Falling for a Cowboy

by Karen Rock

  “Call me Sierra,” the petite woman said.

  Amberley searched her memories for a mental picture of Sierra. She’d always reminded Amberley of a fairy—delicate features too perfect to be human and beautiful, long blond hair. Her down-to-earth, friendly personality tempered the jealousy she aroused in others. Oh. And she snorted when she laughed. Not even a cute, dainty snort. It reminded Amberley of a Canadian goose. It was a loud honk that’d landed her in trouble in school whenever her classmates got her giggling—something everyone liked doing since Sierra’s laugh-snort was uncontrollable and infectious.

  “And how’s my patient today? Behaving himself?” The changing direction of Sierra’s voice suggested that she circled Harley, assessing him for signs of strain on the other limbs now carrying more of Harley’s weight.

  “Mostly.” Amberley grabbed Petey’s collar. She crossed to the hose reel, dragging the heavy line. “He’s becoming a little spoiled with all the treats. This morning, he turned his nose up at the cornmeal mix.”

  Sierra’s snort carried on the cooling, late-afternoon breeze. “Can’t let him turn into a diva.”

  “Too late for that.” Amberley wound the hose, then bent to turn off the spigot. “But he deserves pampering.”

  And her apologies...which she’d given him nonstop. Her mind replayed the accident on constant loop, lingering on all the signs she’d missed, the ways she could have prevented his career-ending injury. Most likely, Harley would never barrel race again.

  Given how he perked up around the children, though, she hoped he’d find happiness spending his days on Spirit Ranch. He couldn’t compete, but he could love. No disability on earth could stop you from doing that...

  And maybe, maybe it even let you love just a little harder, appreciate others more, be extra grateful for the time you have and what you give instead of take. That was Harley. Now he’d bestow his big heart on children who needed him more than rodeo crowds. They’d always cheer and hug him, and she hoped it’d be enough.

  “Any preference on color for his elastic wrap?” Sierra called.

  “Purple?”

  “Got it.”

  Petey guided her around a puddle, left from last night’s rainstorm, and back to Harley. After the deluge, she’d woken to silence and the earthy smells of washed greenery. Her lungs drew in breath after breath, the freshly scrubbed air tasting like a new start, a second chance, hope.

  “Hey, Amberley. Sierra. How’s Harley?”

  Her heart sputtered at Jared’s baritone. While he’d stayed with her all week, sleeping outside the stall, fetching her food, water, fresh clothes from home, he’d kept his distance romantically. Was he respecting her painful situation with Harley or, now that her chance at competing, at winning, ended with Harley’s injury, had his interest in her waned?

  “Swelling’s going down and I’m seeing a bit of range of motion,” Sierra answered.

  Petey halted her beside Harley and Jared. She peered his way, but Jared didn’t turn his head or otherwise notice her.

  Had her decision to keep him at arm’s length backfired?

  Was he waiting for Harley to improve enough, for her sake, before moving on to greener pastures? The Cades celebrated James’s wedding this weekend. Considering Jared’s silence about the big event, she guessed he already had a date.

  “Prognosis?” Jared asked. The blur of flesh color suggested he stroked Harley.

  And he still hadn’t looked at her.

  Sierra’s shape straightened, and purple now covered what Amberley knew must be Harley’s front leg. “I’d say another few weeks of stall rest, then some supervised grazing, small pasture for a month before we let him loose.”

  Amberley’s shoulders loosened. It’d be months of dedicated care, but Harley would pull through.

  “And racing?” Jared prompted, though he and Amberley had already surmised the answer.

  “Not possible.” Sierra clucked at Harley, then held out something red he gobbled up quickly. An apple. “But he’ll still be able to give the little ones a ride.”

  “How soon?” Amberley asked. Harley struggled to the stall door whenever he heard the therapy groups pass by, eager for a glimpse of the children.

  “Three months or so. Could be earlier. We’ll have to wait and see. Right, boy?” Sierra’s voice rose at the end, softening as she addressed Harley. “Who’s my miracle horse? Huh? You brave boy.”

