Her Texas Cowboy

by Jill Lynn

  Bree gave her a fist bump. No physical display from her. Which Rachel totally understood.

  “Do you want to joust?”

  Bree’s question momentarily stole Rachel’s words. She went with a casual “Sure,” as an answer, attempting to keep her grin at an acceptable level. Anything more and the girl would be rolling her eyes.

  The padded base and pedestals were set up in the middle of the parking lot. After waiting for a turn and donning the protective gear, they climbed up on the pedestals, each with a padded jousting pole in hand. The goal was to knock one’s opponent down to the mat. Rachel took it easy on Bree while they jousted. They spent much of the time laughing. Both wore soft helmets, but she could still see Bree’s eyes. They held a spark of competitiveness, but none of the malice she’d previously harbored.

  Each of them knocked the other down once, and then, in the third round, Rachel gave some effort, but not enough to win. Bree sent her flying to the mat below. She stood, still laughing, and congratulated Bree.

  A bunch of the teens had gathered around, and Hunter grinned at her from where he stood with a group of boys. She would have thought maybe, just maybe, he’d wear tennis shoes tonight in order to participate in the games. But no, his typical boots, jeans and faded T-shirt dress code was still intact.

  The kids were yelling about something, and Rachel glanced around, trying to figure out what had their excitement level increasing so quickly.

  “Coach...” Bree took off the padded jousting helmet and tossed it onto the mat, and Rachel did the same with hers. “Are you going to do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Joust with Hunter.” A smile flashed. “I think you could take him down.”

  Ah. Rachel melted. The girl looked like whatever problems usually weighing her down had been put on hold for the evening.

  Hunter had an eyebrow raised in challenge. “What do you say?”

  “If you want to lose, I’m happy to joust with you.”

  The kids burst into laughter at her smack talk. Hunter grabbed the other jousting stick and inched close to her, lowering his voice. “Maybe you could give an actual effort this time?”

  Oh, no, he didn’t. “She’s a kid.” She matched her volume to his. “I was playing nice.”

  “I assume you won’t have that same concern with me.”

  “You know what, McDermott? For once in your life, you’re right.”

  * * *

  Hunter had planned to go easy on Rachel, but she was pummeling him. He’d spent the last few minutes defending himself against her attacks. The hits were coming in fast and furious. They didn’t hurt, just jostled him.

  Had he wakened a beast?

  One caught him on the left side. He lost his balance but managed to regain his footing.

  Hunter took a swing at Rachel, planning to whack the jousting stick from her grip, but just as he was about to make contact, she wobbled and her body shifted forward. It was too late to change the point of impact. His stick connected with her noggin. Hard. Her head rocked to the side, and she flew off the pedestal. He was down beside her faster than he could count to two.

  “Rach.” Her eyes were open but dazed. She blinked numerous times. Even with their padded helmets on, that hit had rattled her. He removed her helmet and gently ran fingertips along her scalp, checking for a bump. “Are you okay?”

  Her eyes filled with moisture that didn’t spill. “I’m fine.”

  Tough girl. His sigh came out ragged—half relief, half exasperation. “You’re not fine. I struck your head pretty hard.”

  Hunter removed his helmet, and she shifted as though she was trying to get up. He helped her to a sitting position.

  “The world’s a little spinny, but I’m fine.”

  Spinny wasn’t a word. So not fine.

  “I’ll get some ice.”

  “No. I’ll come.”

  Arguing with her—head injury or not—would be pointless.

  Hunter supported her as she stood, keeping his arm around her. She wasn’t completely herself because she didn’t shove him away. Until they stepped down from the mat and their feet met the pavement. Then she pushed his arm off. “I’m fine.”

  Three “fines” didn’t make it true.

  He wasn’t taking any chances of her crashing to the parking lot and injuring herself more. Despite her protests, Hunter kept her tucked against him and leaned down until his mouth met her ear. “Every kid and leader here is watching you right now.”

