Page 29 of Stables

Probably not my dad.

I set the Tylenol on the nightstand in case I need it, and limp my way to the living room in time to see the doctor pulling his leather boots on.

He’s turned away so I get a great view of the back pockets of his jeans.

And how well he fills them out.

Damn. Libby has me looking at him in a new light.

But not a bad one.

He stands, tapping his heel to get his pant leg to drop over his ankle.

Pausing, his jaw works, the muscle star bursting to his temple. “Char, um.” Clearing his throat he looks around my beige wallsbefore his gaze falls back on me. “When is your friend getting back tonight?”

I’m frozen.

What do I say?

The truth? Or lie and say she’ll be here soon?

“Probably not until morning.” I admit.

His teeth grind and his nostrils flare over his dark mustache. “Look, I hope this doesn’t sound weird—” He starts, shifting his bag between his broad hands.

“—but I know that guy isn’t going to be locked up for long.” His eyes move to anywhere except on me.

Is my face that bad?

Yes. Yes it is.

“I expect Matt to be out quickly. He always is.” I’ve resigned myself to that fact.

Dr. McCullough grunts as his chin drops. His black hat blocks his face. “I have to go to the ranch in the morning. Your place is closer to it than mine. If you don’t mind—”

A flutter of panic races through my chest.

“—I was going to crash out in my truck at the end of your driveway.”

Relief washes over me. That wasn’t what I expected.

“My driveway? Why?” I blurt out the question before thinking.

“Well.” His palm waves through the air. “I’d be close. Just in case.” He lets the words hang between us.

Oh.

“Ifhecomes back,” I mutter. The thought makes my stomach roll.

I don’t know if I’d survive Matt again.

Doubt makes the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “I, um. I didn’t ask for protection. I can’t pay you…” Or have anything to offer.

I’m not bartering myself.

He holds up his calloused hand. “I didn’t ask. I’ll sleep better out there knowing I’m doing something, than I did last night laying in my bed like a chicken shit,” he growls.

My spine stiffens. Does he pity me? “Am I a charity case to you?”

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