Chapter Three
Urban was stretched out on the table in the medical facility as the medic pressed the stethoscope to his chest.
“Take a deep breath for me,” the medic asked.
Taking a deep breath hurt, but he was still alive. He was also mad as hell. “I’m fine.”
“Let me be the judge of that. Chest sounds clear.” He dragged the stethoscope around his neck. “The leg isn’t broken, but if it doesn’t start feeling better in a few days, you need to have it x-rayed. I’ll wrap the wrist which probably has a hairline fracture. You definitely walked away one lucky man.”
“I lost a lot of money. I wouldn’t exactly say I’m lucky.” Saying the words aloud stung like hell. He couldn’t blame the rank bull who was doing what instinct told him to do. Not everyone could win the pot.
“Hang tight for a minute and I’ll get you out of here,” the medic said.
“Need a lift, bro?”
Urban looked up to find Hugh standing in the doorway. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to watch. You certainly put on the best show. Just like the medic said, you’re a lucky man.” Hugh stepped in and shook his head. “But you do look like shit.”
“Get catapulted from a bull and you’d look like shit too.”
“I’ve been there a few times. You okay? Anything broken?”
He held up his hand. “Damn wrist again.”
“From the first ride?”
“Yeah. I got tossed after the buzzer.”
“We all fall off at times, bro. You’ll need a cast.” There was a sincerity to his voice that told Urban his brother was being protective.
“But we don’t always lose that much money. I bet Grimes is as proud as a pig with a full slop trough.”
“You sore because you lost or because he won?” Hugh laughed.
“Hell, you need to ask?”
Hugh shrugged “Guess I do.”
“The money, bro. I had plans for it.”
“You still going to retire?”
“Not sure I’ll be able to now.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “How’s the sheriff race going?”
“It’s going. Did you vote?”
“Planned on it.” Urban winced as the medic rolled the wrap around his wrist. “Might as well stop at the firehouse on the way to the hospital. I’ve got to vote for the man right for the job.” He winked.
“You’re free to go,” the medic informed him.
“Come on, Urban. Let’s get out of here.” Hugh grabbed Urban’s hat from the bottom of the cot and dropped it to his stomach. “You’ll want to get going before they start letting off fireworks celebrating Grimes.”
“I’m in no mood to go home yet. I think we need a little celebrating ourselves. It’s not every day a man’s brother gets elected sheriff.”
“Not so fast. I haven’t been voted in yet.”
“Hell, you have this in the bag.”
They arrived at the local steakhouse bar, after Urban had his wrist put in a cast, and just as the band was setting up on the small stage. “Grab us a couple cold ones,” Urban said to the bartender as they took two seats at the bar.
“That bull got you, man. You look a mess,” the petite waitress placed the two beers in front of them.
“That’s what I’m hearing, but a bull can’t keep a cowboy down. I even have a souvenir.” He held up his cast and tapped it.
“First round is on the house.” She saluted Urban.
“You need a nurse, cowboy.” He heard the soft voice a second before he felt slender hands glide down his shoulders. He glimpsed red nails.
Looking up, he saw it was Rena Hart who was pressing her body against his. She stepped around and shimmied her hips, bumping his arm. He couldn’t deny she looked fine in a tight fitting red T-shirt that showed off her big tits. Although she liked to flirt with all the Jerichos, especially Weston, that’s as far as it ever got with any of them. Urban had a feeling, though, if he asked her politely, she’d have no qualms with showing him a good time. For some reason, he felt edgy this evening and even the thought of falling into the arms of beautiful Rena didn’t do it for him.
“Can I be the first to sign the cast?” She waved for the bartender. “Grab me a pen and a sex on the beach, Dolly.” She didn’t even take her gaze off Urban. Once the pen was in hand, he watched her scribble something, her tongue darting in and out of her mouth as she concentrated. “Sorry I didn’t make it to see you ride, cowboy.” She gave her long hair a toss over one shoulder. “I hear it didn’t end well. By the looks of you I’d say the rumors were true,” she cooed, dipping close enough that he caught a whiff of her too strong perfume.
“News travels fast, especially when it’s bad news,” he practically growled.
She leaned closer, pressing one firm breast against his bicep. “Don’t be a sourpuss. You know when I talk about you, or your brothers, it’s only good.”
“Thank you. Much obliged.” He dipped his hat. She shifted and Urban saw past her shoulder to Hugh who was grinning ear to ear. Yeah, he would find this funny. Urban grabbed his bottle and drank thirstily. “Did you vote today for Hugh?”
“Of course, I did. Every small town needs a big shouldered sheriff to lay down the law.” She winked, then let out a low moan. “You don’t see the likes of her in here often.” There was an obvious hostility in her tone.
Following her slanted gaze, Urban spewed his beer onto her arm which earned him a look of contempt. “What the hell, Urban? You have a hole in your lip?” She reached for a napkin from the holder and dabbed her arm, still eyeing him in disdain.
