by Finch, Carol
Kurt nodded pensively. “Tough way to make a living.”
Not so tough, thought Chance. The physical pain—he’d found out recently—was easier to bear than the emotional anguish of waging war between good sense and reckless whim. Being horse-kicked only hurt for a day or two. But remembering the look on Zack’s face—when Chance turned down the arrangements for him and Alexa to marry and become a family—hung on like a terminal illness. Chance wasn’t sure he’d ever recover from the kaleidoscope of emotions that kid put him through during their fishing expedition.
“Well, let’s have a look at the knee,” Kurt said as he approached the examination table.
When the physician raised Chance’s gimpy leg to a sharp angle, then extended it, Chance bit back a grimace. While Kurt poked, prodded and manipulated the leg into several killer positions, Chance ordered himself not to let out a betraying howl of agony.
“Have you had an X-ray?” Kurt questioned in a businesslike tone.
Chance winced again as Kurt rotated his scarred leg. “Look, Harvard, I realize you’re a conscientious physician, and I appreciate the fact that you’re just doing your job here. But I don’t need a clean bill of health with your notarized signature to return to the rodeo circuit. All I need is refills for my prescription in case I strain the knee at Fort Worth.”
Kurt stared him squarely in the eye. “You realize you need surgery to repair all the ligament and tendon damage around the patella, don’t you? There’s a reason why this knee comes out of its socket when pressure is placed on it. There is very little cartilage to hold the patella and tibia in place. In your case, this brace is more than just protective gear. It is quite literally holding your leg together.”
“Then I guess I got a real bargain, didn’t I? This brace is worth twice as much as I paid for it,” Chance replied flippantly.
Kurt snorted in disapproval. “A little more healing time spent at Rocking T is what this doctor orders.”
“No can do, Harvard. I’ve got places to go and things to do.”
Kurt cocked a brow as he extended his hand, silently requesting the chance to look at the prescription bottles. “Oh really? It seemed to me that you and Alexa were getting along quite well last weekend. What’s the rush to leave? No man in his right mind would be anxious to leave a woman like Alexa behind.”
“Who said anything about being in my right mind?” Chance popped off.
Kurt shook his head. “Too bad I can’t write out prescriptions to cure fools. I’d have you ingesting double doses of medication.”
Chance scowled. He was losing his good disposition and Harvard was prying into matters that were none of his concern. “I didn’t come here for psychological counseling. Just write me a prescription and I’m out of here.”
“My recommendation is surgery. My second recommendation is an entire month of R and R.”
If Chance stayed at Rocking T for another month he would need psychological consultation. His emotions, his forbidden dreams, were already in a state of traumatic turmoil. No, he wasn’t staying here. It was time to hit the road.
While Chance fastened himself into his blue jeans, Kurt leaned casually against the counter, staring pensively at the cowboy. “Since you don’t seem receptive to advice, maybe you could give it.”
Chance’s thick brow quirked. The preppy doctor wanted his opinion on something? “Sure, I can spout cowboy philosophy from dusk till dawn. What kind of advice are you looking for?”
Kurt gazed very solemnly at him. “How do you get a country girl like Deb Parsons to take you seriously?”
The question startled Chance. Why wouldn’t any woman be interested in a distinguished, refined, good-looking physician who had more degrees than a thermometer?
“She doesn’t?” Chance chirped.
Kurt shook his head. “She seems to enjoy herself when we’re together, but she is seeing other men. I don’t want to sound like some Neanderthal, but I’d prefer to be the only man in her life right now.”
Chance wasn’t sure he was the man to supply Harvard—who’d apparently gotten hooked on the fun-loving Deb Parsons—with advice. Hell, Chance couldn’t even hold on to the one relationship that had ever meant anything to him. He was a fine one to give suggestions to Harvard.
“All I can suggest is sweeping the lady off her feet and keep turning her head,” Chance said finally. “Show her there is something deeper than the reserved doctor under those scrubs.”
