Three Weeks With a Bull Rider

by Cat Johnson

“I can get it.” She held out her hand for the gauze.

  Maryann handed it over and Tara blotted at the blood. He’d need stitches to close up the wound, but knowing him, he probably wouldn’t want to get them.

  “Can you feel your legs?” The doctor continued the evaluation as he probed the back of Jace’s neck with his fingers.

  “Yes.” He moved one foot as proof.

  “Can you squeeze both my hands?” Doc Chandler asked as he laid his fingers beneath Jace’s.

  “Yes.” Jace tightened his fingers around the doctor’s as proof.

  “Good. Now, how many fingers am I holding up?”

  He squinted. “Four. No, three, I think.”

  The doctor put down the two fingers he’d been holding up, and took out a penlight. He flicked the light across Jace’s eyes. “Do you know what day it is, Jace?”

  “Um.” A frown creased Jace’s bloody forehead.

  “You might want to try another question,” Tara told the doctor. “He doesn’t know what the day is even when he hasn’t fallen on his head.”

  Doctor Chandler nodded. “All right. Jace, what’s this pretty lady’s name next to me? Who is she?”

  Jace’s attention moved from the doctor to Tara. “Tara Elizabeth Jenkins. She’s my traveling partner.”

  For some reason his answer, complete with the middle name Tara would have never guessed he knew, choked her up. She forced back the tears and put on a smile. “That’s right.”

  The doctor flipped off his penlight. “Well, it looks as if you’ve got yourself a nice concussion, but I think that’s the extent of it. We’re gonna get you on the board—”

  “No, I can walk out.” Jace winced as he pushed himself up with one arm. His eyes focused on Tara. “Help me up.”

  Tara looked to the doctor for confirmation. He raised a brow. “He wants to walk out, he can, but not without help.”

  Cheers exploded throughout the arena when the fans saw Jace being lifted to his feet. The doctor moved to support him, but Jace reached out and grabbed for Tara’s arm. He pulled her to his side, wrapping his right arm around her shoulder.

  “All right. Tara can help you.” With an expression that spoke more than his words had, the doc led the way toward the back.

  Jace leaned so heavily on her that if Rick hadn’t slipped beneath Jace’s left arm to support him, Tara might have crumpled and taken both of them down to the ground.

  As Jace’s weight crushed against her, Tara took one staggering step after another. “Careful, Rick. That’s the shoulder he dislocated in the last event.”

  Rick snorted. “A sore shoulder is the least of his worries right now, but I’ll do my best.”

  “Damn new underwear didn’t work.” Jace’s grumbled words took her by surprise.

  Tara couldn’t help but laugh, even as tears of relief stung behind her eyes. Happy he was with it enough to be a smart-ass, she had no problem humoring him. “Nope. They sure didn’t. Maybe I’d better tell Dillon to ditch his before his ride. He’ll have to ride commando, instead.”

  A crooked smile tipped Jace’s mouth up as they made their way slowly but surely toward the back.

  “I’m seeing two of you. You’re gonna have to drive my truck back to the hotel.” He was feeling mighty poorly to suggest that.

  “It’s okay. I’ll ask Dillon to drive it, if you’re worried about me.”

  “Not worried. I trust you.” He let out a labored breath. “Damn, I hurt.”

  Jace trusted her. Enough to drive his truck, which was a total one-eighty from the last time they’d discussed her driving his vehicle. Tara had to recover from that pronouncement before she could respond to his other admission—equally amazing for a stubborn bull rider—that he was in pain.

  “Will you take whatever pills the doc gives you without arguing?” she asked.

  He nodded but the move looked painful. “Yeah.”

  That settled it. Jace had gotten one hell of a knock on the head. He’d changed his mind about most everything he’d been so adamant about before.

  “All right, then. I’ll see what he prescribes for you.”

  “Thanks.” They’d reached the hallway leading to the medical room when Jace turned his head. “Somebody get my hat?”

