Read Online Loving A Cowboy by Anne Carrole - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Anne Carrole
Tags: Contemporary, series, new adult, college, Contemporary Fiction, Women's Fiction, Westerns, Cowboys
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before she could get too far along in that fantasy, cold slate-gray eyes vanquished the images right out of her head. If looks could freeze, she’d be an ice cube instead of melting all over herself.
“No one answered the front door.” Libby stated the obvious.
“As you well know, I’m not exactly in a position to play host, Libby. What the hell are you doing here?”
She took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy, but then again, he also wasn’t in a position to do anything about her coming. Or staying.
“I know you aren’t up to entertaining, Chance. And that’s precisely why I’m here. To look after you.” The fact no one had answered the door gave her hope that no other woman had stepped into the role.
“The hell you are.” He closed one eye in a grimace. Pain? All the more reason he needed her.
“Yes, the hell I am,” she said in her firmest voice. “You need to rest and heal, and I’m going to see that you do just that.”
He started to throw back the covers as if to get up, but then he halted, realizing either that he didn’t have any clothes on or that he shouldn’t stand up on his foot just yet. Either way, he stopped before anything more than a hip bone was revealed. Something she was grateful for because one look at his entire body, especially that part of his body, and she might just fling herself at him in a shameless, pathetic way, even if he was almost an invalid.
And she hadn’t come here for that.
No, she hadn’t. She’d come because he needed her, or at least he needed someone. And to make amends. Then she could move on. Close the book on Chance, knowing she’d done something good for him.
She’d take care of him, nurse him, and use the time to figure out what she was going to do with her life and where Ben fit into it. All the while doing something for someone who not only needed her but whom she owed big-time for screwing with his life.
“I’m going to kill Lonnie. I don’t need your help.” This time those gray eyes of his flashed hot instead of cold. The temper kind of hot. Chance had a temper. And though he took pride in maintaining control, she’d seen him take out a man with more girth and heft than two of him. But Libby wasn’t intimidated. Not by Chance.
“Sure you do. If just to answer the door. But I’m also going to cook for you,” she said as she took in the small microwave plopped on his dresser. “And clean, and I can even take care of animals if you’ve got any in that barn.” She hadn’t taken the time to peek into the stable, but it looked new or recently painted, given the sheen hadn’t weathered off yet.
In fact the whole scene outside had looked like something out of a western lifestyle magazine, what with the low-slung, timber and stone ranch house, the neat corrals and barn, and the huge swimming pool she’d passed off the patio. A long way from trailer living, for sure.
“First off, I don’t get many visitors, and I board my horses at the neighbors because I travel so much. And I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I’ve got it all set up, if you didn’t notice.” He fell back against the pillows. “I’m not a cripple, Libby.”
She stepped further into the room, even though he hadn’t exactly extended an invitation, and closed the French doors. “No, you certainly are not,” she agreed as she moved to sit on the far edge of his bed.
She’d noticed the mess but also the way it was decorated. Not like the typical bachelor pad. Chance’s room was alive with southwestern colors. Native American saddle blankets hung on the tan walls and mellow, golden oak furniture rested on the wood floors. The fieldstone fireplace, flanked by rich, honey leather chairs, lent a warm, masculine, and substantial feel to the room. It wasn’t her style, but she liked it. And so different from the cool sleekness of her father’s house.
“But you’re not exactly able bodied yet,” she added.
Her gaze settled on the purple,
“No one answered the front door.” Libby stated the obvious.
“As you well know, I’m not exactly in a position to play host, Libby. What the hell are you doing here?”
She took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy, but then again, he also wasn’t in a position to do anything about her coming. Or staying.
“I know you aren’t up to entertaining, Chance. And that’s precisely why I’m here. To look after you.” The fact no one had answered the door gave her hope that no other woman had stepped into the role.
“The hell you are.” He closed one eye in a grimace. Pain? All the more reason he needed her.
“Yes, the hell I am,” she said in her firmest voice. “You need to rest and heal, and I’m going to see that you do just that.”
He started to throw back the covers as if to get up, but then he halted, realizing either that he didn’t have any clothes on or that he shouldn’t stand up on his foot just yet. Either way, he stopped before anything more than a hip bone was revealed. Something she was grateful for because one look at his entire body, especially that part of his body, and she might just fling herself at him in a shameless, pathetic way, even if he was almost an invalid.
And she hadn’t come here for that.
No, she hadn’t. She’d come because he needed her, or at least he needed someone. And to make amends. Then she could move on. Close the book on Chance, knowing she’d done something good for him.
She’d take care of him, nurse him, and use the time to figure out what she was going to do with her life and where Ben fit into it. All the while doing something for someone who not only needed her but whom she owed big-time for screwing with his life.
“I’m going to kill Lonnie. I don’t need your help.” This time those gray eyes of his flashed hot instead of cold. The temper kind of hot. Chance had a temper. And though he took pride in maintaining control, she’d seen him take out a man with more girth and heft than two of him. But Libby wasn’t intimidated. Not by Chance.
“Sure you do. If just to answer the door. But I’m also going to cook for you,” she said as she took in the small microwave plopped on his dresser. “And clean, and I can even take care of animals if you’ve got any in that barn.” She hadn’t taken the time to peek into the stable, but it looked new or recently painted, given the sheen hadn’t weathered off yet.
In fact the whole scene outside had looked like something out of a western lifestyle magazine, what with the low-slung, timber and stone ranch house, the neat corrals and barn, and the huge swimming pool she’d passed off the patio. A long way from trailer living, for sure.
“First off, I don’t get many visitors, and I board my horses at the neighbors because I travel so much. And I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I’ve got it all set up, if you didn’t notice.” He fell back against the pillows. “I’m not a cripple, Libby.”
She stepped further into the room, even though he hadn’t exactly extended an invitation, and closed the French doors. “No, you certainly are not,” she agreed as she moved to sit on the far edge of his bed.
She’d noticed the mess but also the way it was decorated. Not like the typical bachelor pad. Chance’s room was alive with southwestern colors. Native American saddle blankets hung on the tan walls and mellow, golden oak furniture rested on the wood floors. The fieldstone fireplace, flanked by rich, honey leather chairs, lent a warm, masculine, and substantial feel to the room. It wasn’t her style, but she liked it. And so different from the cool sleekness of her father’s house.
“But you’re not exactly able bodied yet,” she added.
Her gaze settled on the purple,
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