Kurt blinked. “You think I’m too stuffy?”
Chance eased off the examination table and held out his hand, requesting the prescriptions. “I didn’t say that, you did. Of course, I’m too rough-and-tumble and unsophisticated for most people’s taste, so what the hell do I know?”
Absently, Kurt scribbled the prescriptions. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe the reason Debra doesn’t take me seriously is because she thinks I’m too serious minded.” He tried out a reckless grin. “Better?”
“Much,” Chance complimented.
“So, how much do I owe you for the consultation?”
Chance smiled in amusement. He kinda liked Harvard, though they were obviously cut from different bolts of cloth. “Not a thing, but I would like for you to repay me by keeping an eye out for Alexa and her kid.”
“Consider it done, Country,” Kurt teased. “And go easy on that knee or I’ll haul you back here to surgically implant pins in that leg.”
“There’s a cheery thought,” Chance said as he limped out the door.
During the drive to the ranch, Chance mentally prepared himself for his final departure. He’d give Zack intensive lessons in basketball. And after a few more pointers for baseball, he would encourage Alexa to use the notes she’d taken to remind Zack of his newly acquired skills. Alexa would see that Zack didn’t forget what he’d learned.
Alexa...
A maelstrom of emotions strummed through Chance as he steered the jalopy truck off the paved highway and followed the gravel road to the ranch. Sometimes he wished he’d never met her, wished he could have gone merrily on his way without getting sentimentally attached. He just hoped she hadn’t gotten overly attached to him. He didn’t want to hurt her. Heaven knew she had endured enough hurt in her lifetime....
Chance blinked, startled. What the hell was happening here? He was hurting, too. He had endured his share of anguish during his rotten childhood. But he was more concerned about how Alexa felt, how she would deal with his absence.
Oh man, he couldn’t afford to love Alexa and her adorable kid. How could he focus on rodeo competition if he was carrying emotional baggage like that in the saddle with him?
But there it was, flat out, right smack-dab in the open. Chance had gone and fallen in love with both of them. Although he was pretty sure he had convinced Alexa that he was nothing like her husband, Chance and Dan shared the same profession—one Alexa strongly disapproved of.
She had good reason, Chance allowed. She’d never had a shoulder to cry on, the emotional support occasionally needed. Even if Howard Tipton didn’t loom between him and Alexa like an impassable mountain range, Alexa’s distaste for Chance’s profession would always be a sore spot between them.
As for Chance, accepting the responsibility of being loved and relied upon, after years of living footloose, raised all sorts of alarming questions. What if he didn’t have staying power? His parents hadn’t, They broke up like a meteor hitting the earth’s atmosphere. All Chance had to his credit was how not to handle a relationship, how not to raise a child.
No, it was more sensible to remain on the path he’d followed for years. Dealing with contrary horses and cattle in an arena didn’t involve emotional impacts, only physical ones. Failing in a rodeo event simply meant the loss of a paycheck, eating dirt and bruising pride. But failing at a relationship that might involve life-altering repercussions? He was the product of those repercussions and he wouldn’t wish his life on his worst enemy.
Gather your gear and ride off, cowboy, Chance
told himself.
Alexa didn’t need a man in her life. Hell, she had managed just fine until Chance showed up. He didn’t need a woman, and he had survived well enough. He would simply board the plane for Texas, knowing it was for the best, knowing he had no other choice—not without stirring up a whole new set of problems.
Chapter Ten
Alexa sat on the porch, watching intently as Chance gave Zack the final sports lesson. Her heart was breaking, knowing this cowboy was walking out of their lives first thing in the morning. Howard had already lined up another hired hand who had sustained cracked ribs when the bull he was riding threw him on the turf and stepped on him. In fact, Howard was waiting at the airport to pick up the next cowboy bound for Rocking T’s rehab center.
Alexa studied Chance with the intensity of a woman who longed to commit every gesture, every easy smile, to memory. She would recall the sound of his voice, his laughter, the husky whisper that sent tingles flooding through her.
