Libby shoved the breaded chicken into the oven, set the timer for forty minutes, and took a deep breath. She’d given up on the grill. An online recipe for butter-baked chicken sounded good to her, even if she had to improvise a bit.
Now to feed Cowboy. Libby washed the cat’s plate, took out the bag of dried food bits, and gave it a shake so that Cowboy would come running before she poured it in the bowl. She set down the plate, brimming with nuggets, on the plastic place mat that she had found, and waited. And waited. No Cowboy. She called his name. Still no Cowboy. She called again.
Did he get locked in a room somewhere? A closet? Was he under a bed? A sofa? She started searching, checking everywhere, calling his name. And as each minute passed, her anxiety rose.
This wasn’t like Cowboy. He came the moment he heard the rustle of the food bag. A typical male, she never had to cajole him where food was concerned.
When she heard Chance calling her name, she rushed toward his room. Maybe he found Cowboy. Maybe Cowboy was still sleeping on the bed and was too contented to move. Maybe.
“Did you find him?” she asked as she burst into Chance’s bedroom, breathing deep to catch her breath and calm her nerves.
“He’s missing?” Chance began to move as if to get up.
“Your foot. Don’t get up. But did you see him?”
“Not since Billy left. Cat seemed to take to him.”
“You don’t think…Cowboy wouldn’t have…” Libby could hardly express the thought. It’s true Cowboy had been a stray, but ever since she’d taken him in, he’d shown no interest in returning to his outdoor haunts.
“Followed him out? Didn’t notice. But if Billy saw him, I’m sure he’d have said something.”
“It’s going to be dark soon. There are coyotes, wolves, bears…” She couldn’t catch her breath.
Chance grabbed his crutches.
“Don’t,” she said. “You’ll hurt yourself. You still haven’t recovered from last night, have you?”
“You search the house again. I’ll head outside. I know my yard better than you do.”
“He’s a black cat. He’s not going to be easy to find. And your foot.”
“He’ll be hungry. I’ll take some food with me. Don’t worry about my foot. Won’t put any weight on it. I’ll holler if I see him.”
He was standing there, no doubt in pain, and still willing to help her.
She didn’t know what made her do it, but she flung her arms around him and kissed him. Lightly on the cheek.
He stared at her an extra second through those smoky-gray eyes. “No kissing.” But his face held a smile.
She shook her head as he limped out, careful to close the door behind him. She was creating more problems than she was solving. Maybe she should just leave—after she found Cowboy, of course.
*
Chance tried his best to cover ground, but it was hard going on crutches. His ribs ached, and his armpits were being rubbed raw. No sign of the cat despite looking around every bush and tree, checking the corral area, and shaking the bag of food like it was some musical instrument. Night was starting to fall.
He’d called the McShanes, but Billy hadn’t remembered seeing Cowboy out of the house.
Chance’s next stop would be the barn, but he doubled back to the house, depending on his crutches, to get a flashlight. Though the barn had light, it might be smarter to see if the flashlight set the animal’s eyes to glowing. He knew it was important to find Cowboy. Libby might have been panicking, but what she said was true about Cowboy being another animal’s prey.
He didn’t know what to make of that “friendship” kiss she gave him. He’d wanted to wrap his arms around her and give into the desire that had been dogging him since he first saw her at the Cattleman’s Club. But that was a recipe for heartache. She was on the verge of committing to another guy, and Chance wasn’t ever going to be the committing type again.
“Did you find him?” Libby asked, hopeful and flush, as Chance entered the house through the mudroom that opened to the kitchen. Libby had been checking the pantry, obviously to no avail. He’d caught a nice view of her very fine butt though.
“No. Came in for a flashlight. Thought of using it in the barn. Light might catch his eyes and make them glow. I’ve found more than a few furry creatures that way.”
“What if he is out there? He’s probably lost, and he’ll be someone’s dinner for sure.” She wrung her hands in obvious concern. He wished he had better news for her.
“Doubt he’s gone far—he knows a good thing when he has it. And didn’t you say he was a stray before you adopted him? He obviously knows how to survive.”
She took a deep breath and her breasts rose. She’d always had nice breasts. So nice, he’d never forgotten them. Perky, palm sized, perfect.
Thinking about her breasts was keeping his mind off the twinges in his legs, in his ribs.