her body to his. "You ready to do a different kind of riding, cowboy?" she purred.
"Maybe you should be the one to ride this time, while I take it easy."
"I'll show you easy. " She bit his shoulder hard enough to get his attention. "Come on, cowboy, show me your stuff."
Laughing, they rolled across the bed in each other's arms. Theresa deliberately put the seriousness of the moment before aside. Right now, she and Kyle were just passing time with each other, enjoying a pleasant interlude before they had to get on with the rest of their lives.
I T WAS ALMOST LUNCHTIME before Kyle and Theresa finally made it out of bed. His idea of a morning well spent, he thought as he drove across town toward his orthopedic surgeon's office. He hadn't had much trouble talking Theresa into seeing him tonight, either. If he worked it right, he could probably convince her to let him stay with her once his friend A.J. returned from his hitch on the rigs. With any luck, he'd avoid returning to the ranch until it was time to hit the circuit again.
There was no lineup of patients at the surgeon's office, so Kyle was shown right in.
Dr. Hank Gunderson examined the injured wrist. "Is it giving you any pain?" he asked.
"Nah." Kyle shifted on the table. "Itches like hell sometimes, though."
Dr. Gunderson clipped the gauze into place. "X-rays show it's healing fine. Of course, you can't expect to mend quite as quickly as you did a few years ago, when you broke your collarbone-- Wasn't that it?"
He groaned, remembering. "That calf kicked me into next month." He frowned at his unwrapped arm. After only a little over a week in the cast, it seemed smaller and weaker. "How soon can I lose the cast? It's getting to be a pain." Not to mention it was seriously cramping his style with a certain gorgeous brunette. He couldn't wait to put both arms all the way around her without that chunk of fiberglass in the way.
"If you promise to be careful, you can probably get by with taping it and wearing an air cast. You can take that off when you shower, but you'll want to leave it on most of the time."
"Great."
Dr. Gunderson turned to a supply cabinet and took out a package of elastic gauze and a white cardboard box. "So what have you been doing with yourself now that you're off the circuit for a while?"
"Not much." He held out his arm and Dr. Gunderson wrapped it with tape. "Kicking around, trying to stay out of trouble."
Dr. Gunderson slipped on the air cast and showed him how to adjust the Velcro straps. "Unless you have problems, I don't need to see you again for another five weeks. You should be fully healed by then. But I'll want you to keep the wrist taped when you compete and work with the Justin Healers on some therapy."
He nodded. The Justin Healers were the medics of the rodeo, many of them former rodeo riders themselves. "Thanks, Doc."
He was settling his bill when someone behind him said, "Kyle Cameron, is that you?"
He turned and saw a lanky man in jeans and a T-shirt standing next to a small boy whose arm was in a sling. Recognition clicked in his brain. "Brady Robbins, you old son of a gun!"
He hugged his friend. Back in his late teens and early twenties, he and Brady had been running buddies, traveling the rodeo circuit together, splitting expenses and competing against each other in calf roping. But Brady had left the circuit years ago to take a job at the family hardware store.
"Who is this?" Kyle stepped back and grinned at the kid. As if he didn't recognize the spitting image of Brady, right down to the cowlick sticking up at the back of his head.
"This is my boy, Derrick." Brady put his arm around the kid, who stood up a little straighter and grinned, showing one tooth missing. "He had a little mishap at a mutton bustin'."
Mutton bustin' was a popular event at rodeos. Any child could enter and attempt to catch and ride one of the sheep turned loose in the arena. "You going to be a rodeo cowboy like your dad?" Kyle asked.
The
"Maybe you should be the one to ride this time, while I take it easy."
"I'll show you easy. " She bit his shoulder hard enough to get his attention. "Come on, cowboy, show me your stuff."
Laughing, they rolled across the bed in each other's arms. Theresa deliberately put the seriousness of the moment before aside. Right now, she and Kyle were just passing time with each other, enjoying a pleasant interlude before they had to get on with the rest of their lives.
I T WAS ALMOST LUNCHTIME before Kyle and Theresa finally made it out of bed. His idea of a morning well spent, he thought as he drove across town toward his orthopedic surgeon's office. He hadn't had much trouble talking Theresa into seeing him tonight, either. If he worked it right, he could probably convince her to let him stay with her once his friend A.J. returned from his hitch on the rigs. With any luck, he'd avoid returning to the ranch until it was time to hit the circuit again.
There was no lineup of patients at the surgeon's office, so Kyle was shown right in.
Dr. Hank Gunderson examined the injured wrist. "Is it giving you any pain?" he asked.
"Nah." Kyle shifted on the table. "Itches like hell sometimes, though."
Dr. Gunderson clipped the gauze into place. "X-rays show it's healing fine. Of course, you can't expect to mend quite as quickly as you did a few years ago, when you broke your collarbone-- Wasn't that it?"
He groaned, remembering. "That calf kicked me into next month." He frowned at his unwrapped arm. After only a little over a week in the cast, it seemed smaller and weaker. "How soon can I lose the cast? It's getting to be a pain." Not to mention it was seriously cramping his style with a certain gorgeous brunette. He couldn't wait to put both arms all the way around her without that chunk of fiberglass in the way.
"If you promise to be careful, you can probably get by with taping it and wearing an air cast. You can take that off when you shower, but you'll want to leave it on most of the time."
"Great."
Dr. Gunderson turned to a supply cabinet and took out a package of elastic gauze and a white cardboard box. "So what have you been doing with yourself now that you're off the circuit for a while?"
"Not much." He held out his arm and Dr. Gunderson wrapped it with tape. "Kicking around, trying to stay out of trouble."
Dr. Gunderson slipped on the air cast and showed him how to adjust the Velcro straps. "Unless you have problems, I don't need to see you again for another five weeks. You should be fully healed by then. But I'll want you to keep the wrist taped when you compete and work with the Justin Healers on some therapy."
He nodded. The Justin Healers were the medics of the rodeo, many of them former rodeo riders themselves. "Thanks, Doc."
He was settling his bill when someone behind him said, "Kyle Cameron, is that you?"
He turned and saw a lanky man in jeans and a T-shirt standing next to a small boy whose arm was in a sling. Recognition clicked in his brain. "Brady Robbins, you old son of a gun!"
He hugged his friend. Back in his late teens and early twenties, he and Brady had been running buddies, traveling the rodeo circuit together, splitting expenses and competing against each other in calf roping. But Brady had left the circuit years ago to take a job at the family hardware store.
"Who is this?" Kyle stepped back and grinned at the kid. As if he didn't recognize the spitting image of Brady, right down to the cowlick sticking up at the back of his head.
"This is my boy, Derrick." Brady put his arm around the kid, who stood up a little straighter and grinned, showing one tooth missing. "He had a little mishap at a mutton bustin'."
Mutton bustin' was a popular event at rodeos. Any child could enter and attempt to catch and ride one of the sheep turned loose in the arena. "You going to be a rodeo cowboy like your dad?" Kyle asked.
The
Similar Books
