Accidental Hero

She was clearing off the last table when the growl of a truck slewing into the graveled parking lot caught her attention. Through the slatted blinds of the front window, she saw Shorty Packer heading for the café. Abby’s pulse stuttered. Behind Shorty another cowboy followed, his hesitant gait somewhat unnatural and one-sided, the set of his shoulders much too familiar. Abby watched him yank his hat low, obscuring his face, but she knew…oh, God, she knew.

With her hands pressed to her chest, she felt her heart take off in a marathon race. Her mouth went dry. Her face grew hot. She closed her eyes and imparted a silent prayer. Lord, please don’t let me make a fool of myself.

For the first time in two years, the man who had loved her and left her was almost close enough to touch. She didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or call 9-1-1.

With a nod, Shorty said “Howdy” and headed for the lunch counter, but Bo remained motionless in the middle of the room, his face shadowed beneath his wide-brimmed hat. Abby knew he’d recognized her by the sharp intake of his breath. Not being able to see his eyes didn’t keep the heat of his gaze from igniting a high-voltage intimacy that sizzled straight into her raw-edged senses. His very presence caused her breath to catch in her throat and created a weakness in her knees and that produced an acute longing that both terrified and dismayed her.

Her own gaze drank in his shape swiftly. His body was thinner, harder than she recalled, yet every bit as seductive as it had always been. A missing button caused his wash-softened denim shirt to gap just enough to reveal the white T-shirt stretched taut across his chest. Hard-muscled arms, so achingly familiar in rolled-up sleeves, evoked images she tried desperately to push away. Everything about him tore at her heart. Those low-slung, faded jeans hugging his hips and long legs. The same well-worn boots that had—just once—been hastily discarded by the side of her bed.

A tiny gasp escaped her lips as bittersweet memories flashed in instant replay. She didn’t need to see Bo’s face to remember. Dark, smoky eyes. A mouth that could pleasure her with slow, burning kisses and coax her body into a hot, pliable mass of desire. Midnight-black hair she could almost feel sliding between her fingers, grasping it as the final shudder of ecstacy claimed her. Oh, God, why was she doing this? Why couldn’t she make herself forget?

She licked her lips and searched for something to say. Before she could find words, he turned. She heard him swear when he bumped the corner of a table, nearly falling in his rush for the door. She watched him limp away, shoving chairs aside and slamming the door behind him. How ironic that after all this time, Bo Ramsey was still in a hurry to leave her. And the pain in her heart was still the same.

Gravel spit and gears groaned as the pickup spun out of the parking lot. Shorty just watched the dust settle, then eased himself onto a red vinyl-covered stool at the end of the counter.

“Damn fool ain’t supposed to be driving yet.” He shrugged. “Guess I shoulda’ told him you might be here.”

Abby wondered if her heart would ever return to normal. With shaking hands, she concentrated on pouring Shorty’s coffee into a thick, white mug. She managed to get most of it where it belonged. The rest she wiped up with a cloth.

Shorty looked at her over the rim of his half-full cup. “You knew he was back, didn’t you?”

She nodded, trying to ignore the way her pulse was thrumming. She didn’t trust her voice enough to speak just yet.

“Well, hell’s bells, girl, ain’t you gonna say something?” He plunked his cup back on the counter, skewered her with his gaze.

Abby swallowed around the lump in her throat. Her eyes stung and she blinked hard to hold back the tears.

“What do you want me to say, Shorty?” She could barely squeak out a whisper. “That was a rotten thing to do,” she said, swiping at an invisible stain on the already spotless counter one more time.

“I wasn’t talking about that,” the old cowboy said. “Ain’t you got nothin’ to say about how he looked?”

“Looked? He was in such a hurry to get out of here, I barely saw him.” Oh, my heart saw him, though.

“Aw, girl, that boy’s had a terrible time of it. He’s come back to stay with me at the ranch until he’s done healing. Had a run-in with a nasty bull at a rodeo back in February. Lucky to be alive and walking. Only thing is, he ain’t used to people lookin’ at his face yet. I’m surprised you didn’t notice the scars.”

Abby sucked in her breath when a pain sharper than a razor’s cut sliced through her heart. So that’s the reason for the low-tipped hat. She gripped the edge of the counter, leaned against it for support. “Tell me what happened.”

Shorty took a swallow of what was left of his coffee and dug around in his pocket for a cigarette. Abby frowned at him hard enough to make him put it back. He fished out a wooden toothpick instead and tongued it to the side of his mouth, set his hat on the stool beside him and rested his elbows on the counter.

“Bo was in Dallas when I got a call from one of his rodeo buddies that he’d been busted up pretty good and was in the hospital there. I figured Marla was with him, but his friend said she’d already been there and gone, so I drove up there to see what the hell was goin’ on.”

He set his toothpick aside and blew on his already cold coffee, sipping it so slowly, Abby thought her hair would turn gray before he ever finished the story. When he lifted the plastic cover of the pastry display, she gave an impatient sigh and slapped her hand over his. “Shorty, please. Tell me the rest.”

He withdrew his hand with a shrug, picked up his toothpick and tapped it on the counter. “You know, the people at the hospital told me the doctors did all they could in surgery. Bo’s leg and face were the worst off. Had some busted ribs, too. A messed-up cowboy but lucky to be alive, even if he don’t walk so good. I couldn’t stay with him no longer, so I came on back here and kept in touch by phone, ya’ know.” He lifted his cup, drained it noisily before he continued.

