Old friend?That’s what we boil down to?
“Call Brickham and get him to come out here.”
“But I needyouto sign off that my collarbone is fine so I can ride this weekend.”
“The collarbone you broke a little over three weeks ago and haven’t been letting heal properly? Not a chance.” I shake my head and move to brush past him. Though I’m not sure where I’ll go, considering I have an infant in my arms. Can’t exactly hop in the car and flee.
Unsurprisingly, he follows me out the front door and leans against the porch rail when I sit back down in the rocking chair.
“Please, Blair. It’s totally healed up, I swear. No pain.” He makes a crossing-his-heart motion, and I can’t help but notice it’s done using the uninjured side of his body.
“You know I don’t have X-ray vision, right? I’m not signing anything based only on your word. I know how cowboys are—you could be dying and you’d lie straight to my face, telling me you’re fine so I’d let you ride.”
“Come on. Brickham would do it.”
“Go see him, then. The most I can offer you is a requisition form to get an X-ray in Sheridan. Then we can talk about it.”
“The powers that be want your signature since you were the one at the rodeo.”
I squint at him, rocking the chair more aggressively to keep Hazel calm. Would love for Cass or Red to come collect their child now, so I could get out of here. “Then it sounds like you won’t be able to show off on a bronc for any women this weekend. Though I bet if you wore your sling around the rodeo grounds they’d feel real sorry for you. Might work out better in your favor than being flung off again.”
“Would you feel sorry for me?” The dimple in his right cheek hollows until it’s so deep I worry I’ll be pulled into his charm like a black hole.
I sharpen my gaze, ensuring my lips don’t transform into a smile. Regardless of how warm I feel right now, I refuse to fall victim to his shameless flirting. “Yeah, I typically feel a lot of sympathy for grown men who can’t be bothered to take proper care of themselves. Nothing hotter.”
The indent in his cheek flattens out as he becomes serious. “Okay. You win. Give me the form, and I’ll go get X-rays.”
“I’ll send them to the clinic when I get to my computer.”
“Great. Thanks.”
I press my lips together with a small nod. Manifesting my best friend walking around the corner to grab her baby, so I can leave this ranch in my rearview mirror for a little while. Because the more time I spend with Denver, the more likely it is one of us will say something about what happened nearly fourteen years ago. The more likely it is he’ll make me laugh and I’ll be right back to who I was at eighteen. The more likely it is I’ll regret ever leaving this place.
He turns to head back down the porch steps—all six-foot-whatever of him with tanned, muscular arms, dusty Levi’s, and shaggy brown hair. With him unable to see my face, I let my eyes drift up and down his body. Slowing in a few places that make the hair on the back of my neck stand.
“Oh, and Blair?” He spins, undoubtedly catching me ogling. “Thanks for the house call today. Super helpful. Aus will be happy I can get right back to work.”
My tongue tucks into my cheek. “You got me. Consider this your one free house call.”
“So next time I have to pay? Got it.” He winks. “Do you accept payment in the form of dinner? Or maybe ice cream—Neapolitan with walnuts still your dream combo?”
I’m already paying for this conversation with theknowledge that I’ll be up all night replaying it, self-aware about how pathetic I am.
“I’ll forever stand by the belief that somebody needs to make that.”
He snorts. “Good to see all those years in the city didn’t make you less weird.”
Shoving his hands into his jean pockets, he mulls over a thought as the dimple in his right cheek bobs in and out. I stare at the boy I never stood a chance at moving on from. You would think a decade away, thousands of dollars’ worth of therapy, and the knowledge that he’s moved on with plenty of other girls would keep my heart in check.
Time is a fickle bitch; days are long, years are short, and it seems to stand still altogether when Denver and I are involved.
Denver
This X-ray better be enough to get Blair’s approval to ride, since I dug myself a hole by saying I specifically needed her signature. I didn’t. Any doctor’s signature would’ve worked and, truthfully, I’ve seen Dr. Brickham’s signature so many times, I’m confident I could forge it. But Blair’s inhabited every waking thought since I found out she was back in town. I knew she wouldn’t be able to turn me away if I was a patient, so I stupidly booked an appointment with her. Recklessly desperate for the opportunity to talk to her again.
Of course, she couldn’t make it easy, insisting I get an X-ray to prove my collarbone healed before I can ride again. Turns out, Blair Hart still has the ability to make me do anything she asks, which is why I drove an hour and a half to Sheridan and sat in the dingy waiting room for an hour on a random Wednesday. Not even Austin’s questioning stare-down from across the kitchen table this morning was enough to keep me from coming here.
I step out into the unseasonably warm May afternoon, adjusting the brim of my ball cap to block the sun, and pulling my phone from my pocket. A lively laugh carries across the strip mall parking lot, and my ears instinctively perk at the familiar sound.
