Cowboy Blues Read online

  Her eyes twinkled. “Does that mean I can blame the Froot Loops thing on you, too?"

  "I guess you haven't gone through my trailer yet. Froot Loops is about all I own.” He looked around. “Where is my trailer?"

  "It's parked at Max's.” Rebecca opened her door and climbed out, going around to the trunk to get the small bag of stuff he'd accumulated at the hospital. “The rodeo people decided to let him keep an eye on it, since he's the one they work with.” She paused as she slung the bag over her shoulder. “Did you want to head over there later? It might be good to go through your things and figure out what you want to bring over here."

  Spencer reached over his body with his left hand and pushed open his door. His right arm hung like a dead weight in a sling around his neck. “I was thinking maybe I'd just stay there. I know what the doc said, but...” He swung his legs out of the truck and moved to stand, but as soon as he began to straighten, it seemed like all the blood rushed from his head.

  He didn't even see Rebecca move. She rushed to his side and scooped her arm around his back, bracing him until the vertigo passed, then held him for a couple more minutes.

  "The doc said it because the doc was right,” she said quietly. “And you told me you were okay with this. Don't get all hardheaded on me now."

  "I'm not getting all hardheaded, but you can't tell me this is how you thought you'd be spending your summer vacation."

  The blue eyes she leveled at him were solemn. “Maybe not, but it's like Granny used to say. Life happens whether you're looking or not, so it's better to keep your eyes open so you don't miss it."

  "Becca, darlin', I don't have any idea what you're talking about. Was that Granny's way of saying to just cowboy up?"

  Her mouth twitched. “Pretty much, yeah."

  "Well, then, it sounds like Granny was a wise woman."

  Spencer wanted to take his bag from her, but he knew his own limits. His left arm was uninjured, but the added weight might topple him over. Becca's arm around his waist acted as a good reminder that he could barely support himself.

  Becca guided him to the front door, pausing once they reached the porch to unlock it. As soon as she pushed it open, Jake came barreling out of the house in a blur of white and brown fur. He was a small dog—he probably didn't weigh more than twenty pounds—but Spencer didn't have the chance to brace himself for the impact. As Becca pushed Jake away with one hand, and steadied Spencer with the other, he trembled with deep frustration, and even self-loathing.

  If a dog can knock you down, you know you'll never get back on a bull.

  The door opened up into a cozy living room, with an overstuffed country plaid couch on the far wall and a matching recliner in the corner. Photographs dotted the walls, their subjects everything from tranquil landscapes to the occasional action shot from rodeos. For some reason, they looked familiar, but for the life of him Spencer couldn't figure out why.

  "I've got some potato salad and strawberry rhubarb pie, if you're hungry.” Becca nudged Jake away with her foot as she guided Spencer to the chair. “Or if you're thirsty, I've got iced tea and Diet Coke."

  Spencer sat down heavily, silently grateful to be off his feet. He wished an unseasonable blizzard would descend from the mountains. At least then, he wouldn't resent being trapped in the house.

  "I'm not really hungry.” He rubbed his jaw absently. “Can I eat solid food? Did the doctor say?"

  "Sure, you can eat whatever you want.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder to the hall. “I'm just going to put your bag in your room. I'll show you where it is later, okay?"

  Spencer swallowed the new wave of frustration. They had warned him again and again that his memory would be patchy, splashes of information coming and going without any real pattern or reason. He still hated being unsure of his own care and feeding.

  "Yeah, thanks.” He waited until she returned before adding, “Iced tea sounds good."

  Becca smiled before heading off again, this time through the adjacent dining room. The distant sounds of a refrigerator opening and closing, followed by cupboards, were almost foreign. Too domestic, a little voice whispered to him. But he didn't have time to contemplate it before she returned, two tall glasses in her hands.

  The ice clinked as she handed it over, and she took a seat in the corner closest to him, curling her long legs up beneath her. “My dad's letting me work from home while you're staying here.” She wasn't drinking her tea. Her fingers kept playing in the condensation collecting on the side of the glass. “But you should know, he's not too thrilled I'm doing this. He might show up and give us a hard time once in a while."

