Urban's Rush (Saddles & Second Chances Book 4)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  Urban glanced sideways at Presley and their gazes met, an unspoken warning between them. He wanted her to be safe, yet this was her area of expertise. Her hair tumbled about her cheeks, obscuring her eyes. Although he knew she’d been around large animals, panicked and tame, he still feared for her safety. Suddenly, he wanted to protect her and the desire was his one and only priority.

  The mare raised up, pawing the air and Braise and Urban froze. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple as he assessed the situation. He understood Presley didn’t want to use the tranquilizer because what came with it was another bucket of trouble. Things like this happened on occasion and sometimes they could calm the horse down, which made everything easier.

  Giving the horse enough time to settle, finally Braise was moving forward again and the mare kept her wide eyes on him, ears perked as she pranced.

  “It’s okay Mona,” Braise soothed.

  Urban slid the rope from his shoulder slowly and deliberately so he wouldn’t draw attention to himself.

  Braise was almost to the horse, Urban’s rope was held tightly…

  “Get ready, Urban. Looks like that leg is cut pretty bad so be careful,” Presley said.

  Braise held the apple. Mona drifted closer, leery. Finally, she bit into the fruit, nibbling hungrily.

  Urban took a short step and a twig broke under his boot.

  The mare turned her head, whinnied. It was now or never. Swinging the rope through the air, the loop fell over her neck, but she wasn’t having it.

  Lifting herself up on hind legs, she thrashed the air, angrily. Braise stepped back.

  “Hold on, Urban!” Presley shouted.

  He held the rope tightly, digging his boots in as Braise joined him. The horse was strong and wasn’t backing down.

  “Shoot, Cheryl.” Urban heard Presley yell followed by a cry out in pain.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tranquilizer dart sticking out of Presley’s shoulder as she wobbled, then fell to the ground.

  Chapter Five

  “She’ll be okay, right?” Urban asked the doctor.

  “She’ll be fine. Sluggish for the next day or two, but she’ll come out of it soon. It’s best that she has someone stay with her. She needs rest and will probably have a headache, but there’s no damage internally. She has a nasty bruise on her where the dart hit.”

  “Thanks, doc.” Urban nervously went back into the room where Presley was lying in the bed hooked up to an IV, heart monitor and blood pressure cuff. After she’d been shot accidently by Cheryl, the last few hours had been a whirlwind of activity. She seemed to be resting now and some of the tightness in his chest subsided—some.

  He sat back into the chair and watched her chest rise and fall rhythmically.

  Swearing, he jerked his gaze off her and across the room to the fake Picasso hanging on the wall, fighting back the rising emotion. He was realizing the enormity of what was happening to him and it struck him like a bolt of lightning in his gut. He liked Presley…a lot. For the last two decades, he had steered clear of her, and certainly didn’t like her much over that time, but damn if he didn’t like kissing her earlier, holding her. Talking to her.

  He truly liked her.

  Hell, he wanted her.

  Seeing her laying in the hospital bed jerked his heart around.

  Fuck! He’d even asked her to marry him.

  Swiping his palms down his face, he dropped his hands to his thighs. He wanted to hold her and keep her safe. He wanted to brush her hair away from her face and whisper in her ear that everything would be okay.

  He’d never felt like this before.

  And that was trouble.

  Cheryl and Braise waited in the lobby, but he wasn’t budging from the room. He wouldn’t be able to breathe again normally until she woke up and he could see for himself that she was okay.

  He hadn’t planned for this to happen. He’d asked her to marry him and he thought it would be a win-win situation for both of them, but it had become more dangerous the more he liked her. Presley might be the only woman that he could trust.

  *****

  Presley fluttered her eyes open, then squinted at the bright light flowing through the window across from her bed. It took her a good three seconds for her eyesight to adjust and then she realized she wasn’t alone. There was someone sitting several feet away…

  Urban. He had his face leaning in his palm and his eyes were closed.

