Karen Rock - Falling For A Cowboy

Jared still struggled to believe that.

And he and his brothers and sister sure as heck wouldn’t permit it. They suspected cash-strapped Boyd, threatened with his ranch’s foreclosure, sought their mother’s money and—of course—those water access rights. Fortunately, Ma came to her senses after the Christmas fiasco and stopped taking calls from Boyd. Still, she swapped too many looks with him at church for his comfort. A plan to rid themselves of Boyd for good was in the works.

For now, he’d content himself with Maverick.

He eyed his shot choices again, evaluating the easier target. He hated losing and avoided it at all costs.

“Heard Amberley dumped him stone cold,” Lane guffawed.

The eight ball jerked forward and smacked into the lone solid ball left on the table. Loud laughter followed on the heels of a brief stunned silence when it sunk into a pocket.

Maverick Loveland clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, dude. Though if you wanted to give me fifty bucks, you could have just handed it over. Saved me some time.” He plucked the cash off the table and ambled away, as sarcastic and conceited as every other rotten Loveland.

Jared swore under his breath, stung.

“Sorry, Jared!” Lane jittered around him, shoving his hands in his pockets, then yanking them out again. “That’s on me. If I hadn’t distracted you, you would have won it for sure.”

The rest of the crew nodded quickly, and Jared relaxed a tad. Lane was right. He hadn’t lost. He’d been sidetracked by thoughts of Amberley.

Why was she avoiding him these past few weeks?

He fitted his stick back in the holder. “Loveland got lucky.”

“Yeah, he did,” Red vowed. He lifted the mug Roseanne offered him and sipped.

“Exactly,” murmured another friend.

“Heck, yeah,” said a third.

The tight group, former high school football teammates who’d won the state division championships together, shared plenty of glory days. He’d missed them when the NFL drafted him out of college. After last year’s injury, an ACL tear that sidelined him from his starting Broncos position, they’d rallied around him, supportive of their hometown hero.

Life was simpler in Carbondale, where he wasn’t some nobody with nothing much to offer. What good was being in the middle of the pack? When his agent called recently with the Broncos’ offer: a one-year contract, at a lower salary—basically a benchwarmer position—he’d turned it down.

He’d rather be here, where people knew him, appreciated him, where he could fulfill his vow to his dying father.

“Later.” With a wave, he headed outside, hopped on his motorcycle, donned his helmet and roared out onto the two-lane route that cut through Mount Sopris’s eastern side. He let out the throttle and ripped through the dark night. Around the edges of his light beams, a dense forest crowded each side of the road. Each breath dragged in the spring-fresh scents of fresh earth, pine and growing things mixed with gasoline fuel. Waves of heat rippled up from the engine, and the wind rushed past.

Life was lived for moments like this, he thought, effortlessly guiding his Breakout around a fallen branch from this morning’s storm. Astride his Harley, listening to the rumble from his straight pipes, seated in his low-slung seat, he felt in control of the elements regardless of their severity because only the ride mattered. Sure, not returning to professional football bugged him, but he’d made that call, not the team. An important distinction. One that preserved his status as a winner. Not a failure.

He slowed at a flashing red, then stopped, peered side to side, and peeled off the line with a deep burrrrrooomboomboomboom. At the top of a steep incline, his Breakout went slightly airborne, and for a quick second he imagined himself flying. Nothing above or below him. Just moving through space, wind, and its feeling of force on his face and body.

Dad would have enjoyed this ride, he thought, glancing up at the full moon crowning over a distant peak. Growing up, his father called Jared a star. He’d attended every football game, cheered the loudest and told Jared nothing made him happier than seeing Jared win, especially during his final months of life when he’d battled liver cancer.

Jared’s wins on the football field distracted his family and gave them moments to cheer in a dark time. His pa insisted Jared was the glue that held the family together. Before passing away, his father told Jared his siblings would need someone to look up to after he’d gone. He made Jared promise to be that hero.

Since things came easily to Jared, he’d had no trouble fulfilling his pledge until his injury. When he’d tried, and failed, to make a full comeback, however, he realized he’d never fulfill his designated role as family hero if he remained a bench warmer. He opted, instead, to return home. At least here he remained a small-town hero, his reputation intact. Much better than enduring seasons as a second-stringer with little chance of making it back under the big lights.

Or worse, getting cut.

Still. Returning to the ranch hadn’t fulfilled him either, no matter how much the community treated him like the “big man” in their small town. A champion. Maybe because such treatment left him feeling like a fraud. He needed something to take his mind off wondering what he’d do with his life now that he couldn’t play ball. He sped faster. Amberley was just the distraction he needed.

A few minutes later, he pulled up beside Amberley’s cabin, cut the engine and lowered the kickstand. Something immediately seemed off about the place. Light streamed from every window, and the front door hung open.

“Hello?” he called, swinging his leg over the bike seat. His boots clattered on the porch steps. “Amberley?”

He swept off his hat, ducked inside the cabin and peeked at the kitchen. No signs of cooking. No evidence of anyone anywhere. Huh.

Striding across the small space, he stopped at the start of a short hall that led to the back bedrooms. “Amberley?” He listened. Nothing.

“Charlotte?”

Concern brewed along with his confusion. He’d spied Charlotte’s white pickup outside. They were here. Just not in the house.

He paced back outside and tramped down the stairs, his heart picking up speed when he spotted Charlotte walking his way, her hands cupped around her mouth.

“Amberley!” she called.

He caught up to her and his breath whistled fast, pulse thrumming. “Something wrong? Where’s Amberley?”

“I don’t know!” Moonlight reflected on her damp cheeks. “She ran off when we got back from the doctors. I tried following but I twisted my ankle. Now there’s no sign of her.”

He peered at the shed where Amberley stored her bike.

“She go for a ride?”

“No. She can’t because—” Charlotte stopped and clamped a hand over her mouth. So many expressions collided on her face, and he couldn’t read any of them. She didn’t seem to breathe.

Neither did he. Worry punched him in the gut. Hard.

“Because why? Charlotte, what’s going on? I don’t see...”

“She can’t either.”

“What?”

“She’s going blind. We just learned about it today and—”

“Blind,” he cut in, repeating a word that suddenly made no sense. Not when it came to Amberley.

A rising wind lifted the hem of Charlotte’s long skirt and ruffled her sleeves. She twisted at the waist, eyes darting every which way.

“It’s a genetic disorder that starts with blurring of her central vision. She’s been having trouble with her eyes for a while but she didn’t tell anyone. Didn’t want to worry us.”

A short burst of air escaped him. “That’s Amberley.” As tough as they came and not one for sympathy. He’d never met a stronger woman. Or a more stubborn one. He had to get to her. Darn it. She needed him. Whatever the issue, they’d work it out together like they always did.