Page 17 of Last Chance Cowboy
The pounding sound got closer. Hooves, she realized.
It was gray now outside, the early morning hours.
In the distance, moving closer, could see a black horse moving closer and closer, the rider on top dressed all in black. He had come to save her.
Or she was dead. She was dead, and she was hallucinating that he was the angel come to get her because that had been what she was thinking about before she died. Zane’s naked body.
So maybe he was taking her to hell for being prurient.
Or she was delirious, and none of this was happening at all.
“Are you okay?”
This was the first time she had ever heard this much emotion in Zane’s voice.
Normally, he was monotone.
So this had to be some kind of hallucination. He jumped off his horse and ran over to where she was, kneeling down in front of her and cupping her face. His hands were hot, rough, and she didn’t think she would know enough to be able to imagine hands so rough.
Like they were made of worn leather.
From all the work that he did outside.
She looked up at him, tried to make eye contact, but found her eyes crossing.
“Did you hit your head?”
She shook her head. “No. I didn’t. It’s just my ankle.” She took in a shaking breath. “I hurt myself.” Her voice sounded so small and sad, and she felt so sorry for herself.
“What happened?”
“There was a landslide on the trail.”
“You shouldn’t have been out here by yourself, idiot woman.”
“Hey,” she snapped. “I’m injured.” She sniffed. “And my ankle hurts. And I’m cold. And this is a path that was supposed to be really easy. It was supposed to be easy enough for tourists.”
“Come here,” he said, his voice gruff. He opened up his jacket and wrapped it around her, bringing her into his warmth.
He was so warm and strong.
She leaned her forehead against his chest. It was a solid wall of muscle. She had never felt anything like it.
She inhaled a deep breath. He was all woodsmoke and something a little bit spicy.
She burrowed deeper into the cocoon that he’d made for her.
“We’ve got to get you to a hospital.”
“I don’t need to go to the hospital,” she said.
“You do need to get to a hospital,” he said. He moved away from her, and she protested. Then he took his jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders.
“I liked it better when you held me,” she said, her voice small.
If this was a hallucination, then she didn’t have to be embarrassed that she said that.
But the fearsome look on his face jolted her out of that fantasy.