  Although her brain was fuzzy, she was able to connect the dots to what had happened at Tanner Ranch. She remembered the horse…Urban and Braise with the rope around her…then a sudden pain in her shoulder followed by an overwhelming sense of falling asleep…

  Urban shifted, bringing his chin up and his gaze on her. His eyes widened slightly, relief spreading across his face as one corner of his mouth lifted. His hat was gone and his hair was wild about his head. He had a whiskered jaw and he looked tired, but he certainly was a sight to wake up to.

  “Hello, sleepy head,” he said in a raspy voice that made goosebumps scatter across her skin.

  “What are you doing here?” She tried lifting her head, but a sharp pain shot through her temples.

  “Where else would I be?” He stood and stepped over to the side of the bed. “Want me to lift the head of your bed?”

  “Yes, please. And how about a gallon of water. I’m so thirsty.”

  He pressed the button and the bed lifted and some of the ache in her head subsided. She watched him reach for the filled cup and he held it for her while she sipped. Already, she felt better. “What happened?” Her throat was raw. “I mean, I remember some.”

  “You were shot with the tranquilizer gun.”

  “Yeah, I thought as much.” She shifted in the bed, realizing she was hooked up to several machines. “It hurts here.” She rolled her shoulder.

  “Those are just for precaution.” He pointed to the IV. “Doc said you’ll live, sleepy and with a headache, but you’ll recover quickly. The sedation just needs to work through your system. As for getting shot, Cheryl missed the horse and shot you instead. She’s been shook up over it.”

  She blinked. “How’s the mare? Is she okay? Did you and Braise manage to get her calm and taken care of?”

  He smiled. “She’s fine. Don’t worry about her. Cheryl might be lousy with a gun, but she was able to fix up the mare’s leg.”

  “That’s why I forgive her lousy target practice. Did you call my dad?”

  “No. Do you want me to?”

  “No. The last thing I need is for him here lecturing me about placing a tranquilizer gun in the hands of a newbie.” She cracked a smile, couldn’t help herself. “This is definitely a story worth sharing with my kids and grandkids.” Although she didn’t say it, having him here next to her was about all she needed. He comforted her in a way she wouldn’t have expected from a guy who seemed to not take a lot of things seriously.

  It was his presence that kept her relaxed.

  “Poor Cheryl. I’m sure she fretted over this.”

  “She’s cried enough to fill a river. Ready to take her target shooting?”

  Presley laughed, squinting at the pain in her skull. “For heaven’s sake, I’m not sure. How long have I been here?”

  He shrugged. “Oh, about six hours.”

  “You stayed with me the entire time?” Her heart softened. She found his attentiveness sweet.

  “No one was going to drag me away.”

  Although she felt like she’d been run over by a truck, her insides were working just fine. He looked sexy with his disheveled hair and the way his black T-shirt fit his broad shoulders and wide chest, stretching the cotton to no end. He was tall and there wasn’t an ounce of fat on his body. His hands gripped the metal rail of the bed and his knuckles were white. She imagined those hands on her body, holding her…

  Her mind was swirling around the things she wanted. The things that could be.

  She should feel awkward with him here becau
se she barely knew him, but in such a short time she’d come to realize he wasn’t as bad as she’d wanted to believe he was over the years. His kindness and thoughtfulness appeared in his actions. He was a good guy and she appreciated that he’d actually stayed with her, although it wasn’t a life or death situation. At least not now.

  He bent his head slightly closer, smiling. “Sweetheart, I don’t get scared often, but damn, seeing you hurt about drove me over the edge. Don’t do that again.”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t plan to.”

  Urban laughed softly. “This was a sure way to take one for the horse.”

  She laughed too. “I’m just glad no one else was hurt.”

  He was still smiling, and beautiful. The last thing she could have expected was this deep, powerful attraction that she had for him. This was a whole new can of worms and she wasn’t quite sure she was ready to take it on—to take him on. In a matter of days, he’d asked her to marry him and kissed her—and what a kiss it had been too.

