Loving A Cowboy (27 page)

His weight was down, though he still had a ways to go, and his attitude was upbeat.

He frequently expressed his happiness at having her onboard, and she, surprisingly, was happy to be onboard.

When Mandy Prescott had called to offer her the job in Denver, she’d turned it down. She’d told Mandy about her father’s heart attack and her decision to work at the family business. Mandy had been surprisingly supportive, telling Libby she understood the decision since her own grandfather, the head of Prescott Rodeo, was seriously ill, and Mandy wouldn’t think of leaving the business in other hands.

“I’m good, Daddy.” She scooped another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth and enjoyed the taste sensation of cold chocolate and icy hazelnut.

“Libby, it’s been weeks since you went to that rodeo with Deidre Cochran. You can’t go on like this.”

“Like what?” she asked, although she knew exactly what he would answer. He’d been telling her for days.

“You’ve become a workaholic at the dealership. Every day, 8:00 a.m. until closing. No break. And when you are home, you sit on this couch, watching mindless reality shows and eating ice cream.”

“It’s all that appeals to me.”

He let out a long sigh. “It’s not the ice cream. It’s the routine. It’s not healthy. You need some balance. Take it from someone who is paying for years of the wrong routine. You need to get on with your life.”

She felt the tears swamp her eyes. “I don’t want to get on with my life.” Why should she? It wasn’t the life she wanted. She stroked Cowboy’s soft fur, hoping it would calm her some.

“So you’re going to stay in a holding pattern, never moving forward?”

She wasn’t ready to move forward. She didn’t know where forward would lead, but she was sure she wouldn’t like it, so she was in no hurry to get there. “Yes.”

Her father shook his head, his eyes showing concern. “Look, you’ve got to accept Chance’s decision.”

“I have accepted his decision. And my ‘routine,’ as you call it, has nothing to do with him. I am putting in the hours at work because, surprisingly, I enjoy it. It’s not at all what I thought it would be. And I’ve got a lot to learn, so I need to put in the time. The rest is just my way of relaxing.”

At least she was functional. She went to the dealership every day. She’d run tons of analysis on inventory, customers, potential markets, and promotions. And the insights she gained had been paying off. From the price points to the targeted direct mails to the customer service upgrades, she’d seen an uptick in volume. Slow but perceptible. And every moment she focused on work was one less moment she was thinking about Chance. Or her father’s health.

“And that’s all good. But at what cost to you?”

“No cost. This is what I want to be doing. Now and in the foreseeable future. Isn’t this what you wanted all along? Your daughter running the business rather than running after Chance Cochran?”

“I want you to be happy. If I’ve learned anything these last few weeks, it is that life is short. I wish I could knock some sense into that boy.”

“I thought you were worried about how he’d treat me?”

Her father nodded. “I was, but if he didn’t do anything when Deidre showed up, well, I can’t think of a bigger button for you to have pushed. By all accounts, he acted decent, even if it didn’t work out like you’d hoped. He’s better than I gave him credit for, I’ll admit. You’re both fine young people who can make a wonderful life together.”

Libby felt tears sting her eyes. “Now can you convince Chance of that?”

“I wish I could, baby girl. I wish I could.”

Suddenly, her father reached for the arm of the couch and slumped onto the cushion, his face an ashen gray.

Libby’s heart squeezed as she reached for him. “Daddy? Daddy?”

* * *

Chance looked over at Lonnie sitting next to him in the passenger seat of his pickup as they sped along the lightly traveled interstate at midday, heading toward one of the last rodeos before the season ended. Lonnie was swiping through his cell phone, no doubt checking his Facebook feed. The guy obsessed over social media and was closing in on a thousand followers.

“Check out the rodeo, while you’re at it, and see if we know who we’re riding yet,” Chance said.

After Pendleton, Chance had steadily climbed in the standings, but it hadn’t been enough to get him over the hump. He was sitting at number sixteen in the rankings, just a few hundred dollars behind the guy at number fifteen, the cutoff for the NFR. This event would be his last chance to make it.