“Sorry.” He watched the pretty red-head move through the crowd. What the hell was Presley doing here? And with some tall, lanky cowboy wannabe? Why did Urban’s stomach drop?
Rena chuckled. “I forgive you, honey.” She slipped an arm around his waist to snuggle against his chest.
He still watched Presley. One corner of her mouth lowered as she caught him in a cold heated stare from across the room. She lifted her chin as the man she was with tucked an arm around her waist and drew her closer, nuzzling his nose in her hair.
“You’re going to break the bottle, sugar.” Rena laughed and tapped a claw-like nail against the label.
He didn’t think he’d feel it if he did.
Presley whispered something in her date’s ear and he laughed. Urban’s gaze latched onto her ass in the tight-fitting jeans all the way down to her “fuck me” red heels that could second as weapons. Her long hair had been curled into bouncy coils and the warm, dim light above her head made the golden highlights in the lush mass come alive. He wondered what the silken locks would feel like brushing across his naked body.
He didn’t bother removing his gaze off her as she started for the bar. Urban overheard her date ask her, “Is this a beer night or something stronger?”
“I’ll take a beer,” she said, casting Urban another death-grip gaze.
What the hell is her problem?
While tall and lanky ordered their drinks, Presley stepped over, wearing a smile that Urban figured was much like press on nails. They looked as fake as hell. She first said, “Hello”, to Hugh and then turned her attention to Urban, giving Rena, who snorted, a long glance. “You’re still alive. And with a cast.”
Urban laughed. “I’m sure you’re disappointed.”
Her laughter was nervous, but at least she was no longer eyeing him like he was a pygmy goat and she was a hungry lioness, which didn’t sound too bad after he thought about it. “You okay?”
“Hell, I’ve been hurt worse falling off a bike.” Not entirely true, but the last thing he was going to do was complain…to her.
“I was watching. Damn, you must have really pissed that bull off. It was a good show though.”
“Unfortunately, not enough to win the prize. Who’s the cowboy?” Urban used his bottle to point to her date.
“You don’t know him.” There was an anxious lilt to her voice.
“That’s why I asked who he is.”
Presley blinked. “He’s Dr. Bart Kruiseman. He’s a vet over in Ottoman County.” She lifted a hand to tuck a curl behind her ear, leaving a trace of seductive perfume in the air. Urban breathed in heavy.
A knot formed in both his throat and chest, double whammy. It angered him, so much that he didn’t think before he spoke. “Is he the marrying kind?” Oh fuck! Why’d he go and do that for?
Ruby red colored her cheeks and her irises blossomed into dark targets. Yeah, the death glare was back. He deserved it. The words had slipped out. She cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t know. This is our first date.”
“Marrying kind?” Hugh said with a scoff. “Are you looking, Pres?”
“No.” She dared Urban to make a peep otherwise.
He lifted an eyebrow, almost forgetting that Rena was snuggled up close until she shifted and brushed against his crotch. By her sweet smile she must have believed his expansion was due to her, but Urban knew without a doubt that the unfriendly lady across from him was the culprit. She had some control over him that he couldn’t quite understand. “Sweetheart, maybe you should move.”
Rena blinked, her nose wrinkled and she nudged him in the ribs as she pushed away. “Good to see you, Dr. Dean. I hope you’re doing great.”
“Fine, thank you, Rena.”
There was a lingering awkwardness between the two ladies and Urban had no understanding of why, nor did he care. Rena strolled away, probably angry. “So, is that the new flavor of the month?” Presley drawled.
“Ain’t none of your business,” he said in moody tone. He couldn’t allow her to get to him.
“Oh, but it’s your business who I’m with?”
Hugh was watching the duo closely, the area between his brows scrunching. “I see you two are still at it.”
“No, we’re fine. Aren’t we, tiger? I mean, can I call you tiger? That’s what your cast reads.” She grinned and gave him a gentle tap on the part of his cast where Rena had written a book.
He didn’t even look to see what it read. “Better than good. Happy hunting,” he said in a lowered voice.
“Are you ready? Several tables have opened up,” Bart approached, handed her a bottle, then wrapped his arm around her tiny waist.
For a first date, the bastard sure was touchy-feely.
And Urban was getting a buzz which made him brave enough to watch her ass again as she walked away, shiny curls bouncing around her bare shoulders. He liked how her shirt was off the shoulders, revealing nice, smooth skin.
“Looks like her date is happy.” Hugh laughed.
“I’m hungry. How about you, bro?” Urban asked.
Hugh shrugged. “I could eat I guess.”
“Let’s go sit at that table.” He pointed to the one next to where Presley and the doc sat. He hurried off the stool, but Hugh caught him by the elbow.
“I don’t think Presley—”
“We were here first. I just want to grab some grub.”
“Fine.” Hugh grabbed his bottle.