  He reached out and pushed a tendril of her hair away from her cheek and she sucked in a ragged breath, denying the urge to lean forward, closer to his body heat. He was a distraction and she was thankful he was an interference from her body aches.

  Clearing her throat, she focused on anything but the deep dimples that bracketed his delightful smile. The blood pressure cuff buzzed and tightened, and she hoped her rapid pulse didn’t alert a nurse. As soon as the cuff loosened, she asked, “Am I getting released soon?”

  “Doc said he’d see how you’re doing when you woke up.”

  “I feel fine.” Catching his narrowed eye, she smiled. “For getting blasted with enough sedatives to put out a horse, yes, I feel fine. I can go home and sleep.”

  “You sure you don’t want me to call your dad?”

  “More than sure.”

  “You’ll be well taken care of.”

  Presley felt her face warm. “I will be?”

  “Yes, you will be because there’s no way in hell I’ll leave you alone.” His eyes sharpened.

  Her heart pounded frantically. The thought of having Urban with her, probably staying with her all night, did wonders for all the places on her body that had been neglected over the years. She needed to calm down. He offered to stay to help her, not pick up where they left off earlier in the woods. Her body was having a tough time differentiating between necessity and desire. When he was near it was easy to lose all logic, get caught up in how good looking and charming he was.

  “Good. No argument.” He winked.

  “I’m not your responsibility, Urban. I’m sure you have a dozen other things that require your attention.” Her mouth went dry and her palms clammy.

  “As far as I’m concerned, the marriage proposal is still on the table.”

  “Oh, you’re doing this hoping I’ll say yes?”

  His eyes flashed something that she couldn’t quite read. “No. I’m doing this because I want to.” His soft voice got her right in the center of her chest.

  “If you stay with me, you have to make a promise.”

  “Yeah?” He raised a brow.

  “Don’t think this is my yes to the proposal.”

  Chapter Six

  Urban helped Presley up the stairs to the porch, although she’d made it clear that she was independent. He leaned against one of the white pillars as she fumbled with her keys and unlocked the door. He didn’t mind since it gave him some time to watch her, something he found he liked.

  Her long hair was piled high on her head with soft tendrils falling around her flushed cheeks. She wasn’t wearing makeup, nor did she need any. She was beautiful without any help.

  She pushed open the door and looked back at him. “That took some time, but I got it finally.”

  “Vision still blurry?” he asked.

  “Some.”

  “Why don’t you lie down and I’ll take Pixie out. Then I’ll make you some dinner. I think we both could use some nourishment,” he offered, picking up the dog who had her tail wagging happily.

  “I haven’t thought much about it, but I am hungry. I could use another pain pill also and the nurse told me it’s best to take them with food.”

  “Then so be it. Lay down on the couch and let me handle everything. I can’t promise the food’ll be good, but it’ll be edible.”

  She smiled and yawned. “I could use a little nap.”

  He watched her slowly walk into the living room that was now shadowed from the setting sun. He took Pixie out, let her do her business, and when he brought her back in, fed and watered her even though she wasn’t interested. She went in to lie down with Presley.

  The kitchen was large with modern appliances. He wasn’t the best cook, but he could wing it—he didn’t have a choice. Inside the fridge he found eggs, shredded cheese, and bread in the bin. Nothing easier than eggs and toast.

  Figuring she was probably passed out, he took his time and when he came back out in the living room, it was now drowned in darkness. Placing the tray of food on the coffee table, he switched on the lamp and smiled. She was curled up on the couch, her hands pressed together in prayer and her face laying against them. She looked peaceful. And beautiful.

  He wanted to stare longer, but also wanted her to eat before the food got cold. He lightly shook her shoulder. “Presley? Wake up.”

  She moaned and muttered something inaudible, a second before her eyes came open and she sat up quickly as if she was running from a bad dream.

