The White Cowboy - Complete BWWM Romance Box Set (8 page)

CHAPTER THREE

Brandon gave Gemma's information to the woman at the desk, and she gave him a form for Gemma to fill out.

He handed it to Gemma, then sat next to her. In his mind, he was cataloging all the things he wasn't doing today. All the animals were fed, but he'd hoped to fix some things in the barn.

People were trouble. Women even more so. He counted the hours until Gemma would be gone.

Gone from his life. Gone from his house. Gone from his bed. The last one made him sigh. He had enjoyed himself last night. But he couldn't take advantage again.

And now with her hurt, he certainly wouldn't risk injuring her.

On the plus side, she wouldn’t be able to get out to the barn, so he could hide there all day. If he didn't have to deal with her bluntness, he'd be so much happier.

A few minutes later, a nurse called Gemma's name. He picked her up again and carried her to a treatment room. He waited outside the door as the nurse asked Gemma what seemed like a million questions.

Why did the docs need to know so much? It was her ankle that was injured. He frowned, then crossed his legs in front of him to wait for this to be done.

***

Fitted with crutches, and with her ankle tightly bandaged, Gemma hobbled out of the room to see Brandon waiting for her. "Sprained ankle."

She took a few shaky steps, hoping she'd get used to the contraptions.

"Oh? What do you do for that?"

She looked at him with her head cocked. "In all that time as a rodeo rider, you never sprained your ankle?"

"No. I broke quite a few bones and had to have stitches. Never a sprain."

"I have to stay off it for as much as I can. For two days."

He stood. Right now, she appreciated his strong presence. She was in pain and far from home, and Brandon made her feel safe.

"Okay. We can go home now, then?"

She held up a piece of paper. "I have a prescription for pain medication to fill," she said. "Can we go to the pharmacy?"

"Sure."

He walked alongside her as she got used to the crutches. "Once again, I'm sorry."

He grimaced, then shrugged. "Can't be helped."

"I wish there was some way to make it up to you."

Then she realized how dirty that sounded.

"No problem, Gemma. Pay it forward, okay?"

He held open the front door for her. She was thankful that the parking lot had been cleared of snow. When she reached the truck, she had no idea how she would climb into it.

"Here," Brandon said. "Hold onto the truck and onto me."

She obeyed. He put the crutches into the truck, then lifted her onto the seat.

"Thanks."

He closed the door without saying a word.

***

The pharmacy hadn't taken too long, and now Brandon was driving Gemma back to his house. She had taken something strong for the pain, and it seemed to be taking effect. Her eyes were a little glazed, and she was smiling non-stop. Her head lolled against the back of the seat, and only her seatbelt held her in place.

This afternoon would be interesting.

He parked in front of the house, just in time for lunch. While he'd been walking around the truck, Gemma had unbuckled her seatbelt. When he opened the door, she fell into his arms. He guessed that he was carrying her inside.

She laughed as he walked into the house. Her head lolled back, and she almost hit the doorjamb as he went inside.

"Did anyone tell you, you're very handsome," she said, her words slurring together. She run a finger down the side of his face, then giggled.
Oh boy.

"I think you did once."

He put her on the couch, but she didn't let go of the arms around his neck. He almost landed on top of her. When he righted himself, he tugged her arms loose, and put her hands in her lap.

"I'll get your crutches," he said.

She was singing as he left. He grabbed her purse and crutches. Spike appeared out of nowhere, and entered the house with him.

He didn't usually leave his dog outside, but he'd been too concerned about Gemma. Damn, she was getting to him. The idea bothered him a lot.

He put her crutches on the floor by the couch. Gemma seemed to be asleep. He sighed. She was a beautiful woman. .

He left her sleeping so he could make lunch.

***

Gemma woke to the smell of soup. Her stomach rumbled, but when she moved, the room spun. Was she hung over?

She didn't remember drinking. Light streamed through the front window, so she knew it was daytime.

Then she remembered the pain meds she'd taken. Maybe she wouldn't take it again. Her foot didn't hurt, but she didn't like how the meds made her feel.

Finally the room stopped whirling, and she was able to sit up. Then the room wobbled, and she was thankful that she had an empty stomach.

"You're awake," Brandon said from the kitchen doorway. "You hungry?"

Her stomach rumbled. She patted it. "Starved."

