Her Forever Cowboy (2 page)

His hand was warm and the pads of his fingers were rough against her skin—a tingle of awareness waltzed slowly through her. Whoa—the man was trying to take charge of her business and she was thinking about tingling skin! What was wrong with her? This would not do. “Cole, I don't need you—I can take care of myself,” she said, locking firm eyes on him. She'd spent her life learning to stand on her own two feet. She didn't need a virtual stranger telling her what to do. The last thing she expected was for him to reach past her and snag her keys from the ignition.

“Obviously there's no reasoning with you,” Cole said. “I hate to break it to you, but you're comin' with me. End of story.”

“Cole Turner, give me those keys!” she exclaimed. “Right this minute.”

“I like that fire you got goin' on there, darlin'. But no can do. See, a friend wouldn't let a friend drink and drive, and I won't let you sleep and drive.”

Glowering at him in the moonlight, she plopped one hand palm out. “Then I'll sleep in my truck. Hand over my keys. Now.”

“Not happening.” He proceeded to step around her, blocking her from the inside of the truck as he slipped the key back in the ignition, pressed the automatic button and waited as the window rolled closed.

“Cole Turner,” Susan gritted out from behind him.

His back burned from the heat of her wrath. Ignoring
it, he slipped the key safely into his pocket, locked the truck door then slammed it firmly shut. When he turned around she had her hands on her hips shooting daggers at him with those amazing electric-blue eyes. He did like her eyes.

“You are not funny, Cole. I want my keys.”

She was tenacious. “You might as well give it up, Doc. I'm more stubborn than you, and you're going for a ride with me and that's it.” Snagging his helmet from the ground, he strode up the embankment toward his ride. “Come on, Doc,” he called over his shoulder. “We're burning up precious darkness standing here arguing. There is nothing more you can do.”

A loud huff said what she thought of him.

No surprise there…he wasn't exactly impressed with her, either. Still, her footsteps, make that stomps, behind him brought a smile to his lips.

M
aybe sleep would help.

Everything was sort of mingled and mixed in a confusing way in her fuddled brain. It was hard to separate them. She was definitely going to need a few hours of sleep to ensure she didn't make some crazy mistake—like making goo-goo eyes at the man.
So
not happening.

Of course him acting all me-man-you-woman on her was helping toss some cold ice on the situation. Taking her keys like he did—out of concern or whatever—didn't sit well. She was embarrassed beyond belief that she'd nearly run him down. She was reacting badly—in part because of the fact that she found the man unnervingly attractive. Cole was tall at about six-three, which for a gal of five foot ten inches, like her, made for a nice combination. He was lanky lean, with an athletic grace about him. She had a feeling he was a jogger…but she wasn't about to ask him.

“Put this on,” Cole demanded, swinging around so
quickly she practically ran him over. He steadied her with his hand then held his helmet out to her.

“What about you?” she asked, holding the slick red helmet away from her.

He took it back and settled it on her head. “You wear the helmet.” He stared hard at her as he pushed her hair out of her face and, oddly, his actions touched her.

Totally out of her comfort zone, she stood like a deer in headlights as he tugged the strap snug. She fought to seem calm.

“It's a bit large, but better than nothing,” he continued, thankfully not picking up on the battle that was waging in her head. “Not that I plan on letting anything happen to you.”

His gentle words caused a rush of butterflies to settle in her stomach. Not good at all. Cole Turner was a restless spirit. A wandering man.

She backed away from his touch, feeling foolish, especially when his own expression said nothing at all about returning her infatuation.

Oh, no, instead he threw a leg over the big machine, glanced over his shoulder and gave her a lopsided grin. “Hop on.”

She swallowed hard, reminded herself this was her only option for getting home then climbed on behind him. She sat stiffly, really not wanting to stretch her arms around his waist.

“How, um, long are you in town for your visit?” she asked, needing something to fill the moment. She hoped he was leaving the next day.

Instead of answering, he cranked up the bike and the engine burst to life. He glanced her way and his eyes glinted in the moonlight. “Depends on a few things, but I might be here for a few weeks.”

A few weeks!
“That long?” she squeaked the words out. Thankfully they were drowned out by the roar of the motorcycle.

Or so she thought.

“Yeah,” Cole said with a grin. “That long. Now hang on. It's time to get you home so you can get some rest.”