  She peeked out from his T-shirt while he continued. “And if you don’t let me help you inside, I will pick you up and carry you. And despite how strong you think you are, I will win that tussle.”

  A gush of warm, frustrated air leaked out against his chest.

  “Fine.”

  Number four.

  Greg jogged over, concern splitting his brow. “Is she okay?” He touched Rachel’s arm, and something in Hunter flamed to life. Jealousy. Outrage. Protectiveness. Any option worked. “How do you feel? Bree said you took a blow to your head. She came flying over to tell me.”

  A soft grin lifted Rachel’s mouth. “She’s a good kid.”

  Greg let out a relieved laugh. “She is, but right now I need to make sure you’re okay. Should we call an ambulance?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Do you want someone to take you in to the clinic?”

  “No,” Rachel answered, head shaking, then she winced and stopped the movement. “I think ice will work. It’s not that big of a deal. Better me than one of the kids.”

  Hunter tightened his grip around Rachel’s shoulder. He might not like the circumstances that got them here, but he sure didn’t mind her being snug against him. And when she actually stayed there? Without kicking? Better than a Cowboys win.

  “I’ll help her.” At Greg’s nod of acceptance, Hunter walked toward the church, prompting Rachel to move with him. Once inside, he dropped her off in the back of the sanctuary, and—in spite of her grumbling—had her lie in the last row of chairs. “I’ll be right back.”

  He trucked down to the kitchen, bagged some ice, grabbed a cloth to wrap around it and then headed back upstairs. Amazingly, she’d stayed put. She must be more messed up than he’d thought.

  He sat on the chair next to her head, and she opened her eyes while he tucked the ice on the side where he’d made impact.

  “Thanks.” Her eyes closed again.

  With the lightest touch, he swept a strand of hair from her forehead. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry I almost killed you.”

  She shook with laughter, and the gold R pendant on her necklace slipped behind her neck. “You’re not that strong, cowboy.”

  That sounded like an endearment to him. His heart was a jumping bean while he was this close to her. Touching her as though he had the right to. He should back away. Give them both some space. His attraction to her right now was nowhere near the friendship level he’d committed to.

  “It was an accident, you know. I was aiming for your jousting stick, but then you lost your balance and moved, and I nailed your head instead.”

  “So you’re telling me you weren’t even trying to knock me down. Thanks a lot. That makes it even worse.”

  Amusement tugged at his mouth. She was still his Rachel.

  “Did you see Bree tonight? She’s softening. Letting me in.”

  His fingers slid along her hairline again, and when she didn’t complain or fight, he continued the soothing motion.

  Do you see yourself? Talking to me like it used to be? “Yeah, I saw. You’re good for her. For all of them.”

  “Thanks.”

  “That’s three thanks in a row.” Though one had been sarcastic. “I think we’d better take you in to the clinic.”

  “Ha.”

  “Seriously, Rach. I do need to know
you’re okay.” He cupped a hand over her mouth, forcing himself to ignore the fact that he was touching her lips. “And, no, you’re not fine.” Begrudgingly, he let go.

  After an audible sigh, she slid her phone out of her back pocket and held it up. “We can text Lucy and she can ask Graham. Does that work for you?”

  “Sure.”

  Hunter got his phone from his pocket. Rachel rattled off Lucy’s number and he sent a text explaining what had happened and asking Lucy to check with Graham about what they should do.

  Rachel shifted to sit up in the chair next to him as Lucy’s reply came back quickly. Is she okay???

  She seems to be. She’s talking and sitting up now, but I want to make sure.

  First off, stare longingly into her eyes. Do that for at least five minutes and then get back to me.

  He laughed. Leave it to Lucy to use this as an opportunity to make this about him and Rachel.

  “What?” Rachel questioned.

  “Nothing.”

