Loving A Cowboy (15 page)

She was afraid. But not of him. Of getting hurt.

“While you’re here, why not enjoy each other? This time we’d enter into things with our eyes wide open. Recognize our attraction for what it is.”

“What it is?” For her it had once been love—only she hadn’t been mature enough to handle it.

“Lust, passion, desire.” His lips hitched in a half smile. “So let’s get it out of our system.”

Chapter 11

Libby’s cell phone jangled and vibrated in the pocket of her shorts.

Chance’s hands stilled.

“Don’t answer it.”

“I have to.”

Before he could grab her, she scurried off the bed. “I’ll…” She stopped short. What could she say? She’d be back to continue things? This was a reprieve of sorts. She needed time to think, to understand exactly what he was proposing and what it would mean to her.

He’d just told her they had no future together.

Believing that sex and passion could lead him to trust her, to a change of heart, was likely believing in a fairy tale.

“Maybe we should call it a night, before…”

The cell phone jangled again, insisting on being answered.

Chance’s eyes, having been lighted with fire a moment ago, were now dark and cold. “Fine. Answer the phone. Might be Daddy. Or the suit.” He rolled over and faced the French doors. “Close the door on your way out.”

* * *

Libby spent a restless night after listening to her father’s tirade about her disloyalty to him and to Ben. When she told her father she had effectively ended things with Ben, her father’s voice had gotten about thirty decibels louder. But the truth was, if she was in love with Ben, she shouldn’t feel anything for Chance. And certainly not the deep hunger that had propelled her into his arms last night.

She stood in front of the bedroom mirror, pinning her hair into a tight bun. Well, at least what she hoped would be a tight bun. Unfortunately, her hair had a mind of its own this morning, sliding out of the pins in wispy strands. She took a deep breath and tried again.

Her father had accused her of chasing Chance. She no longer could refute that. He’d also chastised her for being a coward and not seeing Ben in person. She wasn’t a coward. She planned to tell him in person when he was back in Wyoming.

Last night had clarified a few things. The shift had started when she’d seen Chance at the Cattleman’s Club, but she hadn’t known to what degree. At first she’d blamed it on not seeing him for such a long time, then on seeing him hurt. But now she could no longer deny reality. She loved Chance. Likely had never stopped loving him, simply buried her feelings away. They weren’t buried anymore.

But though her feelings might have resurfaced, Chance’s hadn’t changed. Last night he might have accepted her explanation, but he hadn’t forgiven her, even if he wanted her.
We’d keep it casual. No strings. No regrets.

Only she wanted forever. She’d be throwing away a future with Ben for the equivalent of a one-night stand.

Still, she had to try. Five years ago she’d given up at the first sign of difficulty, and she’d lived with regret every day since. She didn’t want to live a life of regret. She wanted to know she’d given it her all, even if the outcome was the same.

Securing the last pin, Libby rubbed her temples. She couldn’t think about it now. She’d only have one chance this morning to impress the interviewers at the National Western Stock Show. She checked out her outfit in the mirror.

She’d dressed up, donning a ruffled, sleeveless white blouse and a navy-blue skirt that hit right above her knees. She’d added a pair of navy heels that were about a quarter inch short of being branded stilettos. A pair of small gold hoops dangled from her ears, visible now that her hair was pinned up. She was ready, if she could just hide the case of nerves that had overtaken her as she’d dressed.

Those nerves were as much about facing Chance as they were about the interview, given last night she’d kissed him like a starved female and then ran from his room.

She squared her shoulders and stared at the mirror. A determined woman looked back. Right now she had to focus on getting the PR job.

When she peeked into Chance’s room, he was sitting up in a chair, fully dressed, thank goodness, a laptop on his knees and a frown on his face. With the force of nature, the need and desire that had propelled her last night swamped her this morning. If only…

She took a deep, cleansing breath and stepped into the room. “What’s up?” she asked.