Like that's going to happen.
She was wide-awake; her arms were wrapped around Cole Turner—the handsome nomad.

The rolling stone. From what she knew of him he would never be happy unless he was roaming the country. She'd never be satisfied until she was settled and had a family, so this infatuation was ridiculous. Sleep. She needed it! If she wasn't so tired she wouldn't be engaging in this weird assortment of thoughts.

A very long time ago she hadn't thought she wanted a family, either, but…things changed. She sighed and tried again to quiet her mind.

“You okay back there?” Cole called over his shoulder a few miles down the road. His words were almost lost in the night as the air rushed over them. She gave up and settled closer to him, nodding her helmeted head against his shoulder. Weariness sank over her as they rode and thankfully overcame most of her wayward thoughts.

He didn't try to talk to her over the drone of the engine, blessedly. He made sure she hadn't fallen asleep
every once in a while but other than that he left her alone. She had to admit that he might have been right about her not having any business driving herself.

“That's it,” she said almost an hour later when her clinic's small lighted sign came into view on the outskirts of Ranger. “My apartment is out back.” She pointed out the drive around the far side of the metal building and then past the holding pens.

“You live back here by yourself?”

The censure in his voice was unmistakable and it sent her an immediate reality check. “It's small, but it worked for me,” she said when the little apartment that had been built onto the back of the barn area came into view. She didn't tell him that soon it would no longer be her home.

“No one has ever tried to bother you back here?” He turned the engine off.

Susan wasted no time getting off the machine and removing the helmet—she didn't plan on giving him the chance to do it for her. “No, they haven't,” she said, holding out her hand. “Thanks for everything. Now may I have my keys.”

He got off the bike and dug her keys out of his pocket. But instead of handing the keys to her he began taking her truck key from the ring. “What are you doing?”

“I'm taking this. As soon as it's daylight—in about three hours—I'll crawl up under it and make sure you didn't tear anything up while you were plowing up turf. If everything checks out, I'll have your truck here by seven or eight. You won't be doing calls before then I hope.”

She didn't like him taking control like this. But since
she could tell there was no sense arguing, she didn't. She was too tired. She took the rest of the keys from him. “Eight will be fine. Thank you,” she managed, though her jaw ached from clenching it.

He smiled and she could practically hear him thinking “checkmate.”

Maybe not, though, she thought a few minutes later as she closed the door to her apartment and listened to the motorcycle purr its way back toward the pavement. The man was used to sweeping into emergency situations and taking charge. That was what he did for a living—helped in rescues, then remodeled and rebuilt after hurricanes and other disasters. So maybe there wasn't anything personal about how he was treating her.

Maybe. But as she took a quick shower and then fell into her bed—basically passing out from exhaustion—she knew she wasn't buying that notion by a long shot. Cole had pretty much made it clear that he thought she was an irresponsible fool for letting herself get so tired. He'd been doing his civic duty by keeping “the fool woman” off the streets—that was
pretty
personal. Of course, nearly running him down was, too.

 

“I'm just sayin' it's a fine thang you came along when ya did last night,” Applegate Thornton said, his voice booming in the early morning quiet.

Cole had just crawled out from under the truck when the older man and his buddy, Stanley Orr, pulled up in their trucks, one behind the other. They'd wasted no time trotting down the incline to see what was going on
with the lame truck. It shouldn't have been a surprise to see the two old friends out and about so early, since they always met at Sam's diner for coffee at sunup then played checkers all morning. Today they'd be late; Susan's mishap was of more interest to them than today's checkers game.

The seventysomething older men had been great friends of his grandfather and Cole always enjoyed seeing them on his quick trips through town. Now, he wiped his hands on his work rag and nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I'm not disagreeing with you. I'm glad I was out here when I was or else Susan would still have been sitting here when you fellas drove up this morning.

“What I'm wondering is what in the world everyone is thinking when they call that woman out on the road at all hours of the night? There are other vets to call, you know.” He planned to let everyone know he was unhappy about that situation and there was no better place to start than with these two. Talk about a grapevine. It didn't get any quicker than them when it came to spreading information.

