Christine Wenger - How to Lasso a Cowboy

Dustin shook his head. “Thanks, but there’s no way you can lift me. I’m too heavy. Just get that chair over by the desk and hold it still. I’ll use that as leverage.”

She held the chair in place and watched as Dustin slowly raised himself up from the floor, dragging his cast. She couldn’t help noticing the play of arm, shoulder and back muscles as he pivoted onto the bed, tired.

“Let me cover you up,” she said.

“Thanks,” he said, avoiding her gaze.

“Maybe you’ll let me help you more, Dustin. You could have seriously injured yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

“Blockhead,” she muttered under her breath.

“What’s that?”

“ Blanket . I’ll get you a blanket.”

She found a brightly striped serape and covered Dustin with it, averting her eyes from his too-perfect body and noticing the circles under his eyes instead.

“Are you willing to admit now that you need my help?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Nope.”

She shook her head. “You stubborn … um … ah … bull rider .”

“Aww … such praise.” His eyes were half-shuttered, but she could still see the twinkling blue hue. “You’re the best, Jenna. I mean it.”

She’d waited years to hear him say that.

“Close those blue eyes, cowboy. We’ll talk later.”

“Can’t wait to catch up. I want to know what you’ve been doing. I want … to know … all about you.”

He was out. Sleeping. And she was walking on sunshine.

Maybe Dustin wasn’t Mr. Right. But he might be Mr. Right Now.

So what was she going to do about it?

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