“Beer.”
“I heard there was a girl involved.”
“Nope.”
Janie stepped forward. “Don’t be an idiot, Jesse.” She looked at the deputy. “I’m Janie Hansen. I danced with Woody Black, and then with Jesse. We were getting drinks when Woody tried to make me dance with him. Then somebody in the crowd starting talking about betting on Jesse having a girlfriend.”
She’d spoken up without realizing the truth might be embarrassing. Typical. Her cheeks flushed as she went on. “Jesse tried to locate the guy who was harassing him. That’s when the fight started. Everybody was primed for it.”
While the deputy wrote that down, she braved Jesse’s fierce stare to check out the injuries to his face.
“Not too bad. A black eye,” she told him. “Bruises and a split lip.”
“And a two-hundred-dollar fine.” The deputy ripped a page off his pad. “Disorderly conduct.”
“No problem,” Jesse said quietly.
“Oh, sure,” Woody yelled. “Two hundred—hell, two thousand—is no problem for any of them damn Codys. They walk all over the rest of us ’cause they’ve got the big bucks.”
The deputy stepped between Jesse and the roper. “I suggest you get to wherever you’re staying, Mr. Cody. I don’t want to leave the two of you here to start this whole thing over.”
“Not a problem.” Jesse gave Janie a sideways look. “Where’s your friend? Are you two staying together?”
“Um…” Janie scanned the remaining crowd, looking for Dee. “I don’t see her. But I’ve got my truck. I’m ready to go.”
Jesse nodded. “Good.” He took a step forward, faltered and hissed a breath through his teeth.
Janie caught his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing major.” He took another experimental step and hissed again. “I twisted my knee a little, coming off the bull tonight. And I guess I must have twisted it some more inside.”
“Dancing or fighting?”
He shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”
As they walked toward her truck, however, his limp got worse. He leaned against the fender of the truck as soon as they reached it.
Janie saw pain in the set of his mouth. “Can you even drive?”
“Sure.” But his shoulders slumped a little, and his face was pale with fatigue.
“Why don’t I give you a lift to where you’re staying?”
“Are you going into the taxi business? I’m okay, Janie, really.” He stood up straight. “Have a good night. I’m sure I’ll see you around the show tomorrow.” His first step, with the sound leg, went well.
The second step, onto his bad knee, dropped him to the ground on his butt.
Janie sank to her knees beside him. “Maybe you should see—”
He shook his head. “I don’t need a doctor. I’m just tired, maybe punch-drunk.” Then he sighed. “But I probably shouldn’t drive. If you could…”
“No problem.” She helped him to stand up, but left him to get to the passenger side of her truck by himself. Cowboys did have their pride.
Once she had the motor running, she remembered they hadn’t arrived together. “Will your truck be okay here overnight?”
“The county sheriff is a friend of ours. I’ll call and ask him to get it moved to the hotel sometime tonight.”
Janie gazed at him. “The sheriff is your friend? Why didn’t you tell the deputy? He would have forgotten about giving you a ticket.”
“I deserved a ticket as much as anybody. And, as your friend pointed out, two hundred dollars isn’t much for me.”
She stayed quiet for a minute, pondering how she’d agonized over buying a hundred-dollar coat for Las Vegas. “So, where are you staying?”
“The Lodgepole Inn.”
“Oh. Me, too.”
He stared straight ahead. “Then you won’t have to go far to get to your room.”
That was looking on the bright side if ever she’d heard it.
Turning into the parking lot of the Lodgepole Inn a short time later, she saw the usual rodeo hijinks in process—cowboys and girls standing around in open doorways with cups and bottles in their hands, lots of laughter and teasing going on.
Jesse stirred beside her. “My room’s on the other side. If you wouldn’t mind dropping me off, I’ll keep my limp to myself.”
“No problem.” Janie had spotted Dee in the door of the room they shared, with her arms around the waist of Woody Black’s hazer. They’d obviously paired off, for the evening at least. And the last thing Janie wanted to do was stand around and watch them getting cozy.
