City Boy, Country Heart: Contemporary Western Romance (Heart of the Boy Book 2)

by Andrea Downing

  K.C. couldn’t look the man in the face. “And if he were married in New York?”

  “Look, I don’t know who you are—ex girlfriend, fiancée, wife, whatever, but I can see you’re concerned for Chay—”

  “His current—Lisa I think her name is?”

  “Lisa Stanford.”

  “She said he may lose his leg?”

  “Not likely. He should, of course, have come straight here after the kick he took from the horse, but he didn’t. Didn’t even bother to see the medics at the rodeo, from what I understand. So, things got worse. He has a severe hematoma—”

  “Can you…can you talk in plain English, please?”

  “We’ve done an MRI and there is damage to the vein wall. There was a small clot—Miss, Miss whoever you are, are you all right?”

  K.C. had doubled over, feeling faint listening to the description of Chay’s injuries. She brought herself upright in a slow, jerking movement, her voice just above a whisper. “I’m afraid I have a very weak stomach when it comes to medicine.”

  The doctor nodded, an amused look shaping his face. “Well. The bottom line is we’re keeping him here for a few days and have started him on blood thinners. We got it in time. If it had traveled to his brain, well…you no doubt can figure the consequences. He’ll have to continue on blood thinners for about three months but get moving—walking—alternating with keeping his leg up, lying down. No rodeo—easy riding only so he doesn’t chance a fall while on the blood thinners. But walking is best.”

  “With Chay, that’s almost impossible.”

  “Are you going to be looking after him?”

  The automatic doors hummed open once again and Lisa came trudging in. The doctor gave the young woman what K.C. felt was a sneering acknowledgement, then repeated, “So, will you look after him?”

  “No!” Lisa butt in, her own scorn directed at K.C. “I’ll stay with him.”

  The doctor looked from one to the other, waiting for K.C.’s rebuttal. When she froze, his gaze lingering on her, waiting for a response, he replied, “I’ll see what Chay says.”

  * * *

  Chay lay on his living room sofa, his leg propped higher than his head as per instructions, a pile of books on the floor, the television on mute. He heard the kitchen door open but not Breezy’s usual call. Instead, there was the sound of bags, presumably groceries, being dropped on the kitchen table, what sounded like the coffeemaker being emptied and refilled, and the groceries being put away as the fridge door opened. And, without seeing, he knew who it was: the same person who had made coffee and put away groceries when they lived together in New York.

  “Make yourself at home, why don’t you,” he mumbled to himself.

  * * *

  K.C. was already standing at the door from the kitchen, peering in to see if he was doing what he’d been told. “Breezy’s not feeling well and didn’t want to take a chance on giving whatever it is to you. She gave me the Stanford’s phone number but Lisa said you’d told her to leave you alone. I also phoned the Bantries and they said they’re looking after your herd but could stop in later tonight—not a good time for dinner. I can phone your uncle if you give me the number, or anyone else you’d prefer.”

  “I’d prefer to be left alone. How’s that?”

  “I vant to be alone?” She mimicked a Scandinavian accent as she twisted back to the kitchen.

  “She never said that, you know.”

  “Who?” she asked, turning back.

  “Garbo. She never actually said it.”

  “Great. So now we can attribute it to you.” K.C. glanced around the room. It had been redecorated and refurbished in parts since she’d last seen it when Chay’s father was alive. The sole reminder of the old man was a pile of western magazines on a side table. Gone was the oxygen tank along with the smell of hair oil and sweat and mildewed fabrics. Target had been used to refresh the house while keeping its country feel, and Chay looked as comfortable as could be expected on the new sofa as he stared at the muted television, a game show running. The contractor, Jarrod, had redone the kitchen too, in modern pine cupboards not out of place in an eighteen-hundreds homestead.

  “Probably another one of Breezy’s tricks, you know. Says she doesn’t feel well and sends you in the hope…well, in the hope of something.”

  “I don’t think so.” K.C. switched back toward the kitchen. “I had to take her to the doctor this morning, and she had a temperature. Hard to fake.”

