The Heartbroken Cowboy (The Cowboys of Whisper, Colorado Book 2)

by Melissa Keir

  “Hello, cowboy.” Debra sat down on his other side. “I’ve brought you some coffee. I’m sure you missed dinner.”

  He winced at those words. “Yea. I’m sorry. I assume Angela got hold of you.” He slowly moved Jeannie’s head off his lap and onto the seat cushion then scooted closer to Debra and took the thermos. Opening the top, the smell of dark coffee wafted to his nose and his stomach growled. “I never wanted to mess up tonight. Something came up.”

  “I understand, probably better than most. I sat right here”—she nodded toward the bank of chairs on the south side wall—“the night my husband died.” Emotion roughened her voice.

  “You didn’t have to come.” He needed to protect her, to stop her pain of reliving that night. “I’m sorry. I hate seeing you in pain. Do you want to talk about what happened?”

  “I’m sure the town gossips will give you a rundown.” Debra nibbled on her bottom lip.

  Johnson wanted to reach out and run his tongue over that lip, turning it red—not from her teeth but his kisses. Uncomfortable with the pressure of his cock pushing on his jeans, he shifted his legs. “I’ve only been told that your husband died in a crash caused by a drunk driver.”

  Debra’s eyes widened at his words and her breath caught. She stood. “Here. Keep the thermos.”

  As she turned away, he grabbed her hand. “Wait.” His voice held a plea, a wish.

  She kept her gaze centered on the hospital doors, as if escape became her lifeline. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “What they didn’t tell you…the drunk driver…was me.” With those words, she jerked out of his grasp and ran out the hospital doors. The whispering swish sounded like a death knell to his heart.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Debra rushed out the hospital doors. The shushing of the doors sounded ominous, like the closing of a casket. Tears flowed down her face as she headed toward the bench at the edge of the parking lot. Rubbing her face with her sleeve, Debra tried to forget Johnson’s face when she’d finally admitted her part in Steve’s death. She’d been a hypocrite about drinking and about the incident at the wedding.

  Strong arms tugged her against a denim-covered chest. “Debra…I’m so sorry.”

  She inhaled the scent that was uniquely his then sighed. “Why are you here? Don’t you hate me now?”

  “Why would I? It seems to me that you’ve hated yourself enough for both of us.”

  His embrace loosened. She glanced up into his face, expecting to see anger. But, all she saw was pain. “I blamed the alcohol, but it was only a scapegoat for my own anger and guilt.”

  “Guilt’s something I understand. Debra…I want to spend more time with you…to show you how important you are to me. And, how valuable you are to yourself. Will you give me the chance?”

  His hands moved to cup her face. His thumbs wiped at her tears. He tilted her chin up and kissed her gently on the lips. “Please say yes.”

  She felt a fluttering in her stomach. Should she give him a chance? Could she take the risk with her heart? Studying his mouth, she grew warm. She licked her lips and nodded.

  “I’ll come by tomorrow.” He stood and brushed the tendrils of hair off her face. “Trust me. I’ll be there tomorrow, no matter what.” He kissed her deeply, letting his tongue tease hers.

  She felt the evidence of his desire and felt lightheaded herself from his kiss. Her legs wobbled. My feelings for Steve weren’t this strong. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Does my voice always sound so breathless?

  “Dream of me,” he growled before turning and heading back into the hospital, taking all the sunshine when he left. She sauntered toward her car. As she caught sight of her reflection in the glass, she gasped. “He saw me like this and still wanted to see me tomorrow?” She brushed her loose tendrils of hair off her face and wiped the smudges from under her eyes. “At least, he’s seen me at my worst and he didn’t run screaming. Maybe there’s hope.”

  Debra woke up with another headache. This time, she knew why. She’d gotten little sleep, plagued with longing for the sexy cowboy and his determination to prove her wrong. Voicing her part in the death of Steve brought all the pain back. Guilt ridden. A few innocent glasses of wine had turned into the worst mistake of her life. The sound of crunching metal and breaking glass haunted her sleep. Yet, last night, she’d been visited by ghostly visions of a different kind. Dreams of his kisses, his hands on her body left her hot and aching.

