Page 160 of My Cowboy Freedom
“Look at you.” I breathed the words.
He was a young god in cowboy boots that cost more than I’d made the entire time I worked at the Rocking C.
If Maisy hadn’t nudged my leg, I probably would have stood there looking at him all day.
“Elena says you stopped by?” he asked.
“Missed you last night.” I fell into step beside him.
“Sterling had a bad night.”
“Sorry to hear it. I don’t want to seem like I’m prying or nothing.”
“I know.” He took my hand to slow me down. “It’s just that I’m the only one who’s qualified to listen to him right now. I know exactly what it’s like when you expect your body to do something it has done a hundred million times, and it won’t do that thing anymore.”
I liked the way his eyes softened when he looked at me. “You don’t have to explain.”
“I just don’t want you to think it’s personal, or we’re keeping some big secret. I know how the hands talk.”
“They’ll feel better once they see the boss some more. It’s the fact he’s been holed up in the house that has ’em making up shit.”
“And of course, he doesn’t want any visitors until he’s at his best. So you can see how this is going to be a goat fuck no matter what, right?”
Elena and Chandler caught the tail end of that sentence.
“Rock.”
Rock flushed. “Sorry, Elena.”
Elena looked pretty as a bouquet of flowers in a blue summer dress and sweater.
While she swiped on lip gloss, Rock helped Chandler into her car. Normally they used the Rocking C’s vehicles for Chandler family business, but the trucks were too high off the ground for him, even with Rock’s help.
Unfortunately, Elena’s Honda had the opposite problem.
Somehow Rock managed to squeeze himself into the backseat behind Elena. I let Maisy jump in, and then I sat behind Chandler.
Country ballads played on the radio. Elena’s pine-tree air freshener dangled below the rearview mirror. As the miles passed, inadequate air-conditioning and motion-sickness made me sleepy and slightly sick.
Rock hummed, the sound more of a rumble emanating from low in his chest. A light breeze played with the front of his hair. Maisy’s solid body rested heavily against my thigh, leaving a swath of yellow dog hair on my trousers.
I drifted off.
Rock woke me when we pulled into the parking lot of his church.
“Andi, Declan, and Ryder go here?” I asked, still groggy from my nap. Rock’s church didn’t seem like a modern-family affair.
He shook his head. “They’re meeting us at Earl’s after. We’ll have lunch and then go back to the doc’s place to talk.”
I got out of the car. Then Rock sort of fell out, complaining he had no feeling in his legs. That left me to get the wheelchair out of the trunk.
By that time, Rock had recovered enough to help the boss from the car. Elena pushed Chandler, while I grabbed my Bible and Rock’s backpack, shut the trunk, and followed them in.
I didn’t expect to like the service since Rock told me Cecilia Everett was the one who caused him all that trouble with his mother. In fact, I kind of expected everyone to stand up, point at me, and say I didn’t belong there. I was grateful for Elena, who found a row with a place on the end for Boss’s wheelchair. We took the seats on the aisle.
The building was a big rectangle, featuring two rows of pews and a wide center aisle. Sun streamed through the stained-glass windows, leaving rosettes of light on the wooden floor. There were no kneelers. Rock picked up a flyer to read it.
Program.In church that’s called a program.
