Loving A Cowboy (8 page)

She swallowed hard. She expected Chance to act difficult. She doubted he expected her to be just as stubborn. “I don’t have a job yet. That’s why I can come and help you.”

His eyes narrowed to slits. Not his most attractive pose. Made him look a little snake-like, actually.

“Is that the game? Daddy is mad because you wouldn’t play in his sandbox, and you figure you can freeload off me until this Ben guy returns. That’s why you’re really here, isn’t it?”

While she wouldn’t deny that the facts seemed to support his conclusion, it was the wrong conclusion. The moment Chance had hit the dust and hadn’t stood up, she knew her place was at his bedside, whether at the hospital or his home. Point was, she cared. She guessed she was here to find out how deeply. She didn’t fool herself that Chance would want to hear that, much less believe it. Or what it would mean to either of them if he did.

“My father and I did have a falling out when I told him I wasn’t going to work for Brennan Motors, and it hasn’t been very pleasant at home. I am trying to get a public relations job with the Western Stock Show in Denver.” She wished she could wipe the smug I-thought-so expression off his face, but the truth was the truth. “So, yes, I could use a change of scene. But you also need help. So unless you’re planning on calling the county sheriff to throw me out, I think you should accept my offer.”

He eyed her through those narrowed lids. “You know I’m not calling the police on you.”

“Good. Then we’ve reached an understanding. And, just so everything is out in the open, I may need a few hours here or there to do some interviews for that stock show position, but I’ll make sure everything is in good order before I step out.”

“Libby, this is not a good idea.” His voice held a warning.

“Why? You need me temporarily. I need a place to stay temporarily. What reason could there be not to help each other?”

His gaze started at her chest, traveled down the front of her tank top, pausing briefly at her waist before continuing down her jean skirt, past her bare legs, right to her bejeweled flip flops.

“That kiss in my truck should be reason enough.” He lifted his gaze to her face and leaned back against the headboard. “We also have a history that isn’t a pretty one. And, by the way, I signed that affidavit, so there is nothing stopping you from marrying anyone you want.”

Strange that she hadn’t given a thought to the affidavit. “Thank you. And our history is precisely what should keep us from making any future mistakes in the attraction direction.”

“So you don’t deny there’s still an attraction between us?”

She took a deep breath as she felt her cheeks flush. “I don’t deny it. But it’s a physical attraction, and you’re in no shape to act on it…so we’re good.”

He shook his head. “Honey, a few things were broken, but take my word for it,
that’s
working just fine.”

She took another deep breath. She bet it was working fine. But she’d been counting on a good deal of pain to keep it corralled, not to mention his anger. No matter. He did need her, health-wise. “We’re two adults, Chance. I think we can handle this. You want to get better. I can help you.”

She turned her head and surveyed his room. “Look at this place. It’s only been a few days since you got out of the hospital. What will it look like in a week? And food?” She motioned to the empty bags of potato chips and pretzels. “You can’t live on snacks and get better.”

He snorted and looked in the direction of her Louis Vuitton suitcase, part of her high school graduation gift. But Chance wasn’t looking at her designer bag.

“What the hell is that?” he said, nodding toward Cowboy’s carrier.

“That is Cowboy.”

“What?”

“His name is Cowboy. He was a stray, and I’ve given him a home.”

“Seems like you’re planning to give him
my
home. I’m not a fan of house cats, Libby.”

“Cowboy won’t bother you, but you may find you like this one. He’s a lot like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just what I said. He’s brave, independent, acts like he doesn’t care about people but can be very loving.”

He stared at her a moment. “I don’t know what you mean by that last comment, but I’m pretty certain it wasn’t a compliment.”

She waved her hand. “Cowboy will grow on you, is all I’m saying.”

“No, he won’t, because I don’t want him in this room.”

She rose off the bed. Hanging around a dealership all her life, she knew the rules of making a sale. When you’ve got the customer’s commitment and closed the deal, leave. “You won’t know he’s about, I promise.” How she was going to keep that promise with an independent-minded cat, she didn’t know.

