Not Just Another Cowboy (Silhouette Special Edition)

by Finch, Carol

  “Hey, Mom!” Zack called out excitedly. “Lopez just knocked one out of the park. Braves take the lead!”

  “Way to go, Braves!” Deb cheered enthusiastically, then glanced quickly at her sister. “What was that pitcher’s name again? Murdock?”

  “Maddux.”

  “Let me know how Maddux does when he comes to the base—”

  “The plate,” Alexa corrected hastily.

  “The plate,” Deb called to her nephew.

  “Sure thing, Aunt Debs.”

  Deb focused her full attention on Alexa. “I think you should let the cowboy get close to Zack, even if only for a few weeks. Zack needs another man besides Howard to emulate. Howard has gone overboard trying to keep Dan’s memory alive, but Zack needs more than that. If Butler is a decent guy then let him play substitute father for a while. It might do Zack a world of good.”

  Alexa found it difficult to accept Deb’s advice. Letting go of her son, after she had been in complete charge for so many years, felt unnatural. But maybe she would try being less protective. Placing faith in a man wasn’t going to be easy, though, not after Dan had disappointed her ten dozen different ways.

  Or maybe the truth was that Alexa sensed that Chance wouldn’t disappoint her, that she—like Zack—would become overly attached and left aching when the cowboy rode away. When Chance left, Alexa didn’t want to be wishing for something that would never be, didn’t want to be hurt again.

  “Come on,” Deb said as she shot out of her chair abruptly. “Let’s go out to Rocking T. I want to get a look at the stud muffin cowboy who has turned my solid-as-a-rock sister into mush.”

  Deb whizzed off to grab her car keys and round up Zack, who objected to missing an inning of play. Deb cajoled her nephew into leaving the house by promising to buy him an ice-cream cone.

  Alexa smiled fondly as she watched Deb scoop Zack off the floor and haul him out the door. Deb had always been the spirited, uninhibited sister—the one with the bubbly personality, the zest for life.

  And Alexa had always been the plodding workhorse who took the world seriously. Ah, wouldn’t it be nice to shed her obligations for a few hours and let loose. Alexa couldn’t remember when she’d done anything so frivolous and reckless as trotting off to show herself a good time.

  “Zack is riding with me,” Deb said on her way out the door. “We’ll meet you at Rocking T.”

  During the drive home Alexa tried to make an attitude adjustment. She was going to stop taking life so seriously—on a trial basis, at least. She was going to stop being so leery of a friendship between Chance and Zack. And she was going to follow the feelings in her heart instead of relying solely on her head. She might wind up getting hurt if this fond attachment she had developed for Chance intensified. But she had been hurt before, she reminded herself. Dan had taken her for granted and turned his affection elsewhere. Alexa had survived it, would survive again.

  “Okay, Butler,” she mused aloud. “You want me to lighten up. Fine, I’ll give it my best shot.”

  Chance glanced sideways when he heard the crunch of gravel in the driveway. From his position on horseback he had a clear view of the miniconvoy—consisting of a flashy red sports car and the Tiptons’ no-nonsense, no-frills farm pickup truck—that pulled up at the house.

  Alexa was back, he noted.

  Chance frowned curiously when a petite blonde, wearing a colorful T-shirt and formfitting jeans, appeared beside Zack. Curious about the new arrival though he was, his gaze settled on the crop of curly auburn hair that blazed like wildfire in the sunlight.

  Silent yearning plowed through Chance. With each passing day the need to touch Alexa, to tear down the Queen of Cool’s defenses, gnawed at him.

  Oh hell, this wishful thinking was nothing but an exercise in torment, Chance lectured himself. He would do himself a tremendous favor if he polished his roping skills and focused on recovering from injury. Maybe when he left Rocking T he could put Alexa out of his mind.

  “Yo, Butler!” Jack Pearson hollered from the chute. “Are you going to try your hand at roping this steer or just sit there on horseback gawking?”

  Chance swiveled around in the saddle to see the congregation of cowboys grinning wryly at him. They knew what—or rather who—had captured his attention.