She could get through this, she told herself. She had to. She wouldn’t ask Chance to make return visits. That would be too painful. Better to make a clean break. Better for Zack, too.
Glancing up, Alexa watched Howard and the injured cowboy pull into the driveway. The young man, Pecos Smith, who looked to be about the same age as her sister, eased down from the truck. He looked like a man in considerable pain. His colorless face held a pinched expression. His lips were compressed in a line as tight as stretched fence wire. How Pecos was supposed to handle ranch chores in his condition Alexa couldn’t imagine. But Howard would undoubtedly assign minimal duties while Pecos was under the weather.
For all Howard’s faults, his policy of lending a helping hand to down-on-their-luck cowboys was admirable. Men who had nowhere to go, who needed room and board, found sanctuary here. Howard was a decent man; he simply had the compulsive need to keep his son’s memory alive.
As for his habit of taking Alexa for granted, she could deal with that, had dealt with being overlooked for years. Howard was good to his grandson, and that counted for a lot in Alexa’s book.
After quick introductions, Chance showed Pecos to the bunkhouse. Zack dogged Chance’s heels. The boy was going to miss Chance terribly. Hopefully, Pecos wouldn’t ignore Zack completely, Alexa mused.
“It’s a good thing Chance is leaving,” Howard mumbled as he watched the cowboys amble away. “It bothers me the way Zack has been carrying on. All I’ve heard lately is ‘Chance did this. Chance did that. Chance said this and that.”’ Howard snorted in annoyance. “If I hear how perfect Chance Butler is one more time, I’ll be ready to pull out what’s left of my hair.”
Alexa said nothing. Howard would throw a ring-tailed fit if he knew she thought Chance Butler was perfect in every way but one. He was still a rodeo cowboy.
“Pecos didn’t get to eat on the plane,” Howard said as he spun toward the house. “Fix him something to eat, will you? I’m due at my poker game this evening.”
“Sure, no problem.” Alexa followed Howard into the kitchen to reheat leftovers.
No problem, she could handle everything. She’d done it dozens of times. This was just another day in the life of Riley.
Except for one minor detail, thought Alexa. The man who had given her life new meaning was about to ride away forever.
No problem?
Yeah, right.
Chance wore a rut in the floorboards with his restless pacing. He couldn’t turn on the TV in the bunkhouse, because Pecos was sleeping. Chance supposed he could stroll up to the house for a game of checkers with Zack, but he didn’t think he could stand being in the same room with Alexa without touching her.
Chance checked his watch. Nine-thirty. Zack would already be tucked in bed by now. The kid had a school bus to catch bright and early in the morning. By now, Alexa would have the kitchen tidied up. She was probably working on the advertising flyers for the B-and-B. Chance should save his goodbye until morning....
A shadow moved past the window. Chance glanced toward the storm door to see a trim silhouette standing on the porch. Every consoling platitude he’d preached to himself during the day flew out the window the instant he saw Alexa standing on the other side of the glass door, staring at him.
Chance cast the sleeping Pecos a quick glance, then eased open the door. “Something wrong, Al?”
He would try to keep the mood light, he told himself. He would thank her for her hospitality, make all the right noises about how he’d enjoyed his stay at Rocking T. Then he would say farewell and crawl into his bunk and count several flocks of sheep, in hopes of falling asleep sometime before dawn.
Alexa stepped off the porch so she wouldn’t disturb the sleeping cowboy. Chance found himself limping along behind her, his hands tucked deep in his hip pockets so he didn’t give way to the temptation of reaching out to touch her—and lose all ability to think logically.
“I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate all your help with my construction project, all the tips you gave Zack,” Alexa murmured without glancing in his direction.
“Glad to do it, Al. Working with Zack appeased the deprived kid in me.”
Alexa shifted uneasily from one booted foot to the other.
So did Chance.
“Well, I won’t keep you. I’m sure you have packing to do.”