He put a bowl of soup and some crackers on the coffee table by her. She swung her feet off the couch, and winced a little. Her foot didn’t hurt as bad as yesterday, but was getting sorer by the minute.

"I could have come into the kitchen."

He shook his head. "You're supposed to stay off your foot for a day."

" I'll go nuts doing that." She wasn't a sitter. She was a doer. That's why she was on her quest for stardom.

"If you don't, you'll delay your trip to California," he said.

He leaned against the door to the kitchen.

He had a point. Her trip should continue as planned. She could drive with her left ankle sprained. She could still play for the agent when she got to Hollywood. This injury shouldn't slow her down.

With her latest movement, the room spun again. When it stopped she picked up the spoon. "Thanks for lunch."

He disappeared back into the kitchen. As if he couldn't stand her presence. That's wasn't the reaction he’d had last night. What had changed?

Or was he thinking, like her, that last night was a mistake? They'd never finished that conversation.

She willed him to come back into the living room. She could hear him doing dishes and putting things in the cabinets.

When she finished her soup and crackers, he returned. "You done?"

"I am, but we need to talk."

He grimaced, but sat on the rocking chair. "You can't let things go, can you?"

"No, I can't. I'm the one who always points out what everyone else is afraid to."

"Lucky me."

***

If he could have been anywhere other than his own living room having this conversation, Brandon would have been happy. But Gemma seemed determined to have her say. To analyze what had happened last night.

If she left, he could just shrug it off. Maybe it was a guy thing versus a girl thing.

"Go ahead."

She frowned, then made herself more comfortable on his couch. His couch and his house that she'd fit into so easily. That scared him, but he was counting on her desire to be a star to override what they'd done.

That would mean he had just a day and half or so to get through, and then she'd be gone. Just a pleasant memory for him to take out on cold winter nights.

"I know I instigated last night," she said.

He remained silent. He didn't have anything to say on the matter, except maybe to apologize. In his experience, women didn't like that when it came to sex. They didn't like when you regretted sleeping with them. He guessed he understood that, but his understanding didn't make it easier not to apologize.

He let her speak.

She continued, "But it was probably a mistake. And that's okay. I take responsibility for my actions. I think it would be best if we don't let it happen again."

A sense of relief flooded him. But also felt a sense of regret. She was apologizing to him for having sex. He wasn't sure he liked that idea any better than if he'd been sorry. "Okay."

Silence. This was why he didn't want people in his life. Too many complications.

"That's all you're going to say?"

What was expected of him? "You've said it all. It won't happen again," he said.

She blinked, then stared at him, disbelief coloring her face. "So that's it? Really?"

He shrugged. "You have your life, and I have mine. Those will resume when you get on the road in a day and half."

Her eyes narrowed. "So you're counting down."

A headache was forming in his temple. He'd obviously stepped on a mine he had no idea had been planted. He sighed. "You just said it was a mistake. I'm just admitting that we have separate lives, separate goals. How is that wrong?"

Brandon knew that pragmatism was probably not what she wanted, but that's what he had to give. A leopard could not change its spots. Nor could he suddenly be someone's knight in shining armor.

He'd saved one damsel and she'd left him, so he'd packed up his armor, and now used his horse for farming.

She sighed. "I guess it isn't."

***

Brandon left her to check on the animals. Unlike last night, he'd left her unsatisfied. She wasn't sure what she'd expected him to say.

Had she wanted him to fight for her? Or profess his undying love?

No, she hadn't wanted that, but her ego had. She had to admit that to herself.

She looked at the time. Despite her foot, she still wanted to get to that open mike night at the bar. Hobbling to the bathroom, she found some ibuprofen and popped them instead of her pain meds. She didn't want to be woozy again.

With some trouble, she got herself dressed for the outside weather, then hobbled through the snow to the cow barn.

Brandon once again stood with the pregnant cow. The animal looked more distressed than yesterday.

"Is everything okay?"

Her reason for coming out here could wait.

"Not sure. She seems to be running a temperature. I've called the vet. He's on his way."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Brandon looked at her, stricken. He was truly concerned about this animal. She couldn't deny that.

"Well, I guess just pat her head. She seemed to like that."

Gemma went over to the head of the cow, rested her bad foot on her good one, and leaned on her crutches. She patted the cow's head and sang in low tones. The animal closed her eyes as if enjoying the song.