  Tara realized he was going to be fine if he was worried about his hat. “Yeah, Maryann grabbed it. But it’s gonna need a good brushing after rolling around in the dirt. I’ll clean it up for you when we get back to the hotel.”

  He let out a short laugh. “And I’ll let you.”

  Dealing with a compliant Jace was a new experience, but so far, injury aside, she kind of liked him that way.

  Had he been compliant and healthy—man oh man, she’d have him doing everything she wanted. Anywhere. Everywhere. That thought had her body tightening with need. But his weight across her shoulders making every step an effort for all three of them was a very real reminder he was hurt.

  “Do you think he needs to go to the hospital? Get a CT scan?” The double vision concerned Tara enough to ask.

  “No hospital.” Jace answered Tara’s questions before the doctor could.

  Doctor Chandler blew out a breath. “I’d love to get a brain image and make sure there’s no swelling or bleeding, but you heard him. I guess we won’t be using the ambulance after all.”

  “No need. I feel fine.” Jace stumbled, making him look not so fine.

  The doctor watched his progress critically. “Jace, hospital visit or no hospital visit, it doesn’t matter. I’m not letting you ride tomorrow. You realize that, right?”

  “That’s fine. I’ll sit out tomorrow.” Again, he agreed.

  Doctor Chandler continued. “There’s a good chance you’re out for the next week.”

  Tara realized the full implications of Jace being injured. Yes, she was very worried about her travel buddy. Head injuries were nothing to mess around with. There could be internal bleeding, or swelling of the brain, or hell, any number of things. But in addition to all that, Jace was her ride. If he couldn’t compete, he wouldn’t be going to the next event.

  “I’ll be fine by the next event. You’ll see. I feel better already, Doc.”

  Stubborn as ever, apparently. She’d been worried prematurely. Knowing Jace, he would keep driving to the events out of sheer stubbornness and the hope the doctor would give in and let him ride.

  But right now, he wasn’t looking so good. The doctor glanced at Tara. “You two are traveling together. Can you check on him a few times during the night?”

  Tara opened her mouth to say of course she could since they shared a room, but now that they did more than just share a room, she decided to keep that detail to herself, just in case it wasn’t already common knowledge. “Sure. No problem.”

  “All right.” The doctor dipped his head in a nod. “Then we’ll do what he wants. You have my cell number?”

  “I do.” Tara answered quickly because they’d reached the medical room and Jace was already reaching for the exam table.

  Rick let him go and Jace swayed as he reached for the table’s edge, missing it by a solid inch. His perception was way off.

  Luckily, Tara still had a grip on him. He held onto her as she helped him sit. “Lie back.”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “Makes me feel sick. Like getting the spins after a night of too much drinking.” He didn’t quite focus on her face as he said it.

  Nausea was common with concussions, but the last thing she needed was Jace taking a tumble off the table because he didn’t want to lie down. Later, she’d have to prop him up in the bed with pillows. Maybe she should sleep in bed with him to make sure he didn’t fall out.

  Jace swayed again and she stepped closer. “Just hold on to me.”

  “Okay. Sounds good.” He propped his hand on her shoulder and blew out a breath.

  “Take these.” Doc Chandler handed him two pills and a cup of water. Jace swallowed without argument.

  More
compliance. Too bad he was hurting. She sighed at the thought of what he might agree to if he was in this mood but physically feeling well.

  She managed to get Jace to stay in the medical room, sitting down so he didn’t fall down, for the remainder of the event. It was a bit like babysitting a child. Every time she got called away to do something else, she held her breath until she could get back to make sure he hadn’t done anything to injure himself while she’d been gone.

  Talk about nerve wracking. If Tara could have strapped Jace down to the table, or even better, drugged him so he’d go to sleep, she would have. Rest was the best medicine for a concussion, but they couldn’t give him anything that would make him sleepy. Throughout the night, she would need to make sure he was responsive. If he were drugged, she wouldn’t be able to do that.

  The doctor had given Jace some acetaminophen to make him more comfortable with the promise of a muscle-relaxer tomorrow if the discomfort in his neck or shoulder was too much for him. Since he refused to go to the hospital, and his symptoms weren‘t severe enough they could make him, that was about all they could do.