  “Do you have that bad knee braced up good and tight?” Sonny questioned, biting back a snicker. “This here steer ain’t no mama’s baby, I can tell you for sure. He’s half-grown and anxious as hell to take a flying leap from this chute. You’re going to have to pay more attention to your business here. Watch yourself, pal. This steer has horns as big as antlers, and you aren’t operating at one-hundred percent efficiency yet. Some parts of you aren’t, that is.”

  “Thanks, Mommy,” Chance flung at the ornery cowboy.

  When Sonny thumbed his nose playfully, the other cowboys guffawed. Howard Tipton grinned, clearly enjoying the mischievous camaraderie, even if the subtleties of the conversation had escaped him.

  The old man was in the height of glory, Chance noted. Howard thrived on these nightly practices that put him back in touch with his son’s life.

  Chance checked his lariat, tied one end of the thirty-foot rope to the saddle horn, then twirled the loop over his head to loosen it up. He clamped the pigging string between his teeth and positioned his burn leg so that it wouldn’t take excessive pressure when his mount lunged off in a gallop.

  When Chance gave the nod, Sonny opened the chute gate. Bellowing loudly, the steer charged into the open arena, headed for the distant corner.

  The horse Chance was riding gathered itself behind and raced off. Chance felt a twinge of pain shoot up his leg when he instinctively clamped his knees against the mount’s ribs. With the lariat circling his head, Chance bore down on the runaway steer. When the horse was a body length behind the steer Chance cast his lariat, then gave it a quick tug when it settled over the outstretched horns.

  The well-trained roping horse kept tension on the lariat while Chance dismounted. Chance was out of the saddle by the time the steer reached the end of the rope and struggled for freedom.

  The instant Chance came down on his weak knee, he gritted his teeth against the pain, then charged toward the steer. He was determined to toss the animal to the ground and tie up its legs in as few seconds as possible.

  When Chance hooked his arms around the steer’s neck, the 250-pound animal braced its legs to avoid being levered to the ground. Chance stifled a groan as he used his knees to upend the struggling steer. Growling in pain and determination, Chance flanked the steer, leaving it lying on its side in the dirt. Racing against time, he, wrapped the pigging string around the steer’s forelegs and hind legs, securing the piece of rope with the customary half hitch.

  “Eight point four seconds!” Jack Pearson called out as he clicked the stopwatch. “Not bad for a lame old man.”

  Cheers went up around the arena, but Chance’s gaze wasn’t on the whooping, hollering cowboys. His attention was riveted to the smiling face of the young boy, and his mother, who had ambled down to the arena to watch him perform.

  The expression on Alexa’s face indicated that she wasn’t just being entertained by his performance. Her expression implied that she was concerned about the excessive pressure he put on his leg.

  Someone who cares... The thought kept hovering in his mind as he retrieved his pigging string and released the downed calf. Chance couldn’t remember anyone caring if he was safe and sound.

  Oh certainly, rodeo cowboys watched out for one another, tended to one another after a bad fall in the dirt. But Alexa’s expression was different somehow. Reluctant to care perhaps, but her concern showed in those expressive cedar-tree-green eyes that were surrounded by a fan of thick black lashes.

  “Way to go, Chance!” Zack yelled, then waved his arms so enthusiastically that he lost his balance on the railing and fell into his mother’s waiting arms.

  Alexa was the kind of woman who would always be there
to pick up the pieces, Chance realized suddenly. Ms. Responsible and Dependable was the rock in Rocking T. Dan Tipton had married a rare jewel, but self-indulgence blinded him from seeing Alexa for the sparkling diamond she was. Damn fool, Chance thought as he limped toward his mount.

  “Chance, this is my aunt Debs,” Zack introduced from a distance.

  Chance pasted on a greeting smile, though his leg hurt like a son of a bitch. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

  The other cowboys tipped their hats politely to Deb. After a round of how-do-you-dos, the next contestant mounted the sorrel gelding to rope and wrestle another calf.

  “Your leg must be better,” Zack presumed.

