by Cat Johnson
Mmm. Sage. Thoughts of her sweet smile and hot little body raised his spirits, but didn’t do a damn thing to solve the issue at hand.
He had walked Sage to the door after dinner. Maybe his parents might believe he’d asked her to drive him then. Though the fact that his trailer was missing when he was supposed to be in a car with Sage might be a clue he was lying, even to his dense, self-absorbed father. Maybe he could say it was parked at her house, but his mother might check with Grams.
Shit. He should have stayed in New Jersey.
“Well, time for work.” His father’s chair scraped back from the table. He stood and headed for the door.
Watching his father leave without another word, Mustang figured he wasn’t going to get as much as a simple “good luck with the operation” or hell, a “don’t die on the table because I’m not paying to bury you” from him.
The man was halfway to the door when he turned back. “Don’t forget to ask the doctor when you can start work.”
Mustang set his jaw. “I’ll ask.” I’ll ask when I can get the hell away from here.
With a satisfied nod, he was gone.
After that beginning, the day could only get better, even with the broken bone and surgery. Just being away from his father lifted a dark cloud from Mustang’s brain. The drugs they gave him at the hospital didn’t hurt either.
“Michael. I’m going to give you a little something I call giggle juice when I’m talking to the kids, but it’s really—” Sticking the IV needle into Mustang’s right arm, the doctor spoke in that way all doctors did as they tried to make even complex things sound simple.
“That’s okay. I don’t need to know any more than that. Giggle juice is just fine. And call me Mustang.” Feeling queasy from just looking at the needle sliding into his vein, Mustang thought it best to interrupt before he went any further with the explanation.
“That’s right. The famous Mustang Jackson. We have a bit of a celebrity here with us today.” He smiled and spoke to the nurse while injecting a syringe full of what Mustang guessed was the giggle juice into the IV line.
Mustang averted his gaze and tried to concentrate on the mint green walls instead of the steady drip, drip of liquid slowly filtering into his arm. Even the toughest men had their weaknesses. His was needles.
A nurse with an ass the size of Texas steered a wheelchair through the door and over to the bed. “Hop on in here, sweetie. You qualify for a free ride to the operating room.”
Mustang started to protest that he could walk when he started to feel spacey. Resolved that he would be pretty much powerless to stop her and not caring so much anymore, he let the nurse help him into the chair. His IV bag full of giggle juice came along for the ride as she wheeled him through the double doors to surgery.
Time started to pass in strange ways and the next thing he knew, they were telling him to hop up onto the operating table. In a haze, he lay down, crossing his legs like he always did when he was relaxing.
“Uncross your legs, please.” The anesthesiologist was less of a people person than the doctor. No joking around. Just orders.
Mustang was pretty sure he complied with the request, but couldn’t be sure. He wasn’t aware of another thing until he woke up in recovery, alone, starving and feeling like he’d downed a bottle of tequila.
If only that were true…
“Look who’s awake. How do you feel?” The well-rounded nurse walked closer to the bed.
“Thirsty. Hungry too, I think.”
“Good. We’ll get you something to drink and eat as soon as the doctor sees you.”
The doctor walked around the curtain right on cue. “Hey, there. Do I hear someone’s hungry?”
Food would be good, but a report that he’d be back riding sooner instead of later would be even better. “Did everything go all right, doc? With the operation, I mean.”
Consulting the chart at the end of the bed, the doctor nodded. “Perfect. The ulna was twisted. Basically, half of the bone did a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn when you broke it. We had to go in, twist it back around and then secure it with a plate. You are now the proud new owner of one metal plate and four screws, but the bone will heal just fine.”
Good thing vivid visuals of snapped bones in his body didn’t bother Mustang as much as needles did or that would have been way too much information. “Am I gonna set off the metal detectors at the airport now?”
Sticking his pen back into his pocket, the doctor laughed. “No. The new metal we use doesn’t set off metal detectors.”
Mustang’s woozy brain spared a brief moment to consider why criminals didn’t just get guns made out of this new metal if it didn’t set off the detectors. He wrestled his focus back onto what was really important. “When do you think I’ll be able to use the arm again?”
He replaced the chart at the foot of the bed. “That depends what we’re talking about. As long as you’re careful, I don’t see why by tomorrow you couldn’t do most everything you’re used to doing, just with the sling on. You can drive and shower as long as you keep the bandages from getting wet.”
“And when can I ride again?”
The doctor shaking his head had both Mustang’s hopes and gut sinking.
“I will be able to ride again, right?”
“You will, yes. Mustang, you’re not the first professional cowboy I’ve patched up. This is Texas, you know. I’m telling you right now, you get back on a bull before you’re ready and I can make no guarantees that it won’t end your career.”
Mustang took a second to breathe and resolve himself to that. “Okay.”
The doctor raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean you’ll follow my advice or are you just going to do what you want anyway?”
“It means I’m not ready to retire.” Even if that meant having to swallow his pride for the next four months. “I’ll do what it takes to go back into competition one-hundred percent healthy, doc. I promise.”
