Loving A Cowboy Page 17

  And what did Libby want from Chance? His love. She’d had it once and thrown it back because she was too scared to make the sacrifices that would have been necessary. She hadn’t believed in herself. But Chance was right. She hadn’t believed in him, either. She’d been wrong about him. But right about herself. It had taken some time for her to grow up. To be willing to take chances. Willing to make sacrifices. She guessed losing her mother at such an early age had felt like sacrifice enough. She couldn’t risk losing anyone else in her family, and she had believed she would have lost her father if she had chosen Chance. Now she knew differently. Her father didn’t want to lose her any more than she wanted to lose him.

  Chance was strong, resilient, yet tender and vulnerable. Someone who needed her even if he would never admit it. If only he could believe in her love.

  “You going to your interview today?” Chance looked up at her from his seat at the table, his expression quizzical, as if he wasn’t sure where her mind had gone.

  Billy was arguing with Lonnie about how saddle bronc riding was harder than bull riding, with Lonnie provoking the youngster with proclamations about bull riders’ “expertise.”

  “Yup. This should be the last round,” Libby answered, hoping Chance didn’t guess what she’d really been thinking about.

  “Better eat up, then. We managed to save you three griddle cakes. And it wasn’t easy.” Chance gave her a weak smile. “You’ve turned into a decent cook, Libby.”

  “I’ll say.” Lonnie’s smile was bigger, more sincere.

  “These were as good as my mom’s,” Billy chimed in.

  “Thanks, guys.” And thanks to the Fanny Farmer Cookbook. “But I’m not all that hungry.”

  Chance frowned. “Won’t do to go all the way to Denver on an empty stomach.”

  “What are you three going to do today?” Time to change the subject.

  “After stopping in to thank Billy’s mom for all her help, we’ll be going over to the Forrester’s to do some practicing.”

  “Should you be getting on a horse with your foot not fully healed?”

  Chance didn’t reply, just stared at her, eyebrows raised, while Lonnie snickered and Billy looked wide eyed.

  Libby turned to rinse the griddle pan in the sink, the warm water pouring over her hands as she scrubbed. Chance was getting ready to go back on the circuit, and she would lose him for good. This would just be an interlude in her life, a short break to remind her of what could have been. No wonder she had lost her appetite.

  * * *

  “So, Miss Brennan, Libby, you’re fresh out of graduate school. Tell me some of the things you’ve learned that will help you in this job.”

  The young woman, not much older than Libby, who asked this question certainly didn’t look like the owner of a rodeo stock company. But her last name was Prescott, and Prescott Rodeo Company was one of the biggest suppliers of rodeo stock in the West. Dressed in tight, form-flattering jeans, a short-sleeve, flowing white blouse accessorized with turquoise jewelry, Mandy Prescott looked like something out of Vogue magazine, albeit a western version.

  Focusing on the question, Libby related how school had expanded her horizons and thinking so that when faced with a problem, instead of one or two possibilities, she now saw five or six possible solutions and had the tools to critically evaluate the pros and cons. “Every solution has trade-offs. You have to be aware of those trade-offs and understand which ones are most important to you or your client.”

  Mandy Prescott smiled. “Good answer. Now what problem has intrigued you with regards to this job?”

  Libby talked about the need to keep attendance robust and some ideas on how to do that, including featuring more information about the stock that would costar at the show.

  “Impressive, and being a stock supplier, I’m all for that.” Mandy leaned closer to the resume she held in her hands. “I see you’re from Wyoming, as am I. Are you related to Sam Brennan of Brennan Motors?”

  “I’m his daughter.”

  Mandy sat back in her chair. “We buy all our pickups from your daddy. Nothing like that F-150. Your father has always given us a fair deal. He’s such a nice guy.”

  “Thank you,” Libby said because she didn’t know what else to say, but she couldn’t deny the sense of pride that filled her.

  A few more questions in a definitely friendlier tone, and the interview was over.