Chance eyed her. “Libby, do you really think this is a good idea? Us being together after all these years, with everything that’s gone on between us. I’m not a man to forget a wrong someone has done me. But I am a man.”

“I know, Chance.” There was no mistaking it, she thought as she gazed at his wonderfully muscled torso. He was definitely a man. “I’m not here hoping you’ll forgive me or anything. I know that’s pretty much impossible.” She stared down at her fiddling hands. “But this is something I want to do for you, so whether you want me to or not, I’m helping you.” If for no other reason than to assure he didn’t do something stupid, like use his foot before it was fully healed.

He stared at her a moment and huffed like a snorting Brahman. “Sounds like you’re trying to grow a spine, Libby. But trying it out on me isn’t a true test, you know. Besides, if you think this will square us, think again.”

“I know that—you’ve already warned me.”

“There was once something between us. Something intense. You must be pretty sure that’s all gone to propose this.”

Libby took a dry swallow, definitely not sure of anything, but she nodded anyway.

He stared at her a moment longer than a heartbeat. She wondered if those cold eyes of his could read her mind, her heart. She wondered what either would tell him, because she sure didn’t know.

“Have you eaten yet? Real food?” she asked to break the tension.

“No,” he practically growled.

She held her face steady, proud of herself that she didn’t flinch. “Good, I’ll start there. And any particular bedroom I should or shouldn’t take?”

There was mischief in his grin. “If you want to test out your theories about my abilities, you are welcome to share my bed.”

She flushed. “Very funny.” Was he actually flirting with her?

He took a shallow breath. He was probably in pain through all this yammering. She hadn’t even thought about that. Some nurse she was.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded, looking annoyed that she’d asked. “Room down the hall is usually Lonnie’s when he stays, so that would leave the room next to mine. Linens are in the hall closet.”

“Great.” She turned to gather up her things. Cowboy had started to give a few plaintive cries.

“Libby.”

“Yes,” she said, turning back at him.

“You even know how to cook?”

“Of course I know how to cook,” she fibbed. “We’ll just see what you have in the fridge. And maybe later I’ll run to the grocery store.”

“Grocery store is a half hour away. I’m surprised you even found this place.”

She snatched up Cowboy’s carrier and grabbed the handle of her suitcase. She wouldn’t mention she had two more suitcases in the car. “That’s what the Internet and GPS are for, Chance.” She flashed him a smile as she passed through the doorway. She’d made the sale. Now for the delivery.

Chapter 7

Libby peered into the room he’d assigned her and took in the patchwork quilt on the bed, the blue-and-brown striped curtains, the oak dresser, the comfortable-looking chair covered in brown suede-like fabric, and the wall-to-wall deep-blue rug.

Neat and tidy, the room wasn’t feminine, of course, but it was warm and inviting. So unlike Chance’s response to her arrival.

She dropped her luggage and opened Cowboy’s cage. He bounded out, gave her a quick look over his shoulder that said “about time,” and moved out. As she watched him scurry away, tail erect, she prayed Cowboy would stay away from Chance’s room. She stepped into the hallway, closed the bedroom door, and headed toward the front of the house in search of the kitchen.

The initial confrontation with Chance had been difficult, but she’d survived. And won, she thought as she broke several eggs into a bowl. One thing she could make was a good omelet. She could also make quiche, though when and if she served that to him she’d call it something different so he wouldn’t think he was eating sissy food.

Chance’s kitchen was like the rest of the house she’d seen so far—homey. So unlike what she expected. There were blue gingham curtains on the window, maple cabinets, and a large maple table with solid chairs that dominated the space. A rag rug covered the beige-and-brown stone tiles that gave the room a rustic look.

Supplies were another matter. She’d scoured the cabinets and found only one fry pan, one large pot, one small pot, a set of cream-colored dishes with enough place settings for four people, and only four glasses—as if he’d bought the smallest quantity of whatever he needed and hadn’t expected to share it with anyone. The refrigerator contained a similar proportion of goods—one tub of butter, one gallon of milk, one loaf of bread, one jar of peanut butter (who ever heard of putting bread and peanut butter in the fridge?), one wedge of cheddar cheese, one six-pack of beer, one dozen eggs, and three packages of bacon. That was it. What did the man think he was going to eat, other than bacon?

