Cowboy Roped In: Contemporary Western Romance (Wild Creek Cowboys Book 2)

by Mary Leo

  “Then let’s go on inside so we can get this meal over with and drive you back to the ranch.”

  She didn’t know if she could believe him or not, but she would make sure this whole thing didn’t take more than an hour. She had a feeling he might be playing some kind of game, most men in his position would, but she couldn’t be sure. After all, she might be more vulnerable now that her dad had just died. Maybe all of this was a ruse so he could get her into bed.

  Well, he had another thing coming if that was his plan.

  Fried chicken and nothing else . . . well, maybe a cheesy breadstick, and a dollop of mashed potatoes with plenty of melted butter, but that was it.

  No sex. Just food. Lot’s of food. Hunger seemed to consume her. As if she hadn’t eaten in days, as if she’d perish if she didn’t eat something in the next few minutes. Her stomach growled in anger, demanding to be heard. Without thinking, her hands clutched her midsection, trying to appease the escalating noise coming from within her.

  A thought whizzed by as she pressed her hands against her roaring tummy: Was her sudden lust for food merely a deep-seated desire for sex? Could that be what she was feeling? A need for hot, crazy sex with the one man in the entire world she should run away from instead of running to. Once he learned the truth, he’d hate her or worse still, he might turn her over to the local sheriff, Pearl’s husband, Tyler. Was there a statute on hit-and-run accidents? She didn’t know. She’d honestly never given it much thought as long as she stayed away from Wild Creek, but now that she was back . . . well, anything could happen. There was no telling how Chase might react or how his family might react.

  No way could she be taken away from her son. What would happen to him? Where would he go?

  Pearl could take him. She knew Pearl wouldn’t have it any other way. The thought gave her some comfort, but still she had to be careful. Had to keep what happened that morning a secret. She’d been foolish to think she could tell Chase the truth and he’d forgive her. There was absolutely no indication that he would or that he should. What she and Lucky had done was unconscionable, and she could only hope that Chase would never learn the truth.

  The old RuthieAnn wouldn’t have given any of that a second thought and instead she’d hop into this cowboy’s bed and ride him ‘til the sun came up.

  Unfortunately, the new and less wild RuthieAnn would have none of that.

  Watching his butt as she trailed behind him up the five stairs to his house right off the main drag made her question her decision of no sex. After all, she hadn’t had real sex in too many years to remember, and self-gratification didn’t count. That was more frustration than anything else. She didn’t really have to confess . . . they could just have sex . . . nothing more.

  She hadn’t seriously dwelled on her lack of intimacy in a very long time. She’d been too busy trying to be a good mom to Jayden and working overtime on getting her DPT degree. The thought of having sex with Chase, or any man for that matter, scared the crap out of her. No way did she want to go back to her old life, and sex with Chase Cooper just might sink her right back into that quagmire of self-hatred.

  There was a time in her life when all thoughts led to sex, when she couldn’t get enough. When it seemed that no amount of sex satisfied her, but she’d come to realize it wasn’t the need for more sex that kept her in a state of chronic discontentment . . . her entire life was a disappointment.

  Of course, she lived with Lucky then and before that, her dad . . . but Lucky was in jail now and her dad, well . . . he was dead. She realized her past was nothing more than a nasty, unsavory, painful memory.

  As soon as Chase opened the door to his sweet little house, with its clean white walls and his comfy-looking living room, and his immaculate kitchen off to the right, RuthieAnn took three steps inside, and for some inexplicable reason, she slipped down to the floor where she completely and embarrassingly lost all control over her emotions, and sobbed like she’d never cried before.

  Six

  RuthieAnn had sobbed on and off for almost two hours straight while Chase held her close on the sofa, neither of them saying much of anything. The food had been delivered but left on the front porch inside one of those thermal cases. Chase didn’t know when it would get eaten, if ever, but for the time being, RuthieAnn had stopped crying and that was enough.

