Grumpy Cowboy: A Hot Single Dad, Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

by Max Monroe

  Suddenly, a whistle cracks through the air and a bright light streaks into the sky before exploding what feels like directly above us. I know it’s not—they set up almost three hundred yards to our north—but that doesn’t mean the percussion of each blast doesn’t vibrate right in the center of our chests.

  Leah’s face tips up as she watches the display with unconcealed wonder. And the longer they go on, the lower her guard becomes, her body shifting toward mine more and more by the second.

  Leah’s side rubs against mine in a way that sparks my awareness to an eleven on a scale of ten. A simple brush of her arm feels like she’s taken her hand and put it directly around my heart.

  I don’t know what it is about the crack and pop and flash of the brightly colored celebration in the sky, but it makes the space between us—the past conflict between us—feel practically nonexistent. I can feel the pulse of her breath pointedly, so when the cadence of her inhales increases, it’s not something that goes unnoticed.

  I don’t know what it is about us, what it is about her, that’s suddenly driving me to distraction, but I can’t focus on anything but the way her lips look as she runs her tongue across them and glances up at me.

  I’ve never felt anything like this—anything this potent—even with Anna. With her, back then, it was rushed and rough and bold. At times, the intensity far outweighed any of the actual feelings.

  But this…it’s as if I’m sitting right in a puddle of every emotion I never knew how to feel. Like there’s a peace in the connection with a woman I don’t understand entirely. Like finding out all the little pieces that make her gives me a purpose I didn’t know I needed.

  The weight of my stare must eventually become unbearable, because she turns to look at me with a quizzical light to her eyes. But when she sees what’s in mine, all the air in her lungs leaves in one swift rush.

  “Rhett?” she questions, searching the depths of my gaze for a transcript of words I can’t find a way to say.

  Words like I like you and I want you.

  Silently, I slip my hand into her hair until it settles at the back of her neck and lift with a pressure I can’t control.

  She doesn’t fight it, doesn’t even challenge, and before I know it, I’m not even applying the weight of my hand at all. I’m chasing her as she moves toward me all of her own free will.

  I glance to her perfect, pink, unvarnished lips—a change she’s made over the last couple weeks that I can’t say I don’t like. She’s beautiful, so much so, she doesn’t need any of the shit she thought she did before—tight dresses and high heels and fancy blouses. All she needs is to be herself.

  My heart thuds in my chest, and my dick wakes up as the potential for touching my lips to hers becomes real and immediate.

  Her tongue darts out from the small diamond-shaped gap between her lips in a nervous attempt to moisten them both, and my dick jerks.

  Fuck.

  I have to taste her. Now.

  Her chest rises and falls rapidly as I get closer and closer to connecting us, and her eyes are hungry—wanton. She’s just as eager as I am, and I can’t fucking wait.

  A huge roar from the crowd, one completely unlike the shouts of ooh and aah we’ve been hearing for the last several minutes, jars my attention out of the hammock of Leah’s eyes and brings me back to the world around us. Almost immediately, upon breaking the spell of our connection, there’s the kind of scream no one can ignore.

  Both Leah and I look to the epicenter of the chaos, as a crowd closes in tightly and swiftly on someone or something on the ground in the center. It isn’t until I spot my mom and get a look at her face, terrified and drawn, that I realize something really isn’t right.

  Leah and I both jump up and take off at a run, me being as careful as I can not to put too much undue pressure on my leg, and fight our way through the crowd of spectators. When we finally get to the center, we find my dad on the ground, sweat beaded all over his brow, his hat on the ground beside him, and he’s clutching his chest.

  “Dad!” I yell, dropping to the ground next to him and lifting his head into my hands.

  He groans, and Leah takes that as her cue to get rough with the people gathered on the other side of him. “Move!” she yells. “Get out of the way! I’m a doctor!”

  People finally clear a path, and Leah drops to her knees in the dirt next to Tex and puts her fingers to the inside of his wrist to feel his pulse.