  “Some,” Chance lied. Truth was, he had jumped the gun. His attempt to get his mind back on rodeo—and off his futile fascination for Alexa—had probably caused a setback. He would spend the night packed in ice, in hopes of reducing the swelling.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Alexa questioned as she watched Chance attempt to conceal his limp. She knew he was hurting. His compressed lips—ones that looked as if they had been hermetically sealed—indicated he was biting back pain. Riding, roping and hog-tying that steer had to be a strain on his injured knee. “I don’t think you’re ready to—”

  Deb elbowed her in the ribs—a sharp, immediate reprisal that warned her to mind her own business instead of trying to control the world around her.

  “So...” Deb cut in, smiling breezily. “This is the cowboy Zack was jabbering about during the ride home.” She stuck out a hand, which boasted cherry-red fingernails. “I’m Deb Parsons. I’m Alexa’s kid sister.”

  Chance appraised both pretty women, noting the family resemblance in the similar expressions around their heart-shaped mouths and luminous eyes. His gaze darted back to Zack’s smiling face. And without thinking, he reached out to ruffle the thick mop of reddish-blond hair.

  Instantly, he withdrew his hand, remembering that Alexa insisted on a physical and emotional distance between him and her son. Unfortunately, Chance made a habit of ruffling the kid’s hair after they played catch behind the barn. It had become reflexive habit.

  When Alexa simply stared at him without getting all huffy and defensive, Chance breathed an inward sigh of relief. He enjoyed the time spent with this adorable kid. It made him wish for a child of his own—during his weaker, more sentimental moments. But Chance was also reluctant to put any child through the anguish he had suffered when his parents remarried and he was left out in the cold, left feeling like an extra person in the world.

  There was no guarantee that marriages would last, that kids didn’t suffer emotional scars when they were caught in the war zone of feuding adults. No way in hell would Chance want to see Zack suffer as he had.

  Chance would have to be absolutely, positively certain that his relationship with a woman was the death-do-uspart kind. No sir, no kid of his would endure the hell he’d been through. And for that reason, Chance had never even considered marriage, hadn’t happened onto a woman he believed could stand beside him long past eternity.

  “When you finish practicing, why don’t y’all come up to the house for refreshments,” Alexa invited the cowboys. “I’ve got ice cream, two freshly baked pies and pineapple upside-down cake.”

  The cowboys grinned and gave Alexa thumbs-up. Chance did a double take. She was inviting the cowboys into the house after she had given them a wide berth the past few days? What happened to her never-trust-or-associate-with-a-cowboy policy?

  When Chance peered quizzically at Alexa, she smiled. It was a devastating kind of smile, which nearly knocked Chance’s bad leg out from under him.

  Good thing he already planned to pack himself in ice tonight, he decided.

  “Give us thirty more minutes to finish up and tend the horses,” Chance told Alexa. “We’ll be up at the house with mouths watering.”

  As Alexa turned away, Chance watched the graceful sway of her hips, the confident carriage of a woman who drew his thoughts and his gaze more than he preferred. Although Deb was a real looker, with a cheerful disposition and easy smile, Chance didn’t have much interest in blondes these days.

  He wondered when he had developed such an avid interest in spellbinding green eyes, curly auburn hair...and lost causes.

  Chapter Five

  “Damn, sis,” Deb murmured as she and Alexa hiked up the hill to the house. “You neglected to mention that Butler is a lot more than good-looking. He’s an absolute hunk and he’s good at what he does. Maybe you’re leery of cowboys, but I’m not.”

  Yes, Alexa was definitely leery of cowboys, but after watching Chance perform, she felt that funny twitter in her heart. That old cliché about poetry in motion applied to Chance. He seemed so at ease in the saddle, with a lariat in his gloved hand. His riding and roping techniques were so fluid and efficient that watching him in action left Alexa staring at him in rapt fascination. No wonder Chance was such a strong contender for another world title. The man was thrilling to watch!

  And yet, Alexa refused to let herself get caught up in that world of rodeo again. Just because she found herself fascinated by Chance Butler didn’t mean it was sensible.

  “Looks aren’t everything,” Alexa told her sister. “At twenty-six, you’re supposed to be mature enough to figure that out.”

  “I am, but there’s nothing wrong with appreciating an exceptionally handsome man when I see one,” Deb parried. “Now that is exactly what I was trying to tell you earlier, sis. Try a different perspective for a change. Quit being so cautious. Flirt a little, live a little.