When she turned and walked away Chance’s stomach dropped to his aching knee. He shouldn’t follow her back to the house—but his boots were already doing the walking. She seemed to know why he was following her, didn’t object.
Without a word, Chance took her hand and led her through the kitchen, up the staircase. When they reached the second floor Alexa turned to the left, walking silently toward the end of the hall.
Chance had never set foot in her room. He expected it to be a monument to Dan. But to his surprise only one eight-by-ten glossy sat on the dresser. The room was simply furnished, testifying to Alexa’s down-to-earth life-style, the lack of luxuries her husband and father-in-law sent her way.
His thoughts trailed off when Alexa walked into his arms and kissed him in a way that ignited instantaneous fires in his blood. Chance kissed her back—with the desperation of a man who understood that he was about to lose something very special and dear to him.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his lips. “I know I shouldn’t have come to the bunkhouse, but I wanted to see you one last time. I want you.” She tugged on his T-shirt, her hands gliding beneath the fabric to make stimulating contact with the washboard muscles of his belly. “If I know nothing else, I know that I haven’t stopped wanting you.”
Chance moaned the instant her searching fingertips brushed over his flesh. One touch and he was hot and aching, shaking with need. One kiss and he was starving to death for the taste of her.
Gentle patience fell by the wayside as his arms contracted around Alexa. Just once more, he needed to experience her, absorb her, needed to express and communicate the emotions he’d carefully held in check.
Chance wasn’t even sure how and when they got to the king-size bed. A trail of clothes lay on the floor—evidence of where they had been and where they were going. Chance tumbled Alexa down on the patchwork bedspread, his hands moving restlessly, aching to rediscover every satiny inch of her, to pleasure her, to share this last stolen moment he knew would end in mindless ecstasy.
To Chance’s surprise, and tormented delight, Alexa stilled his hands while she brushed a path of warm, moist kisses over his collarbone, his chest. She seemed to have her heart set on arousing him.
Chance smiled to himself. Alexa was halfway there and she didn’t even know it. And, he thought, it was so like Alexa to place someone else’s needs above her own, to please rather than expect to be pleased....
Chance swallowed a roomful of air when she divested him of his jeans and caressed him brazenly. The touch of her hands and lips on his most sensitive flesh had him hissing through his teeth in an attempt to keep from screaming in unholy torment. His body th
robbed with desire, and he fairly shook with the need she summoned so easily from him.
“No more,” he wheezed. “I swear you’re killing me.... Have mercy.”
She raised her head to grin seductively while she held him hot and aching in her hand. “Mercy will have to wait her turn with you, cowboy. I’m not turning you loose just yet.”
Chance tried to chuckle, but in the next heartbeat she was moving her heated mouth over his aroused flesh and he couldn’t breathe. Jaw clenched, eyes squeezed shut, he battled the wild sensations that riveted him. His body thrummed with such intense need that he feared he was about to explode with it.
Things were moving entirely too fast. He was out of control. He wanted to make love to her slowly, thoroughly, as if they had all the time in the world to pleasure each other. But instinct kicked into high gear when Alexa continued to caress him so intimately, arouse him beyond bearing.
Groaning, Chance hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her beneath him. He wanted to sink into her, become the blazing flame of passion that was him, was her. Hands shaking, he drew her knees around his hips, lifting her to him.
Though he felt like a horny teenager with a bad case of the hots, he couldn’t seem to slow down. He glided over her, taking possession of her body—and became possessed by her.
Although she had asked for nothing but this moment, he felt as if he had handed his heart and soul over to her. He would never be able to make love to Alexa with just his body, he knew. She called something deeper and more powerful from him, some indefinable part of him that he hadn’t realized existed until she came into his life.
Chance moved in age-old rhythm, fighting his roiling needs, vowing to take Alexa with him when he tumbled into the free fall of ecstasy. When she gasped, her nails biting into the corded tendons of his back, the world careened around him. Chance could feel her feminine body bathing him with the most intimate kind of caress, burning him in the hottest, sweetest kind of fire.