  Crawling out of bed, Debra strolled into the bathroom. She studied herself in the mirror, excited to see Johnson again. She turned on the shower. Letting her nightgown pool on the cold tile floor, she noticed the goose bumps on her arms. She reached for her towels and checked the water’s temperature.

  “Too bad the scalding water won’t wash away my guilt.” Dropping the towels on the bathmat at her feet, she pushed aside the shower curtain, and stepped into the pulsing shower spray. The heat seared her frozen skin. Lifting her face to the water, she felt it flow over her face and down her body. Opening her eyes, she blinked trying to clear her vision. The smell of Steve’s favorite cologne tantalized her nose. Scents hold the strongest memories. Then the smell changed abruptly, becoming more earthy. The scent of horses, hay, and all man. Images of Johnson filled her mind.

  She felt his lips and reached up to touch her fingers to her mouth. Now I’m dreaming. She placed her palms on the shower tiles as she imagined the feel of Johnson’s hands on her skin, running lightly up her waist toward her breasts. Debra’s breath hitched, and she gasped. Sure that he was in the shower with her, she glanced over her shoulder and saw no one, just the ivory subway tiles mocking her. She shook her head to clear it as she grabbed the bath wash.

  Debra’s determination kicked in as she lathered her body. If I keep fantasizing about him, I’ll still be in the shower when he gets here. Now that’s desperate. After shutting off the shower, she picked up one of her fluffy towels and wrapped it around her body. The other towel she draped across her shoulders.

  Once again, she faced herself in the mirror, evidence of last night’s lack of sleep evident in her image. She shoved her shoulders back, stuck her tongue out, and frowned. Seeing the lines around her red-rimmed eyes, she remembered that Johnson had seen her at her worst last night and still kissed her. Resolute not to get dolled up for him, she brushed her teeth, applied a little Chapstick, and used the pressed power to take the shine off her nose.

  Now dry, Debra tugged her hair back into a ponytail, slipped on some jeans, socks, and her favorite T-shirt. Cozy day. Who knows what he’s got planned. Or what time? He never mentioned it.

  As her stomach grumbled, she laid her hand on her abdomen and headed toward the kitchen. She grabbed a Honeycrisp apple off the countertop and ambled back into the living room. Even the small amount of physical activity from the shower wore her out after her restless night. Lying on the couch, Debra dragged the afghan over her body and finished off her apple then set the core on the table. She let her gaze wander over the dust motes floating in the sunshine sparkling through her windows.

  A sudden banging startled her. I must have dozed off. “I’m coming. Just a minute,” she called out as she stumbled toward the door. She glanced out the peephole. Her breath stopped for a second. She turned the lock and threw the door open. “Hi, did you have any problem finding my place?”

  Johnson O’Neill stood on the porch of her home with another bouquet.

  “Do you own a flower shop? I’ve never gotten so many flowers in my life.” She couldn’t keep the anxiety out of her voice.

  “I figured they were safer than treats from Angela’s café. Although I know how much you love them, I didn’t want to get you something you get for yourself.” Tingles vibrated through her in response to his rumbling tone.

  She took them from him and held the door open. “Let me put these in water. Thank you. Have you heard how your friend is?” Johnson stood in the foyer and she watched as he took it all in.

  “He came through the surgery with fl
ying colors. He’s going to be in the hospital for a bit then he’ll have to take it easy. No more late night bronco rides.” He smiled.

  She used his distraction to examine him. The worn and scuffed cowboy boots she remembered from the night of the wedding stuck out from beneath his light-blue jeans. Her gaze traveled upward. The material caressed his legs and body like a glove. A silver belt buckle drew her attention toward his crotch area. A sigh escaped her lips as curiosity got the better of her. His black T-shirt hugged his stomach and outlined muscular abs. Her fingers ached to count them. Would there be fewer than six? Would they feel like steel under his skin? Those strong, tanned arms that held her were sprinkled with dark hair. But his hands tantalized her most. Their rough appearance made her pussy clench. She needed to feel his fingers on her body—inside her.

