Her Lucky Cowboy

by Jennifer Ryan

  “Come on, baby. Let’s go someplace and talk. I miss you.” He leaned in to kiss her neck, but missed when she kinked her neck to keep him away. “Don’t be like that. Give me some sugar, baby.”

  “No. Let me go, Rowdy. I don’t have time for your shit right now. I need to stop off at the pharmacy and get my dad’s medication.”

  “I’m just asking for a few minutes of your time,” he pleaded.

  “For what? A quick fuck so you can scratch an itch. I’m not your girl. I’m not your baby. We’re done.”

  “We’ll never be done. You and me, we love each other.”

  “I don’t love you anymore, Rowdy. You need to move on.”

  Stunned she’d say such a thing, he let loose his hold, and she bolted for her car and jumped inside.

  Furious she kept taking off on him, he ran for his truck, climbed in, and followed her. He caught her at the light and yelled out his open window, “Pull over, Brandy, we need to talk.”

  “Leave me alone.”

  He blew through the stop light right behind her. She sped up. So did he. He honked at her to get her to pull over. She didn’t, and his anger flashed. He pulled into the clear oncoming lane and honked again, steering closer to her to get her to stop at the curb. She turned to miss him, but sped up and got ahead of him again. He hit the gas, pissed off and feeling surly, and slammed his front end into hers. She swerved, nearly lost control, and slammed on the brakes, her right front tire practically up on the curb. He hit the brakes and came to a stop, his truck blocking her in. Now he had her. She couldn’t get away.

  He got out. She sat in the front seat, her phone in her shaking hands. He rushed her and pulled the door open. She screamed, “No, Rowdy, please, leave me alone.”

  He grabbed her arm, took the phone, and pulled her out of the car.

  “Stop this. Please,” she pleaded.

  He pushed her up against the side of the car, pressing her into it with his body to keep her from running away. She struggled, pushing against his chest with her hands. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snarled.

  “Me?” Her voice rose. “You ran me off the road. You hit my car. You’re drunk. Again.” She squirmed to get free, but he gripped her arm hard to make her stop. She yelped, then stopped and settled down.

  “I had a couple of drinks.” He shrugged like it was nothing. Because it wasn’t anything. He could hold his liquor.

  “A couple too many.”

  “Why the hell are you always nagging me about that? I know my limits.”

  “You’re drunk and driving. You could have killed me.” She smacked him on the shoulder with a flat hand.

  He pressed his hands to the hood of the car on each side of her shoulders, letting the weight of his body hold hers. He caught sight of the photo of Kaley on her phone screen. He must have hit something to make it come on. He stared at the photo for a moment and thought of everything he wanted and everything they’d lost these last months.

  “How did it all fall apart?” he asked, genuinely perplexed that she didn’t want to be with him, when he tried so hard to do right by her. It all went to shit sometimes because she pushed. She flirted with other guys. She never did what he wanted or said.

  “Rowdy, you know why I don’t want to be with you.”

  He swiped his thumb over the phone screen to see more pictures of his little girl. Instead, he read the text messages that came before and after the photo she sent to Dane.

  He’s why she couldn’t be with him. Some friend Dane turned out to be, stealing his girl.

  “You’re still fucking that asshole.”

  Brandy planted both hands on his chest and shoved him back. He lost his balance, his head spun, and he stumbled. She ran for it down the street.

  He didn’t think, just went after her, grabbed her arm, spun her around, and swung. The blood spurted from her mouth when his fist smashed into her beautiful face. She fell to the ground, her head thumping against the asphalt, her cheek scraped and bleeding from sliding on the pavement. Limp. Lying in a heap. Knocked out cold.

  Like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head, he realized with stunned disbelief what he’d done. He kneeled beside her and patted her face. “Brandy. Wake up. Wake up!”

