by Renee Rose
Not the first one, the second. Abe was handsome. Gentle, considering his size and what he did for a living. Sweet, even. Boyd, though, was… dangerous. I wasn’t afraid he would hurt me physically, although he had at least a foot on me and probably fifty pounds, but something else. He could hurt my heart. Screw with my plans. I’d been so focused on med school and my residency. On my career. It wasn’t like me to deviate because of a perfect ass in a pair of Wranglers. He was a bad boy who I knew was trouble but wanted anyway.
A rider was flung from his bull and landed hard, then rolled to clear himself from the back hooves of the bull. The rodeo clowns—I was sure they had some other name I didn’t know—ran over, redirected the animal, so the rider could get to his feet. I exhaled as the crowd cheered at his high score. He dusted himself off, lifted his hat in salute and walked out of the ring.
Boyd’s face appeared on the jumbotron, his quick smile twenty feet wide. The crowd went wild, which meant his ego was probably as big as his image on the huge screen. Yeah, I needed to keep my distance from that one because I wasn’t the one-night-stand kind of woman. With med school and residency, I barely socialized, let alone dated, let alone had tons of sex. Or any, really. Maybe a fling would be best for my crazy schedule, but no, that wasn’t me. I was the long term, commitment type. In fact, I’d moved to small town Montana to settle down. Slow down. Find a partner and start a family, just as I’d always longed to have. A family made up of two parents who loved each other and a gaggle of kids. I wanted that kind of insanity. Sledding, science fair projects, pet gerbils. That was what I longed for. Especially babies.
Screwing a rodeo champ was not part of that picture, and I doubted a rodeo champ wanted to fuck a woman who had baby fever. The words “ticking clock” wasn’t the same for him as it was for me. His plans lasted eight seconds, mine a lifetime.
Still, my body went on full alert when I spied his name on the ticker—Boyd Wolf vs. Night Sweats, which was a crazy name for a bull.
I leaned forward to spot him down in the chutes. They all looked the same in their helmets, safety vests and chaps, the sponsors’ logos splashed across the shoulders of their collared button-downs. But then I saw him—at least I was fairly certain it was him. The rider oozed the same raw confidence he’d shown in the medical room.
He straddled the snorting black bull then set about adjusting his grip on the rope with easy, deft movements. Only his hand held him on that beast. I knew none of the details about bull riding, only that I’d overheard it was called a rough stock event. Rough was the definitely right word.
“Hey, pretty lady.” Abe came up the concrete steps and settled his large body into the seat beside me.
I couldn’t help but smile at him, but I glanced back at the chutes.
“Hard to watch?” he asked.
I nodded. “Your ride went well. You stayed on past the buzzer. I should be congratulating you, right?”
He tipped his hat back, then set his hand on my shoulder. “Yes, ma’am. Best ride of the night. So far. We can celebrate by you getting that coffee with me after.”
His quick grin and mild manner had me smiling. He was handsome. Courteous. But like Jett Markle, the local rancher who I’d had one bad date with the week before, he didn’t do anything for me. Like those romance novels I read in my spare time, I wanted spark. Heat. Attraction. Chemistry.
Jett was turning out to be a creep, so I couldn’t put Abe into the same category.
The announcer called the next ride, and I was distracted by Boyd’s imminent turn. When I looked his way again, he wasn’t focused on the thousand pounds of pissed off animal beneath him, but at me. His gaze was locked onto me, and I gasped. No, he wasn’t looking at me, but at Abe’s hand on my shoulder. Boyd’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed. If I wasn’t mistaken, he was as pissed off by that action as the bull was to have a rider sitting on him.
Why was he looking at me? I wasn’t important. I was the short, dumpy doctor who had zero social life. Still, he stared. I tried to school my breath when he nodded his head. I realized it wasn’t for me when the chute was flung open.
Night Sweats came pawing out, snorting with fury over the rider on his back. I held my breath, stomach bunched up in a tight knot as he kicked his back legs up.
