Loving A Cowboy (3 page)

“He’d have had you up before a judge before the break of day. He would have found something for them to charge you with, and lord knows it wouldn’t have taken much.”

“He’s nothing but a big fish in a little pond. Cheyenne, maybe Wyoming, but that’s as far as his reach goes.” His face may have been tinged the color of fire, but there was no emotion in voice. “It was me you didn’t trust.”

She’d never seen him look so hard, so unyielding. She shook her head. Felt the burn of tears as her eyes filled. “No, it was me I didn’t trust. I didn’t trust myself, Chance.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“What you already know. I was weak. I was scared.” She felt tears wet her cheek despite her struggle. She’d never forgive herself for the pain she’d caused him. And knowing he’d never forgive her was something she could hardly bear.

He continued to stare at her in the dim glow of the meager light. She was counting on the shadows to keep her emotional state hidden.

“Are you crying?” he asked finally, his voice suddenly lower, deeper.

She shook her head and turned toward the window.

“Libby, look at me.”

Still staring out the window, she shook her head again. How could she ask him now? And yet, how could she move on with her life if she didn’t? There was Ben to consider. Besides, it was clear whatever feelings Chance once had for her were gone. Replaced by anger and bitterness. Worse thing was, she couldn’t blame him. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she tried to hold back the sobs.

“I’m angry, Libby. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let go of it. But…”

She felt his warm hand on her shoulder. And then those strong arms of his were pulling her close. Placing her head on his chest, she buried her nose in his soft cotton shirt and breathed him in. Musky aftershave, fresh laundry, and Chance. If only he could forgive her. He held her tighter as his chin rested on her head. She gave up the struggle and let the tears fall.

Chapter 3

Chance felt completely undone. His fury had unraveled like a single strand of thread holding together the fabric of his life as he waited for her sobs to subside, waited for her to lift her head, stare at him with those upending blue eyes of hers that seemed to arrow straight to his heart.

“Why didn’t you call? Talk to me? Warn me?” He’d always wondered what had changed to make her give up on their dreams. On him.

“I couldn’t face you after what I’d done,” she mumbled against his dampened shirt, her breath dancing over the fabric to warm his skin. “I knew you wouldn’t forgive me. I couldn’t forgive myself.”

“You walked.” A simple truth, but holding her warm body close to his, breathing in her essence, it no longer seemed reason enough.

When she finally looked up at him, wide eyed and with tear-stained cheeks, his heart turned over—a heart he would have sworn just a few minutes ago wouldn’t have felt anything for her tears. He tightened the mental grip on his feelings. She hadn’t wanted him enough to fight for him, for them. He had to remember that.

But there were those eyes, delicate blue eyes, brimming with feelings he couldn’t ignore. Nor could he ignore those quivering lips of hers, full and inviting and tugging at his senses. A taste of Libby would only cause misery. He wasn’t a masochist. But he was a man.

“Libby.” He raised her chin with his finger and rubbed a thumb over the soft rise of her moist cheek. He hesitated just a second to give her an opportunity to resist, and then he dipped his head.

He’d meant just to brush those lips, touch them with his own. A drop, a sip. But like the taste of a long-denied treat, it wasn’t enough. And she responded, hugging him with all she had. His restraint crumbled, and he gathered her to him, tugging her body over the console until they were chest to chest. He cupped her jean-clad bottom in one palm while he ran his other hand under the swell of her breast. She was rounder and firmer than he remembered, the curves of a woman replacing the lean lines of a girl.

Her lips parted in invitation. His tongue entered. He increased the suction, teasing her tongue into his. She tasted like beer and smelled like roses, a heady combination for any red-blooded cowboy. This was Libby.
His
Libby.

Running his thumb over the fabric covering her nipple, he felt it peak, and his own body responded with a rush of blood, hardening him. Too long. Too long since he’d felt such need, such desire. Too long since he’d had Libby.

He ran his hand up her firm back and pressed his lips across her jawbone, down her throat, tasting right behind her ear, which he knew had once been a vulnerable spot. By the way she tried to crawl further into his lap and the small mews that purred from her throat, he figured it still was.