  “I need to use your bathroom,” she finally said as she moved away from his embrace.

  “It’s down the hall. Second door on your right,” Chase answered as he watched her stagger through the living room and head down the hallway.

  Clark’s death had caught Chase completely by surprise. He’d really thought the old man would make it through. He’d made it through much worse situations in the past.

  Chase had helped out when Clark had come down with pneumonia and had developed a cough so bad that he would turn blue before he could catch his breath again.

  Then there was the time when he fell and ruptured his spleen and had to have an emergency surgery. Clark had sailed through with flying colors, but somehow this time, with an ailment that seemed much less dangerous than the others, Clark had succumbed to its deadly grasp.

  But then death always seemed to catch Chase by surprise. He never thought his own father would die, let alone so quickly. One minute most of the Cooper clan was out on a cattle drive together and the next he and his family were standing around their dad’s deathbed . . . in that very same damn hospital where Clark had taken in his last breath. Chase had somehow thought his dad would go on living forever, and he would be the one to die. Chase had wanted to die first—to make all the suffering and pain end. To ease himself out of his early hell in hopes that somehow in death he would find peace.

  In retrospect, and in grieving for his dad, he knew his own death would have caused far too much grief for his family and even for Clark who, in his own brash and sardonic way, had come to enjoy Chase’s friendship. It had been a selfish wish and a stupid one at that. Not that Chase was equating his father and Clark in any way, but the two men had been important in his life: one had raised him, nurtured him, loved him, and the other had saved his life.

  Chase had thanked Clark many times for what he’d done on that tragic morning, but despite his gushing appreciation, he always felt that no amount of words could express his true feelings. Now that he’d promised Clark he would take care of RuthieAnn and her boy, Chase intended to use this as his way of thanking Clark for an act that mere words could somehow never convey.

  From this moment on, whatever RuthieAnn needed, Chase would do his best to deliver. There was nothing and no one that would get in his way from keeping his promise to Clark. RuthieAnn deserved as much and so did Jayden.

  And he’d start with dinner.

  After he cleaned up in the other bathroom off his bedroom, it didn’t take long before Chase had the table set, the wine opened, cloth napkins folded and tucked in next to the plates. He’d adjusted the lighting for a cozy dinner and even lit a couple candles for good measure. Chase knew how to woo a woman when he wanted to. Thing was, he hadn’t wanted to in a very long time. Not that he was trying to woo RuthieAnn, but she deserved to be treated well. Despite her dislike for Clark, Chase knew his passing stung, as evident by her outburst of emotion. She couldn’t truly hate the man and react the way she had. Some part of her still cared, and it was that part that had succumb to the grief.

  When RuthieAnn finally appeared in his dining room, she seemed much more calm, and under the warm glow of low lighting, she looked positively beautiful standing there in her bare feet, face scrubbed clean. He couldn’t help but glance at her pretty painted toenails, which turned him on. Just that little bit of bare skin that he hadn’t seen before was enough to send ribbons of heat cascading throughout his body.

  Thankfully, she broke his lust-filled trance.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I used your shower. I feel much better now.”

  “Great. Glad you made yourself at home,” he said, trying hi
s best not to get aroused from the vision of her naked body standing under the water in his guest shower.

  “Wow! I didn’t know fried chicken could look this elegant,” she said, her eyes wide with anticipation. “What do you do for pizza?”

  He cleared his tight throat. “Pizza gets a tablecloth and Sinatra crooning in the background,” he teased, trying to build up his entertainment acumen. Thing was RuthieAnn didn’t know she’d been the first guest to step into his house since he’d moved in some six months ago.

  “You’re not serious,” she teased, cocking her head to the side, looking about as adorable as a puppy.

  “You’ll just have to stop over for a pizza sometime and find out.”

  She stared at him for a moment . . . deep brown eyes burning into his, causing him to remember what those full lips of hers felt like pressed against his.

  Heaven.