  All in all, it looked as if Tara was going to get quite a bit of round-the-clock, on-the-job training thanks to Jace. Since the doctor had put her in charge of caring for him, he had to listen to her and do what she said. She liked that idea. However, once Jace began to feel better and realized she was in charge, he would absolutely hate it.

  Tara liked that idea even better.

  Chapter Twenty

  “But I’m bored.”

  “I’m sorry, but you need to rest.” Tara sounded like a mother coddling a two-year-old.

  “I rested last night, except when you were poking me to wake me up all night long.” Jace tried to ignore how whiny he sounded. He had a right. Being stuck in a hotel room sucked.

  “I had to make sure you were all right since you refused to go to the hospital for a CT and I had no idea if your brain was bleeding.”

  Having Tara in charge of his medical care and apparently every other aspect of his life was enough to make a man’s brain bleed. “Why can’t I just go and sit behind the chutes? What difference does it make if I’m sitting here or I’m sitting there? The doc’s not gonna let me ride anyway.”

  “You won’t just sit there. You’ll be up on the chutes helping the other guys take their wraps. Or hopping up and down yelling for their rides. I know you.”

  “So I’m just supposed to sit here? And do what?”

  “Watch television.”

  “I hate television.”

  “You do not. I heard you talking to Tuck about that show with the guys with the long beards who hunt ducks or whatever.”

  “Fine, I like one show. What if that’s not on tonight? Then what?”

  “Find something else to watch.” Tara shook her head. “I swear. You’re worse than a child.”

  “Am not. I’m just bored.”

  Tara laughed. “Pouting doesn’t help your case any.”

  “I’ve seen you pout plenty.” Jace knew he was acting like a baby but being laid up was torture. Being laid up in a cheap hotel room with Tara as his warden was a nightmare. “What if I promise to sit and not leave my seat at the arena?”

  “I have to work. I don’t have time to watch you.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “Yes, you do.” She planted her hands on her hips and looked too much like a young version of his mother. If Tara used his full name while yelling at him, he’d be traumatized by the likeness forever.

  At least this new version of Tara, deep in caretaker mode, had stopped trying to attack him in bed. Not that he would have been able to perform in any way even if she had tried. He’d been too out of it.

  The dull ache in his head was still present, and the even worse ache in his neck was nearly unbearable. Of course, he would never admit that to her. The force of the collision with the bull’s skull had probably given him whiplash, but he would bet the bull wasn’t feeling as crappy today as he was. Damn hardheaded creatures had skulls like freaking iron.

  “Do you need anything before I leave? Food. Drink.”

  “No.” He’d filled up on the pizza and pop they’d had delivered an hour ago.

  “You sure? Jace, I want you to promise me you won’t go anywhere after I leave.”

  “How could I go anywhere? You’re taking my truck, aren’t you?” He scowled at the idea of being trapped.

  “No, uh, Dillon’s coming to get me.”

  Jace frowned, which hurt his head. “Why?”

  Tara pulled a face, which made him even more interested in the answer until a horrible thought crossed his fuzzy brain.

  His eyes widened. “You didn’t wreck my truck last night, did you?”

  Had he been that out of it he didn’t notice they’d gotten in an accident? Maybe she’d gone out again to get something when he’d fallen asleep and wrapped it around a phone pole trying to park. God almighty, he loved that truck.

  “No, I didn’t wreck it. It’s fine. Right outside in the same place I parked it last night.”

  “Then—”

  “It’s too big for me, okay?” She let out a frustrated huff. “You were right. I hated driving it. It’s too much truck and it scares me. Happy?”

  He really was. Tara had admitted he was right about something and that rarely happened. He decided to take the high road. “I’m sorry you had to drive me last night and that it scared you.”

  “It’s okay. I lived through it and so did your truck, so it’s fine. But as long as Dillon is staying at the same hotel we are, and going to the same place, it seemed foolish not to text him and ask for a ride. You just rest and get better so I don’t have to drive it again tomorrow to the next town. Okay?”