Gemma stayed like that as long as she could, then had to sit. Brandon gave her a hay bale to sit on, and put up her foot. "Can you keep singing? She seems to like it."

So Gemma sang some more. All of the slower songs in her repertoire.

Finally, the vet arrived. Gemma stopped singing, though it had been nice to have an appreciative audience.

Even if it was a cow.

CHAPTER FOUR

Brandon hoped the vet could figure out what was wrong. He fretted over his animals, maybe more than he should have.

At least he was trying to make it a commercial venture. The sale of the goat milk and the meat from the cows paid his bills. He wasn't going to get rich, but he'd put away money from his rodeo days.

He'd never go hungry. Still, he didn't every want any of his animals to suffer.

"Let me check her out. Just go sit by your wife and let me do my job."

Doctor Holder looked like a typical country vet. White hair, twinkling blue eyes, and a no-nonsense attitude. He did inspire confidence in Brandon, but he bit his tongue against correcting the man. Gemma was not his wife.

Gemma would never be his wife, but right now he had to worry about the cow, not Gemma's feelings.

Gemma patted his arm. "I'm sure the doc knows what he's doing."

"He's the best around, for sure." He tore his gaze from the doctor's examination to look at her. "Thanks for singing."

She smiled. "It's what I do best."

"Don't sell yourself short. I'm sure you have other talents."

She shrugged. "Only one that will make me a star."

That left his blood cold. As much as he enjoyed the domestic situation and playing house, he had to remember that she was leaving when her car was fixed.

He tried to keep his tone light. "I guess that's true."

"Speaking of singing, I wondered if you could drive me to that open mike night?"

He glanced down at her wrapped foot. "Should you be doing that with your foot?"

"I've been off it since we got back, and I'm not on it now," she said.

"What about the pain relievers that make you loopy?"

She laughed. "I'm not taking it until I go to bed. I'll live on ibuprofen until then. Besides, I'll be sitting on a chair, and I don't need to stay past my performance."

Confident that she'd thought this through and that she'd go with him or without him, he nodded. "Let's just see how the cow is doing."

"Of course. If you can't get away, then I understand. You could always drop me off and come back for me later."

He frowned, not liking that idea. "We'll see, okay?"

"Fair enough."

***

Gemma listened as the doc went through what Brandon needed to do. The cow just had an infection. From what she'd seen, the doc had examined the animal thoroughly, even donning an arm length glove to palpate the cow for pregnancy.

Gemma never needed to see that again.

In fact, she wished she'd gone back to the house, but she hadn't wanted to leave Brandon alone. He seemed to appreciate her presence in the barn.

"I'd like to wash my hands," Doctor Holder said.

"There's a sink in the feed room," Brandon said. "Just go towards the back of the barn. You can't miss it."

She must have looked a little ashen, because Brandon patted her arm before he stood to stroke his cow. "I'm sure you've never seen that before."

"No, not at all. We don't have cows in the part of New Jersey I'm from, and I never really thought about what an examination would entail. I might have left."

He turned to her, his face grave. "I do appreciate you staying. I was pretty nervous about her condition."

She studied him for a moment, gaining a newfound respect for him. "No problem. I know she isn't just another animal to you."

How can anyone be bad if they care about animals? That was something her mother had taught her.

"No, I care about all of my animals. I try to treat them as humanely as possible."

"That's admirable. It would probably be cheaper if you didn't."

"I don't think the meat would be as good."

"Probably not, but I don't really know."

He continued stroking the cow, then he led her back to her stall. The other cows had remained quiet as if they wanted to know how she was doing also.

Now they raised a ruckus, and mooed. Gemma could hear them her whole trip back to the house. They put a smile on her face.

***

Brandon watched her go, thankful that she'd been there. The doc appeared beside him. He handed Brandon some liquid in what looked like children's medication syringes.

"Put these in her feed for five days. If she doesn't improve, call me again."

"So you're sure it's just an infection. How?"

The doctor shrugged. "She could have eaten something odd and it lodged in her stomach."

"You're sure the calf is okay?"

"Yes, it moved when I felt it, and it was the right size for where she is in the gestational period."

"Good to know." Brandon held his hand out to the doctor. "How much do I owe you?"

"You'll get your bill in the mail."

"Oh, wait I have something for you."

Brandon went into the house and returned with a jar of sauce. "Sauce for you and your wife."

