Crazy for Cowboy Read online

  “I’m glad you’re still speaking to me,” he murmured.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You know, falling asleep the other night...”

  “Oh…not a problem.”

  But... That was the next word Brandon expected from Emily’s lips, followed by a short and cutting remark about how she wasn’t interested in dating narcoleptic men. Or ones that were accident-prone. When the backlash didn’t come, he rambled on.

  “I was pretty tired,” he said, feeling the need to justify himself.

  “Been busy?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “With what?”

  “I’ve been doing split shifts at the res...” Brandon’s eyes popped open.

  “Yes?”

  What was he going to say? How could he finish that last syllable? I’ve been doing split shifts at the reservoir? The reservation? The restroom? Some of the queasiness he’d experienced earlier returned.

  “I was at the res...taur...ant.”

  “The restaurant? You mean, where I met you?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  “Really? Do you go there a lot?” Emily dragged her tongue across her lips, leaving them glistening and incredibly kissable.

  “Yeah. I...” Oh, hell. He was in worse shape than he’d first thought. He couldn’t even think straight. Maybe he was delirious. But he knew that wasn’t the reason his mouth suddenly had a mind of its own. And it wasn’t lust either.

  Well, not entirely.

  Nope. The reason was simple. He was tired of it. Tired of lying. He felt rotten every time a new fib came out of his mouth. How could he have a relationship with Emily when she thought he was someone else? He took a breath and pressed forward. “I...work there.”

  “At Eduardo’s?” She grinned. “That makes so much sense.”

  Brandon waited for the penny to drop, for Emily to wonder why a cowboy was working at a restaurant. “I don’t own it or anything,” he explained, heading off her next question.

  “No, no. I didn’t assume you did.”

  “I’m...just a...waiter.”

  She nodded and kept driving. Her expression hardly changed. If anything, her smile got bigger.

  “What’s with the grin? You got a thing for waiters?”

  “I’ve got a thing for one of them, apparently,” she said, reaching over to touch his cheek.

  “It doesn’t bother you?”

  “What?”

  “That I wait tables?”

  “Should it?”

  “Well. … it’s not exactly the world’s noblest profession. Not like being a vet.”

  “What’s the difference? I help animals; you help people. You take their orders. You bring them food, one of the basic necessities of life.”

  Brandon blinked. “I never thought of it that way.”

  “Are you ashamed of what you do?”

  “No. Not at all. The job has worked out well for me. I like the other employees, the hours are flexible, I meet all kinds of people, and I make great tips. Most important, it’s helped me support myself and my family.”

  “Your sister and nephew?”

  “Right.”

  “Sounds like the perfect job to me.”

  “Hardly perfect. If I had my way, I’d be doing something else.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like ac...” He’d done it again—opened his mouth before thinking. Now what was he going to say? Academia? Accounting? Accordion playing? He cringed, waiting for the sky to fall. “Ac...ting.”

  “I could totally see you doing that.”

  Brandon almost dumped the contents of his water bottle onto his lap. “Really?”

  “You knew that Shakespeare play inside out and backwards. And you have a wonderful speaking voice. I read an interview with Elizabeth Taylor once. She said just listening to Richard Burton would get her all hot and bothered.”

  Brandon laughed. “And you think I have that kinda power over women?”

  She looked at him. Her own voice flowed rich and thick like molasses. “Oh, yeah.”

  He wasn’t sure if the temperature had risen or if his personal thermostat had gone wonky. He pondered the alternatives while Emily made a left hand turn into the hospital. “What about you? Would you consider dating a guy who was an actor?”

  “It really doesn’t matter to me what a man does for a living, as long as he’s passionate about it.”

  “You mean that?”

  “Most definitely. Did you always want to be an actor?”

  “To be honest, I can’t remember doing anything else.” He reached up with his free hand and wiped his forehead. “I was always making up skits in elementary school, then asking the teacher if I could perform them for the class.”

  “A playwright, too?”

  “Hardly,” he said with a chuckle. “Most of my sketches involved chase scenes. They ended up with me running around the classroom.”

  “Despite your recent injury, I can picture that.”

  “The kids seemed to enjoy it. I don’t think the teacher was too impressed, though.”

  “Then you started acting around town?”

  “Yeah, I was packing to go to Vancouver when...”

  “When your father died?” Emily asked, her words hushed.

  “Yeah.” What was the matter with him? The fall must have loosened his heart as well as his tongue. For a moment, he felt the sting of tears at the back of his throat. He coughed, clearing the sensation away. “Everything changed. Suddenly, I understood how important my family was to me. I couldn’t walk away.”

  “You did the right thing.”

  “I’ve never been sure about that.”

  “How so?”

  “Sometimes, I think I picked the easy out.” He looked out the window, speaking into the passing traffic. “Moving to Vancouver was scary. A part of me has always wondered if I used my family as an excuse to avoid going. Choosing them meant I didn’t have to test my talent. I didn’t have to prove myself. For a long time after my father’s death, I didn’t perform at all. I’ve always wondered if I was afraid I’d find out I wasn’t good enough.”

