Loving A Cowboy (12 page)

Billy’s thank you echoed in the air as the two bronc riders turned back to the TV. Billy said something about the rope having slack in it. For a tiny split second, she felt at home. But this would never be her home. Not unless she took matters into her own hands.

* * *

Libby shoved the breaded chicken into the oven, set the timer for forty minutes, and took a deep breath. She’d given up on the grill. An online recipe for butter-baked chicken sounded good to her, even if she had to improvise a bit.

Now to feed Cowboy. Libby washed the cat’s plate, took out the bag of dried food bits, and gave it a shake so that Cowboy would come running before she poured it in the bowl. She set down the plate, brimming with nuggets, on the plastic place mat that she had found, and waited. And waited. No Cowboy. She called his name. Still no Cowboy. She called again.

Did he get locked in a room somewhere? A closet? Was he under a bed? A sofa? She started searching, checking everywhere, calling his name. And as each minute passed, her anxiety rose.

This wasn’t like Cowboy. He came the moment he heard the rustle of the food bag. A typical male, she never had to cajole him where food was concerned.

When she heard Chance calling her name, she rushed toward his room. Maybe he found Cowboy. Maybe Cowboy was still sleeping on the bed and was too contented to move. Maybe.

“Did you find him?” she asked as she burst into Chance’s bedroom, breathing deep to catch her breath and calm her nerves.

“He’s missing?” Chance began to move as if to get up.

“Your foot. Don’t get up. But did you see him?”

“Not since Billy left. Cat seemed to take to him.”

“You don’t think…Cowboy wouldn’t have…” Libby could hardly express the thought. It’s true Cowboy had been a stray, but ever since she’d taken him in, he’d shown no interest in returning to his outdoor haunts.

“Followed him out? Didn’t notice. But if Billy saw him, I’m sure he’d have said something.”

“It’s going to be dark soon. There are coyotes, wolves, bears…” She couldn’t catch her breath.

Chance grabbed his crutches.

“Don’t,” she said. “You’ll hurt yourself. You still haven’t recovered from last night, have you?”

“You search the house again. I’ll head outside. I know my yard better than you do.”

“He’s a black cat. He’s not going to be easy to find. And your foot.”

“He’ll be hungry. I’ll take some food with me. Don’t worry about my foot. Won’t put any weight on it. I’ll holler if I see him.”

He was standing there, no doubt in pain, and still willing to help her.

She didn’t know what made her do it, but she flung her arms around him and kissed him. Lightly on the cheek.

He stared at her an extra second through those smoky-gray eyes. “No kissing.” But his face held a smile.

She shook her head as he limped out, careful to close the door behind him. She was creating more problems than she was solving. Maybe she should just leave—after she found Cowboy, of course.

* * *

Chance tried his best to cover ground, but it was hard going on crutches. His ribs ached, and his armpits were being rubbed raw. No sign of the cat despite looking around every bush and tree, checking the corral area, and shaking the bag of food like it was some musical instrument. Night was starting to fall.

He’d called the McShanes, but Billy hadn’t remembered seeing Cowboy out of the house.

Chance’s next stop would be the barn, but he doubled back to the house, depending on his crutches, to get a flashlight. Though the barn had light, it might be smarter to see if the flashlight set the animal’s eyes to glowing. He knew it was important to find Cowboy. Libby might have been panicking, but what she said was true about Cowboy being another animal’s prey.

He didn’t know what to make of that “friendship” kiss she gave him. He’d wanted to wrap his arms around her and give into the desire that had been dogging him since he first saw her at the Cattleman’s Club. But that was a recipe for heartache. She was on the verge of committing to another guy, and Chance wasn’t ever going to be the committing type again.

“Did you find him?” Libby asked, hopeful and flush, as Chance entered the house through the mudroom that opened to the kitchen. Libby had been checking the pantry, obviously to no avail. He’d caught a nice view of her very fine butt though.

“No. Came in for a flashlight. Thought of using it in the barn. Light might catch his eyes and make them glow. I’ve found more than a few furry creatures that way.”

“What if he
is
out there? He’s probably lost, and he’ll be someone’s dinner for sure.” She wrung her hands in obvious concern. He wished he had better news for her.