"She'll be so happy. We just ran out of the last stuff you gave us. She can't seem to duplicate it."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it," said Brandon, pleased.

"Can I ask about the missus?"

Brandon didn't know what he was talking about. Then he realized the doctor meant Gemma. "Oh, she's not my wife. Long story. Stuck here passing through to California."

"Oh? She seemed pretty concerned for a houseguest."

His words rung in Brandon's ears long after the doctor left.

***

The situation with the cow had made Gemma a little tired, so she flopped on the couch with her foot up. It throbbed a bit, but she knew there were a few more hours before she could take any more pain medications.

She would rest for the afternoon, but that made her feel guilty. Brandon normally did his chores on his own, but he didn't have to do them while taking care of an invalid. Well, not an invalid, but someone else and that someone else having an injury.

But what could she do sitting here on the couch?

Then she remembered his cookbook. She could help him with that. Brandon entered just as she made this decision.

"So the cow will be fine?"

"Doc thinks so," Brandon said, but she suspected he was still worried about the animal and its calf. He didn't look at her just answered absentmindedly.

"I have an idea," she said.

"About the cow?" He stopped in the middle of the living room, then went back by the door to take off his boots. He had a bench just inside the door that he sat on. He hung up his coat and scarf on a hook in the wall made out of deer antlers.

"No. About your cookbook."

His brow wrinkled. "What about my cookbook?"

"Since I can only sit here, why don't I help you organize your recipes?"

He rubbed his chin, shaking his head. "No. My recipes are mine."

She rolled her eyes at him. "I'm not going to steal them, and frankly if you publish a cookbook, they won't be secret anymore."

"I just have them scribbled on sheets of paper. I haven't gotten them on my laptop yet."

"That's what I'll start with. I'll type them up. I can't do much else sitting here, and I want to stay off my foot so I can go out tonight."

He stood, obviously mulling it over. "Let me think about it."

"Don't think too long. I'm only here for a day and half."

He frowned, as if he didn't want to be reminded of that.

***

Brandon entered the kitchen. She liked to remind him that she was leaving. He got it. She didn't need to keep telling him.  But maybe he should use her manpower while she was here. He had procrastinated with this book.

But then again, he remembered how Jessica had laughed at his project. Probably why he'd never shared it with anyone else. He didn't want to feel that way again.

Gemma wasn't laughing. She was offering to help him. Could he risk his dream? Could he risk her laughter?

"Brandon?" Gemma called from the living room.

He frowned, then grabbed all of his papers. He'd take a chance. Striding into the living room with a confidence he didn’t feel, he handed her his life's work.

She smiled, her eyes wide. "Wow. You need some organization. Guess that's what I'll do first."

He waited for her to say something snarky. He knew he wasn't organized.

She didn't laugh. She rifled through his papers and took a deep breath. "I'll organize them by topic. Will that work?"

"Uh, sure."

She moved a few papers around, then looked up at him. "Go check on your cow, then come back later. I'll probably have questions by then."

He'd been dismissed. Out of his own home by a woman he just met who had sprained her ankle. Who sat on his couch organizing his recipes. He chuckled as he walked toward the barn.

He found Clint talking to the cow.

"Hey, how's she doing?"

"She seems better, Brandon."

"Good."

"You look pretty happy right now."

"Uh, Gemma is helping with my cookbook."

He hadn't shared much with Clint, but the man had listened to him talk about his cookbook.

The cow looked better than she had earlier. The antibiotics must be working.

"I'll give her some more hay," Clint said. "Then I'll head out."

"You coming back for dinner?"

"If you don't mind. There's a nurse today, so I don't have to stay at home."

Brandon did not judge the man for his need to get away from his sick wife once in a while. That had to be burden. He was sure that Clint bore it gladly, but once in a while he had to be on his own. "Of course you're welcome."

He returned to the house with a lighter step. Gemma had his papers in several piles.

"Good timing," she said. She had her laptop open on her lap, and seemed to be typing into it. "I've started a few files to put the documents in. If you have a flash drive, I'll save everything onto it, then you can transfer it to your computer."

He blinked. "Okay."

He retrieved one from his bedroom and handed it to her. He didn't use technology much, just to pay his bills and keep track of his expenses. He wasn't even sure where that flash drive came from.

"You have a few minutes?" she asked.

"Sure."

"Then sit, I need you to decipher some handwriting."