  When her gaze finally reached his face, a twinkle filled his eyes. “Caught you. Did you see anything you liked?”

  Heat filled her face. Unable to trust her voice, she nodded then ducked into the kitchen. “What did you have in mind for today?” she called out as she grabbed a dark-red vase out of the cupboard next to the refrigerator.

  His voice from the doorway startled her, and she almost dropped the vase. “I thought we’d go to the ranch. Have you ever been riding?”

  Debra filled the vase then trimmed the flowers and arranged them in the water. “I haven’t ridden in years. I’ve missed it.” She placed the flowers on her kitchen table and admired them. “Let me grab my boots and a jacket then I’ll be ready to go. It sounds like a great way to spend the day.”

  “I’m glad you think so. I vowed I’d never fall for a woman again who didn’t ride.”

  His pronouncement made her wonder. She raised an eyebrow at the thought of him dating a city girl. “I can’t see you with someone who doesn’t love horses. They’re such a vital part of your life.”

  “Like you, I’ve kept secrets. Ones I’m willing to share with you…but later.” She squeaked at a swat on her butt. “Get moving. Daylight’s burning.”

  Debra’s smile slipped. What secrets does Johnson keep? And can I live with knowing them?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Spring officially sprang at The Heartsong Ranch. As they rolled up to the gate, Debra watched a young filly kick up her legs and chase after her mother then a butterfly and then pause to eat the wildflowers. Laughter bubbled and escaped her lips. “Did you see that? What a silly baby! Are they always like that?”

  He pulled the truck off to the side of the pasture, flashing her a smile.

  “I haven’t seen you this lighthearted. Just watch. Mom seems like she’s not watching.”

  The spotted filly began running again, more like dancing. She galloped toward her mom and then bounced away. She did this three times, as if trying to get her mother’s attention. After the third round, the brown mare turned and butted the baby with her nose then took off across the corral. The game was afoot. Johnson’s deep laugh echoed her own. He reached across the seat and grasped her hand.

  She scooted closer to him and put her head on his shoulder, and they sat and watched the horses play for a bit, cloaked in the soft silence and sunshine. “You’re so lucky to be among this each day.” Her words rushed from her lips with passion.

  “We have more to see. Let’s keep going.” Johnson put the truck in gear and returned to the driveway. Debra’s eyes focused on the beautiful old farmhouse at the end of the gravel. She’d been to Jake and Angela’s many times to help plan their wedding. Each time she saw the home, it squeezed her heart. She dreamed of a home like theirs, a farm, space, animals, and a sexy cowboy by her side.

  His pulse thudded under her fingers in cadence with her own. She held her breath, afraid to let this moment pass. “Heaven.”

  “I love Jake’s house. Someday I’d love a farm of my own. The Heartsong Ranch became my refuge when I first began my escape from alcohol.”

  “Alcohol’s an evil mistress.” Reluctantly, she slipped off his shoulder and sat up.

  “So true. Let’s go see the barn and the horses.” Johnson parked in front of the large red barn. After shutting off the engine, he faced her. “How long did you say it’s been since you’ve ridden?”

  Heat flooded her face. “Over fifteen years. But it’s like a bike, right? Once you’ve learned, you don’t forget?”

  “Sure.” He winked. “I’ll still give you a sweet horse.” Climbing out of the truck, he strolled around and opened the door for her.

  As she got down, he drew her close to the hard length of his body. His desire was evident with the hitch of his breath. Debra loved knowing that she’d set him on fire. “I love to ride.” Her suggestive words implied more than one type of ride.

  “We’ll have to see. I’m willing to be your guide.” He caressed her face and then put her hand in his. “Let’s go saddle up.” He tugged her toward the open barn doors.

  She smelled hay, manure, and horses. As her eyes adjusted to the dim interior, she heard the nickering and snorting of horses. Debra approached the first stall. Inside, a stunning palomino horse stood watching her. “What a beauty. Who’s this?” She stretched her arm out and ran a finger across the horse’s nose.