He licked her neck and then brought his mouth back to hers and deepened the kiss. He was like a man who’d found an oasis again after searching blindly in the desert. He couldn’t get enough.

Libby
. The young girl who, for a brief moment in his life, had believed in him, had made him a far better person than he had ever been before. Had been the first person to love him—and one of many who had abandoned him.

Abandoned. Walked away.

The words slit into him with the bite of a jagged-edged knife. Instinctively he recoiled, broke the kiss. The gasping of breaths said they both had been fully in that moment. But, he reminded himself as he struggled to rein in his response, a moment was about the length of Libby’s ability to commit—a few kisses, maybe even a roll in bed. But afterward, he’d be lucky if she waved good-bye on her way out the door.

This had been a bad idea.

He moved his head, trying to shake some sense back into it, and looked at her from under the brim of his hat. Her chest was heaving, and her lips and cheeks glowed bright pink under the splayed light of the parking lot.

Could she still have feelings for him? After walking away? And even if she did, could he ever trust her again? Trust her to care?

But damn, at that moment he wanted to trust her. He wanted her to have feelings for him again. He wanted her.

“Libby—”

“Chance, I—”

“Guess that passion between us is still there. But we both know that’s not enough.” He forced a smile he sure didn’t feel and hoped she’d argue the point. Just knowing she felt something, anything, for him…

“I need to talk to you.” The words were whispered, barely audible, but it still caused hope to jump into his heart.

He couldn’t take a chance on getting hurt again. If he hadn’t had rodeo, he would have surely cashed in his chips when she’d walked out on him. But he was a survivor. Had to be one all his sorry life. And he’d learned what chances to take and what ones to let go. Like when to give up on a ride and when to stick in there for the whole eight seconds. When to accept a re-ride and when not to.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stared out the windshield. “The divorce. The lawyer said he couldn’t find you to serve the court summons, so it was published in the Cheyenne newspapers, but you never responded.”

“I never saw it. I was on the circuit. Trying to earn enough money to buy us a home so I could get you back.”

She rubbed her forehead. “When you didn’t respond in the time allotted, the divorce was granted by default.”

“Well, your father’s lawyer found me fast enough to send me the divorce decree. It was waiting for me in my PO Box.” And the knowledge had just about killed him.

She shifted in her seat, her foot shaking. “Our lawyer thought, just to be on the safe side, you could sign an affidavit that you accept the divorce decree. Daddy’s afraid you might get it in your head to protest the divorce, though I know you wouldn’t, by saying they didn’t make enough effort to find you. You see, I’m getting engaged in a few weeks, when he finishes his training with his company and moves to Gillette. The affidavit would just make things nice and clean.”

Chance heard the words, felt their impact, and almost stopped breathing. Libby was getting married. To another guy. And she wanted things cleaned up. That’s why she was here. Not because she cared about him. Not because she felt bad about how she had treated him. Nothing to do with Chance. Everything to do with the guy she was going to marry.

Fool. Stupid idiot. Glutton for punishment. When would he learn where Libby was concerned?

“You want this cleaned up. That’s why you’re here?”

“My father’s lawyers are going to be contacting you, but I thought since you were in Cheyenne, if I talked to you—”

“Get out of the truck, Libby.” And he meant it. He’d wondered why she’d come to the bar to open old sores. Now he knew.

She stared at him as if she didn’t believe him. “Chance, I just want to—”

“Our lawyers can handle this.” He reached over her, felt the heat from her body as he pulled the passenger door handle down. The door sprang open. “Out. Now. Before I say things we’ll both regret.” His heart was pounding hard in his chest, pushing adrenaline through his veins like when he was sitting on a bronc just before the gate opened.

She scrambled down. When she touched ground, he started the engine. He had to get out of there. Calm down. Think. Not feel.

She stood looking at him with a pained expression on her face and tears glistening in her eyes. Her crying wouldn’t touch him again.