“Doubt he’s gone far—he knows a good thing when he has it. And didn’t you say he was a stray before you adopted him? He obviously knows how to survive.”

She took a deep breath and her breasts rose. She’d always had nice breasts. So nice, he’d never forgotten them. Perky, palm sized, perfect.

Thinking about her breasts was keeping his mind off the twinges in his legs, in his ribs.

“Not with coyotes and wolves.” Her hand shook as she smoothed a strand of hair behind her ears. “Why do you think he’s in the barn, anyway?”

“Billy was going in there to get some fly spray because they ran out. Maybe Cowboy followed him in. I phoned Billy, and he didn’t see Cowboy, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t have happened.” Besides, it was the best choice short of giving up. And seeing how worried Libby was, giving up was not an option.

She took a step toward him. There was sorrow in her eyes and something else, something that looked like need.

Chance leaned his crutch against the wall and reached for her. She stepped into his arms, wrapping hers around his neck, and pressed those soft breasts into him. He squeezed her tight as his blood stirred.

He really did need to get laid. But obviously not tonight. And not with Libby. Not unless…

“I know some would say he’s just a cat, but I love that cat,” she sniffled against his ear.

“I wouldn’t say any such thing, Libby. I understand how attached a body can get to an animal.” He’d had a dog once, before his mother had walked away. He’d had to give it up to go into a foster home, and the thought of what happened to that dog had always haunted him.

Holding her in his arms, feeling her soft body, his thoughts zoomed to more intimate positions. Had him thinking about a friends-with-benefits kind of relationship. Had him getting urges and impulses he shouldn’t be getting.

She had a boyfriend, a soon-to-be fiancé. She’d already walked out on him once. Seemed holding her was affecting his memory.

She stepped back, out of his embrace, and weakly smiled, wiping a hand over her cheek.

“We best get going,” she said.

Focus. Not on the warmth of her body, not on the curves filling out her jeans, not on Libby.

Chance reached for the two flashlights on the shelf in the mudroom and handed them both to Libby, who was already at the door. Maneuvering on his crutches was hard enough without carrying something in his hands. He fought the pulsing ache coming from his foot and the soreness in his ribs. Time to rest later. He just hoped they found Cowboy, or there would be no calming Libby.

In his opinion, animals were much savvier than humans expected. Especially about surviving. He didn’t doubt Cowboy would find a nice tree to climb if need be, but he knew saying so wouldn’t soothe Libby’s fears.

The walk to the barn, though relatively short, had the nerves in Chance’s foot jumping. He’d clearly been up too long. He handed his flashlight to Libby, unlatched the door, and pushed it open. Libby slid in, and he limped through, closing the door behind him. Though it was a deep gray outside the barn, inside it was black.

“Are you going to put the lights on?” Libby asked.

“In due course. First, let’s scan with the flashlights. See if we pick up a pair of red eyes.” Chance retrieved one of the flashlights Libby was carrying.

“What if we see red eyes, but it’s not Cowboy—it’s some other animal.”

“You’ve a vivid imagination, Libby, I’ll give you that. I swear I’ll turn on the lights first before we reach for anything with red eyes.” He couldn’t help the smile on his face. Libby sure wasn’t a country girl, even if she had been raised in Wyoming.

Chance flicked the flashlight on and Libby followed. He panned the upper regions of the hayloft, where the hay would have been stored if he had been using the barn, and Libby scanned the paddock area, all the while softly calling Cowboy’s name.

Once through, and no glowing eyes.

“I’ll look in the tack room. You go through the stalls.” Chance wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand, what with the pain shooting through his foot.

Hobbling over to the tack room, he pulled back the door that was ajar and flashed the light around the room. Two red eyes stared at him from under the wooden horse that held one of his saddles.

He moved further into the room, closed the door behind him, and flicked on the light. Cowboy was crouched down, ignoring the call of his name, waiting for someone to fetch him.

“Found him,” Chance shouted. Within a millisecond, Libby stepped in and let the door bang behind her, the sound causing Cowboy to stiffen.

She rushed to the cat, setting down her flashlight so she could scoop him up in her arms. Cowboy was unaffected. His expression clearly asked, what’s all the fuss about?

