Page 8 of Overdue for a Cowboy

Damn. What am I doing?

She’d been hurt. She was on pain medicine. His brain was yelling at him—he had to stop.

Hecouldn’tstop.

Hehadto stop.

Finally, he forced himself to pull away. His breath ragged, his heart racing, he peered down at her, wondering if now that they’d stopped kissing, she would push him away. But instead, she closed her eyes and nestled against his chest as she let out another of those soft, satisfied sighs.

“I always knew you’d be a great kisser,” she murmured into his shirt. “But that was better than anything I could have ever imagined. You kind of just rocked my world.”

Guilt settled in his gut like a rock falling to the bottom of a lake.Great.Just what he’d always wanted to hear. He’d just rocked the world of a semi-lucid woman on pain-meds who thought she was dreaming.

Probably not his finest moment.

But for the record,shehad kissed him first.

He reached around her back, grabbed her pajama shirt from the bed, and carefully pulled it on over her head. He gently guided first her bandaged hand then her good one through the arm holes of the shirt and pulled it down. He could think more clearly now that all that skin and cleavage wasn’t on display, and he helped fit the sling into place and tightened the strap over her shoulder.

Pulling down the comforter and top sheet, he guided her back into bed. Her eyes closed again as her head hit the pillow and her breathing evened out as he peered down at her, noticing theloose waves of hair that fell over her shoulder. She looked a little like an angel. A book-loving librarian angel…in a black lacy bra.

He carefully took her glasses off and set them on the nightstand next to her. The big lug of a dog had never left the bed, and he rolled closer to Maisie with a groan.

Feeling like a creep for just standing next to her bed and watching her, he went back into the kitchen and ate one of the protein bars. He made a quick trip out to his truck to grab the Ziplock bag of dog food and collapsible food and water dishes he always carried with him, in case he got stuck out in the field after the dog’s mealtime.

Moose was waiting for him at the door when he came back inside, the dog’s inner food-radar apparently stronger than his need to cuddle with Maisie.

He put the soup in the refrigerator, washed the pan, and wiped down the counters as the dog ate. He could always heat the soup again if Maisie woke up and was hungry.

Moose lifted his face from his now empty bowl and tilted his head as he stared in puzzlement at something behind Dodge. He turned to see an orange and yellow cat sitting in the door of the kitchen that led to a small laundry room and pantry. Her tail swished around her, and she licked one paw, seemingly unconcerned that a strange man and a dog the size of a small pony were in her kitchen. Cats had a way of doing that.

“Hey kitty,” Dodge said. “Where’d you come from?”

Apparently, that wasn’t as important as where she wasgoing. With another swoosh of her tail and an annoyedmeow, she turned and flounced into the laundry room. He heard the soft thud of her landing on the washing machine and noted the waterand empty food bowls on top of the dryer as he poked his head into the room. A clear container of cat food sat next to the bowls, and he dumped a scoop into the empty dish and refilled the other one with fresh water.

The cat offered him anothermeowthat could have meantthank youorit’s about dang time.

Dodge offered her a nod in return then turned his head as he heard a soft knock at the front door.

Chapter Five

Dodge opened the door and was surprised to see Chevy standing on Maisie’s porch holding a plastic grocery bag and a grease-stained paper sack bearing the name ofThe Tipsy Pig, their favorite local restaurant famous for its baby back ribs and secret recipe barbeque sauce.

His stomach growled as the scent of grilled meat and greasy fries wafted into the room. “Hey Brother. What are you doing here?”

Moose padded over to sniff at the bags and Chevy’s boots, probably just as excited to see the man as he was to smell the food.

“Didn’t think you’d had a chance to eat, so I brought you some grub.” Chevy held up the bags. “Not much. Couple of cheeseburgers and some fries.”

“You’re a life saver, man,” Dodge told him, taking the bags and stepping back to let his brother in.

Chevy shook his head. “I can’t stay. Just wanted to check on you all and bring you some supplies. How’s she doing?”

Dodge had called his family earlier that day and filled them in on what had happened and had texted them with updates after they’d left the emergency room. “She’s asleep. The pain meds knocked her out. And made her a little loopy. I don’t feel comfortable leaving her alone though, especially since she could have a small concussion, so I’ll probably crash on the sofa.”

“I figured as much.” He pointed to the second bag. “Packed you a couple of things—a clean shirt and socks, stick of deodorant, your toothbrush, and a cell phone charger. And Gramps stuck in some cookies.”

Dodge smiled, touched at the gestures of his brother and his grandfather. “You guys didn’t have to do this, but I’m glad you did. Thanks.”

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