  “Okay. Promise.” He tried to control the smile brought on by the sheer satisfaction of being right.

  She eyed him more closely. “How’s your vision today?”

  “Fine.”

  Tara moved to perch on the edge of his bed. She thrust two fingers in front of his face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  “Two.”

  “Good.” She nodded, happy because she had no idea he was lying. Or at least he hadn’t told her the complete truth.

  He saw two, all right, but they were so blurred they looked more like two hummingbirds in flight rather than two still fingers. The blurred vision would go away, and soon he hoped. Otherwise, traveling tomorrow would be a real challenge, since Tara wasn’t getting behind the wheel of his truck again.

  The sound of an engine outside had her glancing toward the door. “That’ll be Dillon.”

  “Go on. I’ll be fine.”

  She stood. “Keep your cell phone on—and not on silent, either—so I can call to check up on you.”

  “You keep yours on, too,” Jace ordered.

  She let out a huff. “Mine is on. You made me turn it on yesterday. Remember? Call if you need anything. Or if you feel dizzy or nauseated or—”

  “Good-bye, Tara. Have a good day at work.” If he didn’t give her a little verbal push out the door, he had a feeling she wouldn’t get there on her own. He didn’t need Dillon knocking and then coming in and seeing him laid up in bed like a damn invalid.

  “Okay, I’ll see you later.” With one final glance, Tara grabbed her bag and headed out the door.

  The room felt different without her in it—as if all the energy had seeped out the door along with her. It must be the boredom making him feel so alone. He’d dare say lonely. The side effect of being with someone twenty-four hours a day, he supposed.

  Jace reached for his cell on the nightstand and pressed the volume control up from silent to vibrate. He didn’t think he could handle it ringing, especially if Jacqueline continued to blow up his phone with calls and messages.

  While he had it in his hand, he decided to kill some time. He couldn’t deal with going through whatever new messages Jacqueline had left for him, but he would enjoy making Tuck jealous he
wasn’t there by telling him about the epic wreck on Beast Master.

  The television was the only light in the room when Jace awoke with a start. He must have fallen asleep. No surprise. He was bored out of his mind.

  The sound of water running in the bathroom gave him a clue as to what had awoken him. Tara was home. The event must be over. He hoisted himself up a little higher on the pillow and winced at the pain in his neck. He’d have to go to the bathroom after she came out, and sneak something out of his shaving bag. He never traveled without ibuprofen to dull the aches and pains.

  Jace waited until he heard her walk out of the bathroom and slip into her own bed before he slid out of his. He brushed his teeth and swallowed a few pills for the pain with water right out of the tap.

  When he came out of the bathroom, Tara was sitting up. “Hey, how do you feel?”

  “Fine. How’d tonight go at the arena?” He padded slowly toward his bed.

  “Good. Klint won.”

  “Klint?” Jace turned his whole body rather than just his stiff neck to glare through the dimness at her.

  “Yes. What’s the problem?”

  “He’s a frigging rookie.” Jace climbed into his bed, but chose to lie on top of the covers. His anger was making him hot.

  “Rookies can win an event sometimes, too.”

  Rookies who’d taken Tara into a closet to molest her shouldn’t win anything. Where was karma or whoever was supposed to take care of such things? He was still scowling when she swung her feet over the edge of her mattress and covered the short distance between their beds. She climbed onto his bed, and kneeled, straddling his legs.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, though he supposed he could guess.

  “You’re acting pissy so you must be feeling better.” With her thighs spread wide, Tara ground against his pelvis, waking up his erection.

  He felt her warmth clear through his shorts. Frowning, he slid his hands up her thighs and beneath the hem of her T-shirt. Bare skin greeted him. “When did you stop wearing shorts to bed? And underwear, too?”

  “When you agreed we could fool around.”

  “I never agreed to that.”

  “Uh, yeah, you did. At Dillon’s house, the first night. You said that we could do everything but fuck.”