  “I might have to,” she said, fist stuck to her hip. “Just to make sure you’re not pulling my leg.”

  He lifted an eyebrow, and decided to let that comment go. “Anything served with wine and candlelight looks elegant, even fried chicken. Have a seat. I’m just warming the bread,” he told her, breaking the momentary spell he’d fallen under.

  “You’re warming the bread?”

  “My mamma won’t allow cold bread on her table. I guess wanting warm bread makes me a mamma’s boy,” he teased. “If you don’t want it warmed, I’ve got some bread in the freezer you can have.”

  She chuckled. “No. Please. That sounds awful. The more I learn about your mom, the more I think she’s a great woman. Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked as he turned and walked back into the kitchen area.

  “Thanks, but I’ve got this. There’s not much left to do. Have a seat. I hope you like red wine. It’s all I have.”

  Chase had opened a bottle of cabernet. He’d bought an entire case of the stuff when his mom had asked him to bring over some wine for Sunday dinner. Not that he thought his family would go through an entire case during one dinner, but it had been on sale. The more you bought, the bigger the discount, so Chase bought the case not knowing exactly when he’d ever drink it . . . until tonight. Somehow he knew RuthieAnn might be needing to imbibe.

  “It’s all I drink—not that I drink much anymore—but when I do, I usually order something red.”

  By the time Chase returned with the bread, he’d removed his boots and socks hoping that the feel of the cool floor under his feet would keep him grounded in reality. RuthieAnn had poured the wine and was sitting across from him at the small wooden table. Her face looked positively beautiful. He thought about telling her, but then changed his mind. Now was not the time to talk romance. Still, he couldn’t help himself. There was something about her that seemed so familiar to him, made him want to hold her in his arms and protect her. He knew it was more than just his promise to Clark. There was something raw going on between them, but damn he wasn’t about to act on it any time soon.

  They both dug into the pile of chicken that Chase had arranged in the center of the table on a white platter. RuthieAnn took three pieces and within about five minutes had devoured two chicken legs, a wing and a thigh.

  She wiped her fingers and mouth on the white cloth napkin and gazed over at him, grinning. “I guess I was hungrier than I thought.”

  “There’s plenty. Please take more. I ordered enough for a family of five. I figured whatever we didn’t eat now, would keep until tomorrow. I’m not much of cook, so I usually order enough food for a couple meals. How about you? Are you one of those people who loves to cook and can make an entire meal out of a can of tomatoes?”

  “Me?” She shook her head, then drank some wine. “I rarely cook, and when I do it’s usually a salad or some kind of baked fish. I’d forgotten how much I used to love fried chicken. My mother didn’t cook much but when she did it was usually to fry up an entire chicken. The crust was the absolute best. I think chicken was about the only thing she cooked that actually came out good . . . I mean really good.” She hesitated for a moment then went on. “I remember a Sunday dinner when my brother was there. He couldn’t have been more than three or four. My mom was sober and had spent the day frying chicken and boiling potatoes. My dad was there, as well. And he was sober. I don’t know why, but I think it was some kind of holiday or maybe it was a birthday or something, anyway, it was some sort of special event. We were sitting outside, around a big table covered in a checkered tablecloth, eating chicken with a homemade apple pie waiting for us for dessert . . . like some normal all-American family. We were happy.

  “I remember feeling genuine joy and I remember anticipating a day of games and swimming and I think we were going horseback riding. Or maybe we’d already been riding. I think we’d ridden our horses to the watering hole on my dad’s land. Wow, I’d forgotten that there’s water on his land, a small pond of some sort. I’d literally forgotten all about that.”

  “Obviously you don’t eat enough chicken,” Chase teased. “Who knows what good times you’d remember if you ate this stuff at least two or three times a week. It might give you an entirely new outlook on your childhood.”

  “I never eat fried chicken. Too much grease and I guess, too many memories.”

  “Sometimes memories are all we have left, good and bad.”

