Loving A Cowboy (28 page)

“Libby. Libby.” Her father’s voice was low and gravelly, having lost so much of its verve.

“I got it, Dad. I’ll be back in a minute,” she called, not wanting him to worry. She turned her attention to the heartbreaker cowboy who stood in her hallway beside the glass and metal console table.

“What are you doing here?” It came out more accusatory than she intended, but she was this side of exhausted—both physically and emotionally. She had no time for games and no desire to play them. She’d hung her heart out like a flashing Broadway sign, and he’d chosen not to see it. She wasn’t about to tiptoe around any issue.

Chance slipped off his hat and rested it on the console. Running a hand through his hair, he answered, “I came to see you.”

“What for?” Okay, she was being a little gruff, but really, she hadn’t a clue why he’d come calling now, when for weeks he’d ignored her texts, wouldn’t answer her phone calls, and hadn’t bothered to initiate either.

“How’s your father? I heard about the stroke.”

How could he have heard and from whom? “He’s still here. That’s all that matters to me.”

Chance nodded as if he understood, but she guessed he was just being polite, because he certainly had not understood what it meant to her when her father suffered a heart attack.

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m hanging in.” Barely.

“Can I say howdy to your father?”

He looked sincere but uncomfortable. Probably just being polite again. “It’s not really a good time.”

He frowned as he scrutinized her. “Do you have time to talk?”

Not really. “A little.” She gestured for him to enter the formal living room off the hallway, the small one that no one ever entered. It was like a stage prop to be viewed but never used.

The room was done in all neutral colors, a beige traditional sofa, a taupe upholstered armchair, a white coffee table. A fireplace with a painted white wood surround served as a focal point in an otherwise bland space.

He sat down on the sofa, and Cowboy jumped up next to him and then snuggled close as Chance started petting him. Libby sat on the edge of the armchair’s cushion. Still stroking Cowboy, Chance stared at her without saying a word, making her self-conscious.

She wondered how she must look. Her hair hung straight and flat since she hadn’t bothered to style it, and as for makeup, she didn’t have any on. She wore an old, ratty sweatshirt from her alma mater and a pair of yoga pants with a tear at one side seam that she hadn’t thought to repair. There hadn’t seemed much reason to fuss with her appearance, and she didn’t have the time anymore.

Well, he couldn’t be here for any romantic reasons, so what did it matter if he saw the real Libby, warts and all.

“Speak your piece, Chance.”

“I’ve come…” He stopped petting Cowboy. How could he ask her now, when her circumstances had changed so much? It was great that he’d finally come to his senses, but he feared it was too late. She had a greater burden than before. Knowing her father had suffered a heart attack, she still had wanted to make it work between them. But when she’d needed him, he’d walked away, afraid to risk a relationship with an increasingly uncertain outcome.

And now her father would be even more dependent on her, consume more of her time. How could he ask her to take him on as well?

“Spit it out. We should be beyond tiptoeing around each other by now.”

Fresh-faced and casually dressed, Libby looked like she was ready to take on the world. Take on him. He should be ready to take his lumps and keep on trying. Anything worth having was worth working for. Libby was worth having. She’d shown him that as she nursed him through his injury. He’d been too full of pride, and too scared, to see it. He’d been afraid to take a risk. Now he was afraid he’d lose her for good. He hoped what he offered would be enough—support, love, and willingness to share the burden.

“It was wrong of me to leave, especially after your father suffered a heart attack. And it was wrong of me to shut you out after you tried, with the best intentions, to have me confront probably my biggest fear—learning the truth about my mother’s leaving me.”

She seemed to relax her grip on the armchair, and leaning forward, she clasped her hands between her knees.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I did have the best of intentions but…I should have realized—”

“What? That I’m a stubborn cuss, too pigheaded to see another’s side of things?”

He hadn’t noticed it before, but she looked exhausted, and her bottom lip quivered. He wanted to gather her up in his arms and hold her, but he knew he needed to earn that privilege back again.

“So you’re not angry about my bringing your mother to meet you?”

“I was. But I’ve had time to think, to investigate a few things. I went to see her.”

