Big Chance Cowboy

by Teri Anne Stanley

  With a shaky sigh, she said, “Can we—”

  “Yeah. We can.” He fished in his pocket. “I swear to God I wasn’t planning for this to happen,” he said, “but Talbott shoved this at me when he took the dogs.” He held up a small package containing, Lizzie assumed, a condom.

  “You don’t have to be apologetic,” she said. “Since it is happening, right?”

  He nodded and, with a note of wonder, said, “I think so.”

  “Good.” She reached into the waistband of her dress and tugged out a package similar to the one he’d produced. “You know, in case that one’s not enough.”

  “Yeehaw,” he said, and they laughed as they began to remove their clothes. He paused to run a hand over her backside, groaning when he reached her bare ass. He yanked on the elastic at her hip. She helped him, peeling the thong down her legs.

  She watched breathlessly while Adam unbuckled his belt. She tore at the plastic covering of the condom while he popped the button of his waistband and unzipped. She reached for him, covering him, admiring the hard shape as she went.

  He boosted her up while she wrapped one leg around his waist.

  Finally, finally, he was there, just barely sliding into her slick heat. “Yeah, that works,” he said, grabbing her thigh to hold her steady while he eased inside her, which was…

  “Oh wow.” Something about this angle really worked. He was both stroking her and filling her at the same time.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  “O-kay.” She nodded, afraid she might break the connection if she moved. Adam seemed to have no such misgivings, because he smiled down at her, kissed her, and began to move.

  And move.

  Before she knew it, her body was tensing around him, lightning bolts of electricity running from the base of her spine to every nerve ending she had and back again.

  She heard him groan, felt him tense, and everything went haywire as her nervous system short-circuited.

  When it was over, when the aftershocks faded and he slid from her body, she realized that not once, not for a second, even as she undressed in front of him, had she worried about her size.

  * * *

  Adam had never come so hard or so…completely. As the last waves of the world’s most amazing orgasm faded, his knees buckled. Lizzie, God bless her, was ready and landed on her feet, needing only a hand on his shoulder for balance. Adam was nearly insensibly boneless, the top of his skull somewhere in the next county, the rest of his skeleton turned to rubber.

  He somehow managed to drag his jeans back up around his ass but didn’t bother to fasten them while he tried to figure out what to do with the condom—

  “Here.” Lizzie produced a tissue from somewhere, and he staggered to the nearest trash can while she fiddled with the skirt of her dress.

  And then there they were, standing in the dark, staring at each other. His brain slowly came back online, but everything was skewed—shinier and softer at the same time. The past few minutes in her arms, in her body, had eclipsed everything he’d felt before that. Even now, he could barely remember what they’d been talking about, what he’d been so distressed over.

  “How you doin,’ soldier?” she drawled, wrapping her arms around his waist, smiling up at him. His arms slid around her shoulders, snuggling her against him so they leaned into each other, almost like they were dancing again.

  “I’m doing…not terrible,” he admitted. He scanned their surroundings and thought about what they’d just done, hard and fast against the wall of the Dairy Queen. God, he’d barely even touched her before he was slamming into her.

  “I’m awesome,” she told him, leaning in to nuzzle his neck. Her kiss-swollen lips quirked up. “But if you’re not sure you did a thorough job, we can try again.”

  His dick agreed, but he looked around at the darkened, trash-strewn parking lot and decided that the next time he touched her, he wanted silk sheets, roses, champagne, the whole works. Or at least doors, so he could shut out the rest of the world and take his time to touch and taste every inch of her.

  Meanwhile…what? “So, uh…” Take the lead here, big guy, that’s what. “What do you want to do now?”

  She sighed, though it sounded contented, not frustrated. “I suppose I should take you back out to the ranch?”

  Ooh. A car had doors. “Yeah, if it’s not too much trouble. Or I can always borrow Emma’s car.”

