d been. Maybe he eve
n knew about her parents and how she’d ended up with her grandmother.

  “I don’t want or need your pity, Dane. I’m not that little girl anymore. I have a new life. A different life.”

  You lie to yourself as much as you lie to him. Your life may be different, but in many ways nothing has changed. She might eat pizza, but she ate it alone. She did most everything alone.

  “Bell, you make it damn hard to get to know you. We’re just talking here. You tell me something. I tell you something. It’s a conversation.”

  “You haven’t told me anything.” Why did she say that? She should hang up. He’d called her under false pretenses. No reason for her to carry on with this ridiculous conversation, telling him things he didn’t need to know, or that mattered in the first place. He’d get bored. See she was nothing like the other women he knew, and he’d move on. A novelty in his life, he’d find someone more interesting and forget about her.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Why you’re doing this?”

  “I like you. I want to know more about you. It’s that simple and that complicated, Bell. I know you don’t get it. I’m not sure I do either at this point. I want to be your friend. Is that so hard to believe?”

  “Yes. It is.” She didn’t realize she’d said the words out loud.

  “Well, believe it. Friends know things about each other. They talk about their day. Since I spent most of mine with you and we’ve caught up on our evening, I’m moving on to things I don’t know about you. Like what’s your favorite color.”

  This seemed ridiculous, but she’d play along. For now. Because she’d never had a close friend but had always wanted one. “Blue.”

  “Like your denim blue eyes?”

  She smiled. People often commented about her eyes and their contrast to her hair. She’d never heard them described like that. “Pale blue, actually. Like the sky.”

  “Might make a nice paint color for the house?”

  “Do you plan to paint?”

  “I came home to a practically empty, four-bedroom, three-and-a-half-bath house that my parents lived in from the day they were married until two days ago. They haven’t painted in years. Not exactly my taste either. Since I’ve got some time before I can start working the ranch, I thought I’d spend it working on the house.”

  “Your leg . . .”

  “Needs time to heal. When I’m a hundred percent—hell, even fifty percent—I’m good with my hands. I could do all the work myself, but I’ll follow your orders and stay off my leg.”

  She gave in and treated him not like her patient but like a friend she’d never had. “Sky blue would be pretty in a bedroom or bathroom. It would be really pretty on the ceiling of a white bathroom. I always wanted to paint my bedroom ceiling that color.”

  “Almost like being outdoors while you’re inside.”

  “Exactly. What’s your favorite color?”

  “Green. Give me fields of green and I’m happy.”

  “So long as you’re up on horseback.”

  “I love to ride. It’s in my blood.”

  “What else do you like to do?”

  “Play poker with my brothers. Pool at the bar. Hang with my buddies. Ride bulls. Have fun.”

  “That I already knew.”

  “But Bell, I never had fun at someone else’s expense. It’s not fun to hurt someone. I’d never do that to anyone. I wanted you to know that much about me.”

  “Dane, I saw the look on your face when those four women showed up to see you. You didn’t want them to all come together. You didn’t want to hurt their feelings by picking one over the other. You didn’t want them to hurt each other by telling tales about you. I don’t think you set out to keep all your relationships casual. You moved around a lot. You didn’t want to get tied down. None of them ever made you change your mind about sticking it out.

  “I went to college. I saw the way people hooked up without any expectation of anything more than having a good time together. I understand that not all relationships are long term or permanent. So relax. I don’t think you’re a bad person for dating women you had no intention of marrying.

  “I guess with all that practice, you know what you like and what you don’t want. There’s something to be said for that. When and if you decide you want a relationship, at least you’ll know what it is you want in a partner.”

  “As you said, it’s not settling down so much as finding someone who is my match. I’m glad you understand. It must have been strange for you to be on a college campus and see all those rowdy people hooking up, partying, and living a different kind of life than you were used to, or could participate in.”

  “Quite the eye opener. Let’s just say I got an education in more than academics.”

  “Did you live in the dorms?”

  “No. I rented a room from an older woman off campus.”

  “Definitely more your speed.”

  “I guess so. She worked nights. I went to school all day while she slept. It worked out to be a good arrangement. We passed each other in the evenings. I stayed up late reading and doing my homework.”

  “Was it hard to adjust to college life?”

