Page 72 of Rogue Cowboy
She pulled up short about ten feet from her trailer.
Cole’s truck was gone.
Gone.
She stared at the empty space as if the black tricked-out Ford F-150 would pop back into view.
He hadn’t left.Not when he’d gone on and on all weekend about courting her.But she had thrown up roadblock after roadblock after they’d finally shared an amazing and sensuous night together.
Talk about role reversal.
“Get over it,” she coached herself.She had horses to take care of.Cole had probably driven out to the ranch.Or maybe to see the Wilders’ spread.She knew he was doing research for his grandfather.He’d get in touch.A man didn’t text her for more than five years and then ghost her after sex.
Did he?
Don’t be an idiotic, paranoid, crazy cowgirl.
But what if… Stop.She shouldn’t assume the worst, but she couldn’t shake the sick feeling in her gut.She was no good with men.Or sex.Or relationships.She should have stuck to singing about it, but music and lyrics too had deserted her.
“Hey, Riley, good rodeo?”Tucker Wilder asked as Riley walked Spice out to the trailer to transport her horses home.
“The best.”She tried to dredge up enthusiasm.
“I bet,” Tucker says.“I hate to say it, but a man can put a pep in your step, so why are you dragging?Did Cole get home okay?”
“Huh?Home?”She felt like the world tilted on its axis.She stopped walking and leaned into Spice in the most pathetic example of a cowgirl not rolling with the punches life enjoyed throwing.
“Yeah.He had an emergency phone call and lit out in the middle of a conversation with Luke and Kane.Kane had to chase after him to let him know he could use his pilot and plane since there wasn’t anything out of Bozeman until tomorrow.”
Riley felt staggered.Cole was that eager to get out of here.Then she blasted herself.Tucker had said an emergency.It must be bad if he hadn’t wanted to wait until tomorrow.
Not like you encouraged him to stay.
“Did he say what the emergency was?”
Tucker shrugged.“Nah.Just lit out and said he’d be back in touch.But that’s what texts are for, girl.”Tucker winked.“Don’t be shy.”
Only Riley hadn’t received any texts.
*
Cole, still ampedand nervous from the flight, raced into the lobby of Jameson Hospital.He comically skidded to a halt at the door of his maw-maw’s suite.She was sitting up, in the hospital bed, wearing a dressing gown embroidered with bluebonnets that Cole had seen many times during his visits home.He’d had the dressing gown embroidered and specially made for her ten years ago by a tailor in Pakistan by showing her a picture of the hills in full bloom on the ranch in late March.
It had been an impulse born of homesickness and guilt for always being away and missing family events.
Her long, still-dark hair, threaded with gray shone in the light of the sunset filtering in through the window.His paw-paw sat on the side of the bed gently brushing her hair.She was in full makeup and the room smelled like a floral shop.
“Told you,” his cousin Elijah who’d picked him up at the private airfield said.“Indestructible.”
“Darling.”Her eyes snapped open, and her smile was warm.She held out one hand—the other was in a sling, and Cole crossed the room.He knelt and took her hands in his and kissed her cheek.Then gently hugged her, not sure where the bruises were.
“Elijah Bennet Boilyn Jameson, are you insinuating that I bounced off the dirt?”
He didn’t even flinch at his whole name.“No, ma’am.”Elijah leaned against the door, his tanned face as shuttered as his eyes.“I saw you take a tumble off Ricky, who was not approved for riding at this stage in his training, and there was no bouncing.”
“I do not need my oldest grandson’s permission to ride a horse on our ranch.”
“You do when he’s the foreman.”Elijah hadn’t backed down for as long as Cole could remember—probably a survival technique from being the oldest in a string of nine male brothers and cousins.
