by Becky McGraw
He’s right, she had been more like Haley since he’d bailed her out of jail. Because of him, because she felt safe. With Zack she could be that girl again, let down her defenses and just laugh. But that girl wasn’t tough enough to handle her present circumstances.
Her good mood faded too, and she dragged her eyes to her hands. “She can’t stick around right now. Haley’s not strong enough to get me through this, Zack. I hate to sound like I have split personalities, but that’s kind of how I feel. I need Heather to keep me from falling apart.”
He reached over to take her chin in his fingers lifting her face up, so she had to look at him. “I’ll make you a deal—keep Heather until this is over and you’re free of this crap.” His jaw tightened and so did his grip on her chin. “But I never want to see that woman again once this is over. I’m going to help you feel safe again Haley.”
Zack Taylor wouldn’t see her after this was over. Once his arm was healed, and she had untangled the mess in Tulsa, he wouldn’t be in her life anymore. She’d be alone again, and fending for herself, she’d need Heather’s strength then too. Tears rushed to her eyes, but she would not let them fall. She was stronger than that, wasn’t about to start feeling sorry for herself now, and she wasn’t going to argue with him.
They needed to focus on his doctor’s appointment right now.
“Okay, Zack,” she agreed, peeling his fingers away, just as the exam room opened and a middle-aged man walked in with a manila folder in his hand.
He walked over to Zack and frowned down at him. “Bullrider right?” he asked gruffly, and Zack nodded. “Explains a lot, I guess. They’re all as hardheaded as I’ve ever dealt with, and it looks like you’re no exception.”
Zack’s face flushed, and he squirmed in the plastic chair beside Heather. “I retired from riding,” he replied shortly.
The doctor’s wiry grey eyebrows slammed down over his brown eyes. “How the hell did you hurt yourself again then?”
“I was, ah, digging postholes at my ranch.” Zack shrugged, and rubbed his right elbow. “I guess I overdid it.”
The doctor opened the file folder, flipped through several pages, then looked back at Zack. “You didn’t finish your first round of therapy?”
With a sigh, Zack stopped rubbing to meet the doctor’s eyes. “No sir, I didn’t, and I’m a dumbass, I know that. But I didn’t have any choice.”
“There’s always a choice, son—you just didn’t make the right one.” He put the folder down on the counter by the sink, then walked over to Zack. Grabbing his wrist, the doctor flexed his arm, twisted it and Zack moaned. He ran his thumb over the muscle, studying it intently, then slid his thumb over the surgery scar and Zack flinched. Heather did too, because she felt Zack’s pain, and was a little upset that this doctor was so unsympathetic to it. But the doctor was right, Zack was the one who chose to ignore his orders. Heather was pissed at him too.
“Well, it looks like you messed up my bang up repair job, because you were smarter than me,” the doctor said smugly, stepping back to fold his arms over his chest.
Heather’s gaze snapped to Zack when she heard him growl. He stood, and she could swear even the tips of his blonde hair were red. “No, I’m not fucking smarter, but I do work harder for a helluva lot less money!” Zack snarled, rubbing his elbow again, his breathing labored. “Just fix my damned arm, so I can work my ranch.”
“Calm down, son,” Dr. Graves said, pushing Zack back down in the chair. “I’m sorry, but I get just as angry when patients ignore my instructions and screw up my hard work. But we don’t know if you’ve done that yet,” he said walking to the door to grab the knob. “I’m going to send my nurse in to take you for an x-ray. Then I’ll know for sure.”
“Bastard,” Zack growled to his back as he shut the door.
“He’s right, Zack,” Heather said putting her hand on his arm. “You did this to yourself, and you need to do what he says this time. I’m going to make sure you do.”
Zack’s angry eyes swung to her. “Welcome back, Heather,” he said flatly, and she slid her hand back to her lap.