  “You should be hearing from us shortly, Libby,” Mandy said as she ushered Libby down the hall toward the exit leading to the garage elevators. “Say hi to your daddy for me. He’ll know Prescott Rodeo. Fathers are precious commodities.” Her smile was wistful.

  There were a bunch of things she’d like to ask Mandy, like how a young woman ended up running a rodeo stock company, but she held back her curiosity. If she got the job, there would be plenty of time to get to know Mandy Prescott better.

  * * *

  Chance drove the pickup down the winding mountain road. He and Lonnie had decided to meet Libby in Denver for dinner. It would be a last hurrah before he told her he was going back on the road the upcoming weekend.

  Would she leave right away? Would she stay—forever? She said she loved him. She’d said that before. That he had money now and was living comfortably shouldn’t be the deciding factor if someone loved you, respected you, felt you were the one. No, he couldn’t trust her words. And he’d never say them back to her, no matter what he felt.

  He was fine with being friends with benefits. This didn’t have to end. And there was no reason she had to move out because he was moving on. Might be nice to have someone to come home to, to have Libby to come home to, for those times he was between rodeos. She could look after his place, if she was of a mind, in exchange for room and board. No strings. No regrets. Yeah, it could work, considering most of the time he’d be on the road, away from her. No reasons it couldn’t.

  “You tell Libby yet that you’re going back on the circuit?” Lonnie asked as he cycled through the channels on the satellite radio looking for a favorite country tune.

  “That’s what tonight is for, sort of.”

  Lonnie leaned back and tipped back his cowboy hat. “And I’m along to provide a buffer?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Great.”

  “You owe me. You’re the one that gave her my address.”

  “And what exactly do I owe you? You had a caring nurse to look after you—and she did such a good job, you’re back on a horse in a month. Not to mention, I haven’t seen you this relaxed and happy…well, ever.”

  Chance shook his head. “Don’t go reading into it. We are strictly friends with benefits. There can never be anything more between us. Besides, she wants white picket fences. I don’t hold with fences.”

  “Didn’t you tell me she gave up a fiancé who would have given her those white picket fences?”

  “Just like she gave me up because she didn’t think I would give them to her.”

  “Maybe she’s grown up since then. Maybe white picket fences no longer appeal.”

  “And maybe some people don’t change.”

  “Like you, you mean? Stubborn old mule.”

  “Like me.”

  Chapter 17

  The dinner had been scrumptious, and being escorted by two handsome cowboys, decked out in dress duds and cowboy hats, had been fun, but all night she’d felt she was losing Chance. He’d be hitting the trail and she’d be heading back home, waiting to see if she had gotten the Denver job, their time together over and their relationship little better than that of friends.

  She loved him. Loved him from his stubborn head to his aching heart to his injured foot. And no matter how much she tried to be there for him, tried to show him she had changed, grown up, wasn’t the scared little girl she’d been at eighteen, he couldn’t see it, wouldn’t believe it, didn’t want to know it.

  As Chance slipped behind the wheel of her car and Lonnie closed the door to the pickup he’d be driving back, Libby
was determined to lobby for more time, time to see if his feelings for her would deepen, time to see if he could truly forgive her, time to see if he could trust her again.

  “How was the practice at Forrester’s?”

  He smiled. “Good. Foot was throbbing, but I didn’t feel a thing on the ride. Only after.” He nodded. “But that’s always the way. Must be the adrenaline or something.”

  “So, you’ll be heading to that Utah rodeo with Lonnie, I expect. It will be four weeks. That was your timetable.”

  His smile broadened as he turned the car onto the four-lane highway that would take them close to his home. “Right on schedule. Tom worked his magic and, despite some minor setbacks…” He chuckled, probably recalling the grill fire and Cowboy’s adventure. “Four weeks and I’m back. Longest four weeks of my life.”

  Well, she’d try not to take that as an insult. After all, it was four weeks they’d spent together.