  “Who’s doing the cooking at the Lazy S?”

  “Bob’s new lady friend. She’s very nice and helps out a lot.”

  “And the office? While you’re here tending the wounded—unnecessarily I might add.”

  She marched back to the center of the room, arms crossed and glaring down at him. “I know you don’t want me here. I’m very well aware of that. So I won’t be long, and as you well know by now, office girls are off Saturday afternoons after the check-outs. Anything else you want to complain about?”

  Chay looked up. “That wasn’t a complaint. Why was that a complaint? I merely noted Breezy may be acting in order to finally bring us back together. Or get us together to get back together.” He paused and glanced at her, waiting for a response. “Or act like we’re together in an attempt to be final?”

  K.C. burst out laughing and shook her head.

  “It’s good to hear you laugh. I missed that. All that time in New York, you never seemed to laugh like you did out here.”

  The buzzer on the coffee maker sounded.

  “Maybe that’s why I came back to Wyoming,” K.C. retorted as she went to the machine. “To be able to laugh again.”

  “I thought you didn’t laugh ’cause I made you miserable.”

  “What?” She came to the doorway, a half filled cup in her hand. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because I seemed to complain a lot, I suppose. You knew I didn’t like the high school course and would quit; I don’t think you ever forgave me for that.”

  “Don’t be an idiot.”

  “Isn’t that what you said when I quit? ‘Don’t be an idiot, Chay; at some point you’ll want this and you’ll be sorry if you don’t finish’.”

  She stood there, her gaze never leaving him, trying to remember if she had been so dogmatic about the dang high school diploma. “I’m sorry,” she said at last as she wheeled back toward the kitchen. “I didn’t mean to be so dictatorial.”

  “You weren’t. At least I don’t think you were. You believed it was the right thing to do. But I was just unhappy there. And, oh lord, Daphne. What a bitch! Geesh. At times, I thought one more day of looking at her mean, mealy face and I’d lose it. What happened between you and Daphne after I left; you become best friends again?”

  K.C. decided it was best to ignore the sarcasm in his voice as she brought the two cups of coffee into the living room and handed him one. She left his question hanging, unable to explain the lethargy that had set in when he left, how difficult it was just to get up in the morning without him there, go to class without him to come home to. “I’m not the cook Breezy is but I’ll grill you steak and some veg and a potato if that’s okay; at least, that’s what I brought.”

  “I seem to remember you cooked pretty well. Anyway, how much do I owe you? And you didn’t answer my question.”

  “Settle with Breezy, will you; she gave me the cash.”

  “Then I don’t owe anything, I don’t suppose, since I gave Breezy cash for meals. You gonna answer the question?”

  K.C. took a sip of her coffee and, finding it too hot, put the cup down. “I stayed. I didn’t want to start looking for another apartment; things were difficult enough for me after you left and she was helpful to a point. We had a working relationship, you might say—”

  “Sort of like you and me?”

  K.C. sat down on the floor in front of him, legs crossed, staring up at him. “I thought we had more than a working relationship, Chay. But maybe I was wrong.”

&nbs
p; “No.” His chest raised with his breath as he rested his head back on a pillow.

  “No, we didn’t have more or no, I’m not wrong.”

  He sighed. “You know damn well we had more.”

  K.C. reached for the cup. “What do we have now, Chay?”

  Chay hit his head back against the pillow several times before he rubbed his eyes. “You tell me,” he challenged.

  “What do you want?” She knew he would realize his answer to this could make or break their future together, he would play for time. And he did.

  “I should have sent you money; I left you with the rent to pay. And your loan.”

  “It’s fine. I would have had those things without you anyway. Daphne agreed to fifty-fifty eventually. Well. Forty-five/fifty-five actually because I had the master suite; she said it wasn’t fair I had my own ‘en suite bathroom’ while she had to go out into the hall.” A small smirk colored K.C.’s face.

  “Bitch!” In obvious discomfort, he rolled his body to face her, head on hand, elbow on sofa. “How are your parents? How did your parents take you coming out to Wyoming?”