  He felt her hand on his. “But you got a part in this movie. You must be good enough.”

  He sighed and shifted his position. “There are a lot of variables in the profession—looks, timing—things that have nothing to do with talent. Maybe this role is a fluke.”

  “I doubt that,” she said, but she’d never seen him perform so her words of reassurance, though soothing, meant nothing. She shifted the truck into park and turned off the ignition. “I’ll get a wheelchair.”

  “That’s okay. I can manage.”

  With her help, he pulled himself out of the truck and hobbled up to the emergency room desk. The nurse looked at him, one eyebrow cocked.

  “What did you do to yourself?”

  “He fell off a horse,” Emily answered for him. “He has a four inch laceration on the anterior aspect of his left thigh. It’s about a half-inch deep. He’s going to need sub-q sutures.”

  The nurse pursed her lips, giving Emily a quick appraisal. “You a doctor?”

  “Vet.”

  The nurse grunted, plainly unimpressed with the news. “When did he last receive a tetanus shot?”

  “He can’t remember.”

  “Then he’s probably overdue.”

  Brandon felt detached. The two women were talking about him in the third person, even though it was his leg they were talking about. Strangely, he didn’t mind. All of Emily’s attention was focused on him. She was taking care of him. Could life get any better?

  The nurse showed Emily where the waiting area was, then took Brandon into one of the emergency rooms and told him to wait. A short time later, another nurse came in and asked for his hospital card and ID. Brandon was relieved that they hadn’t questioned him in front of Emily.

  Sure, he’d admitted to working in a restaurant and to his interest in acting, but he still hadn’t cleared up the
cowboy issue or mentioned his real name. For all she knew, he could be a genuine wrangler, who waited tables between jobs and lucked into some extra work on this movie because of his horse expertise.

  If he didn’t already have one gimpy leg he would have kicked himself. Why hadn’t he told her everything when he’d had the chance?

  Brandon sat on the gurney, his legs straight out in front of him, and realized how badly he’d screwed up. Not only with Emily, but with the movie.

  If he hadn’t lied about riding, he wouldn’t have gotten injured. Now his scene was delayed. Time was money in the movie business, and that’s just what he was costing the Production Company. Money. Probably a ton of it.

  He glanced at his watch. “Damn.” Three hours had passed since he first got to the set. His call time had long since come and gone.

  The door opened slightly and a squat, blonde nurse poked her head in. “Sorry for the wait. We’ve had another emergency. A car accident. It will be a while before a doctor is available.”

  As she walked over to him, he saw that she was carrying a silver basin. “I thought you might like to wash up, in the meantime.” She placed the bowl, along with a towel and face cloth, on the bedside table. She crossed to the door then smiled back at him. “Do you need a shirt when you leave?”

  Brandon looked down at his bare chest then over to the garbage can at the crumpled, soiled lump of cotton that used to be his costume. “The woman who brought me had my coat. Did she leave it here?” He couldn’t lose that. Though both pieces belonged to the film company, a shirt could be replaced much easier and at less cost than an oil-skin duster. He hoped the same could be said about his trousers.

  “Just try and relax, huh?” The nurse gave him a crooked grin then disappeared.

  What the hell was that supposed to mean? He had little time to contemplate the answer. When he looked back toward the door, another figure was standing there, with his coat draped over her arm.

  “Emily.”

  “I’ve been thinking I should have stitched you up, myself,” she said, leaning against the door jam.

  “They’ve had an emergency. It’ll be a while yet. You don’t have to wait, if you don’t want to.”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me, big boy?”

  “Hardly. In fact, the nurse brought me some soap and water and told me to wash up.” He pushed himself onto one elbow. “Would you like to take advantage of my weakened condition and help?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “I think the only one planning to take advantage is you...of the situation,” Emily answered, her cheeks hot. If she couldn’t act cool and professional with him fully clothed, how was she going to cope with him half-naked and wet?

  She leaned over him, dipped the cloth in the basin then swirled it around in the soap, working up a good lather. “So, tell me more about this movie. What kind of character do you play?”

  “You’re stalling.”

  Emily looked down at his bemused expression, then at the washcloth and the massive amount of soap she’d managed to pack into it. Okay, so she was stalling.

  This would be a true test of her professionalism. She’d had to bathe patients before, but they’d always been of the four-footed variety. None of them looked like Brandon Hollister.

  She squeezed out some of the excess soap and began. She started with his shoulders, pulling the sudsy mix across his chest and down his down his solid arms.

  Earlier, she’d tried to avert her eyes from his exposed flesh, now she relished the view. The muscles of his chest were well defined, as were his biceps. She wondered, fleetingly, if he’d done any modeling. He certainly had the body for it. The only thing marring his torso were the purple blotches that had begun to appear across his skin. She smoothed the cloth over the bruises gently.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “You’re torturing me.”

  His voice was raspy, sexually charged. Distracted, she dropped the washcloth right between his legs.

  “Shall I get that, or do you want to,” he murmured.

