Lassoing The Last Dance (Double Dutch Ranch; Love At First Sight Book 4)

by Mary J. McCoy-Dressel

  The mustang moseyed over. Randy spread the blanket over his back and lifted the saddle onto him and cinched it up. Getting on, he rode around a couple times. “Okay.” Randy eased the horse up alongside Jake’s and kept it there. “Take a dive!”

  Jake let go of the reins and took a dive onto the mustang. He held on long enough to drop his feet to the ground. “All right! He’s a good one.”

  “He’ll bring in some good money for you, Jake, if he can do this with a bronc. Let’s cool them both down. Do you ever miss saddle bronc riding?”

  “Uh uh. Maybe sometimes.” Jake whistled for the mustang and walked him around the ring a couple times. “I have my eye on a couple more, so I’ll be needing you to help with them, too. If I keep buying horses like this one,” Jake said, nodding toward the mustang, “You’ll have a full-time job here.”

  “I’m pretty busy working for Dane, and a few other ranchers, but I might consider it when you’re ready.” Randy considered calling his friend, Zach Bryson, in Idaho who said if he had a job here, he’d think about moving. If the JL Ranch needed an extra hand, Zach would be a great candidate. In fact, he’d call him on the way home.

  Chapter 6

  The crew worked late at her house, and they had accomplished a lot before they left. Roxanne showered and drove to Randy’s. They had both eaten, so she didn’t need to stop for a carryout. He met her when she got out of the car. They walked side by side toward the back steps. Everybody has steps. Gripping the rail, she took her time going up.

  He had watched her. It made her self-conscious and worried he’d notice the prosthesis before she had a chance to tell him. Before anything went further between them, tonight had to be the night. She couldn’t let feelings deepen without him knowing. Again, she reminded herself he should’ve known all along.

  “Are you all right, Roxanne? Something’s bothering you. Physically. You’re different. You’re not…you.”

  He’d been trained to spot lame animals, so was she no different? “You’re right.” She entered the kitchen first when he held the door. It was a simple kitchen but looked clean and tidy. The white painted cupboards went high to the ceiling and the countertop consisted of blue and white tiles. A stainless-steel stove and refrigerator sat side by side, next to a door leading to a walk-in pantry.

  The table was an oak square with four high-back cushioned chairs. It was easy to tell his favorite chair by the wear and tear on the cushion, and it was a bit faded, like he had washed it more often than the others. The blue in the cushions matched blue tie-backs over white curtains on the windows. One small window loomed over the sink.

  Randy strolled to the doorway and extended his arm toward the living room. She sat on the end of the three cushioned, contemporary styled, burgundy colored sofa. The fireplace had a screen over the front. Above the mantel was a good-sized painting of Superstition Mountain, while three other walls showed smaller paintings of horses. One was a photograph of Randy’s barn during sunset. Another painting of the Grand Canyon sat nestled between two smaller sunset pictures. They were new since her last visit. He pulled an ottoman over to sit across from her and took her hands.

  “You have the look of pain in your eyes. What’s going on? Did that asshole hurt you again? Finally tear you down?”

  “Oh, God.” She released her hands and got up to pace, and stopped to get a better look of the picture over the mantel. The house was cool but her body felt overheated. In order to get out what she wanted to say, she took short, fast breaths until she was capable of speaking. “Of course, it has everything to do with my ex-husband. I’m not sure you’ll be able to handle what I have to tell you—”

  He stood in a rush, his hands clenching, and he was at her side in a flurry. “You went back to him?” he asked dryly.

  “For God’s sake, no! Nothing is the same, Randy.” Facing him, she searched his eyes. “Sweet Randy. You deserve more.” She grasped her head with both hands. How I missed you.

  “I deserve more? Then why are you even here? Why’d you come?” He didn’t wait for an answer and bolted to the kitchen.

  Roxanne sat back on the couch. Her gaze followed after him and she waited. He looked out the window from the kitchen sink. Damn, he looked hot from the back, the way his raven hair fell over his collar. His hands shifted to the top of his head, and he spread his legs to a wider stance. He looked strong, like he could take on the world and win.