  On cue, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

  “Yeah?” he answered while Lizzie bent down and picked up some litter. Of course she would. Adam’s mind was fogged with postcoital confusion, and she’d slipped right back into her superhero costume as Civic Responsibility Girl.

  “Adam? It’s Emma.”

  “Hey. What’s going on?”

  Lizzie gathered the litter—was that some sort of rag?—and began pulling at it. Wait. That wasn’t litter. It was her damned thong.

  “Are you still in town? I could use some help.”

  “Okay.”

  Lizzie lifted one boot-clad foot, then the other, and stepped into the thong. She met his eyes and began tugging the thing up to her knees, then her thighs…

  “I’m being abducted by aliens, and they said if you bring them sixty pounds of whole wheat flour—”

  He turned from the reverse striptease and said, “What?”

  “I wasn’t sure you were paying attention to me. You sound a little distracted.”

  He didn’t have enough bandwidth for this. “Emma, what’s going on?”

  “Granddad’s having a bad night. He’s upset about something, and I can’t make sense of it. I wouldn’t bother you, but he keeps saying I have to tell you about whatever it is. Since I don’t understand…anyway, can you come by and talk to him?”

  Without thinking, he’d turned back to face Lizzie. He inhaled her scent. Lemon, something flowery, and, Jesus, sex. She stood close enough to touch, concern creasing her forehead.

  Letting her know about his problems—and Granddad was one of them—didn’t bother him as much as it might have an hour ago.

  “Adam?” Emma prodded.

  He closed his eyes, tried to focus. “Yep. Okay. I’ll be there in five minutes.” Putting the phone away, he told Lizzie, “I need to go to Emma’s. Granddad’s having some sort of dementia moment,” he told her.

  “Okay. Do you want me to come with you, or would that make things more chaotic?”

  He did want her to come with him. She might not help Granddad, but her pragmatic compassion grounded Adam. Just being near her evened out his blood pressure. She wouldn’t stop the crazy from knocking on his door, but she’d definitely distract him from inviting it in for coffee.

  Hmm. Frantic sex as treatment for PTSD—he wondered if he could get a prescription for that.

  But no. He wasn’t going to subject her to Granddad right now, not while he was feeling so…good. He felt good. It was such a foreign experience, he barely recognized it.

  “Thanks for offering, but no thanks. I think I’d better deal with whatever this is on my own.”

  “Okay.” She looked uncertain, and he felt the same way.

  “I’ll walk you home.”

  “You sure? It’s pretty far out of your way,” she said, laughing as she pointed at the fence between her family’s backyard and the rear lot of the Dairy Queen.

  He unlatched the gate and held it open, then followed her the few steps to her back door.

  “So, I guess I’ll talk to you later,” he said when she had it opened.

  “Do you want me to run you to Emma’s? My car keys are right inside the door.”

  He shook his head. “It’s only a couple of blocks away.”

  “Okay then.” She waved her hands, clearly flustered. “I don’t know what comes next. Do we hug goodbye from now on? Kiss?”

  She was cu
te when she was at a loss, which had the effect of making him feel more in control.

  “How’s about this?” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, and she hummed with pleasure. The kiss, which started out gentle and sweet, began to heat up, and he pulled away before he lost his mind again. “We’ll worry about next time…next time.”

  “Okay. Good plan.”

  He watched her walk inside before turning toward the Feed and Seed and Emma’s place. It seemed appropriate that Granddad picked tonight to have a meltdown, because Adam was feeling almost—normal? At least human, for the first time in a long time. Like a guy who’d met a girl for a date that had gone really, really well.

  Give or take a near fight and some major anxiety.

  He sighed.

  He really had to get this ranch sold so he could get Granddad somewhere safe—for his sake and Emma’s.

  Chapter 23

  “Thanks for coming by. I’m sorry I interrupted your date.” Emma stood on her front porch, biting the cuticle of her thumbnail. It was an old habit from when their parents died and they’d moved to Big Chance. Adam thought she’d given it up during grade school, but she seemed to have picked it up again sometime in the past few years. Because of losing her husband? Or because of having to deal with Granddad?

