The Doctor's Cowboy

by Trish Milburn

  “I need to check how well your incisions are healing.” Though the thought of looking at even that little sliver of skin caused heat to flood her cheeks. At least her back was to him. Without waiting for Wyatt, she headed to her bedroom and pulled fresh bandages from the bag she’d stored there.

  When she turned around, Wyatt was almost done unbuttoning his shirt. “What are you doing?”

  He paused. “Taking off my shirt.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I’m not going to sleep in it.” He smiled as he slipped the last two buttons through the holes and shrugged out of the shirt.

  Her mouth went dry, and she was probably staring at him as if she’d never seen a half-naked man before.

  Still smiling, Wyatt crossed the space between them. “Do I make you nervous, Dr. Brody?”

  She licked her lips before she could think how that might look to him. “No, not at all.”

  He leaned toward her. “I don’t believe you.”

  That was because she was lying through her teeth. Getting through medical school was a breeze compared to how hard it was to keep her hands off his chest. She managed to scrape together enough willpower and common sense to take a step back and point toward the bed.

  “Lie down so I can do my job.”

  “Never heard it called that before.”

  She swatted him on the arm. “Behave yourself.”

  “Well, that’s no fun.”

  She had to agree with him there, though she kept that thought to herself.

  When he was stretched out along her bed, she forced herself to focus on his injuries, on removing the old bandages, checking the integrity of the stitches and the color of the skin before applying new bandages. She hated the sight of the bruise she’d caused, but thankfully it wasn’t bad enough to be concerning. She was about to step away when Wyatt grabbed her hand.

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  He squeezed her hand gently. “Not for the bandages. For...for caring.”

  “Just part of the job.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” he said. “At least not for all doctors. You’re different. You care more for people you barely know than some people do for their own families.”

  Before she thought about it, she sank onto the side of the bed, still holding his hand. “Your family?”

  He seemed startled by her assumption, maybe even by the fact he’d brought the topic up in the first place. “The only family I have left is my grandpa, and he’s in a nursing home in Laramie. Got Alzheimer’s.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.” Wyatt stared at the ceiling, as if he could see all the way to Wyoming. “I’d rather go by a bull’s horn than to have my mind slowly slip away.”

  Though she hated the idea of him being killed, she totally understood where he was coming from. She’d seen too many people lose their memories of loved ones, of their entire lives, to various forms of dementia. She couldn’t imagine looking at her brothers or dad and not knowing who they were or not being able to remember what memories she had of her mother.

  Chloe shifted more toward Wyatt and placed her other hand atop his. “Tell me about him.”

  He shifted his gaze to her. “You want to hear about my grandpa?”

  “Yeah.” It didn’t take a big leap to know that Wyatt didn’t have many people to talk to, probably even fewer with whom to share family memories.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Whatever you want to tell me.”

  Wyatt returned his gaze to the ceiling, and she imagined him sifting through a file drawer of memories. “I spent a lot of time with my grandparents when I was growing up. Grandpa was a team roper back in the day, but that was before my time. I used to like looking through his old photos of his rodeo days, though.”

  “Guess you come by the rodeo bug naturally, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Were your parents involved in rodeo, too?”

  “No,” he said a little too quickly. “But even after Grandpa couldn’t compete anymore, he couldn’t let it go. He became an announcer and would travel all over the West working rodeos. After Grandma retired from teaching, she went along, working as the rodeo secretary. I’d travel with them, so I grew up with rodeo in my veins.”

  Chloe wondered about his parents, but she got the message that he didn’t want to talk about them.

  “Is your Grandma still alive?”

  “No. She died a few years ago. Grandpa was already losing some of his memories, but after Grandma died it got worse almost overnight. I think he stopped trying to remember because it hurt.”

  “That’s so sad.” She realized she was caressing the top of Wyatt’s hand with her thumb, but she didn’t stop.

  “Stuff like that makes you wonder why people pair up at all.”

  His words hit so close to what she’d thought earlier that she wondered if it were some sort of sign reminding her to not get too close to Wyatt. Still, she found she didn’t want to let go of his hand. As illogical as it sounded, that connection felt deeper than it had any reason to, as if she might float off into the darkness of space if she let go.

  Wyatt squeezed her hand, drawing her out of her thoughts.

  “You better get some sleep,” he said.

  She wasn’t fooled. Fatigue was written as clearly on his face as if someone had taken a black marker and scrawled the word. But she nodded anyway.

  “Thanks for trying to make dinner.”

  “All I did was waste some of your food.”

  She smiled. “Good entertainment isn’t free.”

  He snorted. “Glad to know I’m so amusing.”

  Though she didn’t want to, she pulled her hands away from Wyatt’s. “Good night.”

  “Good night, Chloe.”

  Several minutes later as she lay on the couch staring at her own patch of ceiling, she allowed herself to remember the sound of her name on his lips. She’d liked the way it sounded, liked it way too much. So much that part of her would like to hear it for the rest of her days.

