by Tessa Layne
“It’s amazing how much you’ve improved,” she said with an approving smile. “If only all my patients worked as hard as you did.”
“Give ‘em a reason and they might.”
“That so?”
Cody nodded. “Sure. People only work hard when they’re motivated.”
“What motivated you, then?”
Cody didn’t answer. Instead, he urged Jackpot into a light canter and Angel followed suit. Then he spurred Jackpot into a gallop and with a devilish glance over his shoulder, dared her silently to join him.
Maybe it was the late afternoon sun, maybe it was the desire to shed the blanket of sadness and worry that seemed to plague her. Or maybe it was the fact that Cody’s look dared her to let go, and for once, she wanted to. Truly wanted to. But she spurred Angel into a gallop and gave the horse her head, racing over the pastures, up and down the gentle hills that dotted their property until at last Cody slowed to a walk, as winded as Jackpot.
Carolina couldn’t wipe the grin from her face as she laughed, breathless. “I haven’t done that since… I don’t know when.”
“You were overdue for a little excitement.” He grinned back at her. “A little danger looks good on you.”
“Is that what this was?”
“In your book it is.”
“Is that what you think? That I’m too scared to run my horse across familiar territory?”
“Prove me wrong,” Cody answered lightly, but with a challenge in his eye.
“Fine. I will do this every day.”
“Be careful what you promise, sweetheart. I’ll hold you to it.”
“You know what? Fine. I will race you. Every morning. This… is not dangerous.” It wasn’t. She knew the dips and curves of her family’s acreage like the back of her hand.
“Isn’t it? Angel could stumble in a woodchuck hole and toss you. Break your neck.”
She snorted. “Unlikely.”
“She could slip on a wet stone, going downhill.”
“I wouldn’t run her when it’s wet outside.”
Cody pinned her with a triumphant look. “I thought you said you’d race me every day.”
“Fine. You made your point,” she conceded. “I’m too cautious for my own good. But seriously? What is it with all this death-defying crap everyone does?” She waved her arms. “I don’t get it. Cassie getting shot at and flying helicopters. I mean, really. Those things drop straight out of the sky if something goes wrong. And what about Parker scrunching himself up in a little aluminum cover while a forest fire roars over him? I mean, how does Cassie handle that?”
She made her point with her eyebrows. “And don’t even get me started with you and Colton - the death wish duo. I don’t know how you can stomach jumping on wild animals and getting tossed like rag dolls. I mean, what’s the appeal?”
Cody lifted a shoulder. “The thrill, I guess.”
“Because normal life is too boring?”
“Maybe. Sure.”
“How can you think going to bed every night knowing the people you love are okay is boring? What’s so wrong with staying safe? With choosing a career that doesn’t make your family sick with worry? I mean, my god. Colton’s going to be a father. What’s Lydia supposed to do if he dies?”
Cody stared at her hard. “Keep going. Just like my mom did.”
“But wouldn’t it have been better if your dad hadn’t died? Hadn’t done something stupid and gotten himself killed?”
Cody pulled Jackpot to a halt. Angel stopped, too. “I’m pretty sure the last thing my dad was looking for when he jumped in front of that bull to save my uncle, was a thrill.” His eyes flashed, and the muscle in his jaw twitched.
Carolina gulped, shame incinerating her insides. “You’re right,” she said, barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
Cody’s face pulled tight, eyes bright with anguish. “I don’t even remember my dad. But I can tell you this. I wouldn’t wish growing up fatherless on my worst enemy.”
“Then why? Why risk your life? You’re going to have a family someday, aren’t you? Why do that to them?” Her voice hitched. “Help me understand.”
“Because…” he clenched his fist. Studied it, then raised his eyes to hers. She’d never seen Cody look so fierce, and so lost at the same time. “Because every bull I beat. Every beast I bring to heel, is a little bit of justice for my old man.” He snapped shut his mouth, glaring at her.
The pain in his voice, the loss, cut straight to the quick. Tears pricked behind her eyes. “But what about everyone else? Everyone… who cares… about you?”