  Either way, every time Adam saw her doing it, his guilt meter registered in the red zone. She shouldn’t have to worry, and he should be helping more.

  “I’m glad you called,” he told her. “What’s going on?”

  She sighed. “I thought going to the square tonight would be good. Get Granddad to visit with more people than just me, Mrs. King, and you. He had a good time when we came out to the ranch a couple of weeks ago.”

  Seemed reasonable. It would be good for Emma, too, but he didn’t say so. She got defensive any time he expressed concern about the fact that she went to work, took care of Granddad, and did little else. Some self-imposed punishment for Todd’s death, he suspected.

  Well, hopefully Adam could get the damned ranch sold, they’d get Granddad somewhere safe, and she’d be able to resume her life.

  “So what happened?” he asked. “Granddad seemed okay when I saw you in town.”

  “Well, yeah, he was, at first,” she said. “We had waffle fries and ice cream and watched people.”

  “And then the grease hit your gut?”

  She smiled. “No, but I am glad I stocked up on antacids this week.” Her smile faded. “He was cranky, but he’s always cranky, bitching about how the funnel cakes weren’t as crispy as when Grandma volunteered in the booth back in 1800-whatever.”

  They shared a chuckle over that. Granddad was notorious for comparing everything to the “good ol’ days.”

  “But then we ran into Fred Chance.”

  “The mayor’s uncle?” Adam tried to remember who was who, but he hadn’t been back in Big Chance long enough to pass the “who are the Chance cousins” social membership quiz.

  “Yeah. The great-uncle, I think. Anyway, he was there with his family and called to Granddad, and he just…lost it.”

  “Granddad?”

  “Yeah. Mr. Chance was really nice—asked about everyone. Then he mentioned the ranch, and Granddad started calling him a lying, cheating scumbag, except he was calling the man Mike and not Fred. I got him to come home by telling him I wasn’t feeling well, but when we got back here, he was talking to himself about bad decisions. He won’t go to bed, he won’t take his medicine, and he goes back and forth between paranoid outbursts and spaced-out silence. Says he’s got to find out what happened to the proof.”

  “Proof? Of what?”

  “That he’s the legal heir to the throne of England?” Emma shrugged. “I honestly have no clue.”

  “Maybe he got confused between reality and something he saw on TV.”

  “Maybe.” Emma didn’t seem convinced, but the important thing was getting Granddad to chill out and take his meds so everyone could get some rest.

  “Where is he?”

  “On the sun porch.”

  “Let’s go talk to him.” Adam followed his sister to the door to the little screened-in area out back, just in time to hear the screen door slam shut.

  “Shit.” Adam followed. “Granddad, slow down!” The old man moved fast and made it to Main Street before Adam caught up with him.

  “Hey, Granddad,” Adam said. “Where you going?”

  “I’ve got to find that Mike fella and make him give me back them papers.”

  “Mike who?”

  “Oh, hell, boy,” Granddad grumbled. “I’m old. I don’t remember his last name. He’s that one son of a bitch. Should be in jail, but we let him leave town instead. I’ve got to tell the sheriff.”

  “Ooookay,” Adam said, trying to think. “You know, it’s the Fourth of July, and people are all out celebrating. Maybe tomorrow would be a better time to sort things out.”

  Granddad stopped. “You don’t believe me.”

  He knew the feeling—recognizing that your brain didn’t work the way it was supposed to—so he tried not to be patronizing. “The sheriff’s pretty busy tonight, with all the extra people in town.”

  “I know. That’s why the son of a bitch won’t be expectin’ us.”

  “I tell you what,” Adam said. “Tomorrow, I’ll personally go to the sheriff’s office with you and help you surprise this Mike. Would that help?”

  Like a switch had been flipped, Granddad was suddenly all smiles. “That’s a great idea, boy. You caught them terrorists well enough, I guess. You surely can’t fuck up catching Mike.”