  When Lucy had first moved to town, she’d figured out pretty quickly that he harbored feelings for Rachel—though they’d been masked under layers of upset and hurt. She’d often thrown him tidbits of information about Rachel over the years that he hadn’t asked for, but had secretly appreciated. Though lately, thankfully, she’d quieted down on any matchmaking attempts.

  Another text from Lucy came through.

  Hang on, I’m checking.

  “She’s going to ask Graham.”

  “Okay.” Rachel’s head tipped his way, then landed on his shoulder. He froze. Something must seriously be wrong with her.

  She smelled so good. He imagined it was her shampoo teasing his senses, but he didn’t know for sure.

  He inhaled. He wouldn’t be this close to her again, maybe ever, so he might as well take advantage.

  It’s Graham. Did she lose consciousness?

  “Did you black out at all, Rach?”

  “Nope.”

  Is she disoriented? Stumbling? Slurred speech? Dazed?

  Doesn’t seem like it.

  Anything abnormal you’re noticing?

  Huh. How to answer that question? Well, she’s being unusually grateful and nice. Not her typical behavior.

  Ha! Is she related to Lucy by blood??

  Hunter chuckled.

  “What? What is he saying?” At Rachel’s exasperated tone, he glanced in her direction. Her eyes were open, and she shifted her head against his shoulder as though she might move. He held his breath, only starting up again when she didn’t scoot away from him.

  “He’s just asking about you.”

  His phone beeped, and Hunter read Graham’s questions aloud as they came through.

  “Do you feel dizzy?”

  “No.”

  “Ringing in your ears?”

  “Nope.”

  After a few more questions with the same answer, Hunter started to relax.

  I need you to look at her pupils. Check if they look bigger than normal (if you can tell) or if they’re unequal sizes.

  Again, laughter rumbled in his chest. So Lucy had been right. He did get to stare longingly into Rachel’s eyes. He was torn. Part of him wanted the opportunity to be that close to her, but he also didn’t want to leave his current position.

  “Enough, McDermott. I don’t know why me being injured is so amusing to you.”

  “It’s not. Doc Redmond’s just making me laugh.” He set the phone on the chair to his right, then scooted her away from his shoulder so that they were face-to-face. “I’d never be okay with anything happening to you, Rach.” Their close proximity made him pause and swallow. “It would kill me to know I’d seriously hurt you.”

  He’d done exactly that in the past. It had been emotional hurt that time around, but that was almost worse, in Hunter’s opinion. Who was he kidding? Both options were unacceptable.

  His hand had involuntarily moved to her arm, and she didn’t move away from his touch. The warmth of her skin made his pulse skip like a scratched CD.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice didn’t hold her usual bite. Just curiosity.

  “Checking your pupils.”

  He forced himself to ignore the fact that for the first time in six years, his lips were seconds away from hers. Made himself focus on her gorgeous eyes. He studied one, then the other. Compared. They seemed fine to him, but then again, he wasn’t a doctor. But the pupil sizes matched, at least.

  “I think they look okay.” Although that wasn’t a term he’d use to describe himself at the moment. He was not “fine” or “okay” or anything anywhere near that. He was a mess. He hadn’t thought it was possible to want Rachel more than he had the day she’d left for college and taken his heart with her.

  But he’d been wrong.

  Chapter Nine

  If she was okay, then why was Hunter’s face still inches from hers? One of those instances where if either of them leaned forward their lips would be reintroduced.

  Rachel’s breathing shallowed out. His eyes were the color of maple syrup and, by the way they held her attention, just as sticky sweet. The usual scruff covered his cheeks—as if he’d shave when he got around to it—though she’d never witnessed him with an actual beard. He always hovered somewhere in between.

  “Why don’t you shave every day?”

  “I don’t know. Just easier, I guess.” His voice was low, amused and wreaking havoc on her. “Are you telling me I should shave every day?”