  "Tell him to fuck off, then.” Spencer frowned as soon as the words escaped his mouth. He meant them but he never intended to say as much. “Sorry."

  She smiled a little. She really did have a pretty smile. “If I thought he'd actually hear it, I would. And don't apologize. It's not like I've never heard you swear before."

  "Maybe, but it was little rude. I didn't...mean to say it. Christ. You work for your dad?"

  "Yeah. Still. Which, I know, is kind of sad considering how often I've bitched about wanting to get out of this town. But...” She took a sip, and ran her tongue over her wet lips. “It helps pay the bills. And it won't be for much longer. My portfolio is looking better all the time."

  "Your portfolio?” Spencer paused. If he played it cool, chances were good he would remember what the hell she was talking about later. If he asked for clarification, she would just look at him with a hint of sympathy before explaining—again?—what she meant. “That's good. You should keep working on that."

  Jake appeared from nowhere and propped his paws on Spencer's knee, thumping his tail against the floor. Becca stretched to the side, and as soon as her fingernails scratched against something, Jake's head snapped toward her, bounding to her lap in the next moment.

  "I hope you spoiled Jake before,” she said as he munched on the corn nuts in the palm of her hand. “Otherwise...sorry."

  "Yeah, I spoiled him rotten. It was the least I could do, since he was all I had for company. He's a good rodeo dog.” Spencer gently rubbed his right shoulder. “He's going to miss the circuit as much as I do."

  He caught the softening of her eyes before she ducked her head. “He'll be good for doing some of the physical therapy exercises here at home. He'll chase after things I throw until the cows come home."

  "We both know I won't be throwing anything to him for a long time, though. Hell, the doctor isn't even sure the surgeries will work. I might not be throwing anything to anybody again."

  "Then you can kick ‘em. Your legs still work, don't they?"

  Spencer wiggled his toes and smiled a little. “They seem to."

  "And I think this little guy has missed you.” Rebecca dusted the crumbs from her hand and pushed the bowl closer to him. “He curls up so close with me in bed at night, I don't know where he ends and I begin anymore."

  Spencer raked his gaze over her body. Despite his laundry list of problems, the trauma hadn't affected his libido at all. “Lucky dog. I wish I could trade places with him.” He sighed. “And I said that out loud, too, didn't I?"

  Her laughter was light and genuine. “Oh, trust me, cowboy. You've said a lot worse."

  "At least I haven't lost most of those memories. What did the doctor say about that? Did he say my bed rest needs to be solitary?"

  "I can honestly say it didn't come up.” A faint pink stained her cheeks, despite her direct gaze. “But tell you what. You get his permission, and I'll let you sleep wherever you want. Deal?"

  "I don't see why that didn't come up. What else did he think I'd want to do with you?"

  For a split second, her eyes widened, and the teasing twinkle disappeared. Spence wasn't sure how he'd upset her, but she pushed Jake off her lap and rose to her feet before he figured it out.

  "It didn't come up, because I didn't ask.” Rebecca went the awkward way along the coffee table rather than past his legs
. “I'm gonna go call Max and see if there's a good time for us to show up today. Go ahead and watch some TV if you want. I'll just stay out of your way."

  "Becca...” The thought of her leaving sent a fresh shot of panic through him. He didn't want to be alone in a strange house, when most of the world didn't make sense. “Did I do something wrong?"

  She stopped at the sound of her name. At his query, Rebecca looked back over her shoulder, and after only a moment, her soft smile returned. “Of course not. But I do have to call Max. How about I bring the phone back in here so you can talk to him, too? He'll be glad to hear your voice."

  Spencer nodded with a small smile of relief. Maybe later he'd want to be alone, but he needed her too much right then. “Yeah, I should talk to him and make sure he's taking proper care of my truck. I'm going to need it to get back to the rodeo."