  In the quiet that followed, K.C. twirled the remains of her coffee before glancing up. “My father died, Chay. A heart attack. It was very sudden.”

  “Shit! When?”

  “Don’t get up! Keep your leg higher than your head, that’s what the doctor ordered.”

  “Screw the doctor. Anyway, he said I should walk every half hour.” But he lay back down.

  “Two months after you left. I’d been thinking of moving out when Daphne broke her promise about smoking weed in the apartment yet again, but then Dad died and she was, like, another person—the person I’d first known. She was very helpful. Very kind and understanding.”

  “I bet.” There was still a shade of dislike in his voice, but he didn’t continue in that vein. “I’m sorry. I mean, I’m not being insincere, I know your father and I didn’t get on, but I’m sorry for you.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “How’s your mother doing?”

  She took a deep breath and exhaled like someone blowing out a candle. “She’s getting on with her life and letting me get on with mine. She’s as accepting of my wanting to be out here as she can be. You know, she has a lot of friends in New York and they’ve all come rushing to her side—including a few single men.” Her eyebrows raised and she smiled. “So, who knows? But she told me to go if this is what I want. And it is.”

  Chay tilted his head back again but said nothing.

  “I better get your dinner on. I don’t like driving in the dark.”

  “Then stay.” His voice was so soft she couldn’t be sure she had heard him right.

  She laughed. “I don’t think you’re well enough for any…activity. Not yet.”

  “Stay,” he repeated.

  “No, Chay. I don’t think we’re ready for that yet.”

  As she started back for the kitchen, she heard him mutter, “Yeah. You know what Garbo really did say?”

  “What?”

  “Life would be so wonderful if we only knew what to do with it.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It seemed to K.C. that Chay’s thirtieth birthday had turned into some kind of national holiday. The Cowboy Bar was so packed with well-wishers, she couldn’t see how there would be any room for dancing. Yet when the band struck up, as patrons cleared back toward the walls and bar, the dance floor appeared and couples moved out. K.C. wasn’t drinking, but the smell of spilled beer and perfume was enough to intoxicate her.

  Chay hadn’t yet arrived, which worried her despite the fact this wasn’t a formal party. He had told her on the phone he would meet her here after running some ranch errands. As everyone knew, Saturday night was spent at Cowboy Bar and today was Chay Ridgway’s birthday.

  “Wanna dance?” It was Billy Stavros, the new hand they all called ‘the Greek’.

  K.C. smiled and went out onto the floor with him. It was a two-step, and as she faced Billy, she spotted Chay swing open the saloon doors, Lisa tagging behind. She felt the blood chill in her veins as she tried to look away and take Billy’s hands.

  Billy Stavros was not the kind of dance partner to make anyone jealous. Somewhat chubby, he was an awkward companion and no one’s idea of a cowboy. She tried to smile to reassure him, but taking his hand, she could feel the damp of his anxiety. She grinned and took her hands back for a moment and wiped them on her jeans before she let Billy grip them again. She could feel Chay’s eyes on her. Was he smirking? Where was Lisa?

  Suddenly, Chay tapped Billy on the back and nodded toward the bar. “The birthday boy gets first pick, Stavros.”

  Billy faltered before giving K.C. a quiet thanks and leaving.

  Chay held up his hands waiting for K.C. to step forward. “Are we dancing?”

  K.C. inhaled a breath and stepped into Chay’s arms, a current running through her like fire through dry brush. All she wanted in that moment was to rest her head against him, feel the hard breadth of his chest. He smelled of leather and green grass, barn and horse as he did here in Wyoming, and she supposed if they could just stand there and not move at all, she’d be happy.

  “You’re quiet.” He led her as he always did, their two bodies moving as was meant, in rhythm, in step.

  “I thought you came with Lisa.”

  “No, we just happened to arrive at the same time.” He glanced toward the bar. “I think she’s set her sights on someone else now, thank goodness.”