On the other side of the motel, things were much quieter. Doors were closed, lights off. “I’m about halfway down,” Jesse directed.
Once she’d parked the truck, they sat in silence for a minute. Finally, Jesse sat up straight.
“Thanks for the ride, Janie.” He put a hand over hers, still resting on the steering wheel. “And even more for the dances. I had fun.”
She dared to meet his eyes. “Me, too.” Seeing how his eye had swollen shut, she had to ask, “Would you like some help? I could make up some ice packs, bandage cuts.”
He hesitated so long, she knew she’d been stupid to suggest such a thing. “Never mind—”
“Actually, I’d appreciate the help.” He smiled at her. “Especially the ice.”
“Oh.” Janie couldn’t restrain her own smile. “Good.”
TOO MANY TRIPS TO THE hotel ice machine would raise questions, so Janie drove to a nearby convenience store for ice and drinks. In the meantime, Jesse called the sheriff, then wrestled off his boots and jeans. The stiff denim had made a pretty good brace, keeping the swelling to a minimum, but by the time he rolled up the leg of the sweatpants he’d donned for sleeping, his knee had evolved into a football-size mess, stained purple and blue and red from well above his knee all the way down to the top of his clean sock. With every minute, the pain escalated.
He was sitting on the end of the bed, his foot braced on the only chair in the room, when he heard the key turn in the lock. Carrying bags in each hand, Janie jerked to a stop in the open doorway.
“Yuck,” she said matter-of-factly, after her first glance at his leg. “Are you sure it’s not broken?”
“Pretty sure.” Wincing, he bent the knee to put his foot on the floor, and had to grip the bed on either side of him to keep from passing out. “Just needs ice and a handful of pills,” he said, when he could talk. “I’ll be fine.”
“Here’s the ice.” She took the ten-pound bag into the bathroom and brought back cubes in the hotel ice bucket. “I got plastic bags, too.” She set a shopping sack on the table. “Pain pills, in case you didn’t bring any. Drinks.” Two plastic bottles of soda appeared. “Plus food. I don’t know about you,” she said, with a shy glance in his direction, “but I didn’t get any real dinner. The pizza smelled too good to resist.”
“A woman after my own heart.” He took the ice-filled plastic bag she handed him and placed it on his knee. The ache intensified. “I didn’t count on starting a bar fight before I ate.”
She turned from the table and looked him over. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable with that leg on the bed? Here—” Before he could answer, she began folding the covers back and arranging the two pillows against the headboard.
Straightening up, she stepped back from the bed. “Now you can be comfortable. Or maybe you want a shower? Although I can’t imagine standing on that leg on wet tile would be too safe. You could take a bath—”
Jesse put up a hand, laughing. “Whoa, lady. Why don’t we eat, first? Pour out some of that soda and pull me off a couple of slices.”
Janie nodded decisively. “Good plan.”
They were so hungry, they both finished off their first slice without talking. Jesse glanced over as he reached for his third piece and saw that Janie had put her second one down.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Sure. I was just—” She hesitated. “
Just thinking.”
He sat back against the pillows, waiting. When she didn’t speak, he prodded. “About?”
“The fight. They called you Iceman.”
“Yeah. Stupid.”
She looked at him, he dark eyes troubled. “I’d heard your nickname on the circuit. Even your brothers call you Iceman sometimes. I’m just wondering…why?”
Keep it simple. “I don’t show much emotion when I’m riding. I don’t let on that I’m nervous or excited. I guess folks see that as ‘ice’ in my veins. Iceman.”
Janie nodded, but didn’t look convinced. “I wondered if it had something to do with Laurie.”
Now Jesse put his pizza down. “She’s been gone a long time.”
“But you loved her very much. You were getting married.”
He blew out a sigh. “Yes.” They’d been only weeks away from the wedding when cancer took her life.
“You still wear white hats, like she asked you to do.”
“In this business, you want people to remember you. There aren’t too many white hats in the rodeo arena.”