“More like what’s down—my standing. I’ve dropped another slot. At this rate I’ll be so far out of the money, by the time I get on a bronc, there won’t be any hope for a comeback.”

His voice held that same tone of defeat she heard the other day. It pulled at her, yanking on her heart, which was already sore enough where he was concerned, thank you very much.

“How is your foot feeling today?”

“No better.” For the first time since she’d entered, he looked up at her. His eyes widened and his lips opened.

Chance took a hard swallow. How could Libby look so good when she wore a simple blouse and skirt? Maybe it was because he knew what those clothes concealed, or maybe it was the shape of her legs on those pedestals she called shoes, or maybe, maybe it was just Libby. If a man was hiring, she’d get the job. And wasn’t that a sexist thought. Too bad it was true.

“I’ll work with you when I get back.”

Was she coming back? Was she staying? After last night, he was more confused about Libby than ever. She hadn’t just responded to him, she’d initiated. And then fled the room at the sound of a ringtone.

“If that call last night doesn’t mean you have to go home to Daddy.”

She stiffened, and he instantly regretted the dig. He’d made a play. She hadn’t been receptive. He couldn’t hold it against her, given everything. After that kiss,
he
wasn’t at all sure he wouldn’t have had regrets.

“I’ll be here.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Maybe she was considering it, maybe not. But he’d have another opportunity to find out.

“Good luck today. Don’t worry—you’re going to make the buzzer.”

She smiled. The kind of smile that wrapped around him like a soft, familiar blanket—one he still wanted to bury himself in.

“Thanks. I’m going to need it. I’m sure there will be more-qualified applicants, ones that have some experience doing this sort of thing,” she said.

But none that look like every man’s fantasy.

“You need anything before I go?” she continued. “I thought I’d pick up a pizza for dinner on the way back. You still like pepperoni and sausage?”

She’d remembered. Five years, and she still remembered what he liked on his pizza. Five years apart, when they could have been together.

“Yeah. Guess I’m kind of stuck in my ways.”

She’d been good to him these last weeks, even if she wasn’t good
for
him. Having her close but not closer would be difficult, but he didn’t want to think about her leaving, not yet. Yesterday, long-denied feelings had come roaring back, reminding him that the fire he’d been playing with had turned into an inferno.

And he didn’t know what to do about it. Or if he should do anything about it.

The hurt she’d inflicted ran deep. It would be best if he kept things platonic, took the help she offered, and healed. If he said it enough times, maybe he’d listen to his own advice. Because when she was near, looking as good as she was, being as sweet as she could be, his hearing went bad.

“Sure you’ll be okay by yourself?” Her brow crinkled in worry.

“I’ll be fine. Tom’s coming by to check on my progress. Billy will likely stop by after school. Only thing I need is a healed foot.”

“It will heal, but it will take time.”

He’d been exercising a lot of patience by keeping his distance from her, but his patience seemed about spent.

Turning, she gave a quick glance around as if checking to make sure everything was in its place. After that first day, he’d done his best to keep the room in order. It was bad enough she was doing the laundry, and her cooking was improving. He didn’t want her cleaning up after his mess.

“Okay, then,” she said as if satisfied there was nothing more to do. “I’ll be going. Thought I’d leave a little early in case I hit traffic near the city.”

“You remember the rundown on the different interviewers?” From the list she’d downloaded and showed him, they’d been mostly stock contractors and former rodeo riders who were now part of the rodeo committee overseeing the big event. There had only been one woman stock contractor, still a rarity in the rodeo business, among them.

“Yup. I wrote it all out yesterday so I wouldn’t forget.”

She certainly didn’t look or sound like the scared young woman who’d once allowed her father to intimidate her. She stood before him every inch her own person.

He had to admit she’d been helpful, despite a few incidences. And the pain in his heart was all it would cost him.

“Believe in yourself, Libby, and everyone else will too.”