“Thank you,” she replied waspishly, crossing her arms over her chest. “If it takes a ballbuster to make you listen to reason, Zack Taylor, then that’s exactly who’s going back to that ranch with you. I’ll be Dr. Grave’s boots on the ground, and you better believe I’ll tell him what you’re up to. I’ll call him in a heartbeat if you pick up a posthole digger again.”
“You gonna tell my Momma too, sweet thing?” he asked with a snort.
“Damn straight,” Heather replied, lifting her chin to hold his gaze. “I’ll bet you’re more afraid of her than you are of Dr. Graves.” After a long stare down, Zack gave her the silent treatment, and just sat tensely beside her until the nurse came to take him away. Not the pretty blonde nurse, an older woman who weighed a good two hundred pounds. A pinched-faced woman who looked like she knew exactly how to handle a surly bullrider.
When the door closed, Heather relaxed for the two hours it took for them to finish the appointment. Zack was not a happy camper when they left the office. His arm was immobilized again, in a sling strapped to his chest for at least two weeks. Heather carried the prescription for the steroids the doctor had prescribed to help his muscle heal again. Dr. Graves was taking the conservative route first to see if that worked on what he thought was just a slight tear, before he decided to perform surgery again. In two weeks, Zack would start therapy again, but this time the doctor was trusting her to help him with it, make sure he did it.
Zack was damned lucky that tear wasn’t worse. The doctor told him next time he might not be so lucky. If he pushed the envelope again before his arm healed, he could possibly lose mobility in it permanently. Heather was not going to let that happen. Zack Taylor said he’d hired her to be his nurse, well she was going to do better than that. She was going to babysit this brat of a bullrider to save him from himself—if she had to hog-tie him to make him slow down.
That was going to start right now, she thought as he stopped at the driver’s side of the truck and shoved his hand down in his pocket. When he came back out with the keys, she snatched them from him. He grabbed for them, but she stepped back.
“No driving until that sling comes off,” she repeated Dr. Graves orders. Zack ground his teeth and looked like he would argue, but he walked around the front of the truck to the passenger door. Heather unlocked the door, and got behind the wheel. Zack opened the door, but had trouble getting up inside. She got back out and went around to help him.
“This one-armed cowboy shit is for the birds,” he growled as he stepped up and she shoved his ass to launch him into the cab.
“I kinda like my one-armed cowboy,” Heather said with a wink, before she slammed the door and walked back to the other side of the truck.
“Well this one will be useless for two weeks,” he growled, his face a dark thundercloud, before he looked out the window. His lower lip was so low, he’d step on it if he wasn’t careful.
“Wah, Wah, Waaaah…” Heather laughed, and Zack glared at her. She rubbed her thumb and forefinger together near his nose, and his gaze dropped there.
“What the fuck is that?”
“The world’s tiniest violin playing my heart bleeds for you.” His eyes flew to hers again and Heather grinned. “Suck it up, Buttercup. Tough cowboys don’t cry, and they don’t pout.”
“Fuck you, Heather,” he mumbled, dragging his eyes back out the window.
“Don’t think you’ll be doing much of that for the next two weeks either,” she said snarkily, as she looked over her shoulder and backed out the big truck.
And wasn’t that just too damned bad?
Chapter Seventeen
Zack pulled the Velcro strips around his waist loose, and the ripping sound was music to his ears. Today marked two weeks, and this damned sling was coming off—it needed to be washed anyway. Yesterday, he’d had an incident with a wheelbarrow full of manure, and he needed
to get rid of the evidence before Heather found out. Austin and Tanner were warned they better not tell her or he’d kick their asses.
In the two weeks since he’d been back to the doctor, Heather had definitely lived up to her promise to be the doctor’s boots on the ground. Most of the time, one of those boots was up his ass…or she was. He hadn’t seen her this morning yet, so he was taking advantage of it.
She was probably scrubbing something. His mother was even impressed with how hard she was working around the ranch in the week she’d been there. Zack wasn’t impressed, because, by design or circumstance, he hadn’t even had two minutes alone with Heather since they drove through the front gate because of it. Those two were conspiring now, he knew. There was no warning or threatening his momma, so he’d had to watch out for her too. She would tell Heather, and then he would have his ass handed to him. It was a damned female conspiracy to drive him insane, and it was working. Zack loved her, was glad for her help, but he was more than glad his mother was leaving today.