  “I tried to take it all in, but everything overwhelmed me. I’d never been inside a classroom. I didn’t know the procedure for doing homework. I’d never used a computer. Being smart helped. I learned things quickly. My professors were told that I’d need extra help. Each of them had a meeting with me and went over what I needed to know and how to do things. They all had student assistants. I used those people a lot to answer my many questions. I embarrassed myself more times than I can count, but I got through it.”

  “Now you’re a computer wizard, a mad scientist, and a hell of a doctor.”

  She laughed. “Something like that.”

  “What was your favorite class?”

  “Psychology. I learned a lot about people in that class. I’d never had access to any kind of books like those. Why people do things interested me.”

  “You had a lot of questions about the people in your life and all the different people you discovered at school. You needed a way to sort it all out.”

  “I spent a lot of time during the semester with my psychology teacher. She was really great. I still keep in touch with her.” She didn’t admit to having seen the psychologist on a regular basis throughout those years. He didn’t need to know how hard it had been to cope.

  “You impressed her with your insights, right?”

  “I didn’t have the same background as others, so my perspective on things was fresh and different. She enjoyed listening to my take on different topics. We collaborated on a paper.”

  “You got published with your professor.”

  “Several of them. I loved school. I thought I might want to be a teacher, but socially that would have been difficult for me.”

  “Why? You’re nice. You listen to people. You work with patients.”

  “That’s different. The doctor-patient relationship is very short and exact. I assess them, diagnose them, fix them, and send them on their way. There is nothing personal, and only my medical knowledge is of importance. It’s the personal stuff I have a hard time sharing. I can’t believe I’m talking to you about any of this.”

  “Why? We’re friends.”

  “One conversation makes us friends?”

  “This one does. Besides, this isn’t our first personal conversation. We had those other ones in the hospital and on the plane. You may not be good with other people, but you’re great with me.”

  “It’s late. I’m tired. I must be out of my mind to encourage you.”

  “No encouragement needed. I called you. As much as I want to keep talking to you and listening to your sweet voice, my meds have kicked in, and I’m exhausted.”

  “You’ve had a long day. You’re still healing. You need your rest.”

  “I’m comfy on my new couch. I think I’ll crash here instead of trying to make it up the stairs on my
own. I still haven’t seen the bedroom furniture my parents got me.”

  “Didn’t you already have a room at home?”

  “Yep, but everything was from my childhood. I’m too big to be sleeping in a twin bed anymore. My feet hang off the end. It was okay for the few times I crashed here when I came home, but they wanted me to have something new now that I live here full-time. New bed. New life. Thanks to you.”

  “I had nothing to do with the bed, or you choosing a new kind of life.”

  “I have a life because of you, Bell. I’m so glad you’re real and a part of my new life. I can’t stop thinking about you. I wish you were here.”

  “I’m going to blame those little gems on your meds.”

  “Not the meds. Just you. So, will you have dinner with me?”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. You’re my patient.”

  “Don’t make me get another doctor just for a date.”

  “That’s just it, Dane, I’m not just a date. I’ll never be the woman who is just a date. Get some rest. I’ll see you next week.”

  Bell hung up and sighed, staring at her cramped little room with the floor-to-ceiling books stacked so tightly together that she couldn’t see the walls. Her grandfather had hoarded the books. She loved them as much as he had. She wanted to open another now and lose herself in another world. Too bad the only world she wanted to be a part of was Dane’s.

  Dane gripped his phone so tightly his fingers ached. He wanted to chuck it across the room. Instead, he tossed it on the new wood coffee table beside him and stared up at the ceiling.

  Frustrated she didn’t get it, he smacked his fist against the back of the couch. “Fuck.”

  Didn’t she see how hard he was trying to get to know her? Didn’t she see how much effort he’d put into talking to her tonight? Wasn’t it enough that he’d gone out of his way to get hold of her? She had to know that meant something. Right?

  No. Because she’d never dated anyone. She’d never had a relationship with a man.

  Wait. Hold it. Shit. She’d never had a relationship with a man.

  Well, damn, that put a whole new spin on things. He hadn’t thought of it in those terms. He understood her background, but he hadn’t put it into the context of dating her. Like his mother said, she’d never gone to high school, been asked to a dance, gone on a date, or worked her way through all those awkward teenage moments of a first kiss and . . .