  Great, Adam thought as he successfully guided Granddad into a one-eighty turn and pointed them back toward Emma’s house. Hopefully, the old man would forget his mission before he expected Adam to perform miracles and catch this imaginary Mike.

  * * *

  Lizzie collapsed backward onto her bed, arms outstretched, landing in the heap of stuffed animals her mom refused to throw away.

  Adam. Collins. She’d just had mind-blowing sex with Adam Collins.

  She sat up to remove her boots, appreciating the slight soreness that let her know she’d had not just mind-blowing sex but hard and fast up-against-a-wall sex. And she hadn’t had to apologize for the size of her thighs or her soft tummy, like she had with Dean-the-Dick.

  She spared Dean five more seconds—he’d once made a point of comparing his own ribbed abdomen to hers after making supposed love to her. On second thought, she was done giving him any more thought.

  She’d come back to Big Chance for a fresh start, and she’d made progress, especially on the job and family front. She hadn’t been quite ready to cast off all her old hang-ups, though, until now. It was time to be New Lizzie. New, improved, confident Lizzie who could do her long-lost high school crush and not fall apart or spend the next however many weeks wanting a do-over to get it right. That was how she always felt with Dean—whom she was done with and not thinking about anymore.

  Because she had done it right with Adam. And he’d done it right with her.

  How did Adam feel? Was he sorry? He’d looked a little shell-shocked before he left, but that kiss… She was a little annoyed that he’d probably been right; she’d been too young when they’d had that first chance, way back when.

  They were both older and wiser now. Maybe even old and wise enough to climb over their separate piles of baggage and meet in the middle a few more times before—before what? Before she sold his ranch and he rode off into the sunset. Alone.

  She wasn’t going to think about that, either.

  One thing that’d be okay to think about was Dad’s historical park, so she grabbed her laptop and booted it up.

  She spent an hour surfing through old online newspapers to see if there were any records of the sale of that farm on Mill Creek Road. It wasn’t hard to imagine
someone had misfiled the paperwork in the Chance County Clerk’s office, but there had to be some record, somewhere.

  Clint and Crystal crossed her mind, then. If Clint’s cousin had used the place for dogfighting, maybe he knew something. Lizzie shuddered at the thought of approaching that person, whoever he was.

  Adam might do it, though. Except that scared her almost as much, because he was likely to take on the dogfighting guys single-handedly, like he was taking on everything else. She’d talk to him. Make sure he planned to get the sheriff involved.

  Her phone chimed with an incoming text.

  Adam: Hey. Hope I didn’t wake you. Just wanted to say…good night.

  She smiled.

  Lizzie: Hey yourself. Everything okay with your granddad?

  Adam: Yep. He decided to run away from home and confront an imaginary enemy about an imaginary theft, but I convinced him to go home.

  Lizzie: How did you do that?

  Adam: Told him I’d help him talk to the sheriff tomorrow. Hopefully he’ll forget about it by then.

  Lizzie: I’m sorry this is so hard for him. For everyone.

  A pause.

  Lizzie: You still there?

  Nothing.

  Crap.

  Five minutes later, long enough for her to reread their texts and worry about what she’d said wrong (ever in her entire life), her phone chimed again.

  Adam: Sorry. Talbott fell. I had to help him get up off his ass.

  Lizzie: Is he okay?

  Adam: Yes. I think it was his pain medicine mixed with his messed-up back.

  Lizzie: Oh no!

  Adam: He’ll just take another pill. He won’t care again soon enough.

  Lizzie: I’m not sure what to say about that.

  She’d noticed that Marcus usually had a beer in his hand when she was at the ranch. Was he mixing that with pain pills? Surely, he knew better. It seemed that any comment was going to draw attention to the fact that Adam blamed himself for Marcus’s situation.

  Adam: Nothing to say. He does what he has to do to get through it.