Page 10 of The Cowboy’s Secret Lover

“Talk to her.” Dr. Adams annunciated each word.

“You really aren’t going to give me the go-ahead to ride?”

“Haven’t I said that already?”

“Thanks,” said Kurt, before hanging up. He was sorely tempted to add, Thanks for nothing, that is, but thought better of it in the end.

Sure, he’d been beat by the bull and Faith both. Yet, Kurt wasn’t about to give up. He had to be cleared to ride to participate in the rodeo by tomorrow morning.

The open road unfurled before them. Soon, the wrought iron gates to Kurt’s ranch, affectionately called Crawford’s Cove, came into view.

The ranch sat on 70 acres. There was a large barn, a separate bunkhouse for the field hands (Kurt had none in his employ now) and a pond that was fed by a clear and cool stream. The big house was a sprawling home of wood and adobe with five bedrooms, four bathrooms, and a pool in the backyard. It had been purchased when Kurt was younger, and money had been plentiful.

Now, the expansive property felt like an albatross around his neck. Sure, it was still impressive, even if it needed some minor repairs. But the real estate market had fallen off in recent years and Kurt couldn’t recoup enough to pay off the remainder of the mortgage—the first one or the second—forget making enough to pay for Erin’s surgery.

“We’re home,” said Erin. Even to Kurt’s ears, her voice was too bright and cheerful to be anything other than forced. “You sit tight, and I’ll be around to get you out.”

Kurt wanted to argue and tell his daughter that he was just fine. But honestly, he wasn’t sure if he could get out of the car without a helping hand. The door opened and Erin bent down. She gripped Kurt’s arm and pulled, hefting him from the small car.

He took a step. During his ride home, his knee had gotten stiff and refused to bend. Kurt wouldn’t be an old man. Standing tall, he bent and straightened his leg. The movement helped with the pain. Advancing slow, but on his own, he walked toward the door.

“You got enough time to get to work and not even be late for your shift.”

“I don’t want to hear another word about Dwight’s House of Barbeque for the rest of the evening,” Erin said while opening the front door. She pointed toward Kurt’s den. “Go have a seat and I’ll bring you something to eat. You want a sandwich or something?”

“Sure,” said Kurt. He took a seat in his recliner and leaned back, forcing the footstool out.

“I’ll be back in a jiff,” said Erin.

She set her keys and phone on a table next to his chair before retreating from the room. Kurt glanced over. Through the translucent phone case, he could clearly see a business card that Erin had tucked inside.

Faith McGregor, Nurse Practitioner. Her phone number was also listed.

Kurt knew that Erin wouldn’t go to the restaurant and leave him alone. Yet, she might work her shift if he had some company. And who better than to visit an injured man than a nurse? His gaze was drawn to a grouping of pictures on the wall, yet his eye immediately found the one.

He and Faith sat in the bed of his old pickup truck. The liftgate had been dropped and their legs dangled over the bumper. Leaning into his shoulder, Faith smiled at the camera. For his part, Kurt smiled at Faith.

Could he call her? Should he? He’d been prickly when they’d last spoken.

Yet, Kurt knew one thing for sure. If he wanted to get back into the rodeo, he had to get Faith to agree that he was healthy enough to compete. He wasn’t going to let anything, even her, get in the way of making it to the Rodeo Nationals in Las Vegas, and bringing home the title—along with the million-dollar prize.