  Amberley smiled at the dedicated vet who didn’t mind indulging in a little baby talk when it came to her charges. Despite her busy practice, Sierra insisted on caring for Harley personally. She always finished what she started, she’d declared, and she wouldn’t miss one step of Harley’s journey back to health.

  Sierra, Jared, Maverick, the children...their outpouring of love and support for Harley meant a lot. If fairies required belief and applause to fly, then horses like Harley needed affection to recover. Every hug was water on a parched plant, replenishing and restoring him.

  Jared behaved especially attentive to Harley. At times, she felt almost jealous, wanting that same attention. But Harley came first. She wouldn’t begrudge him anything, though she wished Jared wouldn’t leave her in the dark about where they stood.

  What held him back?

  You pushed him away, sniped the devil on one shoulder. Told him to prove himself instead of trusting him.

  You haven’t told him how you feel yet, soothed the angel on her other shoulder, piping up for the first time since the accident.

  True, Amberley mused. After nearly losing Harley, she’d never take loved ones for granted again. While Jared’s romantic gestures before the accident touched her, his steadfast support and devotion to her injured horse, to her safety and well-being, proved his head and heart were in the right place.

  Maybe she overthought this when she should just reach for him if she dared.

  “Hey,” she heard Maverick say, and she glanced up at his mountainous frame. “How’s our favorite horse?”

  While Sierra updated her older brother, Jared approached and bent down to pet Petey.

  “He’s legit now,” Jared said, referencing Petey’s new certification and the blue “Service Dog” vest he wore. “And taking his job seriously. He hasn’t quit impersonating a pair of slippers yet, has he?”

  “Nope.” She chuckled, peering down at the black-and-white fur entirely covering her boots now. “It’s like he doesn’t want me to go anywhere.”

  “I know the feeling,” Jared mumbled, low.

  “What do you mean?”

  She heard him exhale and held her own breath. If he said he didn’t want to pursue her anymore she’d...

  He cupped her elbow, breaking her from her dark thoughts, and steered her a small distance away. Petey followed, then dropped atop her boots with an exasperated huff.

  “Seeing you fall off Harley,” Jared blurted, his voice raw. “I thought you were crushed. Dead.”

  Her hand rose to his face and skimmed the rough bristle on his cheeks. Meticulous Jared—unshaven? And he wore the same wrinkled shirt he’d donned yesterday and the day before that. This from a guy who ironed his T-shirts. He turned his face into her palm and pressed a small kiss in its center.

  “You’ve been distant this week.”

  “Every time I looked at you, I pictured the accident and how close you came to dying. I should’ve stopped your last run.”

  She opened her mouth to agree, then closed it and shook her head instead. “Have you ever been able to stop me when I’m set on something?”

  A beat of silence and then a short guffaw. “No.”

  “I’m to blame for chasing a fool’s dream instead of accepting my disability. I could have killed Harley.”

  “It was an accident. Plenty of sighted riders have them.”

  “But—”

  “And never give up yo
ur dreams,” he insisted. “If not for Harley’s injury, they might have come true.”

  “Guess we’ll never know.”

  “Never say never,” Maverick drawled, joining them. “I’ve got a trained barrel racer if you want her.”

  Her muscles seized. “What? Who?”

  “It’s Calamity Jane.”

  “Calamity?” she echoed... “That’s Ella Parks’s horse. Why would she lend her to me?”

  A ten-time world champion barrel racer, Ella toured with the ERA premier group. Amberley beat her for the last three titles, but Ella was a legend and still at the top of her game.

  “She married last year.” Maverick’s voice dipped, and suddenly Amberley remembered that he and Ella once dated. Dubbed Rodeo’s golden couple, they’d reigned as king and queen of their sports. What’d broken them up.

  “Anyhow,” Maverick continued after a gruff throat clearing, “she’s expecting and when she heard about your accident, she called and offered her horse. She said it’d be good exercise for Calamity since Ella’s on bed rest.”

  “That’s an incredible offer,” Jared cut in. “What do you say, Amberley?”