  “That’s Cherokee. He works with one of our autistic children. He’d be perfect for you.” Johnson pointed to the next stall. A beautiful black horse stood and snorted. “This is Crimson. I’ll saddle her for me. She’s high spirited.” As he ambled toward the stall, Crimson nudged him with her nose. “Okay, girl. I’ll get you a treat. Do you want to run?” He withdrew a small carrot from his pocket and held it out for Crimson. She carefully grabbed and ate it then nudged him again.

  Debra’s laugh echoed in the quiet barn. “She’s got your number. Do you always let the ladies lead?” She slapped him on the back.

  “No.” Johnson wrapped her in his embrace and nibbled on her bottom lip. “I like to be the boss, too.”

  She forgot to breathe as his kisses made her toes tingle. Stepping out of his arms, she put some distance between them. “Let’s get riding. Do you need me to do anything?”

  “Why don’t you take a stroll out to the corral while I get the horses out and saddled. We’ll be ready to go in about ten minutes.”

  Johnson grabbed the bridle and bit and inserted it into Cherokee’s mouth and around his face. He led the horse out of the stall and tied him off at the hitching post. Next came the saddle pad, which he threw on Cherokee’s back. Finally, he put the saddle on and cinched it tight. Next, he saddled Crimson. He checked over both horses once again, to be sure that the saddles were tight and secure. He remembered the first time he’d saddled his own horse. The horse had puffed out his abdomen, making the saddle falsely tight. He hadn’t learned about that trick until the saddle slipped while he was getting on the horse. He didn’t want anything to happen to Debra or the horses.

  He stopped and grabbed the bag he’d prepared earlier and left in the barn then stuffed it into his saddle bag. When he saw Debra sitting by the corral cooing and talking to a kitten in her arms, his heart melted. He desired her…even more looking all natural, without makeup and her hair in a bun. Her green eyes sparkled as she interacted with the kitten. He watched her caressing the fur and wondered what those hands would feel like on his skin.

  “You are a natural. I see you found the newest rat chaser.”

  “She’s a doll. I couldn’t believe how trusting she was.” She set the kitten down with reluctance.

  “They aren’t, usually. You have the touch. We’re saddled and ready to go.” He extended his hand and helped her up. The kitten twisted around their legs. “I’m sorry, little one. You can’t come with us.” As if it understood, it scurried into the barn. He escorted her toward Cherokee and helped her up. He stroked her leg. “All set? Follow me.”

  He swung up into the saddle and headed out of the barnyard, toward the trees. Crimson ambled along the dusty dirt trail with Cherokee following.

  They rode in silence for thirty minutes, the
sun caressing their faces. The sound of the horseshoes on the trail soothed Debra’s mind. She’d been replaying last night at the hospital and this morning with Johnson in her head. She rubbed Cherokee’s neck and watched the man in front of her. His tight butt molded to the saddle. His tall back and full shoulders indicated his strength. This wasn’t a man who ran from problems. So how had he gotten mixed up with alcohol? What drove him to drinking as an escape? “Are we there yet?”

  “Just over that ridge. Then we’ll stop. It’s a beautiful spot by the river.”

  “Let’s race.” She put her heels to the horse’s sides. Cherokee sped off.

  “Wait for me!” Johnson and Crimson sped up as well. The race was on.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “I won!” Debra squealed as she reached the riverbank. She hopped off the horse. Her legs wobbled, and she’d have fallen if Johnson hadn’t caught her in his embrace. “How’d you do that so fast? One minute you were on the horse then you had me in your arms?”

  She gazed up at the sexy cowboy. The sunlight dappled through the trees and settled on his head, giving him a halo. Unable to fight her desire anymore, she tugged him in close for a kiss. She ran her hands over his shoulders and up to his neck. She tangled her fingers in his hair as she tugged his mouth closer. His tongue teased her lips, and she opened for him. His body was pressed hard against hers, and she felt the rigid evidence of his desire. Her own passion echoed in his gaze.

  “Let’s have some lunch. I packed some food so we’d have a chance to enjoy the outdoors and talk.” He dragged out a blanket and a bag from Crimson’s saddlebags. Shaking the blanket, he laid it gently on the ground and placed the bag on the edge. He sat down and patted the spot next to him. “Come sit.”