Even with the wild ride, Boyd seemed to take the body-snapping movements with ease, his thighs gripping the sides of the bull, his arm flung up, his back staying loose, his movements gracefully in sync with the animal.
It was mesmerizing.
Magical, even.
A wide smile stretched across his lips like riding bulls was a walk in the park for him. Oh God. Was that for real?
He scanned the audience… as he rode the bull.
What bull rider had the presence of mind to look for Mom when he was trying to stay on the back of a pissed off bull?
The crowd was going wild—cheering and stamping. Boyd had already been on the bull for eight seconds.
Nine.
I stood to see better, and he caught sight of me. Again.
That was impossible.
He might have glanced my way before, but now? On the back of a bull? He wouldn’t be looking for me in the crowd.
I shrieked, covering my mouth as he was thrown, flipped straight into the air like a frisbee. Oh God—no! Time slowed. I squeezed my eyes closed, then opened them again at the horror unfolding. As Boyd’s spinning body came down, the bull turned and tossed its head, landing a vicious horn right below the protection of Boyd’s vest.
He’d been gored.
Badly.
Possibly lethally.
“Oh shit,” Abe said. While I knew it wasn’t good, Abe’s words confirmed it. He’d seen more rides than I had, and this was worse than others.
I switched into medical mode, my training kicking in. I ran down the steps before I even knew my feet were moving, sprinting along with the EMTs for the arena.
“Hold up!” a manager yelled, barring our entrance while the rodeo clowns distracted the bull, and two riders rode out to rope it. “Now, go! Go!”
Boyd was on one knee, trying to get to his feet. Adrenaline was probably the only thing keeping him upright. Blood soaked his shirt and jeans, staining the dirt below him.
“Stop moving!” I yelled as I ran up. “Hold still, Boyd.” To the EMTs who followed with a backboard, I barked, “Get him on.”
Carefully, they transferred him to the board, strapped him to it and stood, walking quickly across the dirt ring toward where they’d left the gurney.
“I’m going to need a pressure bandage and an IV. And morphine,” I ordered, one of them speaking into the walkie talkie strapped to his shoulder, giving information, hopefully, to the ER. “I’ll ride along to the hospital.”
I wasn’t a trauma doctor. I was an ObGyn, but all my training as I did my rotations came rushing back. I jogged alongside the gurney, trying to gauge the depth, location and severity of the wound when a hand closed on mine.
My gaze flew to Boyd’s face. It was pale and sweat stood out on his forehead, but he grinned at me.
“Just a scratch, Doc,” he said, his voice raspy. His breathing was difficult, especially on inhales. I had to assume a punctured lung. “No need to worry.”
Was he actually comforting me? Now?
I squeezed his hand back, surprised at how relieved his upbeat attitude made me feel. As a doctor, I knew he was in a great deal of danger but was also aware the patient’s outlook could make the difference between living and dying.
“I usually do the reassuring, but I’m glad you’re staying positive. I’ll get you something for the pain as soon as we’re in the ambulance.”
He winced, trying to sit up and look at the injury.
I pushed him back down, although he wasn’t going anywhere with the strap around his waist. “Take it easy, champ, you’re losing blood.”
He gave a half grin as his face turned pasty. His blood pressure was most likely dropping, and he was going into s
hock. I needed to get him stabilized right away. As his lashes flickered, he mumbled, “Guess you’re not going out with Abe for coffee, huh?”
What? He had a hole in his chest and was worried about me going out with Abe? “Guess not. Hang on for me, okay?”
But it was too late. He’d lost consciousness.
Heart thundering in my chest, I hustled into the ambulance with him and took over the insertion of the IV needle into his arm as the paramedic settled an oxygen mask over his face.
Boyd Wolf was probably the cockiest cowboy in the west. It was his job to get on the back of a bull, but it was my job to save him when he fell off. I’d do everything I possibly could to do so.
3
BOYD
I blinked, looked around. Where the fuck was I? Sterile walls. Beeping monitors. Antiseptic scent. Shit. No.