Lonnie, too far back in the standings to catch up, was just being a good friend by accompanying Chance to the event. Of course, Lonnie stood to make a little money too, given the competition would be cowboys chasing that number fifteen spot and not necessarily those who were sitting at the top of the heap.

“Just checked. They haven’t done the draws yet,” Lonnie said, setting down his cell phone.

Chance had been thinking a lot lately. A lot about Libby. She still texted him now and again, usually after a win, congratulating him, but he hadn’t answered any of her texts. He hadn’t known what he wanted to say. He’d been trying to figure it out these last few days.

He loved her. He missed her. Could she forgive him for leaving her when she needed him? And what would Sam Brennan say if Chance did ask Libby to marry him?

Given her father’s heart attack and Chance leaving Libby when she needed him, would she even see him? Maybe he should just wait until after he knew he had made the NFR and then look her up around the holidays. See how things were faring.

But what if it was too late? What if Ben had come back to offer support? Or she’d found someone else who would help her through what had to be the toughest time of her life? He should be that someone. He should be that forever someone.

“Lonnie, would you mind if I dropped you off and headed to Cheyenne?”

* * *

Chance stepped out of his truck and into the bright sunshine of a September day. The dealership in Casper was humming as one might expect on a mild Sunday. Colorful sale flags billowed in the gentle breeze.

Instead of moving on into the showroom, with its tarnished metal-framed architecture screaming 1980s, Chance surveyed the parking lot jammed with cars, mostly the latest Ford models, with huge Discount and For Sale signs covering their front windows. It was clear someone was trying to move inventory.

The glare off the showroom windows prevented him from seeing inside. It would be easier if he knew she was in there. Easier still if she wasn’t busy.

Hell, who was he kidding? None of this would be easy, for either of them.

But then it hadn’t been easy to look up Deidre again. He didn’t know where it would lead with his mother, but despite initial intentions otherwise, they’d established a thread of a relationship. Whether that would become something more, he couldn’t say, but he was no longer closed to the possibility. Despite his anger, he’d finally accepted that his mother had tried to spare him. And, strange as it was to admit, maybe she had. He’d been taken from his father. Given to people who were decent. He’d finished high school and lived his rodeo dream.

If his mother had stayed, endured the beatings, kept drinking, would he have been better off? He couldn’t know for sure, but his gut told him no, and his mother surely wouldn’t have been.

Her mistake had been in not telling him. In letting him think she had abandoned him. Hadn’t cared. Chance was beginning to understand that she hadn’t contacted him out of fear his father would find her. That realization was followed by another—she’d been weak, beaten down, and he had been too young to do anything to help her.

When he had recognized he couldn’t do anything to stop his father, he’d felt powerless. And ashamed. And he’d struggled all his life to overcome those feelings.

He wasn’t powerless to act now. And he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t do something. If he didn’t try. If he let Libby go—again.

She’d tried her darnedest to convince him she was worthy of his trust and love. And he’d done his darnedest to block any feelings in that direction. But he no longer wanted to hide from the truth. He loved her. He needed her in his life, to be happy. And he was ready to take her on her terms—with her father in tow, if need be. After all, Libby seemed to have enough love to go around.

Her last attempt at convincing him had been a doozy, what with bringing his mother into things. But he couldn’t say he regretted it.

He just hoped he hadn’t slammed the door so hard she’d given up on him. If so, he’d have to try to win her back. She’d been persistent—he was determined.

Inside, the showroom was studded with gleaming new cars in vivid colors of red, blue, yellow, even purple. Who bought cars in such colors he couldn’t say, but they were sure eye catching, if nothing else.

A number of customers milled around the automobiles, poking their heads into the open windows and lifting up trunk lids. A few customers sat at desks across from people with name tags and eyes glued to computer screens. Libby wasn’t among them.

Maybe she wasn’t here today. Or maybe she was tucked away in some office in the back. She always said she wasn’t cut out to sell cars. He breathed in the new-car smell that permeated the showroom as he strode toward the back.