“Good to hear.” He turned to the nurse. “Let’s find him some lunch and see if we can’t get him out of here by this afternoon.”
Mustang sighed. Didn’t that figure? The one time he would have actually preferred to remain in the hospital for a while they were sending him home. It looked like his luck hadn’t improved much. Though the operation had gone right and his arm would heal. There was no way Mustang could complain about that.
***
“Grams. I think I’ll drive over to the Jackson’s. You know, to pick up the plates I brought the empanadas over on and forgot to bring back.”
“You don’t need to do that, mija. Myra said she’d drop them off later in the week. She just couldn’t do it today. Michael had his operation today.”
As if that hadn’t been the only thing on her mind all day. “Yeah, I know. Have you heard from her since?”
Sage’s grandmother shook her head. “No, mija.”
“Oh. I was just wondering how it went. Maybe I should call and see if she needs me to pick anything up for her at the store. I mean, if she’s home taking care of Mustang she may not want to leave.”
Sage glanced up and saw an amused expression on her grandmother’s face. “What?”
“Nothing. I changed my mind. Why don’t you go get those plates now, that way you can ask in person if she needs anything. Maybe I’ll make more empanadas and try and put some weight on that boy. Make sure you tell him I expect to see him here at least once before he leaves town again.”
Before he leaves. That was a very real reminder to Sage. He may be here now, but he would still go away again.
“Okay, Grams. I’ll run over right away, you know, to get the plates. I’m just going to get out of my work clothes first.”
Her grandmother smiled. “Good idea. Put on that pretty blue dress of yours.”
“You don’t think it’s too much?” She’d worn it to her graduation ceremony and the party afterward.
“No, mija. I think it’s perfect.”
“Okay.” S
age nodded and, pulse racing, took off to change clothes.
Chapter Six
“Do you want something else? Ice cream maybe?”
Memories of when he’d had his tonsils out years ago and his mother had given him all the ice cream he wanted had Mustang grinning. “No thanks, Ma. I’m fine.”
“I’m just going to get a start on dinner then. You rest.”
Apparently she was going to feed him until his arm either healed or he got so fat he couldn’t ride bulls anymore.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Recuperation on his mama’s couch hadn’t been as bad as Mustang anticipated so far. Then again, he’d only been released from the hospital for a few hours and his father hadn’t gotten home from work yet. He glanced at his watch. He still had another hour or so of peace and quiet. He intended on taking advantage of it.
He’d barely closed his eyes for a little mid-afternoon snooze when there was a light tap on the back door followed by a voice Mustang recognized immediately greeting his mother.
“Can I get you something to drink, darlin’?”
“No, thank you, Mrs. Jackson.”
“You let me know if you change your mind. Michael’s right inside.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Smiling, he waited for her to come around the corner from the kitchen and when she did, his grin got wider.
“Hey there, Little Bit.” Damn she looked good in that blue dress. Mustang’s ass was dragging after the surgery, but now she was in the room he felt wide awake.
“How are you feeling?” She kept her voice low, he supposed in deference to his recuperation.
“I’m good.” Even better now that she was there.
“You don’t have a cast on?” Perched on the edge of the chair next to the couch, she eyed his bandaged arm in the sling.
“Nope. The steel plate or whatever kind of space-age metal they put in me does the job of the cast. I just need the ace bandages and sling for the next few months or so to support it.” Hopefully she’d keep visiting regularly and make those months more bearable. “I have to go back in a week and get the staples yanked out of the incision though.”
She cringed. Apparently she felt about staples the way he felt about needles. “You know, if you need a ride anywhere while you’re here, just give me a call. I’d be happy to drive you wherever you need me to.”
He pulled his eyes away from where the neckline of her dress had gaped so he could just see the lacey edge of her bra. “I think I might take you up on that offer.”
Sure the doc had said he could drive himself, but having Sage drive him would sure be nice, especially if she was wearing that little number she had on now.
“Okay. Great. I’ll give you my cell-phone number.” She grabbed the pen from the table where his mother had left it after they’d done the crossword puzzle in the paper together and looked around for something to write on.
Mustang felt in his jeans pocket and came out with a fuel receipt from when he’d filled up on the highway between Trenton and Magnolia. Had it only been a few days ago that he’d left the circuit and headed home? It felt like a million years, though spending time with his father always felt like that.
He handed the small scrap of paper to her. She jotted down her number and then gave it back to him. Perhaps having that new cell phone wasn’t such a bad thing after all. He’d program her number right in, if he could figure out how.
“Thank you, Little Bit.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”
“Nope.” He grinned. If she only knew she had been starring in his painkiller-induced daydreams ever since their meal together.
“Hmm. Maybe I should start calling you Michael again then.”
Mustang laughed. “Darlin’, you can call me whatever you want.”
That offer came out a bit more flirty than it should have considering he’d decided Sage would be off-limits while he was home. Although, what harm could a little innocent flirting do?
One dark eyebrow shot up. “I’ll remember that.”