  He thought he caught something else in her face, but Becca only nodded and went into the kitchen. A minute later, her low tones filtered from the other room, but it took several more for her to return with the phone in hand.

  "You're going to have about a dozen dinner invitations to choose from,” she said, holding it out to him. “Max says everybody wants to know how you're doing."

  "Of course they do. Now they have their own tame cowboy in town,” Spencer said, surprised by his own bitterness. At Rebecca's frown, he tried to soften the words with a smile, and accepted the phone. “Max? Yeah, I'm doing good."

  He did his best to sound like he meant it.

  She had done a lot of preparation for Spencer's arrival in her life, but the reality was far different than any scenario she imagined. The doctors had warned her, of course.

  "You can't trust his memory yet,” they'd said. “He's going to seem like he's fine, and then he might forget something as simple as whether or not he's put on his shoes."

  And she'd believed them. She'd listened. She'd taken notes, like a good wannabe nurse, and she'd even read up on the Internet about others who'd suffered the same kind of trauma as Spence.

  But seeing him stumble just getting out of the car...hearing the fear in his voice when he thought she would leave him alone...listening to him talk about what he needed when he went back to the rodeo...

  Nothing prepared her for that.

  His careless words indicating all she might be good for was sex had stung most. She'd wanted to lash out, but then common sense had prevailed and she'd tried to make a graceful getaway, and let him have his space to adjust to his new surroundings. It had to be hard, being in his shoes. And she was a veritable stranger, in a lot of ways.

  But then he'd turned those eyes on her, and Rebecca couldn't stay mad at him. His eyes would forever be her downfall, and they were enough to make her anger vanish.

  The truck bounced slightly over the dirt road leading down to where Max had parked Spencer's trailer. Spence hadn't said more than a few words since they'd left the house, and the way he leaned his head against the seat made her worry they'd taken this step too soon. Maybe he should have had a nap before they'd ventured out again. Or maybe they should have waited until the next day. Rebecca chewed on her lip, wondering if she should have called the doctor to ask, but then decided it would have made her look even more incompetent than she probably already did. She was just going to have to take this one step at a time. They'd learn together.

  "Here we are,” she announced as she pulled to a halt parallel with his truck. “Any ideas on what you'll want to take back with us?"

  "I've got some clothes. And I think I have cash hidden away. At least enough to help keep me fed.” He had been speaking softly, but his voice dropped another register. “I don't remember what else is in there."

  The desolation in his face sent her stomach plummeting, but Rebecca kept her smile firmly in place. “Then it'll be like Christmas, won't it?” She opened the door. “Come on. Let's go do some unwrapping."

  Once again, she helped him out of her truck, and he had to lean on her a little bit more than either one of them was comfortable with. She didn't falter under his weight as she led him to the door of his small trailer. With the two of them working together, he climbed the short stairs and stepped into what had been his home for years.

  "How do we want to do this? I have a duffle bag in the closet by the bed."

  The inside of the trailer brought a lump to her throat, and she tried to swallow it as she helped him sit before fetching the bag. His jeans were carefully folded and stacked on the upper shelf of the closet, while a variety of shirts hung from the narrow rail.

  "I'll just take it all, okay?” She shot him a brilliant smile. “Less laundry for me."

  "Yeah, that's fine. I think everything in there should be fine to wear.” He pulled open a drawer near the fridge and caught his breath. She almost asked him what was wrong, but the shine from the gold belt buckle caught her eye as he held it up to the light. A quick glance proved it wasn't the only buckle in the drawer. “I won this in June. I didn't even remember that ride until now."

  "But that's good. Things are coming back."

  Spencer snorted. “Sure, my memory can come back, and I can relive every moment the doctors say I can never have again. Sounds like a great time to me."

  "It's better than not being able to remember it at all.” Dumping the clothes onto the small table, she started rummaging through the tall cupboards he couldn't reach from his seat. “You got anything like a photo album or something that might help you remember other stuff? Like your Uncle Travis, maybe."