  “So you aren’t afraid of reinjuring it?”

  He shook his head while his eyes stayed trained on the road ahead. “Nah. Pick-up men know how to handle things when a cowboy has a leg or, in this case, foot injury. I’ll be fine, and besides, it’s only for a few seconds. A few crazy seconds.”

  She took a deep breath. “I guess you’ll expect me to go, then.”

  Chance frowned but kept his eyes on the road. “No need. You can stay as long as you like. I’m happy with our arrangement. Aren’t you?” This time he turned and glanced at her sideways, uncertainty in his eyes.

  Now that was the million-dollar question. She wanted more. But should she tell him that? She feared that if she did, he’d run so fast in the other direction, she’d never have another chance with him.

  “For a while.”

  He patted her leg with a warm hand. “Good. No need to change anything then.”

  But for how long? And then what? These were questions she didn’t dare ask. Not right then, but soon.

  * * *

  The door creak drew her attention to the naked hunk of a man who was crossing the floor with a slight limp in the shadowy night.

  He slipped into bed beside her, and reflexively, she curled next to him, letting the warmth of his body pour over her. She caught the sandalwood scent of his soap. She slid her hand up his chest, grazing her fingers along his neck until she cupped his chin.

  “Make love to me, Chance.”

  His fingers brushed her arm, sending tingles along her spine. “If that’s what you want.”

  “That’s what I want. You’re what I want.”

  He shifted closer, his warm flesh touching her, skin to skin, chest to chest, legs to legs. His breath, fresh and minty, blew across her cheek.

  “You’re what I want too, Libby.”

  But not for always. Not for forever.

  He nestled between her thighs and she could feel him, hot, hard, and thick.

  In the beat of her heart, he brushed his lips over hers, tasted her, overpowered her. Strong arms wrapped around her body, holding her captive. He kissed, caressed, and licked in a slow, hypnotizing rhythm, leaving a moist trail as he slowly moved down her body.

  Desire pounded through her. At that moment, nothing mattered but Chance—being with him, feeling him, loving him.

  * * *

  “I leave for the rodeo in the morning.” Chance cradled Libby in his arms, enjoying the feel of her, knowing it would be as fleeting as the afterglow that surrounded them. They’d made slow, sensuous love to each other as rain pounded against the windows, making it feel like there was no one else in the world but them.

  “I think it’s too soon, but I also know I can’t change your mind.” She traced her fingers on his chest, outlining his muscles and sending a buzz through his body. “How much will the rent be?”

  “Rent? Who said anything about rent? You can stay here for free.”

  “Like a kept woman?” She frowned, and he had to chuckle.

  “You want to take on caring for my horses?”

  She shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to take that away from Billy. He adores having the responsibility for them. Gives him a reason to bother you.”

  Chance smiled. “He’s no bother. I see a lot of me in him—or rather, what I wanted to be. He’s a good kid.”

  “That he is, and you’re good with him.”

  Chance shrugged. He hoped he could be a positive in Billy’s life. The kid had a lot going for him, not to mention a family that actually cared about him. And he had talent around horses—both in bronc riding and in caring for them.

  “You can take care of the house, then.”

  “So we’d be like an old married couple, although not really a couple and definitely not married?”

  “What do you mean?” The woman had a way of confusing him.

  She sat up, leaned on her one elbow. “Would we be having sex? Would we be able to see other people? How is this going to work, exactly?”

  “Like it is now. And of course we’d have sex when I’m back. That’s the whole idea.” An idea he liked, keeping Libby around. Having someone to come home to. “Maybe not seeing other people.” Not where Libby was concerned. “But no strings—”

  “No regrets. So you’ve said.” She sounded irritated.

  “I’m being straight with you, Libby. I’m not marriage material. Maybe you sensed that back then. After you left, I realized that I’m best as a loner. Loners don’t make good husbands, and they make really lousy fathers. And then, again, I haven’t had a particularly good role model in either department.”