  Hope burbled inside, welling like a spring-fed brook. Then she heard Harley’s screams again and the geyser stopped. Too much risk. If not for Jared, she could have been crushed and Harley would have died. Besides, Harley and their bond made racing possible. Without him, she’d never navigate a course, let alone compete on one again.

  “Please tell her thanks, but I can’t accept.”

  “Okay, then.” Maverick’s head dipped, like he tipped his hat, then he ambled away.

  “Courage is being scared to death—and saddling up anyway,” Jared quoted. He twined his fingers in hers.

  “I’m not scared!” Her heart beat double time, belying her words, as image after image—of Harley running pell-mell into the wall, Harley’s slide, then fall, Harley writhing on the ground—flashed in her mind’s eye. “I’m being realistic. Harley made racing possible. It’d be tough to compete last minute on a new horse, even if I had my sight.”

  “Tough, but not impossible.”

  “I’m not a Pegasus, Jared. I can’t fly.”

  His grip tightened around hers. “Yes, you can.”

  Her breath caught. “You never stop believing in me, do you?”

  He pressed his nose to hers. “Nope. It’s kind of a habit. Say—want to get out of here with me?”

  “But, Harley...”

  “I’ve got the rest of the day off,” Sierra offered, passing by as she led Harley to the stall. “I planned on keeping Maverick company anyway. He needs some cheering up. I can cover for you in the last therapy group, too.”

  “And I’m here,” put in Benny, joining them. “Plus, Joan feels up to working a bit today, so we’re covered.”

  “Thanks.” She threw her arms around Harley, hugged him, then stepped back.

  “Petey needs to stay.” Jared lowered himself to the dog, and the furious tail thumping suggested an ear scratch. “Sorry, bud. Next time.”

  “Why?” she asked after leaving Petey in Sierra’s care.

  When they stopped in the parking lot, Jared passed her something round, hard and familiar. Her heart jumped. A motorcycle helmet.

  “Because you’re about to fly.”

  Amberley stuffed her hat in Jared’s bag and donned the heavy helmet. Her shaking hands struggled to secure the simple buckle.

  Jared brushed her fingers aside to latch it. “Stay still,” he ordered, chuckling.

  “Can’t.” She bounced from foot to foot, afire with anticipation. She hadn’t ridden her own Breakout, and felt the wild abandon, the freedom of the open road, in so long.

  “All set?” he asked after securing her helmet.

  “You bet!” She pumped her fist and hooted.

  Strong hands scooped her up and settled her on the back of the seat as if she weighed less than a thistle.

  “Settle down there, cowgirl,” he drawled, his voice deep and warm in the middle.

  Then, without warning, Jared’s lips brushed hers, a soft, dreamy pressure that tripped her pulse, tumbling it in her veins. She traced her mouth when he pulled away. Had she imagined that brief, yummy kiss?

  No.

  He was too much shine to not be felt.

  The motorcycle tilted slightly when he hopped on board. The engine revved.

  “Hold on!” he shouted.

  She threw her arms around his trim waist and held him tightly. He leaned forward, trying to give her more room, she guessed, but she crushed her body into his broad back, needing to be close to him. As she shut her eyes and breathed him in, she couldn’t tell where he ended and she began. Her heart beat so quickly, and yet she felt utterly calm—she could have stayed there forever and let the world fall apart around them.

  The smooth hum of tires rolling on pavement replaced the crunch-gravel sound of the stable’s dirt drive. Jared gunned it, and the Breakout, unleashed, burst forward with tremendous speed. The wind whipped through her hair, knotting the strands with invisible fingers. The sunlight warmed her skin, and the weight she’d carried around her shoulders since the accident drifted away.

  She dropped her chin to Jared’s shoulder. His muscles shifted as he expertly guided the Breakout up the winding road. Gosh. He smelled good. Fresh laundry, hung out to dry on a sweet summer day, the leather from his jacket and beneath that, a bit of spicy cologne mixed with his clean, male skin.

  Through her visor, she glimpsed the world zoom by in a colorful blur. The green-brown must be fir trees, she guessed, inhaling the pine-scented air. A black ribbon of road beckoned them on. Overhead arched a watercolor of blue bleeding into purple streaming into rose and then orange before it dripped down, into what must be the horizon. Sunset.