  “I prefer to forget the bad ones.”

  “Me too, so let’s only talk about good memories. So, tell me more about Kevin. How’s he doing? Is he liking school?”

  “I think so, yes. It suits him. Always was a smart kid.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He drank some of his wine, enjoying the flavors of cherries and musk on his tongue. He’d never been much of a wine drinker when he was younger. Give him a beer, any beer and he’d be fine. But ever since his accident, he’d learned how to appreciate some of the finer things in life, and a good wine happened to be one of them. When he put the glass back down, he said, “Your brother and his friends are the ones who found me that morning, lying on the side of the road.”

  Chase didn’t know what exactly prompted him to tell her about her brother and his friends. It just came out. He’d never even told his family the details of that morning, not that he remembered much. Usually, he didn’t like to talk about any of it, but now that Clark had passed, and RuthieAnn had mostly bad memories of him, Chase thought he’d add something good to those festering recollections of hers.

  “My brother found you? He never mentioned anything about it.” RuthieAnn gazed over at him. A look of concern on her face as she sat back in her chair, grabbed her glass of wine and took a long hard swallow.

  Chase thought he should explain, and tell her why he was so grateful for her family especially her father. “I can't believe your father or your brother never told you any of this.”

  “Any of what? Apparently, I’m missing something big here.”

  Chase leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, wanting her to understand just how grateful he was to Clark and her brother Kevin.

  “If it wasn't for your brother, and especially your dad, I wouldn't be sitting here today," Chase told her, noticing the stunned look on her face. “Unfortunately my memory of it comes and goes in scraps of scenes, some of which I don’t think are real. In any case, I can remember lying on the ground. A young woman sat on the ground next to me, but I think that’s part of a dream. Still, I can’t be sure. What I know to be true is that one minute I was on my motorcycle going no place in particular, enjoying the ride then in what seemed like a fraction of a second, I was on the ground lying on my back staring up at a gray sky. I remember noticing each of the drops of rain as they cascaded down to splash on my face, like they were moving in slow motion, but that might be part of the dream. After that, I must have passed out because everything’s a blur.

  “Clark told me your brother found me. He and his two friends were riding their bikes on their way to school when they noticed me on the side of the road. Kevin rode back home and told your dad. He
immediately called an ambulance. Once Clark arrived on the scene, he stayed with me the entire time. I remember holding onto his hand when they put me into the ambulance and when I first arrived in the ER. He never left my side and he answered all the questions the doctors tossed at him. My parents were visiting my sick aunt in Phoenix that morning, and my siblings had their own things going on. It took a while for them to be contacted and to get there. It was your dad who stayed by my side the whole time.”

  She leaned forward in her chair, and Chase could see that her eyes had watered again. He hadn’t meant to upset her. His intention was to try to get her to see that there was another side to Clark—a decent side. “Was he sober?”

  “I think so. Yes, he must have been in order to answer all the questions and to help locate my family. Plus it was early in the morning. Back then, I liked to ride before my day started. It was something I could do that wasn’t connected to the ranch. Not that I don’t love ranching, but at that time in my life I needed to find out who I was, and if I wanted to stay in Wild Creek on my dad’s ranch. Reece Jr. had more or less taken over by then while I was still finding my place in this world. Unfortunately, I thought it was on the back of a motorcycle. I couldn't seem to get enough. I liked the speed and the feel of the engine under me, and the fact that I could go just about anywhere I wanted. Even thought about taking a trip across America until that morning. Then everything changed. Haven’t been on a bike since, and don’t think I ever will.”

  “And have you found your place in the world?”

  “Haven’t had time to think about it much. Ever since that morning, all my focus has been on getting better. Funny how when you’re broken or sick getting well again takes all your energy. Nothing else matters.”

  “I can relate to that. I had a similar experience, but that’s a story for another time.” She finished off her wine and refilled her glass.

  “You sure you don’t want to tell me now? We’ve got plenty of time.”