“And you don’t…you haven’t…had a steady girlfriend since. They call you Iceman because your heart is frozen. No woman has warmed you up.”
Until now. “I’ve been working hard, at home and on the circuit. There hasn’t been time for—for a relationship.”
The warmth in Janie’s face cooled as he watched. She straightened in the chair and picked up her pizza slice. “That’s what you told me in Vegas,” she said. “Better be careful, Jesse. If you wait till there’s enough time, you might find yourself turning into an Iceman for real.”
They finished the rest of the pizza without conversation. Jesse swallowed the last bite of the last piece and sighed. “I might just live, after all.” He leaned forward to get a soda bottle off the table, putting all his weight on his bad knee. With a groan, he threw himself backward on the bed. “Or maybe not.”
When he opened his one good eye, Janie stood over him. “C’mon, Jesse, get into the bed. You know you need to keep your foot up, ice your knee and get whatever sleep you can.”
The thoughts that streamed through his mind had nothing to do with ice and a lot to do with the body heat generated by just looking at Janie Hansen.
Which meant that lying flat on his back right in front of her, wearing soft sweatpants, was not a good idea.
“Right.” He curled to sit up again, bringing on a whole host of aches in his chest and belly and back. He’d have been better off if he’d blown his ride on the bull—he would hurt less. And chances were good nobody would have wanted to take him down a notch at the bar.
But then he wouldn’t have stolen his dances with Janie. He’d rather break a leg than give up those minutes holding her in his arms.
Standing up and limping sideways to the head of the bed took all his willpower. He sank thankfully onto the mattress again, used both his hands to lift his hurt leg and even let Janie pull the sheet and blanket up to his waist.
“That’s fine,” he said, before she could starting tucking him in. “If you’ll hand me the pills and a glass of soda, your official duties will be over for the night.”
He’d set his personal pain-relief arsenal on the dresser next to the TV. Janie went to pick up the bottles but then—nosy woman that she was—stopped to read the labels.
“This is heavy stuff.” She held up one of the narcotic prescriptions. “If you take too much, you might not wake up.”
“I’m careful.” He held out his hand for the meds. “I know what works best for whatever happens.” Selecting one pain-relief pill, he swallowed it with a gulp of soda. “See? That’s it for tonight. All I need is to be able to sleep. And I’m tired enough, that one dose should put me under.”
She gazed at him, her brows drawn straight and low over her eyes. “If you say so. I’ll leave the extra soda by the bed in case you’re thirsty.” Then she wrote her name and 259 on the notepad by the lamp. “That’s my room. If you need something, call.” Once more, she favored him with a shy, sweet smile. “Even if you just want somebody to yell at because you can’t sleep.”
Jesse nodded. “Will do. Now get to your own room. You’re riding tomorrow, too. I’m planning to be there to see you win.”
Her face brightened and flushed at the same time. “That would be terrific. If you were there, I mean.” She backed toward the door. “And if I won.”
“Like tonight,” he reminded her.
“Oh, that’s right. I did win, didn’t I?”
“Uh, yeah. Good night, Janie.”
“’Night, Jesse. Keep your leg up.”
She closed the door and, to his relief, did not return. Jesse wasn’t sure how much longer he could have pretended he wasn’t near screaming with pain. Pain and frustration.
His knee cap might very well be broken. He remembered coming down hard on the concrete floor at the bar, with another guy flung across his shoulders as added weight.
Making a decision, Jesse reached for the high-powered prescription bottle and poured out a dose. He needed to sleep, and mere pain relief wouldn’t help.
To get any kind of rest, he’d have to forget the shape of Janie’s curves under his hands, the press of her breasts against his chest. She’d spoken into his ear, and the whisper of her breath on his skin had driven shivers down his spine and all the way into his fingertips and toes. He’d seen her lips up close, knew how plump and luscious they would feel under his. Maybe, if he fell asleep quickly, he wouldn’t have to remember those impressions—until the morning, anyway.
And if he slept heavily, deeply enough, he wouldn’t have to think about how much differently this night might have ended.