“Your mother? You went to see your mother?” Her eyes widened, her mouth gaped open.

He guessed it was pretty shocking. “I did. I needed to understand some things about who I was and who I wasn’t.”

“And what did you find?” She seemed genuinely interested, too engaged in the subject matter to think about what was still between them and what wasn’t.

“Well, I’m not Jess Cochran. That’s probably most important. I know I’ve got some of him in me, but I’ve finally convinced myself that I’m not going to be a duplicate of that man.”

“You’ve never been that man.”

“I’m glad you still believe that. Problem was, I didn’t until now.”

“Sounds like you’ve found yourself, Chance.” Her smile, though encouraging, didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I found more than that, Libby. I found out what I need. I found out who I love, and I realized, for probably the first time, who loved me for who I am. Not who I thought I was or wanted to be.”

She didn’t say anything. Just stared at him with those deep-blue eyes pooled with tears. This was harder than he imagined—and he had imagined it to be pretty hard. He still had to say it. He took a deep breath and steadied himself, like before he mounted one those broncs

“I love you, Libby.”

A small sob escaped her throat, and she shook her head in denial.

“I do,” he reiterated. “I just hope it’s not too late.” He had a sinking feeling it was.

“I’ve waited so long to hear you say that.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “But the timing…things have changed so much in just a short while. There’s my father. I can’t…I won’t leave him. He needs me. He needs me here, with him, twenty-four seven.”

Chance swallowed. He was signing on for much more than he’d bargained for, committing to something and someone who maybe needed him more than he needed her.

“And I’ll be here for you.”

She stared at him, tears streaming down her face as if she was struggling to come to grips with what he said, to believe it, to believe in him.

He reached for her hand. He took it as a good sign that she let him grasp it. Her skin was cool, yet her palms were moist.

“It’s a long road, Chance. He may never regain strength enough to be mobile and independent. He may be in a wheelchair all his life. He may have another stroke, more severe than this one. It’s a gamble, one with poor odds. And that means we would not have a normal life either. I can’t ask you to commit to that. It isn’t fair.”

He stroked his thumb along her soft palm. “As long as you still care for me, as long as you can love me like you have been, warts and all, I’m in, because that’s all that matters.”

She sniffled and shook her head. “Maybe it was a sign when things didn’t work out with us that they weren’t supposed to. Because everything that has happened with Daddy has just made things worse, impossible really.”

“Maybe things didn’t work out for us because one of us, me, had to figure out what really mattered in this world.”

“What about your ranch? You’d never see your horses?”

“I can board them down here. We can save the ranch for a getaway now and then.”

“Chance, you don’t understand what you’re signing on for. Daddy would be living with us. I would be caring for him. That’s no way for a couple to start out.”

Chance rose. “Seems I need to confirm some things.”

Libby watched, stunned, as Chance strode out of the room. She scrambled to follow, wondering if he was heading for the door after hearing the worst. She’d been honest with him. And got the reaction she expected—he was running. She tried not to let the crack in her heart widen, but it felt like it was about to break in half.

Except Chance didn’t head for the door. He turned in the opposite direction, toward the den. Toward her father.

Libby padded after him as Chance’s boots clanged and spurs jangled. “Where are you going?” she asked, but Chance didn’t answer, didn’t turn around, just kept going.

“Sir,” Chance said as he entered the large den and walked toward her father in the wheelchair. “I’m sorry to hear about the stroke.”

Her father lifted his head, and for the first time in a while, his face carried a smile. “Chance Cochran, where the hell have you been?” His tone was accusatory, but with that smile on his face, it sounded more like a meeting of two needling buddies than any sort of showdown.

“Riding. And asking myself some tough questions. Now that I’ve got some answers, I’ve come back to get an answer from Libby.”

“Is that right?” Her father chuckled and sat up straighter in the wheelchair, wiping away any sign of a defeated man. “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.”

“Me too. But here’s the thing.” Chance sat down on the couch next to her father’s wheelchair like they were settling in for a chat. Libby hung back, feeling uncertain as to what was going on—and how it would end.