Urban stomped to the table, greeting several patrons who attempted to try and speak to him, but he had his focus on Presley. Damn, he knew he should turn around and go back to the bar, but his boots kept on walking. Losing money and alcohol didn’t mix well and he had to be careful that he didn’t make a fool of himself, but right now, his ego was bruised. Mostly because he’d been dropped from a bull’s saddle, but also because the prissy Miss Presley treated him like a boil on her ass when all he could think about was dragging her into his arms and kissing her until she pleaded for him to fuck her.
Reaching the table, he dropped down into the chair that faced her. She brought her chin up and her gaze came to him, but she smiled—not exactly friendly, but full of “how did I know you’d do this”, then she returned to listening at what her date was saying. Hugh sat down, grabbed two menus from the metal holder, and dropped one in front of Urban. “I’m in the mood for cheese curds. Or fried pickles.”
“I’m in the mood for a steak. Big and juicy,” he muttered.
The pretty waitress bounded up and stopped dead when she saw Urban’s face. “Hell, Urban! You’re all black and blue. Shit!” Her mouth twisted.
He shrugged. “Goes with the job. I’ll heal.”
“But that gorgeous face.” She gave her head a shake, the corners of her mouth dropping. “Did the bull drop kick you, then kick you in the face?”
He looked down at his menu, completely ignoring the question. He wanted to forget about Tower. “I’ll take a steak, rare, sweet potato loaded with butter and brown sugar. And cowboy baked beans. Oh, and an order of fries. Throw in a bucket of beer.”
“A bucket?” Hugh lifted a brow. “I have an early morning.”
“Oh, so you don’t want a bucket yourself?” Barely listening as his brother ordered his meal, Urban’s eyes were on the next table, watching Presley lift the bottle to her sexy lips and drink. Her tender neck moved as she swallowed and he had an indecent image of her lips surrounding—
“What the fuck is up with you?” Hugh thumped him on the shoulder, his brows scrunched.
“Nothing. Can’t a man drink a little when he gets his ass kicked by a two-ton furball?”
“Hell. I get it. I do. I’ve been on the end of a bottle for the very same reasons a time or two, but there seems to be more going on than a bull and a few bruises.”
He pushed down his lust driven thoughts and brought his full attention to Hugh. “Just disappointed. That’s all.”
“I know it’s hard to not win, especially when the pot is huge, but come on, bro. Keep things in perspective. You can still retire.”
“Not without a bit more padding. Once I’m out of the circuit there’s no going back.”
The waitress brought the bucket of beer and a water for Hugh, and Urban felt a stare. Presley had her narrowed gaze on him. He needed to ignore her, but that wasn’t the reason why he’d come over here to sit closer. Turning his chin, out of his peripheral, he could see her lift her bottle and drink more. The cowboy she was with still chatted away. Urban couldn’t hear what he was saying though.
“Decide to grab some grub?” It was Rena who was beside him again, planting her thin fingers on his shoulder. He looked up just in time to see her bat her lashes and smile, showing off even white teeth.
“I thought I’d better have a good balance between food and alcohol. Wouldn’t want to do anything stupid.”
“That’s good thinking, bro. We wouldn’t want to make fools of ourselves.” Hugh sighed.
Hearing soft laughter from the table across from them, Urban looked over, seeing Presley leaning her head back laughing over something the doc said. Probably telling her how he’d stuck his hand up a cow’s ass that day to help deliver a calf.
Urban rubbed his tight jaw. He was out of line and couldn’t help himself. Every cowboy on earth probably had his hand up a cow’s ass a time or two. Him included.
“Mind if I join you boys?” Rena asked. “I was expecting someone but he blew me off. His loss.”
“Sure,” Hugh pushed out the chair for her.
Urban didn’t realize Rena was sitting until he felt warmth on his arm.
The waitress brought their steaming plates and Rena ordered another sex on the beach and pushed home the meaning with a sweep of her tongue along her bottom lip. Hugh was entertained. Urban wasn’t. He cut into his steak and popped a bite into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
“Damn, I love their curds.” Hugh was chowing down.
“Mind if I grab one of those fries, cowboy? They look delicious.” Rena didn’t wait for an answer. She grabbed one of the golden potatoes, dipped it into the cup of steak sauce and nibbled delicately. “Mm. Good.”
“Should you order your own?” Urban asked, not even looking at her.
Clearing her throat, Rena frowned.
Hugh mumbled a curse, then glared at Urban.
“What?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing.” Hugh grabbed a bottle of ketchup and squirted some onto his own fries. “Here, Rena. Have as many as you like.”
“That’s okay, but thanks, Hugh. I think I’ll go make a request for the band. You two enjoy your meal.” She pushed back her chair and stood.
Urban didn’t realize she was gone until a rolled-up napkin was thrown at his head. “What the hell was that for?”
“I get that you’re not interested in Rena, but dude, she’s a nice enough woman. You could have been a little more kind. After all, sharing is caring.”