He gave her a bitter smile. “What about them? Are you saying you care what happens to me, Carolina? Are you saying you’d worry about me if I got back in the ring? The way you worry about everyone else?”
His question hit too close to home. But she couldn’t deny it. She cared about him. And not just the way she cared about all her patients. Still, wild horses couldn’t drag that kind of admission from her. “This isn’t about me. You’re not a silo. It’s your brother. And my dad. They love you. And your mom.”
He leaned over and caught her hand. “I wanna know what you think Caro…lina.” His voice grew seductive, took on a tone that melted her bones. “Do you care about me?” His eyes glittered as he stared her down.
Yes. No. Change the subject. Lie.
But she couldn’t lie. And everybody knew it. It was why she sucked at Truth or Dare. She couldn’t even play a round of poker without giving away her hand. And now Cody was staring at her like he was going to eat her up. Her heart beat erratically, jamming up her throat. “I… well… of course, I like you.” She stammered, face heating.
Cody threw his head back and laughed. “It kills you, doesn’t it. To admit you like me?” He laughed again, long and full. “Carolina Grace, you’re a piece of work. But if you must know. I like you, too.” His eyes grew intense again, and she squirmed in her seat. Heat raced down through her belly to settle in her core. “Very much.”
Chapter Eight
Cody’s phone buzzed where he’d tossed it on the counter.
Carolina: Should I save you a spot at the game?
Right. The fundraiser for the veterans at Resolution Ranch.
If he remembered correctly, Emma Sinclaire had connections with the Kansas City Kings, and had arranged for an exhibition game to raise money for Prairie’s local veterans. Cody had been so focused on his new workout regimen, he hadn’t paid attention to much else the last few weeks. His days had slipped into a pattern of wake-up, ranch, PT or weights, protein lunch, yoga, dinner, sleep. On Fridays, he’d hit the Trading Post for a game of pool. It might be boring as fuck, but his strength was returning. And he’d been surprised at how much the yoga had helped. His limp, while still present, was diminishing. Another few weeks and he’d be walking like a man again. Never mind it was torture seeing Carolina in spandex every afternoon. The price of recovery was worth the blue balls. He jotted off a quick reply.
Cody: Yeah. Quick shower and I’ll head over.
Carolina: Great. We’re up top. 1st base side. :)
Stripping off his shirt, he headed for the shower, the vision of Carolina’s ass still in his mind as the hot water hit him. He scrubbed up quickly, but his favorite fantasy of late still taunted him. He let the vision take shape as he took his growing length in hand. It was either this or throat punch someone, and he didn’t do fights. Bracing his left hand on the tile, he dropped his head into the spray and shut his eyes, imagining it was Carolina teasing his cock, running her tongue over the slick head. Fingers of heat licked up the back of his legs, swirling and settling in his balls, tight and achy with lust.
His mind jumped to the next scene, where she was in the shower with him, legs wide open, hands braced on the tile. He dropped to his knees, palming her beautiful ass, pink from the hot water. He tasted her wet pussy, shower wet and slicked with desire. He tongued her opening, tasting her ripe, musky essence, before diving into her ho
t channel, eating at her like she was his last meal, fucking every ridge and crevice with his tongue until she moaned his name and her hips took up the rhythm, and they both worked her into a frenzy.
But it wasn’t her cries that echoed off the tile, it was his as he came with a shout, chest heaving, black spots dotting his vision. He dropped his forehead to the cool tile, sucking in giant breaths. The result was always the same. Instead of relief, or peace, he was only filled with longing. Regret that there couldn’t be anything more than a cheap fantasy between them.
Every time the pull between them intensified, she stepped back. Or he pushed her away, hiding his feelings behind a grouchy exterior. He jerked back the shower curtain, dried off, and tossed the towel into the corner with a curse. From the bedroom, his phone rang. Let it. He was in no mood to chat. But whoever it was must really want to talk to him, because the second it stopped, it started again.
He stomped across the room to retrieve it, not bothering to check and see who it was. “What?” he growled into the phone.
