The Texan's Cowgirl Bride. Trish Milburn

know.” Still, she was grateful when he pulled out onto smoother pavement.

      “If it makes you feel any better, you were looking good to beat Abby’s time before the slip.”

      She opened one eye as she rolled her head toward him. “Not really.”

      He smiled, and her heart gave an extra thump as if she didn’t already know that Travis Shepard was a very good-looking man.

      “What happened?”

      “Just lost my concentration for a split second. That’s all it takes.” She just hoped that the momentary lapse hadn’t cost her Bluebell. Sure, the horse had walked out of the arena, but Savannah wouldn’t rest easy until the veterinarian gave her mare a clean bill of health. To be such powerful animals, horses were also fragile, more so than even their human riders.

      It didn’t take long to reach the hospital, but Savannah felt every bump on the way. The pain ricocheted through her body each time the truck hit one.

      She didn’t move, not even when Travis came around to her side of the vehicle and opened the door.

      “Can’t I just sit here for the rest of the night?”

      “I’d guess they’re not going to wheel the X-ray machine out to the parking lot.”

      “Well, that’s mighty inconsiderate of them.”

      Travis chuckled then reached across her to unbuckle her seat belt. Thankfully, this time she didn’t jump at his close proximity. Maybe her brain was finally remembering she wasn’t normally so jumpy around men. She was a grown woman who was around guys all the time—farm workers, her brothers, rodeo cowboys.

      But none of them came to her rescue like a knight in shining armor, did they?

      Oh, for Pete’s sake, he’d driven her to the hospital. Any decent human being would have done the same thing. She seriously needed that hot shower, some ibuprofen and about twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep.

      She did her best not to grunt or wince as Travis helped her out of the truck, but her efforts proved futile.

      Savannah leaned on his arm more than she wanted to as he helped her toward the E.R. entrance, but she wanted to collapse onto the sidewalk even less. “You had to have better things to do on a Friday night.”

      “Nah. This is way more exciting than my normal Friday night.”

      She glanced up at him. “That is one sad state of affairs right there.”

      Travis laughed. “Don’t I know it.”

      Despite her pain, she managed to elbow him a little bit for his teasing.

      Once inside, he helped her to the check-in desk where she was finally able to lean against something other than Travis’s distracting warmth. Thankfully, the E.R. was next to empty, and they took her straight back. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see Travis grab a magazine from the rack and settle himself on one of the institutional chairs that was probably about as comfortable as sitting on a boulder.

      She gritted her teeth through every movement, but she still didn’t think anything was broken. She’d had broken bones before. In fact, the bad break of her wrist that she’d suffered several years ago while riding in Cheyenne had led to her always carrying her ID and medical insurance card in her back pocket, even while she was riding. She didn’t want a repeat of having to sit in an emergency room waiting for someone to bring her proof of insurance to her before she could get treated.

      As she waited for the X-ray results, her stomach startled grumbling, reminding her that she hadn’t had anything to eat since she’d left home hours ago. But she was also so tired that she thought there was a pretty good chance she would fall face-first into any plate placed in front of her. At the moment, she’d give up her slice of the Baron inheritance for a candy bar.

      She’d finally found a position that was remotely comfortable to sit in when the doctor came into the exam room.

      “Good news,” he said. “No cracked or broken bones. You do, however, have deep bruising that’s going to hurt for a while.”

      “That I figured out.”

      He smiled. “You’re very lucky because there’s also no sign of concussion.”

      “I’ve taken enough falls over the years to know to protect my head.”

      “Just get some rest and take it easy until you heal. Take over-the-counter painkillers as needed.”

      After thanking the doctor, she headed out to the waiting room to find a pretty nurse talking to Travis. When he spotted Savannah, he looked happy to see her.

      “My friend is finished,” he said as Savannah approached him.

      When the nurse turned and saw her, the petite blonde’s features showed disappointment before she returned her attention to Travis. “If you’re ever in Mineral Wells again, give me a call.”

      Travis didn’t respond other than to show the nurse a small smile.

      Savannah resisted the crazy urge to tell the nurse to scoot as if she was a nosy cat. “Looks like you made a friend while I was gone,” she teased.

      He made a sound deep in his throat that told her he was way less interested in the conversation with the nurse than the nurse had been.

      Savannah smiled. “I’ve heard of picking up dates in bars, even at church, but never an E.R. waiting room.”

      Travis glanced past Savannah then tossed what looked like a business card in the trash. Savannah swallowed any more teasing when she wondered if his resistance to the nurse’s advances had more to do with the loss of his wife than anything about the nurse.

      Travis bent to retrieve a white paper bag from the burger place down the street.

      “If that is for me, you are my new best friend.”

      “A burger and fries is all it takes? What does the milkshake get me?”

      “A homemade peach pie?”

      He nodded. “I call that a good deal.”

      Her stomach growled again, louder than before.

      Travis laughed. “Sounds like I was just in time.”

      She pointed toward the bag. “Oh, give me that and hush.”

      She took the first big bite of her burger as they walked out the door of the E.R. A slurp of the chocolate milkshake followed as Travis’s phone rang.

      He glanced at the screen and made a “hmm” sound that told her he didn’t know who it was. “Hello?”

      She nabbed a couple of seasoned fries from the bag as Travis listened to someone say something on the other end of the call.

      “Okay.” He extended the phone to her. “It’s for you.”

      “Me?”

      “Yeah. It’s your dad.”

      Chapter Three

      Savannah cursed under her breath. Even before she accepted the phone from Travis, she knew someone had reported back to her dad that she’d been hurt. Sometimes it seemed as if Brock Baron had Big Brother–style eyes everywhere. It proved useful in business but was frustrating if you were his daughter.

      “Dad? Why are you calling this number?”

      “Because you won’t answer your phone.”

      “It’s back in Abby’s trailer.”

      “And you’re at the hospital, something you failed to mention to your family.”

      Figured she’d get hurt at the one rodeo where none of her brothers or Carly was competing.

      She stopped walking and