After swallowing his mouth full, he shrugged. “I guess I was a bit of a jackass, but she knows me.”
“Yeah, we do, and you’re more interested in staring at Presley and her date than finishing your meal. Is there something I should know?” Hugh asked through clenched teeth.
The doc leaned in and whispered in Presley’s ear and her gaze landed on Urban. His chest tightened so tight that it vibrated. When she smiled, he was envious, wishing she was smiling at something he had said. “Nothing. Not one damn thing.”
Hugh took a sip of his water. “I just saw Rena slip out the door.”
“Don’t blame me. Blame the guy who ditched her.”
“True, but I almost feel sorry for her.”
“Then you ask her out, bro.”
“Damn, you are being an ass.” Hugh stood, shook his head in irritation. “I’m going to go grab more water and I hope by the time I get back you’ll have pulled the wedgie out of your ass,” he growled.
“Fine.”
Urban dropped his fork, rubbing his brow.
The preppy doc got up and made his way to the bar, leaving Presley alone. Something inside Urban warned him to stay seated and concentrate on his grub, but as if his body had a mind of its own, he stood and stepped over to Presley’s table and took the available seat.
She looked at him with a brow raised. “Lost?”
“Just curious. Is he a runner up?”
Moistening her lips, she leaned back into her chair. “That was a conversation between Cheryl and me that you weren’t supposed to hear.”
“I wasn’t eavesdropping. I happened along at the right time.”
“Weren’t you supposed to be with your date when she left?”
“Rena wasn’t my date.”
“Did she understand that, tiger?”
“That’s why she left. I guess I wanted to say sorry that I overheard your conversation at the stables. I don’t know why it’s running through my head as fast as a race horse.”
She stared for a good two seconds. “Not sure why it is either.”
“Why do you need to find a husband, besides the fact that you haven’t had sex in so long that your—”
“Stop right there.” Hesitating, she finally leaned closer. “My dad is the traditional type. Before he signs over the clinic and the land, he wants to know I have a ring on my finger.”
“Really? He can’t possibly mean that.”
“Oh, I think he does. He’s given me six months.” Her shoulders slumped.
“Damn. That’s a bitch.”
“You ain’t kidding.” Her eyes glossed over.
“Maybe you and I sh—”
“Hey, I’m back.” Tall and lanky sat down. “Hello there. I’m Bart.”
“Urban Jericho.” He shook the man’s hand, a little disappointed that his clasp wasn’t as weak as Urban thought it would be.
His eyes widened. “The rodeo star?”
“The one and only.” Urban noticed that one corner of Presley’s mouth descended.
“Oh my gosh. I can’t believe it. Presley, this is the rodeo star who—”
“Yes, I know.” She sighed. “We’re…” She seemed to chew on a morsel of information. “Old friends.”
Urban could have laughed. He bet that word “friends” was hard to form on her tongue. “Yeah, we go way back. I can tell you some rowdy stories—”
“But you won’t,” Presley said through gritted teeth. “We’re on a date, Urban. I’m sure Bart doesn’t want to hear silly stories about my childhood.” Her laugh was nervous.
“Well, I beg to differ,” Bart chimed in. “I’d love to hear all about this pretty girl. After all, if I’m going to have the pleasure of seeing her again, I want to know what makes her tick.”
Urban saw Presley’s face turn white. He almost felt sorry for her—almost. “I remember when she was the freckle-faced girl with bright red hair. We used to call her Red.”
“Really? Red?” Bart laughed and smacked his thigh. “She still has the freckles and the hair. Maybe I should call you Red?” He leaned in and nudged Presley who wasn’t humored.
“If you want stabbed in the thigh with my fork, then sure.” She smiled, but Urban knew she meant the threat.
He wanted to correct Bart. Her hair wasn’t just red any longer, but a beautiful shade that brought out the color of her eyes. “We used to spend a lot of time over at the lake, didn’t we, Pres?” He could practically see her shake. “She had this teeny, tiny, polka-dotted bikini that had a bow on the bottom. That was when she actually wore a bathing suit.”
“That’s history and let’s leave it there, shall we?” she said through pinched lips.
Urban stood. “I’ll have to let her finish the story. I see my brother is back.” He dipped his hat, met Presley’s gaze and held it a good three seconds. If looks could kill, she would have shot him dead on the spot. For some reason, he felt justified, and yet hotter for her than ever before.
Strolling back to his table, Hugh shook his head. “Couldn’t help yourself, could you?”
“Don’t worry. I was gentle.” He cast a glance back to the table where the doc was ragging Presley to explain the story. She was still glaring at Urban. He pulled out his wallet and dropped several bills on the table. “You ready? I think I’ve had my fill for the day.”
He smelled Presley’s scent.
“Urban?”
He looked up, finding her standing by him. “I almost forgot. Can I sign your cast?”
“Sure. More the merrier.”
