Loving A Cowboy (19 page)

“I can help with the marketing if you need me to.” Because it wasn’t that she didn’t want to help. She just didn’t want it to cost her future. “But not for pay. Not as an employee or anything. As your daughter.” She reached for the large veined hand he had laid on the table. His skin felt cool, rough, and dry, as if any vitality had been wrung out by a harsh wind.

He looked up at her from under his brows. “Guess I’ll have to take what I can get. I’ve got some preliminary campaigns those ad guys came up with in the car. Don’t like any of them. Take a look. See what you think. Let me know.”

She nodded, feeling both relieved and strangely happy to be helping, like when a storm had passed and the damage wasn’t as bad as expected.

“I’d be happy to.”

Sam slunk back in his chair, sliding his hand from hers. “You expect me to just leave you here. With him?” He gestured toward Chance.

“I swear, Brennan, you are the orneriest SOB,” Chance said, more resigned than angry.

“I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“I bet you have.”

There was no love lost between these two men in her life—and each had his reasons. Her father would never forgive Chance for trying to take her away. Chance would never forgive her father for taking her away. She’d been caught between the two, both pulling on her, and she’d taken the safest path five years ago. She wasn’t about to make the same choice this time.

“I’m staying with Chance. He still needs me.”

Her father’s eyes narrowed. “And when he tires of you, doesn’t need you anymore, throws you out like used goods?”

“I’m not throwing her anywhere, and don’t insult her like that,” Chance growled, his back stiffening like a panther ready to pounce.

“Daddy, I’m a grown woman. I’m making my own choices. You have to accept that.” Libby leaned back in her chair. “Now let me walk you out, and you can give me those campaigns to look over.”

Sam grumbled the whole time, but after using the facilities, he allowed Libby to walk him out to the car, Chance having stayed inside. She knew Chance had been angry with her father, but she took it as a sign of his respect for her that he hadn’t acted on that anger.

“You know he’s using you, Libby,” her father said as he reached into the plush interior of his Lincoln, the new-car smell wafting out of the kiln created by the heat of the sun, and grabbed a set of colored folders, all neatly labeled. He thrust them into her hand, and she grasped them against her chest.

“Daddy, I know that’s what you want to believe. That he’s the bad guy in this. It’s what you wanted to believe five years ago too. But he’s not. I wanted to be with him then. I want to be with him now. I was too young back then. I’m not young anymore.”

He shook his head. “Think, Libby. Is this the man you want for a husband? A father to your children—not that he appears to be the marrying kind anymore. I didn’t hear him express one word of affection for you, so I hope you’re using protection.”

“Daddy!” Her father’s capacity for embarrassing her was never ending. “Why do you think so little of Chance? Look what he’s done. Look where he’s had to come from to get here.” She waved her arm in the direction of the majestic mountains standing sentinel in the distance. “Doesn’t this count for something?”

“I know where he comes from—do you? Do you know what his father was, Libby? A drunk. A mean drunk, too. A man who beat his wife. And his son. That’s what he grew up with. That’s what he knows. If he ever laid a hand on you—”

“Chance isn’t like that, Daddy.”

“No? I heard tell he once took down Scott Henderson—a lowlife if there ever was one. But almost twice Chance’s size at the time. That boy’s got a temper. You ever been around him when he’s been drinking and mad at you?” His eyes roamed over her face as if he was searching for the answer. Or bruises.

“I’ve seen him drink, but never drunk. And though he’s had plenty of reason to be mad at me, he’s never even raised his voice at me much less his hand. Ever. He’s almost too controlled.”

“And heaven help you if he ever loses that control, Libby, given the role model he’s had. And heaven help me, because if he ever harmed you, I’d have to kill him.”

Libby’s stomach turned over at the matter-of-fact way her father said those last few words. “Daddy, Chance isn’t his father.”

“People brought up with cruelty end up being cruel. That’s the way of things.”

“It’s not Chance’s way.” She shook her head as an icy shiver skidded down her spine at the painful reminder of all Chance had to face in his life, all he’d overcome. “Is that what made you come after me back then? You were afraid he’d hurt me?”

