“Exactly. There are things you can control and things you can’t. You’ve got to focus on what you can, and that means getting that foot back in shape. How did you do with the cold compresses?”
Right now he’d like to press a cold pack into his junk to stop the blood flow. Instead, he pointed to the nightstand where the two ice packs sat on a paper towel.
“So now we need to loosen things up with a little heat. Ready?” She waved a steaming towel at him.
There were a few things he’d like to loosen up with a little heat. “I’m ready to get on a bronc.”
She shook her head as her eyes narrowed to slits. “You know you aren’t. But you will be if we keep doing these exercises. You have to be patient. Give yourself time to heal.” She unwrapped the soft boot cast from his foot and placed the hot towel around it. Heat felt good.
“I’m not a patient man, Libby. And nothing is going to change that.”
She huffed and reached for his tablet. He’d let her take it, for now. Not looking at it wasn’t going to change what he knew—that with each day he was slipping further and further behind.
She sat on the bed, close to him. He could smell her rose scent, and he took a deep breath. If she sat any closer, he’d be reaching over and pulling her on top of him.
“You will heal. The only question is when. The more we work on your foot, the better that timeline will be.”
“Don’t you have that ‘suit’ to get back to?” The question stuck in his throat, but it had to be asked.
She hesitated, biting her lip. Chance wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear. If she was in love with someone else, she was sending him the wrong message. If she wasn’t, he may be sending her the wrong message.
“We’re taking a break. I’m not sure it is going to work out.” Her tone was resigned, no trace of resentment or regret.
Chance wasn’t sure what to make of the surprising news. It could leave the door open, but for what? Plunging into things with Libby could be a disaster if he wasn’t careful, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist trying, given the news she’d just imparted.
“But I am sure this foot is going to heal, Chance,” she continued. “I know I set you back, what with the grill and Cowboy, but I’m determined to make it up to you.” She glanced back at his foot. “It’s looking better today.”
Would she be amenable to some mutual distraction? His pulse quickened. There was only one way to find out.
“So are you.”
She blushed, her complexion almost matching the pink of her shirt.
“Does that mean I wasn’t looking so good before?”
“No, it means I was in too much pain to do something about it. I’m not in quite as much pain now, and I’m noticing.”
And he could do something about it.
She shifted on the bed and her breasts jiggled. He liked jiggly breasts. He liked Libby’s breast. And her ass. And her legs. He liked Libby. And he was going to do something about it.
Leaning forward, he cupped a hand under her chin and brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear with the other.
“What are you noticing?” she said in a hushed breath. Her blue eyes locked on to his. He saw need. The elemental kind. He hoped he was reading her right.
“How sweet you are. How much I’d like to kiss you.” And other things.
He slid his palm along her warm throat, felt her pulse, before sliding his hand to the back of her neck. He was reading her right.
“Kiss me?” her voice went up an octave.
He traced his other thumb along her jaw. Her eyes widened.
“Yeah. Kiss you. Like this.” He leaned in, she leaned forward. Their lips touched. He held her head with one hand while the other cupped her chin as he brushed his lips over hers and then kissed her, deep and consuming. She tasted like sweet tea and steaming pleasure. Her mouth was hot and needy as she shifted her body closer to him. So close he could feel the tips of her breasts brushing against his skin through the fabric of her shirt. Her hands slid up his chest, causing a throb in his groin as her tongue swept into his mouth. He groaned deep in his throat as she fed him kisses.
Her response said she wanted him. He wanted her.
He heard the rattle of the patio door handle. He ignored it. He needed to lock that door. People needed to go away. But instead, the door burst open and Libby pulled back.
Billy stood in the doorway, his mouth open.
“Close the door, Billy,” Chance said, gruffer than he intended as he struggled to rein in his response.
The door closed with a bang.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Billy was thirteen. He knew he was interrupting something.
“Not at all,” Libby said, her husky voice sending Chance’s testosterone soaring. She smoothed down her top as if she was clearing off crumbs. Her foot started to shake.
“I came over to see how Cowboy was doing. Chance had texted that you found him.”