“I hope you do.” Damn, she could go from innocent to vixen at the drop of a hat. He liked it. Mustang wondered briefly what she’d call him, what terms of endearment she’d use with him in bed. His conscience poked at him. Sage was off-limits.
“I found the video on the Internet from when you broke your arm.” Luckily, she changed the subject to safe territory. She touched his good arm lightly. “I’m sorry. I know you’re out of competition until the fall.”
“How do you know that?” He hadn’t even told his parents exactly how long he’d be out of competition, for obvious reasons. If he needed to make an escape from the paternal torture or life as a prison guard, he’d just pretend he was going back to join up with the circuit.
She blushed and lowered her eyes. “I read it on the pro-bull-riders injury report online.”
He frowned. “There’s an injury report?”
“Yeah. On the Internet.” She nodded.
One day he would most likely have to give in and at least learn about computers, if not actually get one. But what was more amazing than his injury being all over the web was Sage. She had actually taken the time to research him online.
Sage was interested and Mustang found that very interesting. She sat so close he could easily admire her dark eyes, inherited from her Mexican grandmother. Then there were those lips, perfectly shaped for kissing. Not to mention those hips he’d love to grab and hold on to tightly while he took them both on a wild ride.
He shook off that thought. “Well, while I’m here, however long that is, it’s nice catching up with you again. You and Grams are good people. The kind of people I miss when I’m away.”
“And Rosemary too?” She said it and watched him closely, almost like she was waiting for his reaction. “Do you miss her?”
He hadn’t exactly been thinking about Rosemary when he was talking about the good people of Magnolia. “Sure. Her too.”
Rosemary had always treated Sage like an annoying little sister, when she wasn’t outright ignoring her. He supposed he was guilty of ignoring her too a few times near the end. Right before high school graduation when Sage was hanging around them constantly and all he wanted to do was find an opportunity to get his hand in Rosemary’s shorts. He’d ended up getting more than his hand in there.
Mustang raised his good arm and brushed a finger down one side of Sage’s suddenly somber face. “You sure have grown up. Going to college and working as a teacher. Rosemary has nothing on you.”
She finally met his gaze. “There’s a thing or two I don’t have that she has.”
“Are you are talking about a husband and a kid?” He’d learned all about Rosemary marrying Bobby over dinner. Not that Sage had come out and said her sister had trapped her husband into marriage by getting pregnant, but Mustang had read between the lines of Sage’s tone and expression. “I wouldn’t be so quick to rush into that if I were you. You’ve got a lot of living to do before all that.”
Sage studied him closely for a moment. “You’re right. I do have some living to do.”
Then she leaned in…
The moment her lips neared his, his body tensed, ready to pounce. When her mouth pressed against his, if he hadn’t been in his parents’ living room with his mama mere feet away in the next room, he would have had Sage on that couch beneath him before she could say Woah, Mustang. Sling be damned.
He wasn’t supposed to be kissing Sage. He’d made a deal with himself to steer clear of her while he was home. Maybe if he’d had some clue of what she was about to do, he would have been able to stop it.
Yeah, right. Who was he kidding?
As it was, even with his mother just in the kitchen, Mustang couldn’t stop himself from tangling his hand in Sage’s hair and holding her mouth tighter against his. He didn’t think twice as he tilted his head and plunged his tongue into her mouth. He nearly came in his jeans when she moaned softly against him
as her tongue met his.
Then it was over. She pulled away and when he could concentrate again, he heard his father’s footsteps on the stairs outside.
His mother appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Do you want to stay and eat with us, Sage? Nothing as good as what you’re used to after Maria’s cooking, mind you.”
With that interruption the moment was gone, but the thrill inside him remained.
“Stay,” he whispered, still breathing heavier than normal.
Sage’s gaze met his. He saw a need that matched his own there. It seemed like forever before her eyes finally broke away and she answered his mother. “Thank you, Mrs. Jackson. I’d love to.”
The front door opened and his father stepped through, his gaze zeroing in on Mustang. “Hmmph. I see you’re fine.”
Pleasant as ever. “Yes, sir. I am.”
“Myra, when’s dinner?”
Apparently that was all the concern Mustang was going to get from the man, which was fine with him. Sage was there and that was enough of a distraction to make him forget even about his father.
“In about an hour.”
“I’m going to cut the grass quick. Yell when the food’s done.” His father shot him a look, as if Mustang had been too lazy to cut the grass when he’d gotten home from surgery. Then again, maybe Mustang was just overreacting. He’d had such a chip on his shoulder for most of his life, his father could have brought him a dozen yellow roses in the recovery room and he’d still doubt the man’s sincerity.
He sighed and felt Sage’s touch on his arm. “My grandmother said to tell you that you better come over and visit her. If you tell me when you feel well enough to go out, I’ll come pick you up after I get off work. Any day you want.”
Mustang smiled. “How about tomorrow?”
She raised a brow in surprise. “Really? So soon? Will you feel up to it?”
He heard the mower start. An angry sound, though that could have been a reflection of Mustang’s own biased opinion. Either way, he didn’t want to be around tomorrow evening when his father got home.