Today was going to be a good day, he thought, sliding the neck strap of the sling over his head. The door flew open, and Zack cursed when Heather, his own personal prison guard, burst into his bedroom, his cell where she’d tried to keep him since they got to the ranch a week ago.
That stopped today. He’d served his two weeks, one at her apartment, and now one at his own ranch where he wasn’t even allowed to supervise the men working there.
“Put that damned sling back on right now!” Heather growled, storming over to him.
“It’s time for it to come off,” he argued trying to keep the irritation from his tone. He eased his arm down to slide it out of the sling. “The doctor said two weeks.”
“He also said you shouldn’t be jostling it around, but you’ve been sneaking out in that damned golf cart every time I turned my back! It can’t be healed yet!”
“I have a ranch to run, Heather,” he replied shortly, rubbing his elbow as he bent it out and back several times. A little soreness remained, but evidently the steroids were working, and the damned ball she made him squeeze twenty-four hours a day. He tried to make a fist, and surprisingly his fingers curled loosely into his palm. “The herd is being delivered by the end of the week. I have to check the fence and pastures.”
“Austin and Tanner have it under control. They have everything ready for your precious cattle—that’s what you hired them for. You need to stay in the house today and rest,” she said, with her hands on her hips.
For all of five-foot-three, the woman glaring down at him had the attitude of a giant. He was pissed off and frustrated, but he couldn’t help but notice just how damned cute she looked in her gray sweat-shorts and t-shirt, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked about sixteen years old today, but there wasn’t a damned thing innocent about her, or his thoughts. It had been two damned weeks since he’d seen that beautiful body of hers, or been inside of it. As soon as his damned parents left later today, Zack was going to see that stopped too.
He’d wanted her to sleep in his room with him, but Heather refused to even get within reach of him while they were here. She took the room at the end of the hall, Twyla’s old room, and locked the door at night. He’d checked. After the pizza night and his doctor visit, for the week they’d stayed at her apartment packing before the ranch hands brought a horse trailer to haul her stuff back to the ranch, she’d slept in her room and made him sleep in the spare.
Zack didn’t know if he should take that as a sign she was done with him or what. Maybe that last night hadn’t been as good for her as it had for him. Dayum, if it was any better, he’d probably be dead. There was only one way to find out—and that was to at least get close enough to kiss her again. In the mood she’d been in, bossy and downright mean at times, Zack was probably taking his life into his own hands even trying it, but he was determined.
“Get up off the bed, I need to strip it,” she said yanking the sling off the comforter. She went to toss it over her shoulder but stopped, took a big long sniff and gagged. Her eyes met his and he knew he was busted. “Horse shit?” she asked, with a raised brow, dangling the sling from her index finger.
“Um, Austin was in the barn cleaning stalls and got covered in it. He brushed up against me, I guess,” Zack lied, turning to walk to the dresser.
“Bullshit,” she said with a harsh laugh. “I’m gonna be on your ass like white on rice from here on out, cowboy. You won’t take a step outside without me.”
How would that be different than the last two weeks?
Zack ignored her, because he’d figured out that was the best way to avoid an argument with her. Whether Heather was with him or not, from here on out, he would do what he damned well pleased, he thought, as he picked up his wallet and stuffed it in his back pocket, grabbed his hat to plop it on his head. His sentence was served, he did what the doctor said, wore that damned sling, avoided using his arm at all. And he’d listened to her and stayed inside. Well, mostly. Bending, Zack wedged the heel of his left boot in the boot puller, held the shank with his left hand and slid his foot inside. He was pretty proud of himself, as he repeated the process with his right boot. Zack was getting used to doing things with one arm now.
His left arm at that.