She waved over the waitress. “May I borrow your pen just for a sec?” Pen in hand, she bent close, within inches of him, as she jotted something down on the cast. A satisfied grin crossed her beautiful lips. He couldn’t stop staring, even when she stood and stepped back. “See you around, Hugh. Good luck in the race. And you, Urban,” she snarled.
Once she was gone, he read what she wrote aloud. “Grow up. And by the way, your pants are unzipped.”
“Damn.” He zipped his jeans. He heard soft laughter and looked to her table. She was happy with herself.
Urban started past Presley, but had a better idea. “Thank you for noticing, Pres. If you want to show the doc here a good time, why don’t you take him to the lake and skinny dip, just like you used to do.” He tipped his hat and grinned, moving on.
Once they were in the lobby. Hugh picked something up from the floor. “You dropped this from your back pocket.”
It took Urban a minute to figure out where the crumbled paper came from and what it was doing in his back pocket, then he remembered he’d put it there at the rodeo. He opened the paper and skimmed over the details.
“Married rodeo star wanted for a documentary. How does he balance family and riding bulls? Fifty grand awarded. Apply today.”
Fuck! He wasn’t married. He could certainly use fifty grand. Starting to crumble up the paper, he suddenly had a thought. Looking across the room, Presley now had her head leaned in discussing something with the doc. With a smile, Urban refolded the paper and shoved it back into his pocket, feeling better than ever.
Maybe his luck was finally turning…
*****
The last thing Presley wanted was to allow Urban under her skin.
Unfortunately, he always managed to push the right buttons to have her steaming. She knew now she should have asked Bart to meet her somewhere else, far away from Colton. What had she been thinking? She thought they could have a nice dinner, but she was wrong. She noticed that Urban was wearing a victory grin. That son-of-a-gun! He’d spurred her on purpose. But why? Didn’t he have better things to do—like Rena who’d been doing everything but undress him.
A niggling feeling built up in the pit of her stomach, making her want to vomit, preferably on Urban who’d made her a bundle of raw nerves. And now Bart wanted her to tell him the stories of long ago, especially where exactly the bow was on her bikini, and she wanted no part of strolling down memory lane. She especially didn’t want to tell him that she’d had a terrible crush on Urban once upon a time, and when he’d cut off her braid she’d been heartbroken, and yet the heart wanted what it wanted and every time she saw him after that she was tangled in knots. Presley had attempted for a long time to hide behind her anger toward him.
Those nights he referred to “by the lake” were some of the memories she used her vibrator to on lonely nights. The rare occasion Presley hung with friends was by the water, the place where the teens congregated on Friday nights. All the girls wanted Urban and there wasn’t a time when he didn’t have one, two, three, or four females occupying his time. Presley had been envious when he flashed his sexy smile their way, and what did she get from him? He always had to poke fun at her. Teasing her to no end. Unlike how he had made it seem, she never skinny dipped, especially not when she wasn’t alone. That particular bathing suit that he referred to had been a size too big and once when she was coming out of the water, the tie had come loose and the top floated away. Oh, she was sure Urban and his friends had a good laugh over her humiliation. Another reason why she didn’t like him…
Growing up without a mother to help guide her on proper etiquette, or the current fashion trends, she’d pretty much crawled her way through childhood. Watching what her friends were doing to gain knowledge, she always turned out being a tomboy, loving the outdoors, getting dirt under her fingernails and wearing her hair in simple braids. She hated the freckles on her face and would always try to cover them, but over the years she’d grown to like them. Including the color of her hair. She’d never considered herself feminine, or like most girls who could bat their lashes and have any boy they wanted, so when Hugh Jericho had asked her out, she’d been floored. A Jericho wanting to go out with her? Certainly, all her friends were just as surprised.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t Hugh that she’d had nightly dreams of.
She often wondered if Urban remembered when he’d kissed her one moonlit night down by the lake during a game of truth or dare? Sure, he’d had a few too many and she’d been as sober as a church mouse. She didn’t drink, smoke, or do much—too scared of her dad’s punishment. Urban, on the other hand, should have had the nickname Trouble. He’d spun the bottle and when it landed on her, she’d almost fainted. The kiss…well, she almost puked because she was so nervous. So much for making a good impression.
Urban and Hugh sauntered by her table and she didn’t want to watch. She wasn’t a teenager anymore with an undying crush on the wild, dashing cowboy. She was an adult and liked her men less obnoxious. Hugh dipped his hat and mumbled, “Good evening.”
She smiled, until she landed her gaze on Urban who was still entertained like he’d won the lottery. She knew he very well didn’t because he’d lost big-time today at the event. So then why was he looking at her as if he knew something she didn’t and what should have been irritation wasn’t. Instead, she felt her inner thighs warm and she could barely breathe. Something in his stare ignited parts of her she’d forgotten were womanly and needed a man.
“Thank you for noticing, Pres,” he said to her, then mumbled something about the lake. She didn’t hear because she was too busy studying his lips.