“Nice to hear your voice, too, champ.”
A wide grin spread across Cody’s face. “Ty fucking Sloane. How in the hell are you?”
“I’m callin’ to ask you that.”
“I’ve been worse.”
Ty snorted. “No foolin’. We miss you out here. Shows aren’t the same without you.”
A pang of longing shot through Cody. He forced a laugh. “‘Course they aren’t. You don’t have anyone to kick your ass, now.”
“Heheh. Can’t say I mind scooping up all your winnings. My bank account’s never looked so flush.”
“I’d love to take some of that off your hands.” Cody’s brows pulled close. He knew riders that let professional jealousy get the best of them, and he’d always prided himself on the fact that he wasn’t one of those cowboys. Every ride was a gamble. Sometimes you won, other times, you came up short. When he’d been at the top of his game, he’d practiced every day to make sure the odds stacked in his favor, and more often than not, he delivered good rides. But right now, listening to Ty talk about riding, acid rose up the back of his throat. He’d give his left nut, maybe even his firstborn, to be back out there, dominating the beast.
“Why don’t you?”
“Ride again? Not sure I can.” Not to mention his sponsors severed ties at Christmas.
“I know you got beat-up good. I saw the report. But do you remember Isaiah Winkler?”
“Retired a few years ago? Yeah. Met him a few times.”
“He came back from a car crash that crushed his hip when he was twenty-five. Made it to the NFRs three times.”
Huh. “I worry my shoulder couldn’t take the strain.”
“Switch your grip. I’ve seen guys do it.”
Ty was an old-timer. Nearly at the end of his career, and he’d lasted longer than most. Ty had seen pretty much everything.
Ty continued. “PBR circuit would welcome you back. All you’d need to do is contact the show organizers. People would turn out in droves to see you ride again. They’ll make a huge deal about you coming back, even if you’re not in enough money for the finals. Call you the comeback kid. You don’t need to be perfect. All you need, is a respectable showing and you’d be right back on top next year.”
“That’s real tempting.” If he finished in the money even a handful of times, he could make a case to his sponsors to re-sign him, and he liked the idea of replenishing his savings which had taken a hit with deductibles and the extra PT he was doing now.
With a pang, his thoughts turned to Carolina. She should be the last person he considered in making a decision like this. They weren’t a couple, and she had no say in his life except as his PT. And yet, he cared about what she thought. More so, he cared about her. Her fiancé’s death had changed her. Made her frightened of her own shadow in some respects. She’d been a wreck the weekend Cassidy had reported for National Guard duty. Sure, she’d tried to hide it, but he’d noticed. And the last thing he wanted to do was to add more worry to her life. Not when he felt like it was his mission to put a smile back on her face, to help her enjoy life again.
All the more reason to keep his distance from her. It made no sense starting something with her if all he was going to do was leave town as soon as his body was strong enough. “Why don’t we talk in a few weeks’ time?”
“Sure thing, champ,” Ty agreed. “There’s prize money waiting with your name on it.”
The entire drive into town, Ty’s words bounced around in his head. Could he really make a comeback? Could his shoulder stand up to the torque? He desperately wanted to ride again, but he also didn’t want to end up a cripple at forty, and spend the rest of his life not being able to lift his arm over his head. Still, there had to be a way.
He was still pondering when he reached the high school baseball field, and purchased a couple of bags of peanuts from the concession booth. The stands were packed to overflowing. It was genius, really, to invite the Kansas City Kings for an exhibition game. They might be the losingest team in baseball, but they were beloved, and pride surged through him that his hometown had pulled out all the stops for both the veterans that benefitted from the exhibition game, and the team.
Cody scanned the stands, and toward the top, spied Carolina sitting with her sisters and a red-headed woman he didn’t recognize. Park was on the far end, and pointed to an empty space. He should listen to his better self - just give Carolina a wave and head up the far steps to sit next to his brother. But his feet were already moving up the bleacher stairs. Fuck his better self. He wanted to sit next to Carolina, inhale the sweet, spicy scent of her that haunted his dreams.
