by Anne Carrole
She stepped back, out of his embrace, and weakly smiled, wiping a hand over her cheek.
“We best get going,” she said.
Focus. Not on the warmth of her body, not on the curves filling out her jeans, not on Libby.
Chance reached for the two flashlights on the shelf in the mudroom and handed them both to Libby, who was already at the door. Maneuvering on his crutches was hard enough without carrying something in his hands. He fought the pulsing ache coming from his foot and the soreness in his ribs. Time to rest later. He just hoped they found Cowboy, or there would be no calming Libby.
In his opinion, animals were much savvier than humans expected. Especially about surviving. He didn’t doubt Cowboy would find a nice tree to climb if need be, but he knew saying so wouldn’t soothe Libby’s fears.
The walk to the barn, though relatively short, had the nerves in Chance’s foot jumping. He’d clearly been up too long. He handed his flashlight to Libby, unlatched the door, and pushed it open. Libby slid in, and he limped through, closing the door behind him. Though it was a deep gray outside the barn, inside it was black.
“Are you going to put the lights on?” Libby asked.
“In due course. First, let’s scan with the flashlights. See if we pick up a pair of red eyes.” Chance retrieved one of the flashlights Libby was carrying.
“What if we see red eyes, but it’s not Cowboy—it’s some other animal.”
“You’ve a vivid imagination, Libby, I’ll give you that. I swear I’ll turn on the lights first before we reach for anything with red eyes.” He couldn’t help the smile on his face. Libby sure wasn’t a country girl, even if she had been raised in Wyoming.
Chance flicked the flashlight on and Libby followed. He panned the upper regions of the hayloft, where the hay would have been stored if he had been using the barn, and Libby scanned the paddock area, all the while softly calling Cowboy’s name.
Once through, and no glowing eyes.
“I’ll look in the tack room. You go through the stalls.” Chance wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand, what with the pain shooting through his foot.
Hobbling over to the tack room, he pulled back the door that was ajar and flashed the light around the room. Two red eyes stared at him from under the wooden horse that held one of his saddles.
He moved further into the room, closed the door behind him, and flicked on the light. Cowboy was crouched down, ignoring the call of his name, waiting for someone to fetch him.
“Found him,” Chance shouted. Within a millisecond, Libby stepped in and let the door bang behind her, the sound causing Cowboy to stiffen.
She rushed to the cat, setting down her flashlight so she could scoop him up in her arms. Cowboy was unaffected. His expression clearly asked, what’s all the fuss about?
Cooing his name and petting him, Libby let out a ragged breath. “Thank you, Chance.”
“Libby,” Chance could feel the pain crawling up his limb like a pack of biting centipedes. “I need to get back to the house. And I’m going to need your help. Go put Cowboy in the house and then come back here. ’Cause if I don’t sit down soon, I’m going to fall down.”
Libby’s face ashen, she did as he asked, scooting out with Cowboy in her arms. Chance leaned against the wall and prayed he’d stay upright until she got back.
* * *
Libby rushed back to find Chance propped against the wall. He needed to lean on her as he used one crutch to hobble his way to the French doors. Once inside, Libby helped him onto the bed and then headed for the kitchen to shut off the oven.
One mouthful of chicken confirmed her fear—it was as dry as paper. Once again she’d ruined dinner.
She hurried back to check on Chance. He was lying still as she entered the bedroom, but he turned toward her. She could see the pain in the grimaced lines of his face. Her eyes burned with tears.
She sat on the edge of the bed and stroked his cheek. She wanted so much to make it better for him, and she had only made it worse.
“I’m all right, Libby. Just some pain, is all.”
“I’m so sorry, Chance. You should be resting, and everything I do seems to force you to step on that foot.”
“Things happen. It’s okay.” His lids were lowered, his smile sexy. “You could make it better, you know.”
“What do you need?” If she could do something to ease his discomfort, she would do it.
“Lean closer and I’ll tell you,” he said. His gaze centered on her eyes, but her whole body seemed encompassed in some heat-filled haze. She leaned in.
“What?” She swallowed hard.
“Kiss me.” He lowered his gaze to her mouth.
She sucked in a breath and with it the shivery pheromones that seemed to swirl around her like a fall breeze.
“I know you want to,” he said
She did. The way he was staring at her mouth made her want to.
“How do you know?”
“It’s in your eyes.” But he wasn’t looking at her eyes.
“My eyes? That’s how you can tell I want to kiss you?”
He slowly raised his gaze to meet hers. His eyes were sending her a hot, lustful message of pure need.
He reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, grazing her temple. She couldn’t breathe.
Should she refuse? Should she respond? She couldn’t think of something to say.
His fingers stroked her face, first the jaw, then the cheek, then that special spot right behind her ear as his palm cupped her chin. His warm touch was a sweet caress that sent little tickles right to her belly.
She shouldn’t, but she no longer cared about consequences. She’d be leaving in the morning. So what did it matter? She leaned closer.
His firm lips met her mouth as his hand held her face. The kiss was hot, deep, and divinely scintillating. Shivers ran through her body, and she wrapped her arms around his neck to hold on. He took the kiss deeper, made it hotter, made her whole body feel like it was ready to explode. Made her want to explode.