  How could he know what to expect when she didn’t? At the sink, he twirled around and stood in the doorway. He gripped the woodwork on each side of him. Mr. Randy Drake looked so good from the front, too. Whoa, baby, his jeans sat low on his hips without a belt, and he wore black motorcycle boots to give him such a sexy persona. This was serious, and she shouldn’t be seeing sexy right now.

  “You know I don’t play games. I don’t try to be something I’m not. Again, Roxanne. Why are you here? Here in my house—in Canyon Junction?”

  “Why am I here in your house? Because you’re like a… Your magnetism pulled me here. But, I’m scared.”

  “Let me be the judge. Tell me what the hell’s going on, and let me make my own decisions. I’m a man, not a little boy. What are you scared of?” He came into the living room where he took a seat and straddled the ottoman.

  He was right. It wasn’t her decision to make, though she had herself convinced it was her decision to think for him. Her skin tingled as sweat formed on her arms, her face, and inside her gel liner while she built up the nerve to let it all out. First, she had to find a way to push that lump down her throat. Here goes. “I had an accident and nearly died. My reason for staying away is probably worse than you would even imagine.” She clasped his hot, calloused hands. “Randy…” I have to do this.

  He squeezed her hands and remained quiet. His gaze never faltered from staring at her eyes, her lips.

  “My ex-husband tried to kill me, well, not himself. No, he didn’t have the guts. The bastard had someone do it. They’ve never been caught, and I can’t prove it was him who hired them.” She moved to the right and patted the sofa beside her. She laid her hand on his firm thigh. “Two men abducted me outside of the theater one night after performing. They blindfolded me and tied me up.”

  “Rox?”

  She held her hand up to halt him from saying anything as she relived the memory. “They didn’t say a word to me at first, but had talked amongst themselves about what they could do to me. We ended up way out and far from everything. Needless to say, I was terrified. It was basically quiet except for those damn night sounds!”

  Randy rubbed his forehead. “Ah, I understand about the night sounds now.”

  “I smelled horses.” She raised her hands to her head, and paused. She’d never forget their sick threats…their gravelly, threatening voices. Randy put his arm around her shoulder but she removed it. She needed her own strength, not sympathy.

  “What a bastard. You don’t have to continue because I might punch something. I knew he was an asshole, but…” He clasped her hand and let theirs rest on his thigh.

  Re-experiencing it now was like it had happened last night. Her breath held but she gasped for air. Traffic on the road that night had prevented them from doing what they’d threatened, she figured. “One of them s-st…stabbed me low in the gut before they dragged me out of the car. I expected rape, but hadn’t expected a stabbing.” She squeezed her eyes closed and took a deep breath. “It hurt so much. I fell to the ground. A car came. They dragged me back into the car and took off as I sat there bleeding.” She placed her hand over the imaginary pain in her gut while trying to catch her breath.

  Randy got up and strode out of the room to get a glass of water. The crash against the wall startled her. He moved out of her sight for a moment. Breathing heavily, he returned and planted himself beside her again.

  “Are you all right?”

  He peered at her expressionless. “Am I all right? No, I’m not.” He pounded his chest. “I want to kill that bastard.”
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br />   Oh, there’s so much more. “It doesn’t stop there, Randy. It doesn’t stop there.”

  His voice trembled. “Go on.”

  “After the car had passed, they stopped alongside of the road again to toss me out. They left, kicking up dirt all over me. I thought, okay, I can do this, they’re leaving. I survived. Though, they didn’t leave. The car turned around.” Her voice rose to a higher pitch.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Randy beside her, then gave him a quick glance. Tension showed in his face and body language when he turned his head to look upon her. He could very well carry through with his threat to punch something. “I wriggled off to what I had hoped was the side of the road. They came back fast and ran over me…my legs. My ankle and foot were crushed. I need some water.” She released her held breath.

  Randy got up and tread wearily to the kitchen.

  She gathered her strength and kept the tears at bay. She’d told this story enough times to the authorities now that she learned how to be strong on the outside, but she was usually stronger than she was right now. This could break them instead of build them. He’d need time to think it over, and she’d give him time. In fact, she needed time knowing he knew.