“Cody. Up here,” his brother called with a wave. Already the others were making room for him. He lifted his hands. “I brought peanuts.”
“Pass them down,” Carolina called.
He’d do better than that. “Personal delivery?” he asked, holding out the bag, once he’d reached her.
Her smile shot a bolt of awareness straight to his cock. “I was beginning to worry you’d changed your mind.”
“And miss all this?” He shook his head. “No way.” He edged next to her. The row was so overcrowded the only way for him to sit comfortably was drop his arm across her shoulders. He held his breath, worried for a moment she might shrug him away.
Instead, she dipped her hand into the bag and gave him a saucy wink. “Thanks for the nuts.”
Jesus. Was she flirting with him? What was he supposed to do now? Flirt back? In public? Under the watchful eye of his brother and her sisters? Hell, yes. He wasn’t going to let an opportunity like this pass. Even if she still wore the dead-guy’s ring.
He lowered his voice. “There’s more where they came from.”
Her shoulders shook with a giggle, and pink erupted on her cheeks. “That so?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He dropped his head so that his mouth was right at her ear. “Big ones.”
Her cheeks darkened, and she slapped his thigh. “Stop,” she said with a laugh. “Next, you’re going to tell me the big ones taste better?”
He nearly choked on his peanuts. He reached for her soda and took a long draw before he found his voice again. “Is that what you think?” His chest tightened as he waited for her response.
She leaned in with a sly grin. “I might need to gather additional information.”
His cock sprang to life. Shoot him now, because her mouth was killing him, and there was no way, if this continued, that he’d last until sundown. Hell, he’d have to leave the game if she kept escalating. He cleared his throat. “I’d be happy to help with your… er… investigations to that effect.”
Her eyes jerked to his. The raw hunger there made his stomach tighten in anticipation. “You are a very bad man, Cody Hansen,” she said with a ghost of a smile.
He flicked his eyebrows. “Why, yes. Yes, I am.” He leaned in again, inhaling her delicious scent like a drug. “And I think you like it.”
She breat
hed in sharply, biting her lower lip. He salivated at the thought of doing the same thing to her. Only he wouldn’t stop at her lower lip. Her breathing had gone shallow, and she dropped her head, nodding slightly.
“Was that a yes?” he pressed, voice going rough.
Her tongue slicked her lower lip, and he clenched the fist at his side. Everything seemed to slow as his body heated. The noise of the crowd dulled, while everything about her came into sharp relief.
She nodded almost imperceptibly. “But you know we can’t,” she said firmly.
“Why not?” he said, even as he knew all the reasons, had counted them out repeatedly over the last six weeks.
She raised her voice signaling their conversation was over. “Cody, have you met Macey McCaslin?” She gestured to the stranger sitting at her other side, holding a little girl who was her spitting image. “She and her daughter Sophie are friends of Jason Case and Millie Prescott.”
“Pleased to meet you.” He flashed them a quick smile, pushing away the disappointment. Carolina was right. They couldn’t ever be more than they were.
He turned his attention to the game, watching in amazement as a one-armed veteran struck out Alex Jordan, the Kings’ star first baseman. “Holy smokes, that was impressive.”
Carolina leaned in, grinning with pride. “I’ve been working with him. He lost his dominant arm in an IED explosion.”
“No kidding?” And he’d learned to pitch like that?
She nodded vigorously. “It’s all about body mechanics and training muscle memory. Same kind of stuff I’m working on with you.”
The conversation he’d had with Ty earlier came back to him. You don’t need to be perfect. Switch your grip, man. Make a splash, win some money. They’ll make a big deal about you coming back, even if you’re not in enough money for the finals. All you need is a respectable showing, and you’ll be right back on top next year.
What if he trained himself to grip with his left hand instead of his right? Why not push to get back on the circuit? He could hit a few local rodeos as a warm-up, then call on his contacts at the PBR. They’d at least give him a few slots, just for the comeback hype. If he finished in the money on even a couple rides, he’d be back in business.