When it was over, he leaned back, and this time his gaze was hotter, steamier, filled with sex.
“No fair,” he said lazily.
“What’s no fair?” The way he’d kissed her and made her want to jump his bones? That was definitely no fair.
“Kissing a man when he’s in no condition to take advantage of it.”
“Do you want to take advantage of it?” Because she was this close to letting him.
“Do it again and I’ll show you.”
She was tempted. Looking at him stretched out on the bed, she was very tempted. But this was surely a path to nowhere. He wasn’t interested in a relationship beyond sex. Not with her. He’d been clear about that. And besides, he really wasn’t in any shape to take advantage, not without a great deal of pain.
She’d caused him enough of that already—physical and emotional. He may forgive her for the physical pain she’d caused, but never the emotional, however much he wanted her.
“I better see about dinner,” she said, rising from the bed. It was then that she spotted the open pill bottle on the nightstand. Well, that explained a lot.
The kitchen would be a safer bet.
Rather than serving another failed attempt at cooking, Libby decided to make scrambled eggs and bacon. When she brought it into Chance’s bedroom, he was asleep. One more disaster to add to her growing list.
Tomorrow she would pack her bags and leave. There was no use staying when she was doing more harm than good. Coming here had been a mistake, with one exception. She was now certain she still loved Chance Cochran. And perhaps that would do the most harm of all.
Chapter 10
“I need you to take me to the doctor.”
Those were the first words out of Chance’s mouth when Libby went to check on him the next morning.
“I thought your appointment wasn’t until next week.”
“Something doesn’t feel right. I hate to say it, but I
need to see that sports medicine guy in Denver.” He threw off the cover and exposed a swollen foot the size of a football. He also exposed his six-pack abs, but at least he had on boxer briefs, though they didn’t really conceal all that much, given Chance was a well-endowed man. Something she knew, but seeing was a potent reminder.
This was all her fault. And though she had planned to tell him she was leaving, having packed her bags the night before, how could she now? He needed her, really needed her, even though she’d been the cause of all this pain.
“Of course I’ll take you. Do you want me to call?”
“I’ll call,” Chance said. “How’s Cowboy doing?”
He was hurt and still asking about Cowboy. “He’s fine. None the worse for it.”
“Hopefully he didn’t get back an appetite for the outdoors. I don’t want to search for him again anytime soon.”
“It won’t happen again.” She’d make sure by leaving, but now was not the time to tell him. First she had to get Chance to the doctor.
* * *
The ride back from the doctor’s felt like they were driving in some funeral procession, given the gloom that had settled in the air. She’d never seen Chance so down as he stared out the passenger window. The doctor had checked out his X-rays, then his swollen foot, and then took more X-rays. The surrounding tissue was inflamed. Not only would pain be a battle, but the doctor had tacked on another two weeks to his prognosis, which was four more weeks than Chance’s timeline.
“The doctor said it would heal.”
Chance didn’t respond.
“Eight weeks isn’t forever.” She tried again.
“It is when it means the end of the rodeo season.”
“It’s just for this year.”
He turned away from the window and toward her, his eyes wide and his frown deep. “You know how much work it takes to get on the top of the standings where I was before Cheyenne? You have any idea of the time and effort and sheer luck it took to get there? Next year, none of those things may come together, and I’ll be just one more cowboy back in the pack. This was my year to win the NFR, Libby. My year. And now it’s gone down a sorry drain filled with nothing but pain.”
The defeat in his voice was gut wrenching. This wasn’t like Chance. He’d always been a fighter. Now he sounded like he was ready to give up. The doctor said the foot needed a little rest followed by physical therapy. She’d make sure he did both. Nothing would be more important to her than getting Chance back on his two feet. As soon as they got home, she would call Tom Whitefeather and beg him to come up and see what else he could do for Chance.
“I won’t let that happen, Chance.” She’d have to stay and see him through to recovery—without incident.
“Ain’t nothing you can do about it.”
“Maybe. But one thing you’ve taught me is, you have to try.”
* * *
Chance cringed as he swiped through the rodeo standings on the tablet screen. He’d dropped another slot since last week when he saw the doctor. How could he not when he wasn’t competing? So much work, and a lousy injury was going to make it all for naught. Well, that was rodeo. You were always just one spill away from disaster. But this year the bad news just seemed to pile on, starting with a broken foot and most likely ending with a broken heart.
Oh, he’d been trying to keep things light and casual with Libby. And most times he succeeded. But there were moments when all the feelings for her came back with a vengeance, especially since the kiss they’d shared after he’d found Cowboy. At the time, he’d been under the influence of the painkiller, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t enjoyed every blessed second of it. Since returning from the doctor’s, there hadn’t been a recurrence. Not that he didn’t want to these last few days, especially when she was inches away as she helped him with his exercises. But he’d be inviting more pain and misery than he was in already.
She’d been all business. She’d convinced Tom Whitefeather to come over and do some work on the foot, including cold compresses to reduce the swelling. Chance had even attempted some exercises with Libby’s assistance.