  “I don’t need it,” she told him. She flicked back her hair with what she hoped was an attitude of nonchalance. To further prove her cool efficiency, she continued her work, running her soapy fingers over him. “So, are you going to answer my question?”

  The grin on his face was wicked. “I’ve forgotten it.”

  Emily giggled as she realized she had the same problem. “Me, too.”

  His laugh joined hers. “Besides, I think it’s your turn to answer some questions. I’d like to know more about you.”

  Emily shrugged. “What’s to know?”

  “You said you moved here from Saskatchewan with your mother. What’s she like?”

  An odd topic considering Emily had her hands all over him. She guessed he was doing his part to put on the breaks. “My mom’s a powerhouse. She was always working two and three jobs just to make ends meet and help me through school.” Emily was getting misty. Talking about her mother always did that. The love she felt for the only parent she’d ever known, the sacrifices that parent had made for her, and the thought that they were not as close as they once were, always brought a lump to her throat.

  “She landed a job with a small company that she really enjoys. She plays golf, bridge and has a ton of friends. It’s wonderful to see her finally enjoying life. She’d like you,” Emily told him, rinsing the soap from his flesh.

  “Does that mean I get to meet her?” His eyes twinkled.

  “If you’re good.”

  “I intend to be,” he promised, twirling a strand of her hair around his index finger. “It must have been hard for you in high school—coming to a new city, you and your mom coping on your own.”

  “It was difficult.” Some of the memories of those days crept up, the other kids teasing her because she didn’t have a father. Accusations that she was a bastard; that her mother was loose. Somehow, with Brandon close, those memories didn’t hurt as much. Somehow, the fact that he’d shared his feelings about his father and his fear of failure assured her that she could trust him with her own secrets. “I’ve always felt I was responsible for my father leaving. I thought that if only I’d been prettier or smarter, he might have stayed.”

  “But you weren’t born when he left. How could he have known what he was walking out on?”

  “I know. It’s silly. But I still felt that way. I guess a part of me still does.”

  Her hands were on his stomach when his muscles there contracted. He lifted himself up toward her and cupped her face in his hands. “Just for the record, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met. I thought so from the first time I saw you in the restaurant. And you are obviously very smart. You went after the career you wanted.”

  Emily looked away, pleased and embarrassed by his words. “Thank you.”

  “You are very welcome.” He eased a finger under her chin and guided her lips toward his for a kiss.

  “You’re beautiful, too,” she told him, meaning it.

  He smiled and kissed her again, deeper this time. “So, when is it my turn?”

  “To what?”

  “Give you a sponge bath.”

  She laughed. “You’re a naughty boy. My only intention is to get you cleaned up.” Emily pursed her lips, feeling like a schoolmarm. “I could use that washcloth now.”

  “You know where it is.”

  So, he was daring her, was he? Deliberately, she leaned forward and reached for it. Her patient sucked in a breath.

  “That will teach you. Now lean forward while I do your back.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The skin there looked as though it belonged to a midshipman who’d been flogged. She ran the cloth between his shoulder blades, lightly stroking the small cuts and scrapes that crisscrossed his flesh.

  The last thing she washed was his injured leg. Careful to avoid the area that was lacerated she sponged around it. “There,” she said, wringing out the cloth, “I’m done.”


  “Does that mean it’s my turn?”

  Unable to think of a comeback, she threw the washcloth at his head. “I’d better go.”

  “Stay.” His words ended with an upward inflection, more like a question than a statement.

  Holding her hand, he maneuvered her down beside him, until she was curled up in the crook of his arm on the narrow hospital bed. Light kisses grazed her hairline. Emily snuggled in closer, lifting her head to look at him. She propped herself up and ran her fingers through his tangled curls. She saw the tension around his eyes.

  “I hope I didn’t bore you, talking ancient history.”

  “I’m glad you did. Makes me feel special.”

  “You are special,” she told him. “For a long time, I thought I went out with cowboys because those were just the kind of guys I met.”

  “You don’t think so anymore?”

  “No. I guess Jackie was right.”

  “Your friend? About what?

  “I think I was dating men who were like my father,” Emily said slowly, putting the words together as the thoughts came to her. “Men who were unsteady. Men who were destined to leave me.”

  Neither of them heard the door opening. It was the sound of a polite cough that drew their attention to the fact that they were no longer alone.

  Brandon’s female doctor bustled in, tactfully ignoring the fact that two bodies were just intertwined on the bed.

  Emily excused herself and, at Brandon’s request, called his sister to let her know that he was in the hospital. Another hour passed before he was discharged. Emily went back to his room and helped him put on his duster. She wrapped her arm around him and leaned in close as she led him down the hall toward the exit. “Take your time. We’re not in any hurry.”

  “Howdy!”

  Emily looked up to see a person waving to them from the emergency room door. The young woman wore an oversized cowboy hat, looking very much like a cartoon version of Annie Oakley. Emerging from behind her was a young boy, wearing a white Stetson and riding a hobbyhorse. Emily glanced over at Brandon, who’d turned an impressive shade of red.