  She didn’t move. Fear stole his breath. He checked up and down the street. No one in sight. He couldn’t leave her lying in the road. She’d come to, call the cops, and he’d end up in jail. Again. Not fucking going to happen. He’d take her to his place. They’d talk. She’d see reason. She’d forgive him again. She always did, because she knew he didn’t really mean it. Sometimes he lost his temper. If she’d cooperate, damnit, this wouldn’t happen.

  He pulled her up and over his shoulder, then rushed her to his truck just as another car turned the corner. Keeping his back to it so they didn’t see his face, he got Brandy inside before the vehicle drove by. He ran around to the driver’s side, gunned the engine, and tore out of there, his tires squealing. He checked the rearview mirror, hoping no one else saw them leave. He’d forgotten to close her car door.

  “Fuck!” He slammed the heel of his hand on the steering wheel. The sting went up his arm. He looked down beside him and smacked Brandy in the head. Her head rolled, but she didn’t wake up. “You fucking bitch. You ruin everything.”

  He pulled the bottle of whiskey from under the seat and took a long pull, letting the liquid burn its way down his throat to his gut. He shut off everything inside of him and drove, no real plan in mind. He thought about what he’d say to the bitch sleeping beside him. She was either going to come around to his way of thinking, or this was the last fucking time he tried to get her to see how much he loved her.

  He pulled into the driveway at his place on the outskirts of town. He needed to feed the horses and do some chores, all the things he’d neglected following Brandy around, trying to get her to see reason.

  She moaned and rolled her head sideways, pressing her hand to her swollen face. Startled, she sat up and turned to face him. She glanced around. “How did we get here?”

  “You passed out.”

  She moved her jaw side to side and pressed her hand to her cheek. “You knocked me out.” Her voice trembled. Tears filled her eyes, then spilled over.

  “You won’t listen.”

  She grabbed her phone off the dashboard, where he must have tossed it when he’d gotten in, grabbed the door handle, and tried to get out. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her back. She screamed, reached back to his hand to get free, and pinched the skin at his wrist, twisting painfully, making him let go. She turned and slapped him across the face. The sting surprised him and sent a tidal wave of rage rushing through his veins.

  What happened next didn’t register past the red haze in his mind until he looked down and found his hands wrapped around her throat, her eyes wide and lifeless. His fingers ached from squeezing so hard.

  Her limp hands lay over his. He wished she’d stop biting her nails. He liked a woman who had pretty hands. Brandy didn’t.

  He let loose her throat, ignoring the angry red marks on her neck, and traced his finger over her brow, pulling a lock of golden hair away from her face. He sank back into the driver’s seat and stared out the window at his overflowing mailbox hung next to his front door.

  So many things he needed to do that he’d put off far too long. Only one thing left to do now. Make that cocksucker pay for stealing his woman. He’d let that asshole get away with showing him up far too long. Dane always got what he wanted. Not this time. Rowdy would take everything from him. Then he’d come back here, get Kaley, and they’d live a good life together. He’d take care of his little girl. No fucking way that dickhead took her, too.

  Some methodical part of his mind took over. He drove out of his driveway with a sense of purpose. He’d take his time. Find the one thing Dane cared about and couldn’t live without. Then Rowdy would take it away and let Dane feel the depth of loss Rowdy felt now. Right before he killed the bastard.r />
  Chapter 10

  Bell walked out of the locker room at the hospital, teetering on her new high heels. She loved the black beaded straps that crisscrossed her feet and went around her ankle. Not her usual style, but she wanted to look nice next to Ella, who had style and poise. She always seemed so put together and chic. The best Bell came up with was a deep amethyst dress with a tight bodice, square neckline, and cap sleeves. The skirt dropped from just under her breasts down to her knees and swished when she walked. She should have gotten more sensible shoes. Her feet would ache by the end of the night.

  “Dr. Bell, do you have a minute?”

  “I’m sorry, Tim, but I’m on my way out.” Dr. Hamberg worked in the ER. She’d covered for him last week when he’d needed a night off to take his wife out for their anniversary.