  Her heart writhed and a roar built in the back of her throat.

  “Yeeeeeeeehawwwwww!” she shouted as Jared poured on the speed and ripped around another curve. Breakout bikes could comfortably handle eighty-five miles an hour or more and had enough torque to manage steep inclines. Despite the danger of the sudden drop-offs on either side of the shoulder-less road, she’d never felt safer.

  Jared turned back for a quick look before whipping his head forward again, eyes back on the treacherous road. He shot her a thumbs-up.

  “Woooooooo-hooooooo!” she hollered, exalting, and Jared joined her, their primal howls echoing on this lonely back road.

  Too soon, they slowed, then stopped atop a mountain. Mount Sopris, if she guessed correctly from the direction they’d traveled. The wind, harsher at this altitude, lashed her hair around her face when she pulled off her helmet. Jared tucked the strands behind her ears with rough fingers.

  She felt her lips puckering, wanting another kiss. Her eyes flew open a second later when he tugged her up a small path instead, and then out onto a grassy outcropping above a dizzying, wide-open space.

  “Come with me.” He slipped an arm around her waist, securing her to his side, and guided her to the very edge. Far below, air currents rippled a blurry purple sea of blooms.

  “Laurel Canyon,” she breathed. Their special place. “I didn’t think I’d ever see it again.”

  “Why?” he asked in a husky whisper. The silken feel of his lips moving against her ear shook the skin over her bones.

  “Because I can’t—I can’t...”

  “You can do anything. Even fly.”

  She turned and flung her arms around his neck. The wind lifted her hair, streaming it behind her like a sheet. Overhead, an eagle cried, and the sinking sun sent tendrils of light spiraling over them.

  “Thank you, Jared.” The bike ride had liberated her, down to the marrow of her bones. Right now, she felt ready to soar over this range—or her heart at least.

  “I have another surprise.”

 
He steered her away from the precipice. “No peeking.”

  “You don’t need to say that to a blind girl,” she teased.

  “Legally blind,” he corrected, sounding amused, then his boots stomped away.

  She drank in the cool air, thinner and purer at this altitude, as she waited on him. A moment later, she heard the snap of fabric followed by clinking glass.

  “Okay. You can look now.”

  She popped open her eyes and trained them on a wavering square of color with some objects on it. “That doesn’t help.”

  “Right.” Jared guided her a couple of steps, then helped her down onto a soft blanket.

  “Ohhhhhh...a picnic.” They’d held so many in this spot, as kids and then later, as adults. They’d unwound, vented and dreamed here, all the things you do and say with your best friend. Now it seemed extra special because Jared was more...only...they still needed to define what that “more” would be.

  “Sparkling grape juice, ma’am?”

  She smiled. “My favorite. And I think I like sweetheart better.”

  He lifted the glass to her mouth and held it there as she drank the sweet berry juice. “Sweetheart,” he murmured then whisked the glass away.

  She almost groaned aloud. She wanted him to kiss her again. Badly. Jared lifted something soft and flaky to her mouth. She sniffed. “Ham and cheese croissant?” Her eyes closed in pleasure at the first salty, buttery bite. “When did you...?”

  “This morning.” He moved, gesturing to the quilt she guessed. “I wanted you to remember this place and who you are. Who you want to be.”

  “Without Harley, I’m not a barrel racer.”

  “Not true. You had Crimson before that.”

  She let that sink in.

  “Harley wouldn’t want you to give up,” he added.

  “Now you’re playing dirty.”

  He laughed. “Who’s playing?” She gasped with he slid a finger down the side of her face. “Let’s watch the stars come out while you think it out. I’ll build a fire.”

  He moved away and she heard a match strike. He must be lighting kindling, she marveled, picturing the old fire ring they’d built one summer. It took her a moment, as he fussed over the fire, to realize what he tried to say. He hadn’t brought her out here to kiss her. He wanted her to remember who she was, the fearless woman he knew, with or without Harley.