Standing, he turned toward the bed with a smile, but it melted when he saw Heather on all fours in the middle of his bed, her beautiful ass in the air as she tugged at the corner of the sheet. Just where he’d wanted her for the last two weeks. The flashes of her creamy skin as she struggled with the sheet, drew him to the bedside, right behind her, the round globes of her ass within reach. Zack flexed his fingers, because his palms itched to feel that softness, but he resisted, just enjoying the view for a minute. The corner of the sheet finally came loose with a grunt from her, and she immediately crawled backwards. Her ass slammed into his cock and Zack went rock solid. With a groan his hands framed her hips holding her there.
Her body stiffened, but Zack heard her quick intake of breath, her whimper. Taking that as encouragement, he circled his hips against her, seated himself between her round cheeks. Even through her thin shorts and the denim of his jeans, her heat scorched his cock. “You feel so damned good,” he hissed, his cock growing harder with every slow rotation of his hips against her. “I want to bury my cock in your wet pussy, so fucking bad. But you know that don’t you?”
To his surprise, with a moan, Heather arched her back, fisted the sheet and pushed back against him. Her hips moved in his hands in time with his movements, and a tremor rocked her. With a growl, Zack pushed his hands under her shorts to grip her ass, and his fingers dug into her hips to increase the pressure. The long, low moan that came from her dripped like honey through his veins to settle in his cock. “Tonight, you’ll have a real man between your legs. I heard that buzzing from outside your door, so I know Bob has been keeping you company. Thinking about it has been driving me crazy—you’ve teased me long enough, sweet thing.”
Heather’s response was a mewl, as her hips made longer, wider circles against him. “Fuck me, Zack,” she begged, her voice a raspy whisper.
He could feel her wetness soaking through his jeans, and he stopped, put a few inches of space between them to dip his fingers between her legs to slide his fingers through her folds, he brushed her clit and another tremor rocked her. He could tease too, he thought, biting back a laugh as he made one slow circle there. Heather whined, tilted her hips into his hand, but Zack slid his hand out of her shorts and stepped back.
After a second, she rolled to sit on the bed and glare up at him. Zack grinned, as he adjusted his cock in his jeans, and her angry, frustrated green eyes watched him. “Not so good when you’re the one being teased is it, angel?”
“I haven’t been teasing you,” she growled, as she scrambled off the bed. She rounded to face him, put her hands on her hips. Craning her neck, she glared up at him, her face flushed and lower lip trembling. “Your parents are here, Zack Taylor. Somehow I don’t th
ink they’d appreciate us going at it under their noses. I just met them and I’m giving them something you never give me—respect!”
Heather went to brush past Zack, but he grabbed her wrist. “I respect you,” he growled, insulted.
A long shuddering sigh, preceded her words. “No, you like to fuck me, so you overlook what you think of me. Your opinion of me isn’t any better than it was the day we met.” Her soft, sad eyes met his and melted Zack’s heart into the bitter acid in his stomach. “Your mother and father are good people, and I want them to think better of me.” Heather dragged her eyes down to her feet. “Thank you for not telling them the real reason I’m out here.”
Zack’s fingers flew to her chin, and he tilted it up to meet her eyes. “The real reason you’re here is because I need your help. I didn’t tell them anything else, because that is your business and mine.”
Her chin trembled in his grasp, her eyes darkened and she lifted it a notch. “It’s not your business, but you’ve made it yours.”
Zack chewed the inside of his cheek as frustration built and he tried to formulate the words to refute her statement, make her understand why he was helping her. “My parents are good people and they raised me, so by osmosis, I guess I am too. I would not be able to live with myself if I sat back and watched this train wreck happen to someone I…” Words battled in his mind to fill in that blank, and one kept sticking in his throat. “Someone I care about.”
Heather held his eyes for a long moment, seemed to be searching for something there, before she stepped closer, tiptoed to put her hands on his shoulders. Zack’s hands went to her hips to hold her there. “Thank you for being a good man, for helping me.” Her soft words lingered, floated through him. Electricity buzzed between as she held his gaze, and the hard points of her breasts pressed into his chest.