“That, and the fact you were too young and hadn’t finished your schoolin’. All good reasons, I might add. I wasn’t about to wait around for him to hit you. As I said, I’d have had to kill him, and I didn’t relish spending the rest of my years in jail.”

She’d never understood why her father disliked Chance so much, given Chance always worked hard and had made something of himself. Those were traits her father should have admired. She would have never guessed he’d feared for her safety—not with Chance.

Libby kissed his cheek and caught a whiff of coffee. “You’re wrong about Chance, but I can’t prove it to you, just like you can’t prove to me why you’re right.”

Her father grabbed her in a warm hug that felt strong and reassuring. “I hope I am wrong,” he said. Releasing her, he hesitated a moment before he slipped into the car, the seat leather creaking under his weight. He let out a big sigh as if the simple act of getting in the car had been too much. Worry prickled her insides, filling her with unease.

His next words, however, fixed her focus squarely back where it had been, on Chance.

“If you need anything, if he lays a hand on you…you call. I’ll come and get you. Do it before he does something so bad I’ll have to kill him. For my sake. And his, I guess.”

It was clear her father still believed the worst about Chance.

“I love you, Daddy. I love you for caring. But I need you to trust my judgment. I understand that you didn’t have enough faith in the judgment of an inexperienced teenager. But I’m twenty-three now. You were ready to trust me with the dealership in Casper. Trust me to know this man for who he really is—not the man people have painted him to be because he had a rotten father and a coward for a mother.”

Her father’s face screwed up into a pained expression. “You’re wrong about his mother, but that’s for another day.”

“Did you know Chance’s mother? Do you know what happened to her?” Libby had never met Deidre Cochran, and Chance had rarely talked about her. She’d always been curious about the woman who had been able to leave her son in the hands of an abusive father. Curious and condemning.

“I do. And he does too, if you’d ask him. She’s alive and surviving. That’s what Deidre Cochran is, I’d say. A survivor.”

“How do you know all this?” Her father’s reach was astonishing.

“Your mother and Deidre went to school together. Somehow she knew you and Chance had dated. About three years ago, she tracked me down and asked for my help to get in touch with him. She obviously didn’t know about the bad blood between Chance and me. But I helped her. After all, he wasn’t hard to find, being on the rodeo circuit.”

“You mean Chance knows where she is? He’s been in touch with her?”

“Can’t say they’ve been in touch. I know she tried to contact him. Last I heard, and that was a while ago, he hadn’t returned her calls. That’s what I mean, Libby. He’s hardhearted. Like his daddy.”

“Maybe he has his reasons. She abandoned him, after all.”

“There’s two sides to every story, I reckon, and I’m guessing you don’t really know either side.”

Libby swallowed hard. What her father said was true. Chance had never confided in her about either of his parents except to say his father was dead and his mother might as well be.

“Call me. Let me know how you’re doing. Whether you get the job and how to fix these ad campaigns,” her father said as he pulled the door closed. The car started and the driver’s window rolled down. “I love you, baby girl. Never forget that.”

“I know. I love you too, Daddy. Nothing and no one will change that.” She leaned forward and gave him another kiss on his warm cheek, feeling closer to him than she had in a while. Straightening, she swiped a hand under her eyes to wipe away a tear as he nodded. With tires crunching gravel, he pulled out. She stood watching the car wind down the driveway, her thoughts darting among the many threads of their conversation. But the one that pulled at her the most was the knowledge that Chance had refused to see his mother—refused to forgive her. Just like he wouldn’t forgive Libby.

The knot that had been tangling her insides pulled tight. How had she gone from feeling on top of the world just an hour ago to feeling like she was buried at the bottom of a very big mountain?

“So you didn’t leave?” Chance said as she stepped back inside. He’d been waiting for her by the door, probably watching it all from the window.

She set the folders down on the table in the great room. “No. Did you think I would?”

He shrugged. “Seems last time you had reason to stay, and you left. This time you have no reason stay, and you didn’t leave.”