  Calm and assured, she looks to my mom and starts issuing orders. “Call 9-1-1. Tell them we need a medevac chopper, and we need it now.” Mom nods, but she’s shaking, so Rodney grabs her radio from her belt and starts calling in to dispatch.

  “Tex,” Leah says with a steadiness I don’t even remotely feel. “I think you’re having a heart attack right now, but I don’t want you to worry, okay? I’m here, and I’m going to make damn sure you make it out of this alive.”

  He groans, and she hardens her jaw infinitesimally before barking orders again. It figures that the ambulance that had been here for the rodeo exhibition left half an hour ago, thinking the dangerous part of the event was well-past over. “Go get the medical bag from my truck. Now!” she yells.

  Tiny takes off running, and I’m left to see Joey standing there, looking down at us with shock and dismay. Chase is the first face I recognize in the crowd, and I yell orders at him immediately. “Chase, get Joey out of here! Please!”

  He jumps into action, spinning Joey around and placing a comforting arm around her shoulders as he drags her away, practically kicking and screaming.

  When Tiny comes back, Leah takes the bag from his hands and riffles through it quickly, pulling out a bottle of aspirin and popping the lid off crudely. She dumps a couple pills into her hand and then forms a funnel with her palm to dump them into my dad’s mouth.

  His color doesn’t look good, but Leah’s voice is still a soothing melody. “Chew those for me, Tex, okay? And then swallow. I know it’s hard and that it hurts, but concentrate on chewing those up. They’re going to help.”

  Next, she turns back to the bag and comes out again with a tablet of something, ripping open the packaging and again directing it to his mouth.

  “Hold this under your tongue, Tex,” she commands, rubbing his arm with her free hand in a soothing stroke. “I know this is hard, but you’re doing great.”

  My throat feels so clogged it’s sealed right off, and the overwhelming panic at the sensation of suffocation is painful. Still, I don’t want to take anything away from the actual emergency, from my dad getting the care that he needs, so I reach out and take one of his big hands in mine and squeeze tight. Rodney pulls the radio away from his ear to update us. “Helicopter is five minutes out. They were already on a run back from Kanab.”

  “You’re okay, Dad,” I say, looking into his normally strong eyes as he tries to blink through the pain. “Leah’s taking good care of you, and a life flight is almost here. You just relax.”

  Moments feel like hours as we sit there, doing nothing and waiting for the helicopter to arrive. Leah monitors my dad’s vitals diligently, and a number of fellas from the crowd set up a landing zone so it’s ready, and I live so many years in that short eternity that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to turn them back.

  When the helicopter finally lands, and the emergency personnel rush to my dad’s side, stepping away from him and letting go of his hand becomes one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life.

  Leah, though, she dives right in with her professional hat, asking them a million questions and making just as many remarks a minute.

  “Where are they taking him?”

  “No, not there. Salt Lake City.”

  “Yes, on my authority.”

  “He’s had aspirin and a nitroglycerin tablet, and his pulse is tachycardic, though I’ve managed to bring that down some.”

  Her voice fades some as she jogs next to them while they wheel my dad toward the helicopter on the stretcher, and Mom a
nd I run along after her.

  “…fluids…ride along…no…I know…” I hear brokenly through the whoosh of the chopper blades still tuned up and spinning.

  Leah nods then and returns to Jenny and me at a jog as they load Tex’s stretcher inside and start working on him immediately.

  “They can only take two passengers, ride along,” Leah says matter-of-factly to my mom and me while holding her hair back out of her face in the intense chopper wind. “You two should go, and Joey and I will drive up to Salt Lake City and meet you.”

  My mom hurries off to load up without any question, but as my mind races, I know that’s not the best decision. Immediately, I shake my head resolutely. “No, Leah. You go with him. You’re the doctor. I’d rather you be there than me. You’ll know what to do.”

  She considers me closely for a fraction of a second, but ultimately, we don’t have a whole lot of time to be mulling over our decisions.