  * * *

  WYATT COULDN’T STAY in the house one minute longer. As soon as he saw the mail carrier stop at the mailbox, he headed out the front door and down the driveway. Though the pain in his side and stomach were constant companions, it felt good to get out in the sun and stretch his legs. By the time he reached the end of the driveway, sweat was pouring off him. But he still halfway wanted to keep going, to push himself into Blue Falls. He needed to leave and soon, before he let a scene like what happened in Chloe’s bedroom a few nights before lead where he’d wanted it to.

  She was a good woman, and she didn’t need someone like him dragging all his sordid baggage into her life. Letting her play doc for a few days was one thing. Allowing himself to care for her was another.

  Maybe she’d already realized that because since the night he’d told her about his grandpa, since she’d held his hand between hers, she’d made herself scarce, working even longer hours than before. She said it was because they were scrambling like crazy to get everything ready for the health and community fair, but part of him wondered if that were all it was.

  He took advantage of her absence and did what the pain allowed to get stronger—climbing the stairs several times a day, using items around the house to lift as makeshift weights, spending time out in the sun and fresh air so the walls would stop closing in on him. His recovery was going slower than he’d like, but at least he could see and feel steady improvement.

  He began to look at the rodeo schedule, estimating when he might be able to ride again. He was losing precious time, points and money every day he had to spend in recovery, and he was itching to get back to the sights, sounds and smells of a rodeo arena. But at
least he was on a ranch instead of in that awful hospital.

  As he turned back toward the house, he spotted Roscoe and Cletus ambling down the driveway toward him.

  “Hey, fellas.”

  He carefully bent to scratch both of them between the ears. “You two have got it made.”

  Wyatt winced against a familiar pain as he stood straight. He took a deep breath, wondering how he was going to get on a bull anytime soon if just bending to pet a dog felt as if he might rip himself open again.

  Small steps. Small steps. He had to keep reminding himself that small steps would get him where he wanted to go...eventually.

  As he neared the house, he noticed Owen out in the corral next to the barn. That was unusual for the middle of the afternoon, especially since Garrett and Wayne weren’t around. Wyatt headed that direction.

  “You seem as if you’re getting around better,” Owen said from the back of a chestnut mare.

  “Yeah.”

  “Guess anything’s better than ass down on an ambulance stretcher.”

  “You got that right.”

  “How much longer you think you’ll be staying?”

  “Not long. Going to heal enough to where I don’t think your sister will throw me back in the hospital if I try to leave.”

  Owen smiled, and something about that smile made Wyatt antsy.

  “Sure it’s not more than that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Maybe you’ve got a thing for Chloe.”

  “She’s a nice person, been kinder to me than she had any reason to be, but you don’t have to worry.”

  “Did I say anything about being worried? She could do a lot worse.”

  “And a hell of a lot better.” Needing to get off the topic of Chloe, especially with her brother, Wyatt nodded at the horse. “Pretty animal.”

  Owen patted the side of the mare’s neck. “Yeah, hope she’ll eventually bring a pretty price, too. I think she’s got what it takes to be a barrel racer.”

  “You train rodeo stock?”

  “Going to try. Would do more, but the ranch takes up a lot of time. Now with these damn vandals, the shifts watching for them are eating up even more hours.”

  “Maybe I can help.”

  “No offense, man, but I don’t think you’re in any shape to be chasing after anyone.” Owen’s mouth edged up at one end. “Unless she wants to be caught.”

  Wyatt ignored that last part, and instead watched Owen run the horse around a truncated barrel-racing course for a few minutes. Then, leaving the other man to his work, Wyatt wandered into the barn. He inhaled the familiar scents of hay, dirt, leather and horse and instantly felt better than he had in days.

  He wasn’t willing to give up that feeling anytime soon so he walked down the line of stalls, rubbing the foreheads of the horses that stuck their heads over the stall doors to figure out who this new person was in their territory. He wandered to the opposite side of the barn and stepped into the tack room. There the smell of leather was even stronger, calling to him.

  He noticed that in addition to the harnesses and saddles, the room held a surprisingly comfortable-looking bunk and a small fridge and microwave in the corner, likely there for those nights when one of the horses couldn’t be left alone. Or maybe at some point a ranch hand had lived in the space.

  When he stepped back out into the main aisle of the barn, he felt pretty good, all things considered. He grabbed the pitchfork from where it hung on the wall and started mucking out one of the stalls and tossing in fresh hay. His injuries protested, but he wasn’t ready to admit he was doing too much too soon.

  “What in the blue Hades are you doing?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Wyatt spun toward the sound of Chloe’s none too happy voice. She stalked into the barn just as he felt a pinch in his middle. He tried to hide it by answering her question.

  “Just tossing in a little hay for this guy.” He patted the side of the big roan next to him, the one he’d seen Owen astride when he went out to ride the ranch with his brother and dad.

  She cursed when she came closer. “And you’ve reinjured yourself. You’re supposed to be getting better, not ripping yourself open again.” She closed the rest of the distance between them, jerked the pitchfork out of his hand and hung it back where he’d gotten it. “Come on. Let me fix what you’ve messed up.”