Cooing his name and petting him, Libby let out a ragged breath. “Thank you, Chance.”

“Libby,” Chance could feel the pain crawling up his limb like a pack of biting centipedes. “I need to get back to the house. And I’m going to need your help. Go put Cowboy in the house and then come back here. ’Cause if I don’t sit down soon, I’m going to fall down.”

Libby’s face ashen, she did as he asked, scooting out with Cowboy in her arms. Chance leaned against the wall and prayed he’d stay upright until she got back.

* * *

Libby rushed back to find Chance propped against the wall. He needed to lean on her as he used one crutch to hobble his way to the French doors. Once inside, Libby helped him onto the bed and then headed for the kitchen to shut off the oven.

One mouthful of chicken confirmed her fear—it was as dry as paper. Once again she’d ruined dinner.

She hurried back to check on Chance. He was lying still as she entered the bedroom, but he turned toward her. She could see the pain in the grimaced lines of his face. Her eyes burned with tears.

She sat on the edge of the bed and stroked his cheek. She wanted so much to make it better for him, and she had only made it worse.

“I’m all right, Libby. Just some pain, is all.”

“I’m so sorry, Chance. You should be resting, and everything I do seems to force you to step on that foot.”

“Things happen. It’s okay.” His lids were lowered, his smile sexy. “You could make it better, you know.”

“What do you need?” If she could do something to ease his discomfort, she would do it.

“Lean closer and I’ll tell you,” he said. His gaze centered on her eyes, but her whole body seemed encompassed in some heat-filled haze. She leaned in.

“What?” She swallowed hard.

“Kiss me.” He lowered his gaze to her mouth.

She sucked in a breath and with it the shivery pheromones that seemed to swirl around her like a fall breeze.

“I know you want to,” he said

She did. The way he was staring at her mouth made her want to.

“How do you know?”

“It’s in your eyes.” But he wasn’t looking at her eyes.

“My eyes? That’s how you can tell I want to kiss you?”

He slowly raised his gaze to meet hers.
His
eyes were sending her a hot, lustful message of pure need.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, grazing her temple. She couldn’t breathe.

Should she refuse? Should she respond? She couldn’t think of something to say.

His fingers stroked her face, first the jaw, then the cheek, then that special spot right behind her ear as his palm cupped her chin. His warm touch was a sweet caress that sent little tickles right to her belly.

She shouldn’t, but she no longer cared about consequences. She’d be leaving in the morning. So what did it matter? She leaned closer.

His firm lips met her mouth as his hand held her face. The kiss was hot, deep, and divinely scintillating. Shivers ran through her body, and she wrapped her arms around his neck to hold on. He took the kiss deeper, made it hotter, made her whole body feel like it was ready to explode. Made her want to explode.

When it was over, he leaned back, and this time his gaze was hotter, steamier, filled with sex.

“No fair,” he said lazily.

“What’s no fair?” The way he’d kissed her and made her want to jump his bones? That was definitely no fair.

“Kissing a man when he’s in no condition to take advantage of it.”

“Do you want to take advantage of it?” Because she was this close to letting him.

“Do it again and I’ll show you.”

She was tempted. Looking at him stretched out on the bed, she was very tempted. But this was surely a path to nowhere. He wasn’t interested in a relationship beyond sex. Not with her. He’d been clear about that. And besides, he really wasn’t in any shape to take advantage, not without a great deal of pain.

She’d caused him enough of that already—physical and emotional. He may forgive her for the physical pain she’d caused, but never the emotional, however much he wanted her.

“I better see about dinner,” she said, rising from the bed. It was then that she spotted the open pill bottle on the nightstand. Well, that explained a lot.

The kitchen would be a safer bet.

Rather than serving another failed attempt at cooking, Libby decided to make scrambled eggs and bacon. When she brought it into Chance’s bedroom, he was asleep. One more disaster to add to her growing list.

Tomorrow she would pack her bags and leave. There was no use staying when she was doing more harm than good. Coming here had been a mistake, with one exception. She was now certain she still loved Chance Cochran. And perhaps that would do the most harm of all.