Yup, they were a regular patient-nurse team, and he hated it. Except for fantasizing about her in a tiny nurse’s uniform, making him feel better all over.
Being so close had become nothing short of torture, and that’s how he knew his foot was healing. He could finally focus on something else, and that something else was nothing but problems. She was planning on marrying someone else, for Christ’s sake.
“Time for exercises.” Libby bustled into the room with a pasted-on smile and a bunch of colorful elastic bands and a wet towel in hand. “You need to stop checking your standings every day. It only makes you peevish,” she said, nodding toward the tablet.
She was wearing an especially tight pink T-shirt, one that pulled across her ample chest and outlined her assets. A pair of skin-hugging yoga pants clung to her curvy ass and legs. God save him.
“It’s making me crazy, is what it’s doing.”
“Exactly. There are things you can control and things you can’t. You’ve got to focus on what you can, and that means getting that foot back in shape. How did you do with the cold compresses?”
Right now he’d like to press a cold pack into his junk to stop the blood flow. Instead, he pointed to the nightstand where the two ice packs sat on a paper towel.
“So now we need to loosen things up with a little heat. Ready?” She waved a steaming towel at him.
There were a few things he’d like to loosen up with a little heat. “I’m ready to get on a bronc.”
She shook her head as her eyes narrowed to slits. “You know you aren’t. But you will be if we keep doing these exercises. You have to be patient. Give yourself time to heal.” She unwrapped the soft boot cast from his foot and placed the hot towel around it. Heat felt good.
“I’m not a patient man, Libby. And nothing is going to change that.”
She huffed and reached for his tablet. He’d let her take it, for now. Not looking at it wasn’t going to change what he knew—that with each day he was slipping further and further behind.
She sat on the bed, close to him. He could smell her rose scent, and he took a deep breath. If she sat any closer, he’d be reaching over and pulling her on top of him.
“You will heal. The only question is when. The more we work on your foot, the better that timeline will be.”
“Don’t you have that ‘suit’ to get back to?” The question stuck in his throat, but it had to be asked.
She hesitated, biting her lip. Chance wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear. If she was in love with someone else, she was sending him the wrong message. If she wasn’t, he may be sending her the wrong message.
“We’re taking a break. I’m not sure it is going to work out.” Her tone was resigned, no trace of resentment or regret.
Chance wasn’t sure what to make of the surprising news. It could leave the door open, but for what? Plunging into things with Libby could be a disaster if he wasn’t careful, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist trying, given the news she’d just imparted.
“But I am sure this foot is going to heal, Chance,” she continued. “I know I set you back, what with the grill and Cowboy, but I’m determined to make it up to you.” She glanced back at his foot. “It’s looking better today.”
Would she be amenable to some mutual distraction? His pulse quickened. There was only one way to find out.
“So are you.”
She blushed, her complexion almost matching the pink of her shirt.
“Does that mean I wasn’t looking so good before?”
“No, it means I was in too much pain to do something about it. I’m not in quite as much pain now, and I’m noticing.”
And he could do something about it.
She shifted on the bed and her breasts jiggled. He liked jiggly breasts. He liked Libby’s breast. And her ass. And her legs. He liked Libby. And he was going to do something abo
ut it.
Leaning forward, he cupped a hand under her chin and brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear with the other.
“What are you noticing?” she said in a hushed breath. Her blue eyes locked on to his. He saw need. The elemental kind. He hoped he was reading her right.
“How sweet you are. How much I’d like to kiss you.” And other things.
He slid his palm along her warm throat, felt her pulse, before sliding his hand to the back of her neck. He was reading her right.
“Kiss me?” her voice went up an octave.
He traced his other thumb along her jaw. Her eyes widened.
“Yeah. Kiss you. Like this.” He leaned in, she leaned forward. Their lips touched. He held her head with one hand while the other cupped her chin as he brushed his lips over hers and then kissed her, deep and consuming. She tasted like sweet tea and steaming pleasure. Her mouth was hot and needy as she shifted her body closer to him. So close he could feel the tips of her breasts brushing against his skin through the fabric of her shirt. Her hands slid up his chest, causing a throb in his groin as her tongue swept into his mouth. He groaned deep in his throat as she fed him kisses.
Her response said she wanted him. He wanted her.
He heard the rattle of the patio door handle. He ignored it. He needed to lock that door. People needed to go away. But instead, the door burst open and Libby pulled back.
Billy stood in the doorway, his mouth open.
“Close the door, Billy,” Chance said, gruffer than he intended as he struggled to rein in his response.
The door closed with a bang.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Billy was thirteen. He knew he was interrupting something.
“Not at all,” Libby said, her husky voice sending Chance’s testosterone soaring. She smoothed down her top as if she was clearing off crumbs. Her foot started to shake.
“I came over to see how Cowboy was doing. Chance had texted that you found him.”
Libby smiled. “He’s fine. Thank you for your concern. Unfortunately, Chance set himself back helping me find Cowboy, so I’m committed to doing everything I can to get him better, starting with these.” She held up the red bands. “We were just getting ready to do some of Chance’s exercises.”