Damn. What she’d written on his cast had backfired because just as he suggested, she’d looked at his crotch and saw that his zipper was down. She reached for her beer and downed it.
Bart was staring at her in question.
“You know, I’m suddenly not feeling so well. I think I’m ready to go.”
The area around his eyes creased in disappointment. “I’m sorry. Sure. I’ll settle the bill and take you home, unless you think a nice long walk at that lake would help?” Mischief shone in his eyes.
Not happening. Bart was a nice enough guy, but for some reason, she didn’t feel the spark that she needed to date a man…and especially marry. She’d almost forgotten she was on a timeline, which made her angrier at her father.
After Bart took care of the bill, she met him in the lobby of the restaurant and automatically searched the parking lot when they stepped out. Had she expected to see Urban still lingering? Well, he wasn’t, and that was a good thing. He’d rattled her nerves enough, especially now that he knew the ultimatum her father had given her to find a husband. She flushed from the tip of her toes to the roots of her hair.
Her date was kind enough to open the passenger door for her to his shiny silver BMW. He climbed into the driver’s side and she couldn’t help but think he was almost too tall of a guy to fit behind the wheel. Once they were on the main road, he popped a CD into the disk player and Marvin Gaye’s Sexual Healing came on.
Presley turned to look out the side window and bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing.
She was glad when they pulled in front of her house. Sliding off her seatbelt, she had her hand on the door knob. “Thank you, Bart, for a lovely evening.”
“I’ll call you.” He leaned forward, but she was fast. She pushed the door open and climbed out.
“Have a safe drive.” She got a glimpse of his frown as she closed the door.
Presley walked up the steps to the porch, ready to take off her new heels and slide into a long soak in the tub.
“No goodnight kiss?”
She almost jumped out of her heels at the sexy voice. Scanning the porch, she found the culprit. Urban was stretched out on the cushioned wicker loveseat, his Stetson pulled low on his forehead and his booted feet were crossed at the ankles. His shirt was unbuttoned partway, showing off a smooth, broad chest. Gulping, she dragged her eyes back to a safer region, although nothing was safe about this cowboy.
“For the second time tonight, are you lost?” She crossed her arms over her chest, more to hide any signs of her hard nipples than anything because she didn’t want him to get any ideas.
“Nope. I didn’t think you’d be home so soon so I decided to stretch out and take a nap.”
“What’s wrong with the porch at your house?” she mumbled.
“You’re not there,” he said in a husky voice that sent tremors through her.
Moistening her lips, she sighed. “Urban, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but—”
“No games.” He sat up and dropped his booted feet to the porch. He stood and the large porch suddenly became much smaller. When she inhaled, she caught the most amazing musk, leather scent on the breeze and her nipples tingled. Why-oh-why did she allow him to do this to her? Hell, she didn’t have any control when he was near. He didn’t bother buttoning his shirt so it became her mission to keep her gaze on his face and not the masculine dip of each twelve-pack ab.
For heaven’s sake. She was acting like a naïve teenager again.
“Well, I’m assuming your safe to drive back to Second Chances.” She pulled her key from her purse and stuck it into the knob.
“I thought I might get you to look me over.”
She swung her chin up, breathing heavier. “Look you over?” Oh, I did. Not just once.
“My ribs are hurting.” His sleep-hazed voice swirled through her body like cotton candy.
“Unless you’ve grown fur, which doesn’t look like it to me,” she quickly dropped her gaze to his tanned chest before bringing it back into place on his face, “and fangs, I’m afraid I’m not any good for you.”
“You’re a doc, so doctor me. Hell, you’d know a broken rib if you felt one, right?”
That was the problem. Just thinking of feeling him almost made her faint. She practically had to press her inner thighs together to settle the trembling there. And this was all over her imagination. If she touched him, she might be forced to lick. Nibble. Suckle. Holy fuck! Sweat beaded between her breasts. “I-I…” What could she say? “Fine, Urban. Come in and I’ll take a quick look.” She hoped he caught the emphasis on “quick”. He needed to be on his way fast and leave her to her battery-operated sex partner for the night.
Stepping inside, she was greeted by Pixie, her small shaggy dog that had been abandoned by someone who brought her in for a checkup and they never came back. Presley had fallen in love with the dog’s kind, sweet nature, and brought her home. The dog was forever loyal. She nuzzled Pixie behind the ears who quickly realized they had company and darted for Urban’s leg.
“No worries, she won’t bi—” before the words were out, Urban was on his knees at the dog’s level, rubbing her head and the dog, just like any other female, was unabashedly melty eyed. Presley sighed and dropped her purse and keys on the table, clicking on the lamp for more lighting. “Pixie, control yourself.”
The dog looked up at Presley as if to say, “Suit yourself.”
“Come and have a seat on the couch, cowboy. And take off your shirt.” Yeah, she threw that part in because she couldn’t count the number of times she’d craved to use those words with Urban. She almost felt a sudden rush of excitement.