  K.C. glanced up to see if he was sincere, and smiled.

  Chay’s mouth puckered with a brief guffaw. “Well. You didn’t really think I was…maybe it’s not nice to say. She was a bit young for an ancient thirty year old, wasn’t she?”

  Something between a snort and a laugh came out as K.C. queried that with her eyebrows.

  “Anyway, I don’t think anyone could take your place. You’re a lifetime habit, K.C.”

  The music stopped but Chay held both her hands.

  K.C. lost herself in the green depth of Chay’s eyes and smiled.

  “Do you think there’s hope for us?”

  “There’s always hope, Chay.”

  Chay laughed and pulled her a bit closer. “Do you think we can start again?”

  “No.”

  “No?” He tilted his head in question.

  “No. There’s too much between us to want to start again. I want to pick up right where we left off.”

  He seemed to consider this for a moment before asking, “You gonna wish me happy birthday?”

  “Is it your birthday?” she teased. “I forgot.”

  Chay’s deep tenor laugh rang out and everyone stopped to look at the couple. As he bent and pulled K.C. back into his arms, his kiss starting gentle but going deeper, going on, all the feeling of having lost each other and regained each other flowing through them, between them, all the patrons watching or so it seemed, someone on the sideline shouted out, “Oh, not again! Get a room, Ridgway, will ya?”

  Chay stood back and glanced over his shoulder. “Good idea. Dang good idea.”

  * * *

  Their boots left at the door, their clothes dropped away in shifting pieces, first his shirt, then hers, next her bra so their chests could brush each other. She relished the feel of his skin against her, satisfying in the brief embrace, the so-longed-for sensation of his skin on hers, his body next to her.

  He stood back and his belt hit the floor with a metallic thud before he stepped out of his jeans, his stare still consuming her, sweeping over her bare breasts with a desire at once gratifying and frightening. K.C. pushed her own jeans down, in inches, not to tantalize but rather to keep her sight on his beauty, the strong chest with its indentations of muscle, the smoothness of it, the semi-circles around the very slight protrusions of his pecs, the narrowing to his hips. She glanced up and caught his half-smile, the angle of his head with his ambiguous question. Was she admiring him? Was she teasing him? ‘Get on!’ it said.

&nbs
p; She stepped out of the discarded Levis and wound her arms around him and he responded by bending into her and rubbing his head in the crux of her shoulder before beginning to kiss her along the line of her neck and under her chin. The tight embrace let her feel the firmness of his desire and she pushed back, sliding her hands down his chest until her fingers hooked into his pants and his hands covered hers to push the remaining item down. K.C. drew her own hands back to do likewise with her panties before Chay lifted her. She encircled her legs about him for a kiss that didn’t seem to end, could not end as he held her and, as one, they came down upon his bed.

  Her eyes were closed and her neck arched as his lips moved around her, his hands light of touch despite the callouses she knew so well. Chay nuzzled into her neck and K.C. felt the bite of passion that would leave its mark. With one hand on his chest, she pushed him to his back so she could straddle him, her silken hair a curtain, as she moved to taste him and, holding his face between her hands, drink him in with another kiss before he reversed their positions once more.

  Now his full length was upon her as she had longed for it to be these many months. It was the weight with which she had slept so soundly in New York, the weight she had missed so long. Their feet entwined, the toes kissing, as he raised himself up to stare at her before easing himself in to become one. Arc’ed over her, his lips brushed down the slopes of her breasts and back to her earlobes before he lowered himself down, nestling into the fabric of her hair upon the pillow.

  K.C. clasped him to her. “I love the feel of you inside,” she whispered. “It’s like an emptiness being filled, being completed.” She ran her hands down his back, over the mounds of his glutes and back up again before her fingers twisted into his shaggy hair and brought his mouth to hers. She could hear his ragged breathing, the breath of desire that matched her own. She let his body move with its yearning, her own body beginning to match its cadence, the tempo slow at first but increasing in stroke as she drifted out to where her mind held nothing but Chay, before her body lifted and flew as one with his.