  He swept his gaze from her hair to her feet. His eyes snapped back to her hair. She’d taken a bit more time, curling the top and slicking back the sides. She loved the edgy look. She’d seen a model with something similar in one of the dozen magazines she’d scoured, looking for a stylish dress, shoes, and hairstyle she could match in real life.

  “Uh, you look really great.”

  “Thank you. If you’ll excuse me.”

  “I guess you can’t cover for me tonight.”

  “No, I’m sorry, I’ve got plans.”

  “You never go out. Ever. What’s the special occasion?”

  “A fund-raiser for the Crystal Creek Clinic.”

  “Right, you work there on your days off.”

  She never had days off. Maybe she should take some. Go shopping for more stylish clothes. See a movie. She hadn’t been in months. Find a new restaurant. Try her hand at dating. She’d been on a few dates in medical school, but never more than two with the same person. Too focused on her studies, feeling like an outcast when the other students were older than her, she’d given up on her personal life. Stick with what you knew and were good at.

  “Well, have a good time.”

  “Thank you. I hope you find someone to take your shift.”

  “Probably better if I stay here—my wife is home with the flu.”

  “You’d probably be okay if you got your flu shot.”

  “Oh, I got it, but that’s not going to help me survive my cranky wife.” He smiled and walked away down the hall.

  “Bring her home some soup from Martin’s Café. She’ll appreciate it.”

  Tim turned and nodded his head. “Score some points for all the long hours I work.”

  “Make her feel better and get a smile.”

  “I love it when she smiles.”

  Bell walked out the hospital side door to her Jeep in the doctor’s parking lot. Tonight, she didn’t exactly look the part of a woman who drove a Jeep. She smiled, liking this new facet of herself.

  She drove through downtown to the hotel where the event was being held. She didn’t know what to expect when she got there, but it certainly wasn’t all the banners advertising the occasion.

  She drove to the hotel entrance and sprung for valet parking. Easier than having to find a parking spot amidst all these other guests. This way, she didn’t have to walk so far in her heels.

  She entered the lobby with several couples. The ladies looked lovely in their cocktail dresses, the men in their dark suits. Apparently, she’d missed the memo about wearing one of those little black dresses. She drew stares from the men and women. Self-conscious, she smoothed her hand down the skirt, hoping she hadn’t missed the part that everyone was to wear black.

  She followed the noise and the other people to the huge ballroom. At two hundred dollars a plate, she hadn’t expected this many people to attend. The place was packed. Alone, she smiled as she passed people, hoping to spot someone she knew—namely, one of the Bowden family. Preferably not Dane. The man didn’t know when to quit. She wasn’t his type. They had little in common.

  Liar.

  They actually had found a lot they had in common on their long phone calls.

  Which you take every night because you like talking to him.

  Food seemed to be the one thing they always found common ground on. Dane had traveled across several states and had discovered many good restaurants, not always on the beaten path. She liked to find those small restaurant gems, too. She loved hearing him talk about his horses like they were his children. Each of them had their own personality. She hated to admit how much she’d like to go to his place and see them up close. She’d love to learn to ride. Too bad she had no intention of giving in to that desire with Dane. Or any other desire. No way.

  She wasn’t going to end up like her mother—a man’s cast-off one-night stand.

  Ella and Gillian spotted her from across the room. They looked lovely in their dresses, their hair done in pretty styles. Gillian glowed in a gorgeous turquoise-and-cream dress that hugged her curves and made her hair color shift from blonde to red. Ella wore a midnight blue gown that sparkled with a silver sheen. She’d pulled her light brown hair up into a simple bun with spiral tendrils framing her pretty face. Bell was grateful she wasn’t the only one who’d chosen to wear a color. The three of them stood out amongst most of the guests. Several other ladies dared to wear red, pink, and golden-hued dresses, but they were definitely the minority.

  “Bell, you look beautiful. Where did you find that dress?” Ella asked.