I couldn’t be in a hospital. I’d barely gotten scratched when that bull nicked me with his horn. It had hurt like fucking hell, but it hadn’t been so bad. Just a little blood loss. A big hole in my chest. I’d seen Audrey in the stands—my wolf ready to show off for her—and was prepared to focus on the ride, all eight plus seconds, and then get back to her. Get in her. But then I’d seen Abe set his hand on her shoulder, and I’d focused on that. The way his fingers lightly gripped her. Felt her heat, could breathe in her sweet scent. I’d thought of that, only that. Not the big ass bull I’d been riding on.
Was she interested in Abe? Had she liked his touch? I’d wondered about that, then I’d been pissed as hell. No fucking way. My wolf had screamed at me, “He’s touching her! Get his fucking hands off her. Now!”
Abe would’ve had more than a broken finger before the night was out, an entire hand, except the bull had kicked just right, and I’d gone flying. I was used to falling off. Hell, I did it on purpose often enough, so people wouldn’t wonder as to why I was so fucking daring. It was the fact I knew I’d never get hurt that made me champ. Even a horn in my torso couldn’t keep me down for long.
What was bad, and sad, was that I’d fucking passed out. I’d planned on jumping off that gurney before it ever made it into the ambulance, track down Abe and tell him he could fucking forget Audrey even existed.
Not that Doctor Blue-Eyes would’ve let that happen. She’d been there within seconds of me hitting the hard packed dirt and began to treat me as if I were human.
She’d touched me. I’d felt it through the pain. My wolf had, too.
Hell, if getting her to focus on me was to get gored by a fucking bull, I should have done it earlier in the night. I remembered her squeezing my hand as she jogged beside the board they’d strapped me to. Vaguely, I remembered her next to me in the ambulance, speaking in those low, clipped tones to the EMTs. Stern. Authoritative. Bossy as fuck. That little slip of a female had given orders like the most ruthless of alphas.
I was good at sensing people. It was the shifter in me. Audrey had been worried… about me. And I remembered liking how that felt. She cared and if that didn’t do something funny to my insides.
I fought the drugs pumping through my veins and opened my eyes once again. I had no idea how long I’d been out and that was bad. My body was healing wolf-quick, and anyone could have noticed. I knew exactly nothing about hospitals since this was the first time I’d been in one, but it looked like they were going to do some kind of procedure, maybe even take me to the operating room. Watching doctor shows on TV clued me in to that possibility. A nurse in blue scrubs had her back to me, arranging instruments on a tray, then stepped out of the room. Like whatever was planned was going to happen.
I stifled a groan as I tugged the IV needle out of my arm and disconnected the monitoring equipment.
The last thing I needed was to expose my species to human doctors, especially the ones in my own home town. Revealing what we were was against pack rules. The easiest way to do that was to get them to cut me open.
My brother Rob—the pack alpha—would kill me. He’d do it in a more painful way than being gored, that was for fucking sure. He already thought I was a fuck-up and would probably swear up one side of Sunday and back down the other for getting injured in front of an entire arena full of people and forced to have medical intervention.
If he were me, he would have gone off into the woods, shifted and licked his wounds until he was healed, which would have taken a few short hours.
Me? Yeah, I was in fucking trouble here.
As softly as I could, I rolled off the hospital bed to crouch on the floor. A hospital gown had been draped over my privates and fell to the floor. I had to assume they hadn’t put me in it so they could keep my chest exposed, so they could treat it. I was bare ass naked. Picking the gown up, I shoved my arms through the sleeves. My ass was hanging out, and I was too weak and groggy to reach back and tie the tabs closed, probably more from the morphine than from the wound. I gave my head a shake to clear it.
I looked down and touched the place on my chest the bull had punctured. I couldn’t see it through the scratchy fabric, but I could feel that the flesh had closed. It was well on its way to healing, thank fuck. Even an injury as grave as a fucking bull horn through my chest knitted and fused fast. Quickly, before the nurse returned, I slipped out the door, the back of my gown flapping open in the back. I didn’t give a shit if someone saw my bare ass. I just wanted out.