After he dragged himself away from the excited Pixie, he strolled into the dimly lit living room, pulled out the ends of his shirt, and unbuttoned the last three buttons as he swiveled on his booted heels, scanning the room. “I haven’t been in here for years.”
“You were here before?” She had no clue.
“A few times. Once when we were kids and the other when you were in college. Harris sold me a part for my tractor.”
“Oh, okay.” She tried not to stare as he dragged the shirt off, revealing wide shoulders, broad chest and a thin trail of crisp hair from his belly button disappearing inside the waist of his low jeans. He wore a large silver buckle that announced the fact that he was a Jericho.
He sauntered over to the mantel above the fireplace and reached for a framed picture. “Hey, is this you?” He turned it around and tapped his finger against the glass.
“Who else would it be? My invisible red-headed sister?”
He chuckled. “True. Were we in kindergarten together?”
“Yes.” Not that he would remember.
“Damn, imagine, you and I have known each other for over thirty years. Sometimes, two people can live this close and completely miss one another.”
She blinked. “Are you drunk?”
“No. Just feeling good. Want me to sit right here?” He patted the cushion on the couch and her heart kicked up.
“Yes. There.” Her voice was squeaky.
He laid his shirt over the arm of the couch and sat down, stretching his long legs in the dusty jeans. He hadn’t changed from the rodeo, and although she liked a well—dressed cowboy, she had to admit, there was something very raw and exciting knowing he’d slid—or rather fell off—the bull hours ago. “The medic checked me out, but I’m feeling a pain in my side.”
“Didn’t you go to the hospital to have x-rays and the wrist casted?”
“Yeah, but I was hurting all over then. Didn’t want too many x-rays or I’d be lighting up like a Christmas tree.” He smiled and she swore he had diamonds in his eyes.
Swallowing against the ache in her throat, she joined him on the couch, keeping at least a foot of space between them. Up closer, she could see the purple bruising along his ribs. “I’ll have to touch you.”
He laughed. “I didn’t figure you had x-ray vision.” She found herself smiling too, and quickly bit back the expression. He must have understood her vulnerability. “It’s okay to smile, darlin’. You have a nice smile, although I don’t see it often.”
Her nipples went from tingly to throbbing, along with other secret parts. “Well, I don’t usually laugh at immature jokes.”
He blinked. “Ouch! I guess I deserved that, ruining your date and all.”
She looked at him and shook her head. “You didn’t ruin my date. We had a fabulous time.” Before she ran away from the nerves screaming in her body, she lowered her hands and skimmed her fingers along his rib cage, gentle yet firm enough to feel the bones.
“Liar. You hadn’t even gotten through the first course before I left. I wouldn’t call that a fabulous date. And the fact that Bo didn’t get his kiss, yeah, that was a bummer.”
She didn’t even look at him and focused on her fingers against his smooth skin. “Stop speculating. And his name is Bart.”
“Okay. Sorry. I guess I’m out of line.”
“That never stopped you before,” she mumbled.
“Tell me why you hate me so much, Presley Dean?” His voice turned softer, tantalizing.
Realizing he wasn’t going to stop talking, she straightened her spine and dropped her hands to her lap, her fingertips still tingling from touching him. “Why are you here? It’s not for your ribs because although they are bruised, they are fine. You know that.”
He shrugged, dragging off his hat and placing it next to his hip. His hair, an ebony cloud of waves, was a bit longer than he normally wore it. His blue eyes were a bright contrast against the dark tuft of hair that fell across his forehead and the black shadow of his whiskers on his jaw. “Can’t fake the bruises, darlin’, or the fact that damn bull jammed me up against the pen.”
“I’m not saying you faked anything. I’m only suggesting that you didn’t come here tonight to have me take a look at your ribs. Didn’t you pester me enough at the steakhouse?” She popped up a brow.
He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth and she had to swallow back a moan. The man was a lethal, seductive weapon. “Fine. You caught me.”
She sighed. “Don’t you get tired of being a pest?”
“No, I mean…I’m not here to pester you. I wanted to wait until morning to speak to you, but I couldn’t help myself. When I see something I want, I can’t control myself.”
She practically swallowed her tongue. “What?”
He reached into his back pocket and dragged out a crumpled piece of paper that looked as if it had been washed with his jeans. He dropped it into her lap. “Take a look.”
Hesitantly, she picked up the folded paper, unfolded it and pressed out the wrinkles. She read the information, then looked at him over the top of the flyer. “Okay. I’m not sure how this has anything to do with me, or you for that matter, and it definitely doesn’t require you to show up here and make up a lie.”
“I’m sorry about that, but on the way here I kept pondering what I’d say to you. How I’d ask…”
“Ask what?” She placed the flyer on the table.
“To do this with me.” He stabbed the middle of the paper with his forefinger
She squinted. “A documentary? On a married couple? I think you are drunk.”