  "I have an envelope...I think. It should be somewhere near the bed. Newspaper clippings, rodeo programs, pictures...things like that."

  Rebecca abandoned her search to walk the short length of the trailer to the narrow bunk at the end. Crouching down, she looked underneath, only to find dust motes and a chew toy. She snagged the toy and tossed it back with the other stuff, but it took a few more minutes of moving things around to find the envelope in question.

  "Huh,” she said as she flipped through its contents. “The only pictures you have in here are the ones I took."

  Spencer's brow furrowed. “The ones you took? Can I see them?"

  "Sure.” She came back and sat on the opposite end of the couch, passing over the envelope for him to dig through. “I've got more at home. I only ever sent you the really good ones."

  Spencer bypassed the clippings and programs without a second glance, his attention entirely focused on the glossy photographs she had sent him over the years. He studied each one intently as he flipped through them, his eyes suddenly shining with interest. He paused on the one she took the second year she knew him. The one of his nearly perfect ride.

  "Now that's a night I haven't forgotten. It was one of the best."

  She wouldn't forget that night, either. But this errand wasn't about her memory. It was about his.

  "It was,” she agreed. “You were fantastic that night."

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “So were you. I loved it when you sent me these shots. I can't believe I forgot you were the photographer."

  His soft praise warmed her through, and she leaned a little bit closer. “Do you remember the lake?"

  "I remember. I think it'll take more than a concussed brain to make me forget that. Though it seems to be enough to wipe everything else away.” He pushed at the pictures with enough force to scatter the entire stack, and they fluttered to the floor. “Fuck."

  Any pleasure she might have gotten from knowing the memories of her had survived vanished with his sudden outburst. Rebecca slid from the couch to pick up the photos, putting them back in the envelope before they upset Spencer further.

  "What else should we take home?” She needed to stay focused on why they were there.

  Spencer rubbed his forehead, grimacing as his fingers connected with the unhealed bruises. “I've got some CDs and books in a box under the bed, to keep myself occupied. My shaving kit in the mirror above the sink.” He paused, an increasingly familiar look of confusion on his face
. “My paperwork, receipts, taxes, everything like that is in a lockbox somewhere around here."

  Rebecca gathered the things as he spoke, digging through the closet again, and back under the bed. Tucking his toiletries into a sack made her feel like she was invading his privacy. When she glanced back at him, Spence was gazing off into the distance, lost in a world of his own.

  The razor clattered into the sink, jerking his attention back. Rebecca scooped it up and threw it into the sack.

  "Do you want to hang out here for awhile and maybe reminisce some? You can tell me what you remember about some of your times here."

  "No. The things I remember hurt enough."

  "Oh. Okay.” She filled her arms and headed for the door. “I'll just run this stuff out to the car then. I'll be right back."

  "You sure it won't be easier for everybody if I just stay in the trailer? I promise I won't try to drive myself out of town."

  She didn't think he'd remember where he put his keys, but Rebecca kept that comment to herself. “I'm sure.” She hesitated at the door. “But maybe when your arm's out of the sling, we can get it moved out to my place. I'd still be close enough to help you then and you could get the privacy you want."

  Spencer's smile was almost teasing. “I think you mean you won't have to put up with my moody ass anymore."

  "Now why would I want that?” Opening the door spilled bright sunshine into the trailer, and she smiled back at him as she climbed down the stairs. “I've always loved your ass."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  CHAPTER 6

  Three Years Earlier

  When Max pulled Rebecca aside to tell her Spencer Cole had requested her as his one, and only, official photographer in Oakley, she thought things couldn't get any better.

  She was wrong.

  "Cole done good tonight,” he commented. “Bet you got some good shots."

  "You bet I did."

  "Want me to send Lonnie back in a few to pick you up?"

  "No, I've got a ride home already, thanks.” She didn't, but she hoped Spencer would volunteer again. He'd already gone to great lengths for her; she was pretty sure he didn't mean for their night to end when the rodeo did.