  He returned and he handed her the glass of water first, then set down a glass of whiskey. “I don’t know what to say, Roxanne. I just don’t know what to say other than I want to be alone in the desert with the assholes.” He left to pour his own shot.

  She set the water glass on the coffee table, then she drank the shot of whiskey. It was needed. “That’s not all of it,” she continued when he returned.

  “Not all of it?”

  “They had disappeared and I lay there bleeding on the road. Weak. I wriggled my hands free, removed the blindfold, and held it and my hands against my wound as hard as I could, while the pains in my legs were excruciating. I prayed the wounds would stop bleeding, knowing it wouldn’t without help, and that I’d be found before I bled to death. Someone did come!”

  Randy smoothed over the hair lying against her back and left his hand to rest there.

  His hand trembled while touching her. She had to get this over with now. “I had passed out, but teenagers seeking a place to hook up, I think, found me. My phone, too, which those men had tossed out with me. The kid dialed emergency. The girl cried with me and removed her layered shirt to press against my abdomen. They saved me, Randy. They were my guardian angels. I know they were.” Now she cried openly.

  “Sonofabitch, Roxanne!”

  Randy pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead and clenched his head. Without warning, he embraced her and held her tight. If she was going to do this, she couldn’t be held, but maybe he needed held. She gave in for a few moments as he squeezed her tighter.

  Randy stood in front of her. “You think I can’t handle you going through this? That’s why you stayed away? I’m more of a man than that. Tristan and Nora both knew this?” he asked sternly.

  “Randy—”

  “Answer me,” he thundered out.

  “Yes. Don’t blame them. I swore them to secrecy.”

  He sat beside her again. Anger burned in his brown orbs, but they warmed. The compassion in his eyes showed the real man—the man her conscience told her she knew. “Give me your hand.” He did. She laid his open palm on her upper thigh and slowly eased it down her leg until he felt the hard prosthetic. “Yes, I lost my crushed foot and ankle and part of my leg below the knee.” She sniffled as she tried to hold back a flood of tears. “I was damaged internally from the knife wound.”

  “You’re a dancer and you lost your foot.” Randy stood brusquely. “That cowardly-bastard, sonofabitch of a man you were married to is in my sights. How do I find him, Roxanne?” He took her upper arms to pull her up to his chest, held her, and he wouldn’t let her escape his embrace though she tried. “What a bastard. I don’t know how, but I’ll help you prove he did it.” He held her tighter. “Stop struggling. Let me hold you, for God’s sake!”

  Weakness crept over her now, and she sobbed as she pressed her cheek against his strong and willing chest harboring a gentle heart. “That’s why…why I couldn’t, why I didn’t return your messages. I was broken, Randy—broken in all manner of living. No way could I have asked you to accept this, this change when I didn’t know if I could. I’m no longer the same person, and you’re right about me being different.”

  “Who wouldn’t be? You’re in there somewhere.” Randy lifted her chin. “I wouldn’t have turned my back on you, and I don’t plan on it now, but it’s up to you.”

  She nodded. No words would come out right away. “We can’t do all the things we talked about—”

  “Minor issues. I remember your determination.” He handed her a tissue. “You’ll succeed if you choose to. If you want to dance again, you’ll dance. It took you years of training. That proves you have grit.”

  “How can I dance? How can I work in the theatre, or do any other public performances? Who will hire me? It’s my livelihood, my future, my dream as much as those horses are yours. In Broken Arrow, before coming here, I had been doing what I could at the theater minus dancing, mainly to remain in the environment I love. But I’m still healing.”

  “You’ll find a way. I know people…veterans who have lost limbs. They’ve learned how to cope. We’ll talk to them.”

  “It’s such a burden, and I can’t expect you to do things like that for me.”

  “Like hell!” Holding her, he pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m not letting you give up, and I aim to prove, you can have the same life with a few adjustments.” He held her out from his body. “Inside, you’re the same Roxanne Connor to me. I knew something wasn’t right, but I never guessed that. Hell, I wondered why you gave up your skinny jeans.” He gave her a loving smile.