“Fifty grand, Presley. They’re giving the couple fifty grand just to do some twinky-dink minute documentary. This is too good to pass up.”
“Again, how do I fit into this?”
“You need a husband. I heard you, remember?”
She stood, needing space. “That was a private conversation.” She clicked on another lamp.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m here to offer you a proposition.”
Swiveling on her heels, she tried wrapping her brain around what he was saying, ready for the cast of Punk’d to pop out any second. “Proposition?”
“Yeah. You need a husband and I need a wife.”
Her knees wobbled. “You? My husband?” She laughed. “Hilarious.”
“Not the reaction I was hoping for.” He swiped his palm down his cheek.
“Probably not, but I’m confused. You want a wife to get the fifty thousand? Wow. That doesn’t seem enough to marry someone.”
“The money isn’t the only thing, but that’s another story. Anyway, you’re willing to marry some stranger to have the clinic and this land. What’s so different? At least I’m not a stranger.”
Presley got it. He was drunker than he realized and, come tomorrow, he wouldn’t remember any of this. In the meantime, she’d play along. “Because the beer anesthetized your brain cells, I’ll explain. First, I wasn’t evaluating Bart as a husband. We were on a date. That’s all. Two, you and I…well…how can I put this nicely. We would do better in a sparring competition against each other than as husband and wife.”
He slid to the edge of the cushion, leaning his elbows on his knees. He appeared completely serious. “You see, you’re wrong. We’d make the perfect partners because we’d go into this without any expectations…outside of the money for me and the business for you. There would be no chance for us falling in love. After all, you can’t stand me and I like my women a little warmer.”
She blinked, feeling his words burrowing deep in the marrow of her bones. “Warmer?” she pushed through tight lips.
“Toward me.”
“I didn’t see you offering Rena this proposition. She seemed ready…and warm.” She rolled her eyes.
“She’s not…”
“Available?”
“No, she’s not you and she’s not looking for a husband.”
This was insane and she wanted to call his bluff and laugh, but he seemed solemn. Crossing her arms over her waist, she needed to calm her nerves. “You’re not a desperate man, Urban. I’m sure if you’re serious about this, you could find anyone to take the leap with you.”
“And then what? You’ll marry a stranger?”
He caught her there. “I-I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“Come on, Presley. You’re not thinking this through. This is a win-win situation. Give it some thought.”
Shaking her head, she clicked her tongue. “Thank you, but no thank you.” She dropped her arms to her sides. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s been a long day and I want to go to bed.”
He stood and grabbed his shirt from the couch, but didn’t put it on. Instead, he tossed it over one shoulder, still smiling like he didn’t have a care in the world. “You rest on it, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ll see things my way.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
“I won’t have to. Being that we’re both single you know how hard it is to get a date with someone worth the time and effort, but finding a suitable partner for marriage is like finding a new planet in the solar system.” He snorted and shoved his hat on his head. “Sweet dreams, darlin’.” He winked and strolled out the door.
Long after she closed the door behind him, she was leaning against the cold wood, trying to wrap her brain around what had just transpired. Urban Jericho, one of the most available bachelors in Texas, just asked her to marry him. He’d forgotten his flyer and she read it again, four times more until she was more confused than ever. Fifty grand was a lot of money, but she knew none of the Jerichos were hurting for money, so then why would he do something so wild and crazy for cash? Her situation was different. This was her home, her legacy, and the clinic was everything to her. What would she do with herself if she didn’t have the animals? The land?
Would she be willing to marry to keep things? To marry Urban?
Fact was, he was right to a certain extent. Although a playboy, he was a gentleman. He’d been raised a hard-working cowboy who could be trusted. His mom and dad had been appreciated and respected among the community. All the Jericho men were known as givers who contributed to the town and had big hearts. If she looked back, she’d have to admit that a lot of her frustration toward Urban could be contributed to her fascination with him more than anything he ever did to her. She could dislike him for teasing her, and then she’d have to turn the table back on herself and admit that she’d ran him through the coals every chance she got…just because it had become almost a test of wills between them.
Cheryl had accused her of this being foreplay. Presley always denied it, but now, she wasn’t so sure. Touching him earlier had been one of those most pleasant experiences she’d had in a long time, even better than the sexual experiences she’d had with other men. She could have easily enjoyed her exploration longer, but she would have had an orgasm without him touching her. Humiliation rambled through her.
Upstairs, she took a quick shower instead of her planned soak and went into her room, opening the top drawer to her nightstand. There she found her trusty vibrator. She started to reach for the battery-operated gadget, and then pulled back. Who was she kidding? The only thing that could ease the sexual tension in her body was either hard work or a man. Neither was happening at midnight.
Climbing into bed, she swore she could almost see her father’s reasoning for pushing her into finding a partner. Because at this moment, she felt alone—more alone than she had in years. Damn Urban! He was the reason she had all this restless energy. She should say yes to his half-assed proposal just to put him through the torture he’d put her through.