  She nods, leans forward to kiss my cheek, and then promises in my ear with steely determination. “I got him, okay? I promise you—I’ve got him. You and Joey drive safe and slow, and we’ll see you when you get there.”

  And then she’s gone, quickly loaded inside the helicopter and behind the closed door. I watch her face through the window as the helicopter takes off, and a violent wind nearly blows me back from my proximity.

  A huge part of my world is in that chopper, thanks to a dramatic change of events I never saw coming.

  One thing is for sure—I better get moving.

  Because clearly, in this life, there’s no time to waste.

  And that’s a lesson I’ve got to learn in more ways than one.

  July 4th, Sunday, very early

  Leah

  The medical team that met us on the roof wheels Tex through the emergency room doors at a run, leaving Jenny and me standing in their wake. The doors slam shut with quiet mocking of their role as a barrier, and for the first time since Tex dropped to the ground in pain, Jenny breaks down in tears.

  I pull her suddenly frail-seeming body into a hug and hold her as tight as I can, trying to force all the comfort and heat of my body to leave and seep into hers. “Shh. It’s okay, Jenny, I promise.”

  Her sobs are nearly silent but full-body-racking, and a sick thud in my gut challenges me to take them all away. To remove the pain and the stress and the worry. Unfortunately, I know I can’t.

  All I can do is be here, and thankfully, be confident that the quick moves I was able to make on-site mean that Tex is going to be okay. He might have to cut back on the red meat some, but I have every belief that we prevented the worst of the damage by thinning his blood and getting the helicopter there so quickly.

  Now, my worry has shifted. From the medical emergency for which I felt at least a modicum of control and knowledge, to the man I’m slowly losing my head over and his several-hour drive to get here under emotional distress.

  When Jenny gets her sobs under control and pulls away to sink into one of the waiting room chairs, I take a deep breath and think about what I can do to calm my current anxiety.

  I reach for my pocket and pull out my phone, something I can hardly believe I still keep charged and carry with me everywhere I go, open up the screen and my contacts, only to quickly realize that it might as well be an actual brick for all the good it’ll do me right now.

  I don’t want to put any other stress on Jenny, especially not now that she’s just found the strength to pull herself together, but I don’t think I can wait another minute before assuring myself that Rhett and Joey are okay either.

  Cautiously, I sit down in the chair next to Jenny and place a kind hand to her shaking knee. She looks up at the contact and meets my eyes, so I chance a calm, gently toned question. “Do you…do you have Rhett’s cell phone number? I just want to check in on him and Joey and give him an update, but…well, at the ranch, as hard as it is for me to believe, I’ve gotten so used to not using my phone. I don’t even know his number.”

  Jenny nods, grasping me by the wrist with a little bout of motherly dismay, her forehead crumpling from top to bottom. “Oh my goodness, of course. I can’t believe I didn’t even think to call him!”

  I shake my head. “You have enough on your plate, Jenny. You just worry about Tex and yourself. Leave Joey and Rhett to me, okay?”

  “Here,” she says, digging her phone out of her purse and shoving it at me. “You can just take mine. I hardly even know why I have the damn thing since I don’t know how to work it. I know his number’s in there somewhere, though.”

  I squeeze her leg. “Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out.”

  “Okay,” she agrees, looking down at her hands and staring at them mindlessly. I’ve seen this before, with other survivors in emergency scenarios as they come to grips with the fact that their body still functions normally while their loved one’s does not. It takes a minute of silence, but she finally clenches her hands into fists and then claws them into a clasped knot in her lap. “I guess I should go find the administrative office the doctor was talking about and get all the paperwork filled out, huh?” she asks, looking up to meet my eyes with her own. They’re bloodshot, the skin around them mottled, but she still looks like the beautiful, strong woman who came to my door after our near-collision on my very first day at the ranch.

