Page 30 of Stables

His eyes narrow until they’re two walnut colored beads peering from the shadows of his hat. “Hardly. When you get bucked off a horse, do you wallow in the mud, or take a hand to get up?” He steps closer, towering over me, but his voice drops. “Do you want me to stand by and watch you get trampled without lifting a finger?”

Before I can answer, he pulls away, shaking his head.

“If you don’t want me in the driveway, that’s understandable. There’s a wide spot on the road just past it I can see from. Either way, I’ll be out there.” His palm settles on the handle, then he swings the front door open.

The idea of being alone is terrifying.

“Wait,” I call after him before he steps off the porch.

His broad shoulders turn as he stops.

“Do you like coffee or tea in the morning?” I croak out.

His white teeth flash in the halogen glow of the deck light. “Either one.” Tipping his finger on his hat, he takes the last stair to the ground before striding to his Toyota.

“Thank you, Dr. McCullough.” It feels like a weight has been lifted from me knowing I have someone watching out for me.

“Please. Call me Dixon.”

Chapter 8

Dixon

It gets hot asfuck in the back of my truck as soon as the sun begins to climb.

Maybe black wasn’t the best color for a Montana summer.

Kicking out of my sleeping bag, I roll over and let the last of the cool air work up my bare legs. The thin fabric of my boxer briefs sends a chill over me as the sweat is pulled away by the slight breeze.

Burying my head in the travel pillow doesn’t help. I should get up and leave. Sleeping in Char’s driveway isn’t exactly the Hilton.

But at least I know she’s safe.

It was nice to see the hint of both of her big blue eyes last night. The swelling on her face is down from when I first saw her in the ER.

The morning isn’t being friendly as I roll over, pinning my unwanted hard-on beneath me.

There’s only a soft click of warning from her front door before there’s a light knock on the side of the canopy.

Tugging the blanket back over my hips, I shift onto my side to hide myself just in time.

“Dr. McCullough? I mean, Dixon? Are you awake?” Her voice is nearly a whisper.

If I wasn’t, I doubt she’s loud enough to wake me.

Maybe if she screamed my name.

Jesus Christ. That was inappropriate.

“Yea.” I let the tired tinge my words as they echo out of my truck.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t have any coffee. The container was empty.” She steps into view carrying a steaming mug and small mason jar half full of white powder.

When she sets them on the tailgate near my feet, she points at it. “I didn’t know if you wanted sugar.”

“That’s fine, thank you.” Sitting up, my head scrapes the aluminum roof.

I don’t dare uncover myself. “I’ll be heading out shortly.”

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