Instead of answering him they looked at each other and raised their bushy brows. “Am I missing something here?” Cole asked. “You can bet I'm having a talk with my brother when I get back to the house.” Oh, yeah, Seth was about to get a royal chewing out for letting Susan leave the ranch when clearly she was ready to drop. He'd told Cole once that she needed help, so why didn't she have it?

Stanley, affable, slightly plump and balding looked perplexed. “You ain't been around Susan much, have ya?”

Applegate, taller and thin as a fence post, wore his signature frown as he grunted.
“Obviously.”

Both men wore hearing aids and still their words cracked like thunder, even App's grunt stirred up the cattle milling in the pastures behind the barbed wire.

“So what does that mean?” Cole asked.

Applegate grunted again. “It means that Susan does what she wants. That gal is all-fired determined to be accepted on a man's terms. If any of us was ta tell her she ought'n ta be out that late—or
worse,
if we had livestock that needed tending and we didn't call her—” He whistled long and slow, while wagging his head.

“That's right,” Stanley continued. “She'd let us have it with both barrels.”

“After what I saw last night, I can believe that.”

“Yup, I'm shor you did. That little gal kin be real hard-nosed when it comes to her job,” Applegate said. “She don't take kindly ta bein' treated like a lady. And she's real good at what she does.”

“Ain't that the truth,” Stanley said.

She'd made it clear last night that she hadn't liked him taking charge. “Maybe so,” he said, at last. “But I don't like it. It doesn't feel right. And it sure doesn't feel safe.”

App tugged on his hat brim as the sun shifted a bit higher over the horizon. “It'll be a little easier when she gets her office relocated here in town.”

That got Cole's attention. “What do you mean?”

Stanley and Applegate grinned at each other then gave him the we-know-something-you-don't-know look. Cole knew they were also speculating at his
interest in Susan. But he couldn't help that. He leaned against the truck and crossed his arms waiting for them to elaborate. He was going to have to get on the road in a few minutes but he wanted the lowdown on this.

“So…” Applegate took his time, rubbed his narrow jaw. “She didn't tell you she's bought a place on the west side of town about four miles out.”

“It was two in the morning when I came across her. We weren't engaging in conversation beyond me telling her I was taking her home—” No sense elaborating on the tone of that conversation.

“Guess that went over like a basket of mad cats.” Stanley chuckled. “You don't ‘tell' our Susan anythang where her business is concerned. That's what we been tryin' ta tell ya.”

He shouldn't have let it slip that he'd “told” her he was taking her home. No one needed to know he'd had to hijack her keys to get her to cooperate.
Hardheaded woman
.

“So where is this place?” he asked.

“It's a small property—little house and a large metal building.” Applegate was more than happy to fill him in. “It used to be that oil supply company. You remember the place? Back b'fore the oil boom busted in the eighties. B'fore ever'body moved off.”

Cole nodded. “I remember.” It was the beginning of the town's slow death.

“She's got some contractor comin' outta Ranger in a couple of days ta start turnin' it into her new office.”

“You don't say.” She was moving to Mule Hollow
and hadn't mentioned it. “Is she going to live here?” he asked to clarify his assumption.

“Yup,” Stanley said. “In the house on the property. I even thank she done put some stuff in thar.”

When he'd made that comment about where she lived now, she'd had the opportunity to tell him and hadn't. She kept her business close to the cuff. Or she knew he'd soon find out and this was her way of telling him to mind his own business. He smiled at that. She had spunk. He pushed away from the truck.

“Well, thanks for the info, fellas. Now I better get this to her so she'll have wheels when she needs them. Wouldn't want to make her mad.” That got him some slaps on the back and hoots of agreement.

Earlier, after taking her home, he'd driven the hour and a half back to the ranch and hadn't been able to stop thinking about their encounter.

He didn't stay at the ranch house when home, but down at the old stagecoach house that was the original homestead on their ranch. He always enjoyed the old house and had felt that same ole tug of nostalgia as he'd driven down the dirt road toward it. The moon had highlighted the rocky road as it wound across the pastures and as it always had, he couldn't help thinking about the others who'd traveled this same road over a hundred years ago. Men such as Doc Holliday and outlaw Sam Bass had passed by either on horseback or by stage. As a kid he'd thought it was cool and that hadn't changed as he'd aged. His great-great-great-great-grandpa Oakley had won the place in a poker game more than a century ago.