“Need help, buddy?” A tall, gray-haired man dressed in a dark sweater-vest, white shirt, and navy casual pants asked from behind the latest F-150 pickup.

“Yeah. Libby Brennan in?”

The older man gave Chance the once-over. Good to know someone was watching out for her.

“Miss Brennan is out today. I’m Ed Farley, acting manager. What can I help you with?” He held out his hand and Chance shook it.

“Is Libby sick? I’m…I’m an old friend.” Chance wanted to say he was much more, but until he saw Libby, he could barely claim friendship.

“Hadn’t you heard? Her father had a stroke.”

“You mean a heart attack, don’t you?”

“He had one of them too. But he also had a stroke a few days ago. He’s home now, recovering, but it’s anyone’s guess what that will entail. Libby being there for him has been a godsend.”

Chance felt the air leak out of him like a balloon deflating. Things were worse than he imagined. Nodding at the older man, he thanked Ed Farley and then strode out of the showroom, finding sanctuary in the confining cabin of his truck.

He’d come to Cheyenne to tell Libby he’d missed her more than he thought possible, that he’d come to his senses, that she was what he needed to be complete.

He’d finally accepted who he was and who he wasn’t. And he’d come to terms with her leaving him and coming back to him. It had taken a lot of thought, and probably longer than it should have, but love finally won the battle.

Now, with things so bad with her father and Chance having left her when she needed him most, it might be too late.

Chapter 23

Libby heard the doorbell ring as she worked with her father on his arm exercises. The stroke had, gratefully, been a mild one, and the doctors had credited the aspirin she had given him and her quick response in getting an ambulance to the house for his condition not being worse.

His motor skills on his left side had been affected, but neither his vision nor speech had been impaired. Despite being in a wheelchair at the moment, his prognosis was good, but it would take a lot of work and care. They had a therapist coming to the house three days a week, since the first weeks of recovery were critical, and a nurse’s aide coming every weekday morning. The plumber had put safety bars in the master bathroom so her father could have support when taking care of the necessities, but he still needed her help.

Libby should have gone into nursing. Who knew that it would come in so handy these last few months between Chance and her father?

Chance…she’d hardly had time to think of him, and yet he always occupied the edges of her thoughts, regardless. She missed him. There were moments when she longed to simply escape into his strong arms and, for a moment, forget what had been thrown her way. But he wasn’t there and wasn’t likely to ever be there. She had to accept that her life had taken a different turn.

Maybe it was for the best. Maybe the fact her father needed her was why fate hadn’t allowed Chance to fall in love with her. But then why had fate allowed her to fall in love with him—or rather, to continue to love him, because she doubted she had ever fallen out of love.

The chimes rang again.

“You need to get that.” Her father’s voice was devoid of emotion or curiosity. He stated a flat fact. That had been indicative of his mood since he’d come home. Resigned, depressed, stoic.

“I’ll be right back,” Libby said, patting her father on the knee. Dressed in a new pair of sweats, something he would never have worn in the past, he sat, slumped in the wheelchair, a ghost of his former self.

He hadn’t given up as much as given in, and Libby was determined to change that mind-set.

Not wanting to leave her father too long, she scurried to the door and, without looking through the peephole, flung it open.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Chance stood before her dressed in a plaid western shirt, worn denim jeans, polished cowboy boots, and a familiar black Stetson covering his head, his face shadowed by its brim.

Libby took a deep breath and struggled to control the urge to fling herself in his arms and seek the strength she so desperately needed.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice low, his tone somber.

Momentarily unable to utter a sound, Libby moved aside and gestured for him to enter.

His spurs jangled with each step on the polished wood floor. He looked like he’d come straight from a rodeo, only his clothes weren’t covered in dust.

She closed the door, careful not to let it slam, as Cowboy came running toward them.

“Hey, little fella,” Chance said as he crouched on his haunches and rubbed the cat behind the ears. Cowboy purred loud enough for her to hear. “Miss me, did you?” Chance asked as he petted. Rising from his position, he turned to face her, his expression serious, too serious.