She discovered the answer to that question when she opened up the pantry. Cereal. There were boxes and boxes of all kinds of multigrain cereal lining the three walls of shelves, as well as dozens of cans of soup. And that, she figured, was what the man was planning on fixing for eats.

A man who, as she recalled, could eat steak for breakfast, lunch, and dinner with ribs as a chaser. She’d have to go to the grocery store after she fixed Chance some eggs. And check out some recipes via the Internet. She’d already spied a grill on the patio by the pool. Grilling couldn’t be too hard, if she could figure out how to turn it on.

In no time, she’d finished the bacon and cheese omelet, toasted the bread and buttered it, and poured a glass of milk. She’d figure out how to make coffee later. Being a tea drinker, she didn’t have a clue what a good cup of coffee tasted like.

With no tray available, she simply put the salt and pepper shakers under one arm and managed to handle the plate, silverware, napkin, and glass with both hands. College waitress skills came in handy.

“You stay here, Cowboy,” she bid the cat, stretched lazily across the kitchen floor in a dapple of sunlight. She’d already set up Cowboy’s food, water, and litter pan in the mud room near the back door, and he’d made himself right at home.

The door to Chance’s room was open, and he was propped up in bed, cell phone pressed to his ear.

A smile escaped her lips when she noted he’d wrestled on some jeans. He’d left the dresser drawer half open and the crutches lying across the foot of the bed. But he hadn’t covered up his bruised chest. She imagined those ribs weren’t feeling too good right now.

She toed open the door and brought the food forward. In a second, he was off the phone.

“Talking to my trainer. Says within a few weeks, he should have me back on my feet, literally.” A broad smile flashed across his movie-star handsome face, along with a heavy dose of relief.

She knew the doctor had given him a different timetable, but she wasn’t going to press it. At least not today. She’d fill him in on her opinion when the time came.

“Looks good, Libby. But milk? What am I, five?”

“I still don’t know how to make coffee. And I’ll be honest with you—I’m not exactly an experienced cook. But now is as good a time to learn as any. I can’t be eating out at chain restaurants all my life. Not if I’m going to have a family someday.”

He frowned and took up the fork she’d handed him as she placed the plate near him on the bed and the milk on the nightstand so it wouldn’t spill.

“Your guy wants kids, I guess?” he muttered.

Ben had told her he wanted to wait on children until they had the money for a house, and he wanted no more than two due to the cost of raising a child. He’d been quite adamant about that. It had all sounded reasonable at the time. “Yes, eventually.”

“We were going to have four, if I recall.” He took a mouthful of the omelet, but his cool gray eyes stayed focused on her.

“Yes.” She remembered. She also remembered the tingling feeling she always got deep in the pit of her stomach when she’d think about having Chance’s children. Like her body was getting primed and ready. That was then. So why was she feeling all tingly now?

“We haven’t decided on how many.” Ben may want only two, but she hadn’t agreed yet. In her mind it was still an open topic—as open as whether she even should be with Ben, considering her chaotic feelings for Chance.

“What does he do?” Chance was still staring at her, barely blinking.

“He’s a geological engineer, but he also has a master’s in business, so he’s looking to be in management for a drilling company. He’s in a training program at the moment.” Why did it suddenly sound so dull?

“Met him at school?”

She nodded.

“Guess you prefer ties to blue jeans.” He shook his head as if he was disappointed in her. Well, she’d surely disappointed him on so many levels, what was one more.

“There’s nothing wrong with a man in a suit and tie,” she answered, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. “And he hasn’t asked yet. We’re still in the talking stage.”

And clearly she and Ben needed to talk. She might be able to convince Chance she still didn’t have feelings for him, but with every minute she was in his company, it was getting harder to convince herself. And if she did have feelings, how could she lead Ben on, even if Chance didn’t return those feelings? “What about you? I was wondering if I’d find a bunch of buckle bunnies taking care of you.”