  I smile tenderly, placing my hand over hers and rubbing my thumb gently against her skin. “Whenever you’re ready will be fine, Jen. There’s no rush.”

  She shakes her head and pats my hand with one of her own before standing up. She slings her small western-style purse over her arm and squares her shoulders resolutely.

  “I think I’m better off just doin’ it now,” she says. “Sittin’ here doin’ nothin’ll drive me right crazy anyway.”

  Boy, do I understand that.

  Idle hands and minds were the precursor to Rhett’s and my almost kiss too, and that had to be temporary insanity—right?

  Sure, Leah, tell yourself whatever you need to not to implode from the sheer disappointment that nothing actually got to happen.

  After a quick acknowledgment from me that she should do whatever makes her feel best, Jenny disappears down the hallway, and I sit back down in the chair and start scrolling through her contacts list until I find the number I’m looking for under Rhett Jameson.

  Some women might have their son’s name in there as a nickname or something cutesy, but not Jenny. And frankly, that’s probably because it’s not Rhett. He’s not the kind of guy you call baby boy or some shit.

  He’s all man in a way that even his mama knows it.

  Which is a freaking unicorn-like mythical creature in the interactions I’ve had with men and their families in the past. Most of them were bordering on codependent with their mothers, they still had so much growing up to do.

  I hit the button to call and put the phone to my ear, waiting nervously as it rings.

  The truth is, I don’t even know if Rhett’s got his phone on him. It’s such a different life there on the ranch, from the rest of the urban world. Here in Salt Lake, it’s weird if people don’t have their phones; on the ranch, it’s pretty weird if people do.

  Probably the most surprising thing about it all, though, is that I find myself preferring the second.

  “’Lo?” Rhett answers on the third ring, his voice deep like always, but with the addition of an extra rasp. If I had to guess, I’d say that he’s tired and emotionally drained, which, of course, makes me feel like it’s all the more important that I called.

  “Rhett, it’s Leah. I wanted to let you know that we made it here, to Salt Lake Regional Medical Center, and your dad is with the doctors now. He’s doing well, though, okay? We didn’t have any more major episodes on the flight in, and all of his vitals are stable. They’re going to work to ensure he stays that way, but I promise, you don’t need to stress too much. He’s doing really well, and we acted fast enough that I think we prevented the worst of the damage.”

  “Thank God,�
�� he breathes on an exhale that I feel all the way to my soul. Even with the distance, even through the phone—I can feel Rhett’s relief as sure as I could if it were a physical touch. The connection crackles, and I’m not sure, but it might be more about him struggling with his emotion than cell phone service.

  While there’s absolutely no boundary for what kind of emotion is acceptable in a man, I’m still careful not to mention that I notice. I’d like to think that Rhett would be comfortable being anything he needs to be in front of me, but I’m also not naïve enough to believe we’re to that stage of our…well, relationship, for lack of a better word.

  He’s a tough, rugged cowboy who can literally handle having his knee shredded in a bronc riding accident. When he makes the decision to expose himself to me emotionally, I know for certain it’ll need to be on his own terms.

  “How are you and Joey doing?” I ask instead of calling attention to anything else.

  “Better now,” he says simply, and I close my eyes to keep myself from saying something I know it’s not my place to say. Still, the emotion of what he and Joey must have been going through, all alone in that truck with no information or comfort, is enough to spill a single, fat tear from the corner of each of my eyes. “We should be there in about an hour or so, and I’m hopin’ Joey’ll keep sleepin’ until we get there.”

  I don’t question how fast he’s been driving that has enabled him to shave nearly a third off his travel time, though the impulse to do it is strong. Hopefully, now that I’ve given him an olive branch of news to hold on to, he’ll take his time for the rest of the drive.

  “I’m glad she managed to pass out, but how are you doing? I know you must be exhausted after how busy the last couple days have been.”

  “I’m all right,” he insists. “Tired but wired. You don’t have to be worryin’ about me. Just…let me know if anything changes with my dad, if you don’t mind.”