His Kind Of Cowgirl. Karen Rock
the window when her pickup rolled down an embankment, as if punched by something large and lethal. Glass rained deadly sharp. The earth tumbled around her, her truck in spin cycle. When a massive tree loomed, the Chevy slammed into it then stilled.
Winded and stunned, she hung upside-down in her lap belt, blood, metallic and warm, on her tongue, a rushing sound whistling in her ears. Her heartbeat changed and grew slow and rolling in darkness. Something hurt, a long way away. Then nothing.
“Ma’am. Ma’am. Are you all right?” A man’s voice shouted, rousing her. She tried turning her head but pain held it in place. When she opened her mouth, silent panic flew out.
“Hold on. I’m getting you out of there.”
Acrid smoke pierced her consciousness. She closed her eyes against the billowing grit.
This wasn’t happening. It was a dream. No. A nightmare.
A tugging motion jerked her right and left, followed by a ripping sound. Large hands halted her sudden fall.
“Got you.”
Her rescuer cradled her against his chest, his breaths heaving beneath her ear. After carrying her some distance, he lowered her slowly to the ground. Grass scraped against her stinging cheeks and she opened her eyes.
“What?” she croaked, then swiped at the trickle leaking from her mouth. A man wearing a cowboy hat hunched over her, his features blurred.
“You’ve been in an accident. We have. Our trucks collided in the intersection.”
“My truck!” She bolted upright and clutched the swirling ground.
An arm snaked around her back and eased her down. “I called the dispatcher. The fire department’s on the way.”
She heard a wail in the distance and wanted to shriek with it.
Her special day. Her anniversary. Ruined. No. Demolished by this...this...
She squinted upward and focused. A dark swirl of hair brushed across the tall man’s forehead; a light scar zigzagged down his square jaw.
It couldn’t be...
“Tanner?”
“Hello, Claire.” His mouth went up, just a fraction—the same ready-for-anything smile that had once undone her.
She closed her eyes, heart thudding. Ten years since she’d vowed never to see him again...and now here he stood, two for two in wrecking her life.
* * *
THEY WERE THREE miles outside of town. Tanner Hayes knew it was unlikely another car would be passing for a while. He peered anxiously down at Claire. The lines of her face, turned up to the sky, nearly broke his heart.
“What are you doing here?” she rasped, winded. Was she having trouble breathing? Punctured a lung? His pulse sped.
“I’ll tell you later. Where are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” Long lashes swept her cheek and the paleness of her skin blurred its edges like watercolor. But her green eyes flashed the way he remembered, her delicate features still arousing his protective instincts. Was she going into shock?
He shrugged off his jean jacket and draped it around her shoulders. She looked frozen to the bone, too cold to even shiver.
“Wear it,” he insisted when she shook it off.
Her hand rose when he made to resettle it on her. “No. Thanks.” She pushed to her elbows and held her wrist.
“Can you move that?” He hunkered beside her.
She winced slightly when she flexed it and edged away. “Just a strain. Bruising I’m guessing.”
“Anything else?” Headlights illuminated the night and his eyes ran over her lithe form, taking in the fiery hair that seemed to grab the color from her porcelain skin. She looked smoothed, luminous, as if her flesh had been stripped away and she were made out of something so clear it was almost glass, something that could shatter. She looked beautiful.
“You’re bleeding.”
She jerked from his touch and his pulse raced at the swelling lump on her temple, the red slash through her full bottom lip. He stuffed unsteady hands into his jeans pockets, assuring himself she was okay. In one piece. Not seriously harmed.
Not again.
In the tense silence, the siren grew deafening and a fire truck thundered by and jerked to a halt. An ambulance and police car sped behind it then pulled to the opposite side of the road. Blue, red and white lights illuminated the velvet night.
EMTs raced their way. Tanner refused their help and moved aside, watching closely as they checked Claire’s vitals and examined her. One wound an Ace bandage around her ankle and handed her an ice pack. Less than twenty yards away, firemen hosed down her smoking truck, their walkie-talkies squawking in the still air.
“Talk me through what happened.” A young, heavyset police officer flipped open a pad and clicked the end of his pen.
When Tanner finished, the trooper continued scribbling and asked, “So, you’re sure the light was green when you passed through the intersection?”
Tanner opened his mouth but another voice answered.
“It was yellow on my end.” Claire limped their way, pain tucked in the corners of those determined eyes.
“When it’s your turn, I’ll take your statement.” The officer lowered his gaze to Tanner’s license.
“Are you the Tanner Hayes? The bull rider?”
Tanner nodded curtly. This wasn’t some meet and greet. Plus, the man had been rude to a lady. To Claire. That didn’t go down so good in his books.
The official pocketed his pad and thrust out a hand. “What a heck of a surprise. Can’t wait to tell the boys I met the PBR world champion. We watch you on TV every week. Say. Can I get an autograph?”
A throat cleared behind them. “I’d like to give my statement now.”
Tanner narrowed his eyes at the fawning officer. “Happy to oblige once you’ve gotten Claire’s statement.”
The cop glanced between them. “You two know each other?”
Claire’s head bent and her red curls obscured her face. “Once,” she whispered. “Not anymore.”
Her words stung. She had it about right, but Tanner wished otherwise. That things could have gone differently. That there’d been another path. One that hadn’t left her behind and him full of regret.
After she gave her statement, she refused further medical treatment and wandered closer to her damaged truck. Tanner trailed her, stretching his steps to catch up. Pebbles ground together.
The passenger side of her pickup was crumpled and her windshield was smashed. His lungs burned as he imagined the worst. He’d heard from her father that she had a son. A nine-year-old who depended on her. Why the hell had she been running a red light in the dark? And why hadn’t he spotted her in time?
He eyed his own truck with the experienced eye he’d gained helping mechanics on his rodeo crew. A crushed bumper. Smashed headlights. Pushed-up hood. Otherwise, drivable. At least, he supposed so. Someone had moved it to the other side of the road.
“I’m sorry, Claire.”
Her shoulder bones moved restlessly under his touch. “This was my husband’s truck.”
Her admission went through Tanner like the punch of an electric fence. He knew she’d moved on. Married. Yet hearing it from her trickled cold oil down his skin. His pained gaze flew to her truck—her spouse’s truck—again. He could see it now. What he’d done... Sorry wasn’t enough.
“I need to get it fixed back to the way Kevin wanted.”