Libby opened the microwave door and tested the dish for heat before picking it up and bringing it to her tray table.
“Don’t you think he’s too young to be taking up such a dangerous sport? What is he, twelve?”
“Thirteen, I think. Saddle bronc riding technique is the hardest to learn of all the stock events. And the stock they use for his age group is among the tamest. I make sure he rides with a vest and helmet while he’s learning. Rodeo is part of life out here. The fun part.”
Libby bit her lip as she dished out the pot roast with the accompanying potatoes and carrots onto his plate. The aroma almost made him forget the stabbing hurt he was in.
“Aren’t you going to have any?” Chance asked.
“I feel obligated not to let the steak go to waste.”
“Don’t be foolish.” He took a piece of meat off of his plate and held it up. “Don’t make me move to give it to you.”
Quickly, she placed her plate so he could give her a slice.
Chance started eating, hoping the pain would give way under the onslaught of some tasty beef. Instead, it got sharper, angrier. With his last gulp of the flavorful pot roast, he finally gave in.
“Libby, I think I need one of those pills in the nightstand drawer.”
Libby rose and opened the drawer of the nightstand. She managed to find the pill bottle among the loose change and myriad papers stuffed inside and tapped a tablet into her palm and handed it to him. He downed it with the remainder of his milk. He’d have to teach her to make coffee.
When he looked up, she was leaning over him, looking into his eyes as if she was searching for something. Unfortunately, her chest was now stuck in his line of vision, and he couldn’t help but stare at the two firm, tanned mounds of bountiful flesh that hovered around the opening of her camisole. Damn.
“I’ll do my best to help you get better, Chance.”
“Honey, you keep leaning in like that, showing me your cleavage, you’ll have me feeling a whole lot better.”
She straightened up and threw her shoulders back, which only served to push the girls out more. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” She scooped up the dishes. “I’ll get you a piece of pie,” she said over her shoulder and walked out. Only it was more of a hip-swinging show of sex in motion. His nether regions stirred, reminding him that pain could only do so much to keep things under control.
Slowly the pill was taking over, taking the edge off the ache in his foot and ribs. No wonder people got addicted to this stuff. Now if it would just take the edge off his lust.
Chapter 9
Libby woke to the sun streaming in her room. She rolled over once, burying her face in the pillow, and waited for sleep to claim her again.
Time?
She bolted upright, her head swimming as she glanced at the clock. The digital readout said 9:10.
How had this happened? She’d been so tired after cleaning up Chance’s room, much to his annoyance, and scrubbing the blackened grates of the grill, and answering her brother’s copious text messages about how angry her father was, she’d sunk into bed without even checking on Chance.
Not that she hadn’t wanted to check on him. But having spent most of the day with him as he lounged in bed half naked, she’d had a hard time keeping her thoughts about him PG rated. At one point last night, she’d all but frozen and stared at him while she struggled against an overwhelming need to kiss him and run her fingers through his hair. It didn’t take much to convince her she was better off forgoing the pleasure of tucking him in.
Attacking a man who was laid up and therefore defenseless, a man you’d once been married to and had sex with, and one who’d told you in no uncertain terms that you weren’t welcome in his life much less his bed, was a recipe for deep, deep humiliating rejection. Especially after you’d charbroiled his steaks—emphasis on the char.
Things would be a lot less complicated if she had been having those thoughts about Ben instead of the injured saddle bronc rider in the room next to hers.
Ben had been her only serious relationship since Chance. In college she’d hung around in groups and had steered clear of hooking up, convinced she couldn’t handle anything more than friendship. When she’d met Ben, it had taken a full six months of dating before they had done anything, his quiet persistence winning her over.
And now…now her emotions were all screwed up.
This would be her first full day tending to Chance, and she’d already missed making him breakfast. Or maybe he was just sitting there starving. What kind of friend was she?