  “A boutique I pass on my way to my favorite restaurant for lunch. The designer opened it about six months ago. I’ve always wanted to go in and buy, but mostly I window-shop. The window displays are amazing. Kind of trendy chic with a touch of elegance.”

  “You’ve got to take me. I love the simplicity of your dress. It has just enough flair in the details in the sleeves and neckline. It’s stunning. Of course, on you anything would look great.” Ella’s compliment went right to Bell’s heart.

  She’d never had a girlfriend, but every time she was with Ella and Gillian, they seemed so laid back and easy to get along with. They never looked or spoke to her like she was different.

  “You did something different with your hair. I love that style,” Gillian said. “I wish I had the guts to chop my hair short.”

  “Don’t you dare.” Blake stepped up to his wife and handed her a drink. “I love your hair long. Bell, you look fantastic. Dane’s eyes are going to pop out of his head when he sees you.”

  “Where is bachelor number one?” Ella asked.

  Blake used his beer glass to point out Dane, standing amidst a horde of blondes with legs that went on for miles, all dressed in short black dresses.

  “He’s like one of those bug zapper lights. He attracts every blonde in a hundred-yard radius,” Bell commented.

  Everyone cracked up. She hadn’t meant to say that thought out loud. Dane heard the ruckus and fixed his penetrating gaze on her. She felt the stare heat her skin as he scanned her from head to foot. A smile spread across his face and lit his eyes. She couldn’t help smiling back, because when he looked at her that way, damn if she didn’t feel beautiful.

  “Told you,” Blake said. “Three, two, one. Here he comes.”

  Sure enough, Dane broke free of the crowd of ladies around him without so much as an “excuse me.” The women stared at his back, disgruntled frowns and glares on their overly made-up faces. Bell had gone for subtle makeup, letting the dress color enhance her blue eyes, along with a soft lavender shadow and black liner and mascara. She’d painted her lips a shade darker than her natural color.

  She stood out, but for all the right reasons tonight. She pulled off the look and felt her confidence grow with each step Dane took in her direction, his eyes locked on her.

  “That is a man on a mission,” Ella said.

  “Look out, Bell, here he comes,” Gillian added.

  “There’s no getting away,” Blake said. “He will hunt you down.”

  Her stomach knotted with anticipation. She’d never had a man look at her the way Dane did. Yes, she believed he wanted her. For what and ho
w long, she didn’t know.

  Unable to take her eyes off Dane, she tried to decide what she liked best about his new look. His tailored suit fit his wide shoulders and lean waist to perfection. Not even his uneven gait and crutches took away from his determined stride. He’d shaved the usual scruff from his square jaw and combed his dark hair back into a sophisticated style. The man looked like a magazine cover model. He’d sell a million copies with all that arrogant male magnetism. She wasn’t immune to his good looks or his charm, but she tried to be for her own sanity. Giving in to him would only end in disaster. For her. He’d move on with any one of the blonde Bettys snarling behind him.

  Dane’s heart stopped cold when he saw her standing there, looking so damn beautiful, then his whole body went hot with the wave of lust that shot through him. Every time he’d seen her in the past, she’d been in either casual clothes, work attire, or, during their last appointment, scrubs. Nothing prepared him to see her in that dark purple dress, her hair done up in a funky style that contrasted her sweet personality and hinted at a wilder side he wanted to get to know better. The woman constantly surprised him. He liked that about her.

  “Hey, gorgeous. Purple is definitely my new favorite color. You take my breath away.”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls,” she shot back.

  “Only to the ones who deserve it. So far, that’s only you.”

  The skeptical look in her eyes frustrated him. Nothing he ever said to her went down smooth. She always winced, like it left a sour taste in her mouth. He’d have to try harder to get her attention and make her believe him.

  Well, he had her attention. The heat in her eyes nearly scorched him when she stared at him hobbling across the room. He wanted to be off these damn crutches. Hard to pull off strong and confident with a busted leg. He’d stick with arrogant, but it only put her off. She’d call him on being cocky. So he was left with trying to be himself and hoping that was enough.