  “Let me sit.” She moved away and sat back down. “I need to get a new prosthetic, too. I never thought about dancing again.”

  “You love dancing. Give yourself time to heal and for the pain to go away. Call your dream being postponed, not over. You know like with one of my stubborn horses—”

  Roxanne smiled. “Thanks!”

  “There’s my girl. I love your smile. Why don’t you sleep in my bed tonight and get some real rest instead of going home to a lonely house?”

  She’d love to sleep in his bed. But…

  “We’ve shared my bed before.”

  Yeah, that was all. Shared the bed, not each other—that way. Yawning was her answer, for going back to her mattress on the floor wasn’t too appealing. “I’ll take the couch.” She patted the cushion. “It’s a good old couch, Randy. I insist on sleeping on it. It definitely smells better here than my place with all the painting.”

  “I insist you don’t sleep on the couch.” He slapped his thigh. “Dang, my bed isn’t made. I washed the sheets earlier.”

  “You called me determined, buddy, so I insist I do.” He walked out of the room and disappeared down the hallway. She glanced around the living room. He said it was messy. It wasn’t. The sofa fit here, and it was new compared to some other things in the house. The comfortable easy chair had remained. A new floor lamp stood beside a round side table. His spot in the evening when he came in from work?

  “Here you go.” He dropped a blanket and sheets onto the coffee table then held his hand out. “Sit over here while I lay these out.”

  “I’ll make it. Why don’t you go make your bed so it’ll be ready when you get in it?”

  “I’ll probably sit up a while. I won’t bother you, and there’s a couple things I want to work on.” Randy leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Consider me your shield tonight. I bet you don’t sleep too soundly anymore.”

  She stood and took the sheet to spread out over the cushions. Randy tossed the pillow to the sofa and spread out the blanket over the end. Roxanne observed her clothes but she’d make do.

  “Hey, I’ll find you something to sleep in. Those nice looking and tight jeans hugging t
hose sexy hips can’t be too comfortable for sleeping.” He left the room, but returned in a flash with a folded pair of pajamas.

  Roxanne laughed as he handed her white pajamas with red hearts. “Tell me these aren’t yours, Mr. Drake.”

  “Are you a smartass now, Ms. Connor? They belong to Brooke, my sister. She rarely leaves her husband to visit, but she left these here with a few other items in the closet for when she does come along.” Randy snickered and eyed her up and down. “A t-shirt would be sexy.”

  Their gazes connected as he smiled, which reminded her of why she had fallen for him in the first place. His subtle hint of sexiness came natural. Tonight, she was more positive about her future than she had been in eight and a half months. Could she really dance again?

  An hour with Randy was all it took to give her hope? “The PJs will be fine. Save the t-shirt for another night.” Take that, Randy Drake. Roxanne strolled toward the bathroom, but looked over her shoulder and smiled. His gaze had followed after her. Now, the big question hit her in the face. Would she remove the prosthesis tonight? It’d hurt so badly to leave it on. Maybe after he went to bed, she’d remove it.

  She took a detour and followed him to the bedroom. “You’ve done a few things to the place since I was here. New appliances. The bed’s new. Wow, I’ve never seen a gray leather headboard. It looks manly. Sexy.”

  Randy shook out the fitted-sheet and put it on his bed. He shook the flat, top sheet and out fell sexy, purple bikini underwear. His opened mouth and widened eyes immediately went to where they dropped. Then he lifted his eyes to hers.

  Oh no, I didn’t… “Randy, I’m sorry.” She turned away to leave. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone. I…”

  He caught her in the hallway and took hold of her arm. “Dammit. I’m not seeing anyone.”

  Trying to read his eyes at the moment, she couldn’t understand what she saw there. “I doubt Brooke’s panties are in your bed.”

  He shuddered, giving her a vague glance. “Don’t even say something so silly.” Twisting around, he went back into his bedroom, sat on the trunk at the foot of the bed, and lowered his head into his hands.