She tilted her head to the side. “It’s taken me some time, but I’m getting there.” A wave of her hand and she headed out, the clip of her heels beating out a tune on the wood floor. He couldn’t wait for pizza.

Chapter 12

Libby should have felt good as she turned down the long gravel drive to Chance’s house, a pizza box sitting on the seat beside her. She’d interviewed with five people, and she thought she’d done okay with all of them. Three of the contractors Chance had prepped her for had been among the interviewers, and those meetings had gone particularly well. She’d given them her ideas for highlighting the horses and bulls by name along with the cowboys who would be featured at the rodeo. And she had suggested including a tidbit about each of the star stock to make the event a little bit more about the competition with the animal than just between the wranglers. They might even be able to highlight the individual matchups once the draws were set and hype them on the website.

She’d been asked back next week for another round of interviews, one which would include the chairman of the stock show. She was one of two final candidates.

But that good vibe she’d been feeling since Denver had evaporated in the parking lot of Franco’s Pizza when she’d read the text message Chance had sent several minutes before:
Come home now
.
Don’t call. Just get here
.

She’d sped the whole rest of the way.

As she drew closer, the tires crunching gravel, her heart skidded to a stop along with her car. An automobile sat in the driveway—without its driver.

Her insides bunched up like a tangled chain. Libby threw her Ford Fusion into park, turned off the engine, and opened the car door all in a split second.

A quick look fanned her fears. A rental sticker was on the car. Maybe it belonged to Tom Whitefeather. She could only hope his real car was in the shop or something—anything but what she was imagining.

Moving as fast as she dared in her high heels, she scooted toward the front door, spraying small stones with each awkward step. In the day’s heat, she fiddled in her purse for the house key Chance had given her. Out of frustration at not finding it, she tried the knob. The door flung open and a breeze of air-conditioning greeted her. She stepped into the foyer and stilled. No voices. The place was deadly quiet. Except for the dull thud of her heart pounding in her ears, that is. She scanned the great room. No one was there. She headed for the hallway that led to Chance’s room, when a deep voice halted her.

“We’re in here,” Chance called from the vicinity of the kitchen.

She took a measured breath and listened to the pulse pounding at her temples as she turned around and, slowly, headed back down the hall. She halted in the doorway to the kitchen. Ben stood stiff and erect, dressed in a gray suit, looking boyishly handsome as he leaned against the countertop, his right hand clasping and unclasping as if he needed to keep his circulation going. His blue-eyed gaze was wide and questioning. With his brown hair perfectly combed and a tie loosened at his neck, it was clear he’d come straight from corporate headquarters in Texas.

Chance sat at the kitchen table, arms crossed over his chest, eyes focused in her direction, and long legs stretched out, including the foot encased in the soft black cast. Those legs encompassed most of the table like he was settling in for a while and claiming his territory.

“I see you two have met,” she managed to get out.

“I’ve met your fiancé, as he introduced himself.” Chance said each word distinctly, slowly, as if he was grinding them out between clenched teeth.

“And I’ve met your
ex-husband
,” Ben snapped.

“Chance, I’d like a few minutes alone with Ben, so we’re going to step outside.”

“Suit yourself,” he growled, the frown on his face deepening.

Ben’s narrowed eyes said he thought there was something going on between the two of them. Didn’t matter that technically there wasn’t, at least yet. Truth was, there might as well have been. She had feelings for Chance, even if Chance didn’t return those feelings.

Ben followed her out the front door into the summer heat, cooled only slightly by the mountain breeze. Libby closed the door carefully behind her and turned to face him.

“You still care for your ex-husband,” he accused. It was more statement than question.

“Yes.” She wouldn’t deny the truth.

Ben leaned against the wooden porch railing that ran the front of the ranch house and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why weren’t you straight with me? When were you going to tell me? Why did I have to find out about this from your father? Why didn’t I hear this from you?” Those blue eyes of Ben’s had clouded over, his face flushing red. He was already hurting.

And to know her father had contacted him just added to the mess she’d created.