I opened the cabinets outside my room until I found the plastic bag with my bloodied clothing and personal items and ducked into a bathroom to pull on the crusty clothing. They weren’t ideal, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. My hat sat on top, and I set it upon my head. I didn’t like being without it. I felt more naked with my head bare than in the hospital gown with my butt hanging out.
I dipped my head as I slipped out, but I snapped it up the moment I stepped into the hall and caught her scent. I sniffed. Peaches and vanilla. Yeah, I’d recognize her anywhere. But where was—
I turned to search for her, and she barreled into my arms. Well, my chest, really. That hurt like a bitch, but I caught her elbows to steady her as we collided, my wolf celebrating her nearness. Mine!
I smiled down at her, so caught off guard by the intense pleasure of touching her, I forgot my dilemma. I forgot that I was supposed to have a huge hole in my side.
She gasped, then frowned, looked me over. Since she was a full head shorter, her gaze was right at chest level and my bloody, torn shirt. “Boyd! How are you—”
She pulled back to look at my wound, and I dropped my arm from touching her to cover it, hunching a bit like it pained me. I was a bull rider, not an actor, and I was fucking this up more and more by the second.
“Listen, Doc,” I began. “I appreciate your help, but I’m more of a heal-at-home kind of guy. Nothing a little time on the couch can’t fix. I’m going to check myself out now.”
Horror flickered over her face. “You can’t!” She reached for the hem of my untucked shirt.
I shrank back. At least, I meant to shrink back. In actuality, something different happened. Her fingertips brushed the skin of my lower belly and every cell in my body reacted. My dick thickened in my jeans.
Shock flashed over her face when I kept her hand from drifting higher to the wound, her pupils narrowing to tiny points, then blowing wide. “But you… I mean—no way. You shouldn’t be standing, let alone leaving.”
Fuck.
My brain caught up with my dick as soon as it happened, but by then it was too late. I’d wanted to feel her touch, skin to skin. Wanted to feel her heat, to have her scent on me, permeating into me.
Dumb move. Another one.
I pushed her hand out from under my shirt and stumbled backward. Running into her was pretty much letting her in on a big fucking secret. A big shifter secret.
“I’m ah… not as hurt as you thought. Lots of blood for a little wound. I’m feeling better, but I’ll rest up. I promise.” I backed up. My wolf howled to stay near her. It didn’t understand why I was walking away. “I’m gonna head to my family’s ra
nch. You know, heal.”
I had her stunned surprise on my side. It took her seconds to process the unbelievable. At least unbelievable for humans.
“I’ll take good care of myself. As long as you promise me you won’t go out with Abe. He’s not the man for you.”
“Wait!” she called, but I’d already turned and started jogging as swiftly as I could down the hallway. As soon as I turned the corner, I broke into a run and got the fuck out of there as quickly as possible.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
What had I been thinking? Yeah, I wanted the hot little doc, but I couldn’t have her now. There was no fucking way I could even see her again. The secret would be out. I couldn’t expose what I was or the pack. Rob would be pissed.
All I could hope was that she didn’t realize the extent of healing that had taken place, that I was somehow just a hard-headed bull rider who hated hospitals and that she’d let me go without further inquiry. That I wanted just that. Except… that was a goddamn lie.
She knew who I was. Knew about Wolf Ranch. I’d mentioned where I was from earlier in the arena. I was far from anonymous. If she was as smart as I figured, there was no way she’d take what she’d seen as the end.
No fucking way. She’d come after me. My wolf howled at that. Perhaps that was the only reason why I wasn’t running back inside, finding the nearest empty hospital room and fucking her until she had no doubt she was mine and mine alone.
That was the stupidest thing of all. If she showed up at the ranch, I was going to have to explain to Rob—hell, not just Rob but the entire fucking pack—exactly how badly I fucked this up because my wolf was saying Dr. Audrey Ames was my mate.
Yeah, total fucking mess.
As usual.
The black sheep of the family returned.
And he was still the irresponsible playboy everyone thought he was. Plus, his wolf said his mate was human.
4
AUDREY
“It was the strangest thing,” I said, my eyes on the road.