  “I wasn’t done with the stall.” He knew it was a stupid thing to say considering the bloody spot on his shirt right over where Beelzebub had ripped open his side, but she was rubbing him the wrong way.

  “Leave it to someone who isn’t supposed to be healing from serious injuries and not acting like an idiot.”

  “Don’t treat me like a little kid.” His voice snapped like a whip, stopping her in her tracks. He expected her to have a snappy comeback. Instead, she seemed to deflate right in front of him.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice sounded shakier than he’d ever heard it. This wasn’t like Chloe at all.

  He walked toward her, stopping a couple of feet away. “What’s wrong?”

  She bit her lip and took a breath. “Ruth Carter died today.” The moment a tear escaped her eye and flowed down her cheek, he pulled her into his arms, cradling her head against his shoulder. A sob broke free, and he held her even tighter as she cried, stroking her hair in an effort to somehow take away some of her sorrow.

  Wyatt, without thinking, dropped a kiss atop her head.

  “Chloe, you okay?”

  At the sound of Owen’s voice, Chloe jumped away from Wyatt as if he’d scorched her skin. “Yeah, fine.” She turned her back to her brother and quickly wiped her tears away, pulling all her sorrow inward.

  Wyatt doubted she even realized what she was doing, what she’d probably been doing for years right alongside taking care of her family. She was being the strong one, shielding them. It wasn’t healthy, and she shouldn’t have to shoulder that type of burden alone.

  “She lost a patient today,” Wyatt said. “Ruth Carter.”

  The suspicion he’d seen in Owen’s eyes faded as he took a few steps into the barn. “Oh, hell. I’m sorry, sis.”

  Chloe nodded. “She had a good, long life.”

  And Chloe would miss her, had cared about her. This beautiful woman in front of him had to have the biggest heart of anyone he’d ever met. He wanted to cocoon her in his arms and protect her from anything that might ever try to hurt her again.

  “Come on,” she said without meeting Wyatt’s eyes. “Let’s check your stitches.” She didn’t wait for him to accompany her, instead heading out of the barn without making eye contact with her brother.

  When Wyatt started after her, the pain in his side increasing, Owen held out a hand and stopped him. Wyatt expected to get a lecture from Chloe’s brother, even though he’d been the one teasing him earlier about having a “thing” for Chloe.

  “Thank you,” Owen said instead.

  “For?”

  “Being there for Chloe. She would have never fallen apart like that with one of us, and sometimes she needs to.”

  Wyatt wouldn’t have expected the younger man to be so observant, but he guessed it just showed that often you couldn’t tell what a person was really like until they were willing to show you. Still, Wyatt wasn’t the one Owen should be telling.

  “Maybe you should let her know she doesn’t have to shoulder everything alone.”

  He followed in Chloe’s footsteps, not giving Owen time to respond. By the time he heaved himself up the porch steps and trudged into the house, he knew that Chloe had been at least partly right. He wasn’t sorry he’d gone for a walk or explored the barn, but he had obviously injured himself again.

  Chloe was nowhere to be seen when he stepped into the living room, but he knew she was likely a
lready in the bedroom pulling out her medical supplies. He hated that what he’d done was going to make her work even longer after what had been a bad day.

  He stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. Not wanting this to take any longer than necessary, he removed his shirt and lay down on the bed. Without saying a word, Chloe cleaned the area where he’d popped a stitch and had evidently bumped himself enough to cause a small trickle of blood. After she gave him a local anesthetic, she set to work replacing the stitch. The moment she was done, she stood and started putting her supplies back into the bag.

  He carefully got to his feet and crossed the room. He rested his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know you didn’t do it on purpose, but you’ve got to trust me when I say you need time to heal, more time than I know you want to give it. You didn’t just get a scratch from that bull. You could have died.” Her voice broke on the last word, her thoughts probably going back to Ruth.

  He pushed her hair back from her tear-streaked face and cupped her jaw, tilting her face upward. “But I didn’t, thanks to you. You’ve cared for me more in the past couple of weeks than... Let’s just say I’m not used to it. I’m used to working through the pain because I haven’t had a choice.” He realized that maybe they weren’t all that different.

  Before he could tell himself all the reasons it was a bad idea, he lowered his mouth to hers.

  * * *

  A SHOCK WAVE of heat jolted Chloe the moment Wyatt’s mouth captured hers. For a split second, she thought that she should pull away, but she shoved that thought aside. She’d had a horrible day, and she’d been fighting her attraction to Wyatt for days, maybe since the first moment he’d been wheeled into her ER. She wanted this, even if it were only temporary.

  She moved more fully into his arms and ran her fingers through the hair at the back of his head, pulled him closer. Wyatt made an appreciative sound and deepened the kiss. One of his hands rested between her shoulders while the other slid to the small of her waist. She ran her other hand up his back, feeling the contour of muscles honed from riding bulls.