My True Cowboy. Shelley Galloway

know. His double bypass ended up being a triple and, as you can imagine, he’s having quite a time.”

      “I’m so sorry about that.”

      “Thank you.” Unbidden, a lump formed in his throat. His father’s operation had felt never ending. And he’d looked so pale and lifeless in the recovery room, tears had formed in Cal’s eyes. Now he was waiting for more information, but he was having to wait and wait for answers—something that rarely happened in his life. Usually the Riddell name got things done.

      “How old is he?”

      “Sixty-two.”

      “Ah.”

      “Yeah. Too young for the condition his heart was in, I’m afraid. And, of course, he’s not afraid to complain loudly and, uh, colorfully. The air’s pretty blue.”

      Again she surprised him by laughing. “I work at the Electra Lodge, so I know all about ornery senior citizens. By the time folks get to be a certain age, they seem to have decided that watching their tongue is overrated.”

      Her words surprised a chuckle. “They might be right about that. My dad now says whatever’s on his mind. No filters. It’s all I can do to shield my poor sister’s ears.”

      “Sister?”

      “Ginny. She’s only six.” When she blinked in surprise, Cal decided to do some explaining. “My father, he was remarried for a time.”

      “Oh, my.”

      “Yeah, we were shocked to silence when she came along, too.” They’d been really shocked when Ginny’s mother, Carolyn, decided to take off without a backward glance.

      Again, pain from the past threatened to reach out and strangle him. Seeing his dad so sick reminded him of his mother getting cancer. Thinking about his sister spurred a memory of their father trying to explain to him and his brothers why his new wife had left.

      He cleared his throat. “I better get going. If my dad’s awake, he’s likely to be causing some poor nurse to blush. Saying he cusses like a sailor is pretty much an understatement.”

      Susan murmured, “Don’t be too tough on him. Bodies don’t recover easily at that age.”

      “I guess you see that a lot at work?”

      “Uh-huh. It’s not just a retirement home, you know. The full name of the place is Electra Lodge and Rehabilitation Center.”

      She sounded like an advertisement. “I’ve driven by it. It, uh, looks like a nice place.” He’d passed by the redbrick building often but had never gone in. “Is it?”

      “I think so. Though, I’m kind of new.”

      “Ah.” As he eyed her full lips again, Cal knew something bad was happening to him. He was starting to think about her as a woman instead of someone really irritating.

      He wasn’t pleased.

      Fact was, he couldn’t recall ever meeting another woman who’d gotten him so hot and bothered so fast. Well, not since Christy—and he’d thought no one would piss him off the way she could. Just the memory of her deceitfulness created a hurt in his belly that no amount of Rolaids could ever cure.

      And now Susan was making him feel that same odd combination of irritation and desire.

      He didn’t appreciate it. He had a million other things on his mind, the most important of which was lying in one of the rooms on the third floor.

      So how come he’d been finding ways to sneak glances at the way her hips curved out in a completely feminine, pleasing way? How come he was noticing the way the ivory skin of her neck contrasted so well with the dark auburn hair floating halfway down her back? How come he was kind of hoping she’d smile again his way?

      He scrambled for something to say. “So … are you planning to stay here for a while?”

      “I hope so. I just got the job.”

      “No. I mean here at the hospital.”

      “Here? Oh, no. We really need to get a handle on this diabetes stuff so I can get back to work.”

      “Diabetes?” Cal struggled to recall what he knew about the disease, to show that he wasn’t completely self-centered. “Isn’t your boy kind of young for that?”

      “It’s type 1. You know, juvenile diabetes.” When he couldn’t help but stare at her blankly, she added, “It does hit juveniles, you know. He’s young enough for that.”

      Cal tried to recall some article he’d read in the dentist’s waiting room. “Don’t you get diabetes from a poor diet or something? You know, you probably shouldn’t be letting him eat hot dogs.”

      In an instant, all traces of friendliness vanished. Pure loathing lashed out at him. “For your information, Mr. Riddell, type 1 diabetes is an autoimmune disease. You can’t ‘get it’ from hot dogs.”

      Crap. “Oh. I’m—”

      “What? You’re a genius at diseases because you’re standing in a hospital?” she interrupted. “You know what? I think I liked you better when you stuck to one-word answers.”

      Cal almost tried to explain himself again, but he felt like a fool. And he really hated feeling like a fool.

      Instead, he opted for just standing there as she sashayed down the hall, pushed the elevator button and waited for the doors to open.

      And waited.

      As she stood and fumed—and as he watched her fume—Cal knew he should do something. The right thing to do would be to go up to her and apologize. Again. No woman wanted to hear anything bad about her mothering skills.

      But memories of getting burned ran deep. Long ago, Christy had made such a laughingstock out of him that he’d quit the rodeo circuit.

      For months, all everyone and their brother talked about was how he’d been whipped well and good by a tiny gal from Texarkana.

      So self-preservation kicked in. The better thing to do was to keep himself still. Distant. Then he wouldn’t get hurt.

      He didn’t move a muscle until those elevator doors closed behind her.

       Chapter Three

      Hours later, back at the ranch, all hell was breaking loose.

      “Cal, where’ve you been?” Ginny cried the moment he walked in through the front door, her face streaked with tears and chocolate.

      He grunted as she strung two arms around him, getting his starched shirt smeared with streaks of brown goo. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her, giving in to the inevitable. “I’ve been at the hospital helping Dad,” he said soothingly. “You know that.”

      “I tr-tried to call you. You didn’t pick up.”

      He patted her some more. “That’s ‘cause you’ve got to turn off your cell phones in the hospital. What’s wrong? Did you get in a fight again?” His scrappy sister couldn’t seem to regulate her temper. Time and again, in true Riddell fashion, she let her emotions get the best of her, much to her teacher’s dismay.

      “No.” She dug in her head, plastering her cheek against his belly. As always, a deep, all-encompassing love filled him for the girl. His little slip of a sister.

      “So what’s got you so riled up?” he murmured, patting her long brown hair. Hair the same shade as his own.

      Raising his head, he was relieved to see Gwen standing in the hall leading to the kitchen. Gwen was a grandmother whose grandchildren lived in Houston. She’d missed living with a family, and they’d all needed a woman’s hand in helping raise Virginia after Carolyn had taken off. In return for room and board, Gwen helped out as much as she could.

      Her