  “Jeepers, it’s not like I’m advocating that you marry the guy on the spot,” Deb clarified. “But a little excitement in your life certainly wouldn’t hurt. Lord knows there wasn’t much excitement with Dan.”

  When Alexa frowned warningly, Deb shrugged. “I wasn’t blind, you know. It was you who tried to make that marriage work. You gave your all and received very little in return. You may decide you do want to marry again someday and—”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Alexa put in quickly.

  Deb threw up her hands in exasperation. “Fine, be a thirty-year-old fuddy-duddy. I’ll flirt with Butler. I’m single and unattached. I believe in enjoying the moment, putting a few interesting sparks in my life.”

  “Sometimes I wish I could be as carefree as you are,” Alexa admitted on her way through the kitchen door.

  “You can be, need to be,” Deb insisted. “You missed out on early adulthood, married young so you could provide security for me.” When Alexa’s mouth dropped open, Deb patted her shoulder. “It took me a while but I figured that out, sis. Believe it or not, I’m not as dumb as I look. Furthermore, I think you should start grabbing for the gusto in life.”

  “I don’t know any Gustos to make a grab for,” Alexa said flippantly.

  “Very funny.” Deb snorted. “The point is that a woman has her own needs and they shouldn’t be ignored. You really need to loosen up, sis.”

  Alexa stared at her sister in a new light. Suddenly, Deb was telling her what to do. “You did grow up, didn’t you? When did that happen?”

  Deb grinned. “While you were holding the fort and tending to your baby, I was working my way through college—at your unwavering insistence, as I recall,” Deb replied. “Now I’m a mature, responsible career woman, not the clueless teenager you raised. I can take care of myself now. And if a stud of a cowboy could brighten up my life, then I’d give him a whirl.”

  “Then go for it,” Alexa said.

  Deb shook her head ruefully. “You did it again, Alexa. Even though I know you’re interested in Butler—and I can tell by the way you look at him, and he looks back—you would stand aside if you had the slightest inkling that I might be interested in him. When are you going to stop placing the needs of everyone else before your own? Don’t you realize you’re entitled to a few rays of sunshine in your life?”

  Alexa drew herself up to determined stature and wheeled around to ga
ther paper plates and glasses for refreshments. Live for yourself a little, she repeated silently. Put some spark in your life. The thought was so foreign that Alexa figured it was going to take some time to adjust to the idea.

  Chance limped outside the bunkhouse, then paused to massage his aching leg. The other cowboys were gathering their gear in preparation for an early departure the following morning. Chance had been bumped into twice in the cramped spaces of the bunkhouse, and he felt the need for fresh air and the privacy to curse his throbbing knee without being overheard.

  The high humidity was playing hell with bones and joints that had suffered years of strain and fierce impacts. Chance wasn’t about to whine and complain to the other men, but he was feeling as old as Methuselah...and incredibly lonely in that crowded bunkhouse.

  The ultimate irony, he thought as he limped down to the stream that glistened like mercury in the moonlight. Anybody who felt lonely in a crowd was in big trouble. Chance had never felt like this before, even after years of crowded confines behind the scenes of rodeos or during the nightlife that accompanied them. But suddenly, something was missing.

  This is as good as it gets for you, pal, came that independent inner voice.

  Chance stared across the rolling terrain, soaking up the peaceful tranquillity that was Rocking T. Damn, what a panoramic place this was. He would have to set aside time to bring Zack down to the stream to fish. The kid would like that, and so would Chance.

  Stiff-legged, Chance maneuvered himself onto the carpet of grass to give his knee a rest. He sighed appreciatively at the moon-dappled trees that surrounded the creek. He hadn’t realized how much he had needed this dose of peace and quiet until he got here.

  “Did your friends kick you out of the bunkhouse?”

  Chance jerked upright when Alexa’s unexpected voice came from nowhere. He half twisted to see her ambling down the slope, her auburn hair fanning around her shoulders like a fiery cape. God, she looked good, would feel even better, he speculated. Too bad he had vowed to keep his hands to himself and not push Alexa in the direction this leery woman was reluctant to go.