  “I don’t care what you do. I’m just curious.” She was prolonging their close proximity with stupid conversation. She couldn’t actually want to be near him, could she? Maybe the blow to her head was making her crazy. After all, she’d just been tucked against Hunter’s shoulder like she owned it. Like it was her personal spot to rest on. And, honestly, it had felt like a perfect fit. He was muscular, yet his shoulder had felt just right.

  She was stinking Goldilocks.

  “Rach?”

  “Yeah?”

  He leaned forward and everything stood still. His lips pressed against her forehead and held before he eased back. Disappointment and relief tangoed in her gut.

  “I’m really sorry I hurt you.”

  Tears surfaced but thankfully didn’t fall. Was he referring to today or six years ago? Maybe all of the above.

  “Hunter...about what you said a minute ago—I hope you know I wouldn’t be okay if anything happened to you, either.” And it was true. He might have scarred her way back when, but she would never wish him harm. He was a part of her past. And that made up the pieces of who she was now. Those months with him at the end of high school had been some of the softest of her life. She rarely opened up like that and probably hadn’t since.

  His fingers slid into the hair at the nape of her neck, and his lips trailed down from where they’d touched her forehead, landing on one cheekbone, then the other. Her lungs flat-out quit functioning. Amazing how her body could stay alive without oxygen.

  What was he doing? He pressed a kiss lightly to her nose. She should tell him to stop. But in the last few seconds her body had turned to undercooked brownie batter. Soft. Warm. Compliant.

  Surely he’d pull back now. Surely her eyes weren’t refilling with tears at his gentleness. This was just about the fact that he’d injured her, wasn’t it?

  Rachel didn’t even realize her eyes had closed until she thought to open them. His mouth was a whisper away from hers. Now’s when she would end this. She’d already let things go too far. But when he’d brushed her hair from her forehead earlier and then continued the soothing motion, she’d melted. And she was having a hard time forming a backbone again. That thing that told her to retreat. To remember what had happened between them in the past. The gut-wrenching way he’d responded to her and shut her out. How it had hurt with a pain that had rad
iated through her body. How it had taken everything in her to walk away from him.

  It didn’t work the last time and it won’t work this time. Nothing has changed for either of us. Plus, YOU’RE MOVING.

  Her conscience might be screaming directives at her, but her stupid heart wasn’t listening. Which was why, when Hunter’s lips met hers with the slightest touch, she let it happen.

  His hands were warm, gentle, as he eased her closer. She didn’t fight it. How could she? She’d never been able to resist Hunter. That was part of the problem.

  Rachel gave in to the kiss, and those symptoms he’d asked her about started happening in rapid succession. Dazed. Dizzy.

  Somehow she’d gone from wanting to run to being a willing participant.

  “Rachel, are you—” Greg’s voice came from the back of the sanctuary. She wrenched back, managing to put a foot between herself and Hunter in one giant lurch.

  Both of their heads snapped to Greg, and by the stunned look on his face, he’d witnessed their lip-lock. And why wouldn’t he have? It wasn’t like she’d been worrying about someone walking in on them. Nope. She’d just let herself go straight back to the land of immaturity. No thinking. Just feeling. And for a split second, it had almost felt worth it.

  Greg didn’t exactly look upset—though he had the right to be. She and Hunter were chaperones at a youth group lock-in, and they were the ones caught kissing. Her face flamed. What had she done? What was she thinking? And, seriously, how much brain damage had that jousting stick caused?

  “You okay?”

  She managed one nod to Greg’s question, and then Hunter took over.

  “We checked with Dr. Redmond. She doesn’t have any of the symptoms he asked about.” His voice didn’t hold the same panic she felt coursing through her. Did anything ever upset him? The man was as calm as a lazy river or a hammock in the summer sun. She, on the other hand, felt more like the frayed edges of an old flag that had endured stormy weather for too long. “And if anything pops up, she’ll be contacting him.” Hunter’s statement left no room for arguing. Rachel had no choice but to agree. Pretend she hadn’t just thrown away all of the strides she’d made in the last six years in one idiotic moment.