The Cowboy's Second Chance. Christyne Butler

what in hell’s bells are you doing?”

      Maggie gasped and pulled her hand free. She swung around and looked into a pair of startling blue eyes framed by a shock of white hair. “Willie! You scared me half to death. What are you doing here?”

      “Your grandmother took my ride. I saw your truck in the parking lot, and figured on hitching back with you. Darned surprised to find you getting all frisky in a stranger’s pickup.”

      Willie’s sharp gaze peered around Maggie. “And with a drunken cowboy. Hoo-wee!”

      “He’s not drunk.” Maggie stepped from the cab. “There was a fight. I’ve been trying to convince him to let me get help, but he keeps refusing.”

      “Yep, right up to when he passed out.” Willie shoved his hands in his pockets. “You sure he ain’t tanked tight?”

      Maggie frowned. “I’m sure. Can you take a look at him?”

      The old man, more a member of the family than an employee, stared at her for a long moment.

      “Please?”

      Willie sighed, then nodded and Maggie stepped out of his way. He gently poked and prodded the unconscious man with a sure touch. Finally, he turned, thumbing up the brim of his hat.

      “Well, he ain’t dead.”

      “I know that. Should we take him to the clinic?”

      “He’s got a lot of bruises and took a good clock to his left eye. He’s gonna be hurtin’ in the morning.” Willie stepped away. “But nothing’s broken from what I can tell, and his ribs appear okay. His pupils look fine, too, but that don’t explain why he’s out cold.”

      “Exhaustion?” Maggie offered. “He said he needed sleep. He’s not from around here and doesn’t have a place to stay.”

      “Oh, boy, I know where this is going.”

      “Willie—”

      “Don’t ‘Willie’ me. I’ve known you all your life, and if it’s one thing you can’t resist, it’s a hard-luck case.” He pointed his finger at her. “Don’t matter if it’s a four-legged or two-legged creature, you’ve given away more hot meals and places to sleep than anyone I know.”

      “Yeah, and then they take off for greener pastures. Look, I’m not out to rescue anyone, but we can’t leave him here.”

      Willie crossed his arms, pulling his starched shirt across his bony shoulders. Age stooped his once-tall frame, but he could still look her in the eye. “There’s something more going on here.”

      Maggie sighed. It took a few minutes to fill him in on losing Spence and Charlie, as well as Kyle’s sleazy behavior—until this stranger stepped in.

      Willie’s features hardened as she spoke. He looked at the cowboy again. “So, they paid him back?”

      “Yeah. The least I can do is give him a place to sleep and a decent breakfast in the morning. And I’m not going to get the sheriff involved over something as trivial as Greeley jerking me around.”

      “What about this guy getting the crap kicked out of him?”

      Maggie dropped her hands to her sides, the cowboy’s Stetson banging against her leg. “He was adamant. He doesn’t want help from the sheriff or anyone else.”

      Willie grunted. “You check the trailer. I’ll move him to the far side of the truck.”

      Maggie protested, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand. “I ain’t gonna let you drive him to the ranch alone. And it’s no good if he wakes up and finds a stranger behind the wheel. So it’s the three of us.”

      “Fine,” Maggie handed over the cowboy’s keys. “My truck can sit here overnight. I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

      She checked the trailer then climbed into the cab. The cowboy leaned against the door, his face toward the glass. Willie joined them, forcing her to scoot into the middle, pressing her body into the unconscious man from shoulder to knee. His heat radiated through her dress to dance along her skin. The warm night air jumped up another degree as she watched his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm.

      “Margaret Anne, I hope you know what you’re doing,” she muttered, dropping his hat into his lap.

      Willie pulled out of the parking lot and headed for home as fireworks lit the night sky. A half hour later, they turned off to the ranch. Despite his breathing, the cowboy hadn’t uttered a sound. If he didn’t wake soon, she’d place a call to Doc Cody.

      The headlights gleamed over the bunkhouse and barn as they pulled into the drive, and Willie jolted the truck to a stop. “Sorry ’bout that, the brakes on this thing seem to be as old as me.” He opened the driver’s door and stepped out. “You stay here with sleeping beauty. I’ll get the barn doors.”

      A gentle rocking caused Landon’s head to loll back and forth. He became aware of soft, feminine curves pressed against him and realized for the first time, in a long time, he wasn’t alone.

      This was a dream. It had to be.

      Unlike the nightmares of the past, he welcomed the heat against his body. Desire to nestle closer stirred deep. He was desperate for her scent, her touch. Desperate to believe this was real. He wanted her next to him, on top of him.

      Then the warmth and curves moved away and a hard bounce caused his head to snap backwards. A ricochet of piercing light sparked inside his brain near one eye, and then spread to fill his entire body. He tried to move away from the pain, but his legs protested.

      Was he sitting up?

      He shifted again and pain exploded in his chest. A groan threatened to erupt, consuming every inch of air in his lungs as he forced himself to focus.

      Did he hear voices? The sound of a truck door closing? His truck?

      The familiar stale odors from the trailer filled his nose and he tried to slow the merry-go-round spinning inside his head.

      Think, dammit! What’s the last thing you remember?

      The sweet scent of fresh linen. No, that didn’t make sense. He hadn’t slept in a real bed in over a week. But the fragrance managed to make its way through the smells of his truck.

      He curled one hand into a fist, crushing cool cotton against his palm. The same whiff of clean sheets, fresh from drying in the hot sun and a cool breeze, washed over his face as the gentle touch of a woman’s hand covered his.

      Her curves were back, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to feel her against him. This time his body obeyed his silent command, and his hand found a delicate shoulder.

      He pulled her toward him, need rushing through him as he breathed in her cry of surprise. He drew her closer, swiping his tongue over his dry lips before he covered her mouth. Breath rushed inward between supple lips, and his tongue followed.

      He didn’t care if he was hallucinating. It was too perfect to stop—and he concentrated on his first kiss in four long years.

      A minty flavor greeted him as he explored her mouth. He traced the edge of her teeth with his tongue then slipped out past her lips to dart at the corners of her mouth, sweet like a summertime rain. His hand stole across her upper back, sliding across cool, soft fabric until silky hair tangled with his fingers. He angled her across his chest. Her lips moved against his, and a small stab of pain made him groan. She retreated and this time he let her go.

      Consciousness pulled at him, and Landon forced his eyes to open.

      One obeyed, the other managed only a slit. His hair fell forward, partially blocking his view of feminine fingers lying over his fist. Clutched inside was a lacy handkerchief. Looking up, he focused on the outline of a woman. For a long moment, a pair of wet lips held his attention. Those lips trembled then the tip of her tongue stole out across her bottom