Page 6 of The Cowboy’s Secret Lover

Two

Faith bracedher legs against the floor, not sure what reaction she’d get from Kurt Crawford. His smile remained, as if the expression had been glued in place. But his gray eyes had changed, hardening until they resembled flint. “That’s your opinion,” he said. He left the obvious unsaid—that he thought her opinion was crap.

“It’s the correct prognosis.” Signing a document on the tablet computer with her finger, she continued, “You can try to get a second opinion, but you’ll have a hard time finding a doctor to overrule my conclusion. Besides…”

Faith glanced up from the computer and her next words shriveled to nothingness in her throat. Gone was the flinty glare. Kurt had gone pale. His eyes held a look a sadness. No, it was more than that. He was tormented.

She reached out, ready to place a steadying hand on his arm. In a flash, she recalled the last time she’d touched Kurt. There’d been fumbling kisses in the bed of his pickup truck, as a Garth Brook’s song played on the radio. A softly scented summer’s breeze carried away her cries of passion and delight, while they were only covered by a blanket of stars in a sky of black velvet.

Withdrawing her hand, she tapped on the monitor. “Good news is, your leg isn’t broken. You’ve sprained your knee is all. Use an ace bandage for a week or so. Also, you’re going to have a hell of a headache for the next few days. Take ibuprofen for the pain and make an appointment with your regular doctor next week. I want a follow up on that concussion. The nurse will bring you further instructions with your discharge paperwork.”

With an exhale, she decided that her brief run-in with Kurt had gone better than she imagined. For years, Faith had wondered what would happen if she crossed paths again with Kurt Crawford. Now, she knew—and was ready to move in. Holding out her hand to Kurt’s daughter, Erin, she said, “Take care of your dad, okay.”

Erin accepted the handshake with a firm grip. “I will.”

“Wait,” Kurt said. His word rang out like a shot.

Faith paused. Inhaled. Exhaled. Pivoted. “Yes?”

“You can’t do this,” Kurt said. “You can’t take me out of the rodeo.”

“Daddy,” said Erin. “Please, you don’t need to ride bulls. There’s other things you can do for a job…”

“Listen to your daughter, Kurt. One more concussion and you could end up in a vegetative state. Like I said—this isn’t a joke or a game.”

“Daddy…” Erin began.

Kurt asked, “Give me a minute with Faith, okay?”

Erin turned to her father, and Faith saw the younger woman’s profile. For Faith, it was like looking through a portal back in time. Erin looked exactly like Faith’s classmate and former best friend, Monica. Was Monica the mother of Kurt’s child?

Swallowing, she waited as Erin pecked a kiss on her father’s cheek and slipped through the seam between the curtains. Cradling the tablet, Faith held it over her heart, as if the slim computer could offer some protection.

Kurt stared at her. The silence stretched on and on, becoming a frayed thread that was pulled taut.

“Erin favors her mother,” Faith said, when she could stand the quiet no more. She flicked her eyes to Kurt. “Monica’s her mother, right?”

He nodded.

“How is Monica, by the way?” It pained her to ask the question, especially since the answer really didn’t matter. Her friendship with Monica, as well as the romance with Kurt, was ancient history.

“We don’t hear from Monica much,” he said, as if that short statement should explain it all. In a way, it did. Even as a child, Monica had been an unwieldy combination of charming, selfish, and free-spirited.

Faith did the math. If Erin was 20 years old—a fact she recalled from Kurt’s medical records—then Monica would have been just a little younger when she’d given birth. “I bet it was hard on Monica to be a young mother.”

Kurt gave a snort. “Not as hard as it was on me when she skipped town. It’s not as hard as it was for Erin to grow up without a mother.”

Faith wasn’t sure how she should respond. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“You can’t take me out of the rodeo,” Kurt said. “I’m begging you.”

“I hate to see you beg, but this is for your own good.” She paused. “Your daughter seems like a lovely young woman. You won’t do her any good if you’re too injured to function or worse yet, dead.”

“You don’t get it,” said Kurt. “I need to compete in the Bear Creek Rodeo…”

“No,” said Faith, interrupting. “You don’t. You said yourself that Erin’s mom isn’t around. Your daughter needs someone. She needs you.”

“That’s just it,” said Kurt. His voice caught on a shard of emotion so sharp that it pierced Faith’s heart. “I need the money. I need to win the rodeo and then advance to the national competition. I need to win there, too.”