He knew just what to say to slice her heart into little slivers. If declaring her love for him in front of her father didn’t matter, what chance did she have to soften his heart and change his mind?

But she had to try.

Chapter 15

Chance felt like the world had shifted on its axis. Libby had severed her ties with her boyfriend and shown her father the door. Question was, why? And the answer couldn’t be him, despite her confession that she loved him—or thought she did. He’d been as honest as a man could be with a woman. She might think she loved him, but her father was no doubt closer to the truth. It was probably more pity or guilt than anything to do with love, not that he put much faith in an emotion that had been fleeting in his life, at best.

“So why didn’t you go with your father?” Even Chance could see that Sam Brennan wasn’t the same vigorous man he’d been five years ago. There was a strong possibility Sam might need Libby more than he did.

Libby lifted her chin. “I didn’t. That’s all there is to it.”

“That’s not all there is to it. You said you loved me, Libby. You know it’s likely more pity than anything else.”

“Give me credit for knowing the difference between pity and love.” She bit her lip and cast a downward glance. “It took a lot for me to admit that, Chance, knowing how you feel.”

Truth was, he didn’t know how he felt about her. But he knew what he should feel about her, and that was the line he was walking. As for love, she might believe she was in love, but she’d thought that before.

“Whatever you’re feeling, Libby, you know we can only be a temporary thing, right?”

She glanced down at her hands. “I know you don’t feel you can trust me with your heart.”

Well, she’d gotten that right. But then, he didn’t feel he could trust anyone with his heart, not anymore. Not ever again.

She raised her head and stared right at him, accusation in her eyes, but all she could accuse him of, in his mind, was being honest. “I couldn’t stay with Ben when I didn’t have the deep feelings for him that…that I should have if I’m going to marry someone. And I didn’t go with Daddy because I need to stand on my own two feet. I think he finally accepted that.”

“You know you are still living in my house.” That wasn’t exactly standing on her own two feet.

She let out an exasperated breath. “Of course I know this is your house. And I intend to move on just as soon as you need me to, but this is a start.”

There was definitely something to admire about this Libby. She seemed stronger than before. More resolute. More her own person. More the person he’d fallen in love with. That confounding mixture of starry-eyed optimism and vulnerability.

“I respect you for trying. You’ve always been stronger than you gave yourself credit for. That’s why I married you that first time.”

“At the time, you had more confidence in me than I deserved. But this time, I intend to deserve it.”

Maybe that was what had made it so painful before. He’d been so sure she was strong and as determined as he had been to prove the naysayers wrong.

He shook his head. “You definitely showed some grit.” More than he would have bet on.

“Of course, you’ve got that determination and grit down pat. It’s what’s made you so successful at rodeo. But it’s also caused you to doubt others who maybe don’t have that same grit.”

“I’ve had a lot of reason to doubt others.”

“You’ve had. And I’ve had a lot of reason to doubt myself. But we can grow. We can change. We can see things in a different light.”

He brushed his hand along her face as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I don’t know if I can see in a different light.”

“You’ve got to try.”

* * *

The overhead lamp’s soft glow spotlighted the pool, blurring the edges of the inky-black night. As he stood on the stone patio, Chance’s mind churned with memories of the past and worries for the future. Cowboy wove in between his legs. How the hell did Cowboy get out? Chance bent down to pet him and scooped him up, running his hand over the feline’s silky body. He’d come to like the cat, and he had to admit, he admired the animal’s independent spirit.

But Cowboy wasn’t supposed to be outside, much less in the dark. As Chance cradled him, the cat rubbed his head against Chance’s arm. Setting him down inside the French doors of his bedroom, Chance closed the doors. Cowboy meowed behind the glass in protest.

“Take it up with Libby, Cowboy,” Chance said. “If it was up to me, you’d have the run of the place.”

He’d told Libby he was stepping out to get some fresh air after dinner. He’d really stepped out to take a breather from her. It had been over a week since they’d first been intimate, and each day she stayed here, each night they spent together, made it more difficult to keep that ever important distance between them, and particularly after her revelation that she loved him. Or thought she did.