She closed the door, and he threw the truck into reverse, turned the wheel, jammed the gear into first, and whipped the pickup toward the exit, gravel flying. Checking the rearview mirror, he saw her dark silhouette framed in the dim light, standing there with her hands on her hips. As if she was mad at him.

He gunned the engine and shifted. The Ford lurched as it sped down the paved road, putting distance between him and the woman who’d broken his heart.

* * *

Libby sat on the leather stool at the family’s granite-topped kitchen island the next morning and tried to focus on the man on the other end of the cell phone, despite the fact someone else was crowding her thoughts.

“I miss you, too,” she responded to Ben’s similar confession. “Three weeks isn’t so long. You’ll be done with training in no time.” Ben had landed a job right after he finished his MBA. He was at the drilling company’s headquarters in Texas going through orientation and would be relocating to the company’s Wyoming site if all went well.

She, on the other hand, hadn’t found anything and would be stuck at the Casper dealership working for her father. Not that she wanted to move away. Even though it had been almost ten years since her mother had died, and perhaps because she had lost her mother so young, family meant a lot to her, even with the issues between her and her father. He was her dad. She loved him. She just didn’t want to work for him.

She sensed Ben had jumped at the job with the drilling company because of the corporation’s operations outside of Gillette, not too far from the Casper dealership.

“No, I haven’t found anything else, but I don’t want to take the job with my father.”

Ben argued for the job in Casper, citing job security and the future potential to be a partner in a business.

“Except I hate the car business. I’m not a car salesman type.”

He said something sweet about her being his type. For the first time since they’d talked marriage, she wondered if that was true. He was so buttoned-down, so together. She felt anything but.

“I think I should keep looking for another job.” But she knew if she didn’t accept the job at the dealership after all her stalling, her father would be too angry to offer it again. He’d just keep doing it all himself.

Ben reminded her of that fact. She changed the subject, and they talked about his training and the Gillette job. Ending the call, she set her phone on the counter and let out a deep sigh. She did care about Ben. He was a good guy, ambitious, smart, college educated. He wanted to settle down. He was everything she could want in a husband.

So why did she have that uncomfortable feeling, like she was hiding something from herself?

She sunk her face into her hands and leaned her elbows on the cold, hard counter. It seemed nothing was working out in her life when just a week before, she’d have said everything was falling into place.

That was before her father had brought up the issue about the divorce and insisted it be addressed, given Chance was in town. That was before she’d seen Chance, touched him, kissed him. Before he’d thrown her out of the truck.

She’d been so sure he hated her all these years, she had never expected the kiss, the tenderness, the glimpse of the Chance she had fallen in love with. Or his anger at being asked to sign the affidavit—and her reason for requesting it.

Could he still care?

The ache around her heart deepened. It had taken years to get over him—and a split second of his lips touching hers to bring it all back. Every yearning she’d ever had for Chance, every dream of a future with him as her husband, every laugh, every adventure they’d shared, every passionate moment, and there had been many, had come roaring back, flooding her emotions.

And she didn’t know what to make of that. Or what she should make of it.

Why hadn’t she left it to lawyers?

She couldn’t have feelings for Chance. Not if she was thinking about a permanent relationship with Ben. She cared for Ben. Nice, safe, steady Ben. Ben who had requested a job in Wyoming for her sake, even though he hadn’t proposed yet and she hadn’t said yes…yet.

They’d casually looked at rings before he left for training, just for fun. They’d talked about a future together. She sensed he was waiting for the right moment to formally ask her, waiting until he’d settled into his new job, found a place, and had something to offer. That was what she liked about Ben, wasn’t it? He planned ahead, thought things through, covered his bases.

But now she had to wonder if she’d ever really gotten over Chance and, more importantly, if she ever would. And if there was a chance he still cared for her…

The heavy thud of her father’s footsteps sounded in the hallway. Based on the fry pan she’d just finished cleaning, her father had already eaten breakfast. So it was likely he was looking for her before he headed out to one of the dealerships. He’d be expecting an answer about the job. He’d be expecting a yes.