  “You okay?”

  “I fell into a deep sleep.” She scanned the table. “You made that? Everything looks delicious.”

  “I can manage a few things and eggs are on that short list.”

  She smiled and he could have easily groaned aloud, but he didn’t. He was a goner without a doubt. She tugged at his heartstrings and made his body ache. Shifting, he hoped to give his aching crotch a little more room, but it wasn’t enough.

  Presley adjusted her shirt, tugged it down her hips, and dropped her feet to the floor. “I bet they’re scrumptious.” She dug in and filled her mouth with egg. “Aren’t you going to eat?” she said around a mouthful.

  “Sure.” He couldn’t tell her that he was having way too much fun watching her.

  Reaching for his plate, he sat down next to her and nibbled, not tasting anything because he was too focused on the lovely woman who was sitting beside him.

  “They’re good. Thank you. I was starving.”

  Her soft voice did funny things to his heart. “Glad I could be of assistance.”

  “So, tell me more about this documentary that’s worth fifty grand.” She used the knife, dipped the tip into the butter and modestly buttered her toast triangle.

  Forcing his brain to work, he cleared his throat. “Some filmmaker wants to document a rodeo star’s life. Rules are that he must be married. In other words, they want to prove that not all bull riders are in it just to sleep with the buckle bunnies.”

  “Fifty grand is a lot of money.” She bit into her toast, leaving a dab of butter on her top lip. He unknowingly leaned forward, ready to wipe it away when he realized what he was doing. He had no right to touch her as he pleased. What was he thinking? Hell, he wasn’t.

  “Yeah, it is. Obtaining the deed to this property and the business is too.” He bit into his dry toast and it went down like sawdust.

  She nodded. “I question whether dad means it, but knowing how stubborn he is, I don’t wish to find out.” She dropped the remining toast and turned to him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “When do you need an answer?”

  Well, at least she didn’t come out and turn him down flat. “I need to contact the filmmaker by the end of the week.” He swiped his hand down his cheek. “Look, I know that’s soon and the opportunity is there for both of us, but it’s not the end of the world. The last thing I want is to make you feel pressure.” What was he saying?

  Her tongue came out to roll across the swell of her bottom lip and his zipper st
retched to capacity. “I’m not saying yes, and I’m not saying no.” She picked at the corner of the napkin.

  *****

  Sitting there, looking into his amazing blue eyes made her dizzy. An adrenaline rush had her in its clutches, making her want to faint—right into his arms. What was she going to do? What he offered could change her life forever, but at the same time, it was quite ridiculous. Who was forced to marry these days? And yet, people married for less reasons. She and Urban both could have everything they wanted…but could they? Didn’t she want love? Children? Someone to grow old with? Deep down she guessed she did and those weren’t the promises he was making her. They would marry and, after an appropriate length of time, they would divorce. Not very romantic and yet, why didn’t she hate the thought of marrying him?

  In fact, once upon a time marrying him would have been like winning a jackpot.

  She was a child then. Now, she had responsibility.

  He was staring at her and she rubbed her hands down her thighs, her stomach turning in a good way.

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Presley.”

  A little laugh bubbled up in her throat. “Urban Jericho is telling me that I’m beautiful? Wow,” she teased.

  “Stop. You know you are.”

  “You called me Red and I didn’t take it as a compliment. You also said I had a big nose.”

  He blinked and she swore he lost some of his color. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did.” She stared him down.

  “I was an idiot. What was wrong with me?”

  “You were five and a brat.” She laughed, but when he took her hand into his she couldn’t breathe. There was no chance she could pull away either.

  “There’s definitely nothing wrong with you. I love the color of your hair.” He lifted a strand, rolled it around his wide finger and let it fall back to her shoulder. “Love your nose too. You’re the true meaning of perfect.” He moved the thick mass of her hair and ran his finger from the side of her neck around to her nape. The only thing that would have felt sweeter was if he followed the same path with his tongue.