“Libby hasn’t said yes. She’s afraid you and I won’t be able to live here together. But she doesn’t realize that I can help when I’m here, be here for her—and for you, if you need me. And I’m thinking we can get along, two stubborn mules that we are, for her sake. So I’m asking for your blessing.”

Sam looked at her, his smile widening, his eyes brighter than she’d seen them since the stroke. Libby felt completely at sea, in uncharted emotional waters. She had no idea what her father would say. They hadn’t talked about Chance since his stroke. There hadn’t been any reason to. And yet, she wanted his blessing. Needed his blessing to give Chance the answer he wanted. Libby held her breath.

Sam turned his attention back to Chance. “I’m a burden to her, son. I never intended to be, but I know I won’t win this fight to regain my health without her. Do you understand how things may turn out? I may never—”

Chance held up a hand. “She’s been through the litany. Here’s what I know. I know that I would be getting the best, most devoted wife there is. One who is also a wonderful daughter. Someone who would be a spectacular mother when the time is right.” He shrugged, trying to look unconcerned. “And I’ll get one ornery father-in-law. I’ll take that deal. What she doesn’t realize, and what I know, is that you, Sam Brennan, have never lost a fight you wanted to win. And I’m going to be here to help you gain your strength back so you can walk her down the aisle.”

Her father positively beamed. “There’s nothing more I could wish for than to walk her down the aisle—and hand her over to you. If these attacks have made me realize nothing else, it is that I won’t be here forever to take care of her. She’s a strong woman. I’ve come to appreciate that fact. But knowing someone loves her and will take this journey with her would be the greatest gift anyone could give me.” He reached to shake Chance’s hand, and Libby could see his struggle to do it firmly. “You have my blessing.”

Chance rose and walked toward her. Gathering her up in his arms, she felt his strength, his determination, but most importantly, she felt his love. “You’d better give your father a reason to get better, Libby. You’d better say yes.”

Chapter 24

Five months later

“Are you ready, Daddy?”

At the back of the church vestibule, Libby set the festooned walker in front of her father’s wheelchair as the church organist began to play Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major.

“Let’s get her done.” Sam Brennan’s voice was strong and sure as he gripped the walker and, with a little help from Libby, hoisted himself up.

Libby looked for any signs of distress, but all she saw was her father’s broad smile. He’d come so far in the last few months, but he still had a long way to go.

She wrapped her hand around the rail of her father’s walker and watched from the wings as her bridesmaids, Debbie and Madison, two friends from college, began the timed walk down the aisle. No red carpet had been laid because Libby hadn’t wanted her father’s walker to get tangled in it. The pews of the white-steepled church were decked out in blue hydrangeas and fragrant white roses with draping tulle. Through the stained-glass windows, sunlight dappled vibrant colors on the tile floor.

Debbie and Madison had flown in from California and New Jersey, respectively, to be in her wedding, and they had fluttered around Chance at the rehearsal dinner, thrilled to finally meet the man they had heard so much about during midnight dorm-room chats. Peeking down the aisle, Libby caught a glimpse of Lonnie, as best man, and Doug, as groomsman, standing beside Chance on the altar. They both looked fine in their tuxedos, but there was only one man she wanted to see. She strained to glimpse Chance, who looked more handsome than ever in the black tux that expertly fit his broad shoulders and tapered to his slim waist.

She could see the smile plastered on his face all the way from her spot in the vestibule, and a warm glow spread from her heart.

Scanning the pews, she spotted the back of Deidre Cochran’s blonde head in the front row on the groom’s side, handkerchief in hand.

The church was populated with employees of the dealership, her father’s friends, and loyal customers, as well as several of Chance’s rodeo buddies and their dates, and the whole McShane family, Billy looking dapper, for a thirteen-year-old, in his dark suit. Mandy Prescott had come with her mother but no male escort, which made Libby wonder, since Mandy was a beautiful woman, especially in the gorgeous red dress she wore, which set off her brunette hair. She’d been so sorry to hear that Mandy’s grandfather had been diagnosed with stage IV cancer. As Mandy’s father had died many years ago in a car accident, she might be one of a very few female owners of a rodeo stock company soon, albeit under tragic circumstances.