“He stayed in the hospital a long time before he was transferred to some kind of therapy clinic. When he got done with the treatment there, he phoned me. Said he didn’t have no place to go and asked if I could come and get him.” Shorty heaved a sigh and closed his eyes as if remembering. “I wasn’t about to let him down.”

Abby fought the tremors coursing through her body. Hearing about the accident made her blood run cold. Even though she had just seen Bo with her own eyes, it was hard to believe he’d survived what Shorty had just described.

“You mentioned his face. I wasn’t able to see it when he came in. What’s wrong with his face?” A sudden urge to grab Shorty by the collar and insist he talk faster forced Abby to grab her own hands instead and clasp them tight.

“Well, he’s got some powerful scars,” Shorty drawled. “That bull made a mess of his face. The doc did what he could. Hell, he was the best plastic surgeon around, but he couldn’t give Bo back his good looks. He don’t look so awful, though. Just, uh, different.”

Abby caught Shorty watching her with a cautious eye while he kept on reciting his tale.

“That’s what Bo can’t accept, ya’ see. People stare at him and he can’t stand their pity. That’s why I brought him back here. Figured he could stay out at the ranch with me until he decides what he’s gonna do with the rest of his life. Truth is, Abby, he says he ain’t gonna ride the circuit again because of his crooked leg. And besides, he’s broke. Somebody’s gotta take care of him.”

“Well, where’s that high-falutin’ niece of yours…and their kid?” IdaJoy never minced words. “Why isn’t she here takin’ care of her man?”

Abby was relieved when IdaJoy asked what she hadn’t dared.

“Well now, I’m thinking that’s Bo’s business,” Shorty said.

“Nothin’ good ever comes from hiding the truth,” IdaJoy pointed out. She waggled her finger at Shorty.

Shorty shrugged. “Maybe so, but that’s Bo’s tale to tell, not mine. Right now, I’d be much obliged for a big bowl of your five-alarm chili. Oh, and how about puttin’ some in one of those take-along cartons? For Bo. Then I’ve got to find me a ride home.” He shot a hopeful glance toward Abby.

She hesitated when IdaJoy shot a disapproving look her way, knowing if she offered, she’d risk seeing Bo again. But then again if she didn’t, she would regret it later.

“I’ll be finished here in about half an hour. If you want to wait, I’ll take you back to the ranch.” Abby turned to head for the kitchen and bumped smack into IdaJoy, who stood there with her hands on her hips, snapping her gum and shaking her beehive hairdo.

“Oh, you are so asking for it, Abby Houston.”

Abby frowned. “Yeah, you’re probably right, but…” But what? her conscience asked innocently, as her heart danced a Texas two-step.

Shorty grinned like he’d just won the lottery.

Chapter Two

Abby’s pulse raced much too fast as she sped down the farm-to-market road with Shorty in the passenger side of her car. Her entire nervous system had been scrambled ever since Bo showed up at the café. Had it really been only a little over an hour since she’d seen him? Felt his presence? Nearly let her heart be bruised again? She took deep breaths and tried to concentrate on driving, even though the way to the Packer ranch was so familiar she didn’t need to watch the road. Some things you never forgot. Even when you tried.

Her damp palms were slick on the steering wheel and she swiped them across the front of her cotton shirt, one at a time. She had to swallow hard to keep the uneasy churning in the pit of her stomach from bringing her lunch back for reruns. The stifling afternoon heat kept her on the edge of nervous nausea. One of these days, she’d have enough money saved to repair the car’s broken air conditioner. Even with the windows lowered, the interior of the six-year-old Taurus was frying-pan hot. Right now, she had other things to think about.

When they’d left the Blue Moon twenty minutes earlier, Abby had made up her mind to stop when they reached the ranch, let Shorty out of the car and head right on home. She didn’t need to get out. Didn’t need to see Bo or anyone else that might be around. No need at all. Oh, right. Like that was going to keep her mind from slipping back to times and places best left undisturbed.

But undisturbed memories are like treasures stored away in dusty attics—often uncovered by accident and brought out to linger over. To cherish once again. So Abby blew the dust off her memories and drifted back to the time when Bo was the center of her universe—her reason for being.

Glorious. That’s what the time with him had been. He’d made her feel cherished. Special in a way she’d never felt before. She’d been swept off her feet and had fallen hopelessly in love. She’d believed he felt the same. Then he’d left without saying goodbye, and her world suddenly had become a black hole.

When she finally emerged from the darkness of heartbreak, anger took its place with an intensity that had almost destroyed her. Desperate to forget, but with a stubborn Texas pride too strong to let her give up, she’d focused on survival, facing the sympathetic looks of the community with her head held high. She’d believed her heartache had faded. Until now.

Her foot mashed harder on the gas pedal and the ribbon of highway blurred beneath tires she should’ve replaced last month.

“You tryin’ to get a speeding ticket or what?” Shorty snapped, his bushy eyebrows knit together in a gray scowl.

Abby checked the numbers on the speedometer and jerked her foot from its rigid position. “Sorry, guess I wasn’t watching.”

The old rancher stuck his toothpick back in his shirt pocket and drummed his fingers on his knee. He crossed and uncrossed his stubby legs, squirming around in the seat like a toddler with a bladder problem.