JANIE LEFT HER TRUCK where she’d parked it, near Jesse’s room, and walked around to the other side of the Lodgepole Inn. The partying continued on an even wilder note than when she’d first arrived that night. Sleep would be almost impossible with all this noise going on.
When she reached the room she shared with Dee on the second floor, she discovered the door closed and the curtains in the window drawn. Most distressing was the do-not-disturb sign hanging on the doorknob. What did that mean?
As Janie stood staring, Marina Dodge, the woman she’d beat earlier to win her race, sauntered by. “They won’t poke their heads out till late tomorrow morning, if then.”
“They?”
“Dee and the hazer for that guy who dumped you. Don’t remember his name. Anyway, they got it on hot and heavy out here, then went inside and closed the door.” She grinned maliciously. “Better luck tomorrow night.”
Janie leaned back against the deck rail and tried to think. Dee had a man in their room. Asking him to leave would cause an argument, and she didn’t want to sleep in that bed now, anyway. She hated spending the night in her truck—she always woke up with her back stiff and her legs cramping. The cold would make everything worse. And it had just become very important to win tomorrow’s race.
No other option seemed to be available. But settling into the backseat proved a futile effort—though she was short, the seat was shorter. She didn’t have a pillow or a blanket. The driver’s seat wouldn’t recline far enough, so she couldn’t stretch out flat. What a miserable night this had become.
Turning onto her left side, she felt something stick into her thigh…something in the pocket of her jeans. Grumbling, she twisted around, arched up…and pulled out the key to Jesse’s room.
His room would be dark and quiet. Warm. She could sleep in the chair, with her head on the table. Or…or…
Not giving herself time to think, she slipped out of the truck and left it locked behind her. The empty sidewalk and closed doors were her only witnesses as she tiptoed to Jesse’s room, slipped the key gently into the lock and turned the knob.
She pushed, and the door opened. Releasing the breath she’d been holding, she stuck her head into the room. “Jesse? Jesse, are you still awake?” She’d only left about ten minutes ago.
He didn’t answer. Janie set one foot inside, then the other. “Jesse? Jesse, can you hear me?”
A mumble came from the head of the bed.
She went to stand over him. He lay with his injured leg on top of the covers, the bag of ice still on his knee. Otherwise, he didn’t seem to have moved since she left.
“Jesse, can you hear me?”
His good eye opened. “Janie?”
“It’s me. I can’t get into my room.”
“Bad.” At least, that’s what she thought he said.
“Could I sleep here tonight?”
“Sure…” The word tapered off into a soft snore.
Janie straightened up. Okay, she’d asked, he’d answered. She’d be staying in Jesse’s room tonight. Pulling the chair to face the table, she sat down and rested her head on her folded arms.
A few minutes later, she stretched her legs out in front of her, slouched down and leaned her head back against the edge of the vinyl-covered back cushion.
Next, she tried leaning her head to the right, on her shoulder. Then to the left. She rested her chin on her chest. She curled up on the seat and tried to lay her head on the arm.
An hour passed before she finally admitted that she could not sleep in the chair. A second’s consideration told her she would not sleep on the floor of a hotel room except in case of out-and-out disaster. Same with the bathtub.
Which left only the bed.
Chapter Ten
Jesse kept his eyes shut and let consciousness seep slowly into his brain. As soon as he moved a muscle, every part of his body would start to hurt—might as well put off the agony as long as possible.
He’d rested well, anyway, considering the state of his knee and all the other bruises he’d collected last night. Somehow, he’d managed to roll onto his left side, where he usually slept best. He was warm and comfortable and the room smelled like flowers. What more could he ask?
Then he thought, Flowers?
Jesse took a deep breath, pondering that scent. He cracked open his good eye…and pretty much stopped breathing altogether.
His left arm stretched across the bed beside him, as usual. Janie was sleeping with her head on his upper arm, which was absolutely not the usual. That explained the perfume.
Jesse: Merry Christmas, Cowboy Page 12