  “You’re selling yourself short. It’s a story you’re telling yourself so you don’t have to take another risk on commitment.”

  “Maybe you’re telling yourself a story so you don’t have to face my reality. I’m just trying to be straight with you. I don’t want to end things, but I don’t see a happily ever after in the future, either.”

  “For now, I guess I’ll have to go along with it if that’s the only way I can be part of your life.”

  He reached for her, and she leaned her head against his chest. It had been a hard conversation, but he had needed to clear the air. He wouldn’t mislead her. Her cell phone jangled from its spot on the nightstand.

  “Don’t answer it.”

  “It must be important. No one would call now. It’s after midnight.”

  Chance reached around her to grab the phone on the table and looked at the caller ID. He closed his eyes as he handed her the cell phone.

  * * *

  Chance tried to calm her down, but Libby was near hysterical as he held her in his arms, her whole body trembling. Lonnie had appeared at the door, and all Chance could do was shake his head.

  “I’ve got to go. Now.” She squirmed against his embrace. He was afraid to let her go. Afraid of what she’d do.

  “You are in no condition to drive. I’ll drive you.”

  Tears streamed down her face like water pouring from a sprinkling can.

  “How will you get back?” She squirmed again. He held her fast.

  She wasn’t coming back with him? He took a deep breath. He should have seen that coming.

  No strings. No regrets. That had been the plan. Too bad it hadn’t worked. But this time he had no one to blame but himself.

  “Lonnie can come get me in the pickup.”

  “It’s far.” She slumped in his arms like it was too much effort to fight.

  “Let me worry about that.” He took another deep breath. “You okay to pack up?”

  “Yes. Just let me go.”

  “As long as I can drive you.” She looked at him with something akin to terror in her eyes. He wanted to make it better for her. He wished he could.

  “Yes. All right.” She held herself stiff, and he released her from his embrace.

  “Hurry!” she said as she scrambled off the bed. “I’ve got to get to the hospital before, before…” She shook her head. She’d been unable to say what they’d both been thinking.

  Chance was surpris
ed at how quickly Libby packed her suitcases, all three of them. Enticing Cowboy into his carrier was more of an ordeal, but some tuna fish placed at the far corner finally did the trick. Working out logistics with Lonnie was easier, and thank God the man was flexible. Lonnie was going to swing by in the morning, and with luck, they’d make Utah before the slack.

  Getting back in the saddle would give him some much-needed focus, especially if Libby wouldn’t be coming back. He wouldn’t think about that now. He’d promised to get her to Cheyenne, and he would keep that promise.

  Cowboy’s plaintive cries at being corralled filled the silence as Chance drove the car down the winding mountain road over the slick, wet pavement, rain drumming on the windows as if trying to get in.

  Not too experienced in these kinds of emotional situations, Chance didn’t try to coax Libby to talk. He could remember the gut-punched feeling when he’d found out his mother had left him. His ten-year-old self had felt like crying knowing that what little comfort he could expect had walked away from him and that his world would be irrevocably and horribly changed. He hadn’t cried though. He wouldn’t give his ornery father the satisfaction, or the mother who would never witness it. No, he’d never showed any emotion other than anger at what had happened to him.

  He knew Libby would take it hard if Sam Brennan, a man only in his early fifties, succumbed to the heart attack. She’d no doubt feel abandoned if her only living parent didn’t pull through. And if he did pull through, Libby wouldn’t leave his side. Not for a good long while.

  They rode in silence except for the droning sound of rain and Cowboy’s occasional whines amid the whirr of wind and tires. He hadn’t put on any music because he wasn’t sure songs about loss and love, as country tunes were prone to be, was what she’d want to hear at that moment. Only one other car had come up the mountain to disturb the inky blackness. Even with the high beams on, it was still easy to lose the twisting road given the sheets of rain that blew across the windshield. Chance just hoped no deer or other animal decided to cross through the glare of his headlights.