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  Now, after being woken up after only an hour of sleep? Not so much.

  Especially since I’d told GQ that I’d be there early in the morning to help him before it got too hot out.

  I eyed the hunched over man at the bar twirling his beer bottle as if it was the most entertaining thing in the world, then looked at the bartender one more time.

  “He say to call me?” I wondered.

  I mean, I highly doubted that he’d want me there at all to witness him in this state.

  Darby was a very private man.

  It felt like an invasion of his privacy to see him like this.

  “Not necessarily,” the bartender said. “But seriously, let me help you get him out to your truck…”

  I was already shaking my head.

  “I don’t have a truck,” I told him.

  “Well,” the bartender said, “I have keys to his truck. Let me help you get him out to his.”

  That I had no problem with.

  Five very frustrating minutes later, Darby was in his passenger seat slumped over, leaning against the door.

  I wondered if I opened the door right now if he’d fall flat out on his face.

  Then I decided, probably not, seeing as he was buckled in.

  I sighed and thanked the bartender.

  After paying Darby’s tab with his credit card, I left a semi-generous tip of twenty dollars for his trouble, then came back out to Darby’s truck.

  It was an older model Chevy.

  I’d bet my left hand it was freakin’ stick shift, too.

  When I got into the truck, I found out that I was right.

  “You know how long it’s been since I drove a five-speed?” I asked the man who was awake but still not talking.

  Those beautiful blue eyes drifted over to me, and I felt my heart catch in my throat.

  They looked so lonely and sad.

  “It’s like riding a bike,” he informed me.

  I doubted it.

  But I started the truck anyway.

  “It’s nearly impossible to make it die.” Darby kept right on talking. “Just give it more gas than you think you need to and you’ll be fine.”

  He was right.

  After a rocky start, I managed to get out of the parking lot and make my way to the Valentine place.

  Only, as I turned onto the road that would lead me to their place, Darby started shaking his head.

  “Can’t go home,” he told me. “I’ve decided to leave my family.”

  Leave his family?

  What?

  “What?” I asked, sounding just as confused as I felt.

  “I’m not going home,” he told me. “And, plus, you won’t be able to get home if you drop me off here. Go to your place. I’ll sleep in my truck.”

  I didn’t bother to argue.

  He sounded like he had his mind made up, and I had a feeling the reason he was at the bar in the first place was likely due to his family ‘troubles’ which were the reason he didn’t want to go home.

  I drove us all the way to my house, which ended up being a whole lot farther than I’d realized.

  My eyes were nearly crossing by the time that I pulled up in front of my door.

  We parked in the yard since there wasn’t really a driveway. And the closer I parked to the front door meant the less far that I had to walk at going on two in the morning.

  When I put the truck in park, Darby bailed out of the truck, moving a whole lot better than when me and the bartender had hauled him out to the truck earlier.

  “Hey,” I said, hitting the light switch and plunging everything into darkness.

  “Motherfucker,” Darby growled.

  Then the sound of something hard landed on my porch.

  Flicking my phone to flashlight, I shined it in his direction to find him lying, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, on my porch.

  His hands were under his head, and his eyes were closed as if he was just taking a rest.

  Instead of just having fallen there.

  “Ummm,” I said. “I thought you were sleeping in the truck.”

  He opened one eye into a slit.

  “I had to pee,” he said. “I was going to go in your house to do it, but I might just go find a tree.”

  I would not smile.

  I was too tired to find him amusing.

  “Do you need help up?” I wondered.

  He rolled then, going to his hands and knees.

  His back muscles rippled underneath his tight t-shirt, and I felt like my heart would start beating straight out of my chest.

  Then he got up, one foot at a time, until he was standing but in a hunched over position.

  “You okay?” I asked, concerned now.

  “Yeah,” he wheezed. “I think I tweaked my back.”

  I felt my heart stutter.

  Hurting his back was bad.

  Then again, I’d heard that he had problems with it since a bullfighting incident about a year ago.

  See, Darby wasn’t invincible, even if he liked to pretend like he was.

  My father and he had been in the ring with Banks, his brother, riding a bull.

  His brother had been thrown off and had landed awkwardly. That awkward landing had thrown him onto the ground and had given the bull he’d been riding a chance to go after him.

  If it hadn’t been for Darby, Banks would’ve been skewered.

  As it was, he’d been grazed by the bull across his chest.

  Darby, on the other hand, after getting the bull’s attention, hadn’t been able to run fast enough.

  The bull had caught him in the back with a horn and had tossed him ten feet in the air.

  He’d landed awkwardly straight on his back, and if it hadn’t been for my dad, he’d have gotten a lot more than that.

  He’d suffered a spinal cord injury that had kept him out for a month and a half, and still to this day I could tell that his body wasn’t what it used to be.

  “Come in,” I said softly, feeling my tummy tighten with nerves.

  That day, I’d been sitting in the stands.

  I hadn’t been the only one there who had freaked the fuck out.

  It didn’t matter if Darby was my favorite person in the world or not, I certainly didn’t want the man hurt while I watched.

  That day, I’d told my father that I didn’t like him doing that anymore, and he’d told me that there wouldn’t be a place for him much longer since the bullfighting thing was a ‘young man’s game.’

  I just hoped before that happened, he wouldn’t get hurt like Darby did.

  “Thanks,” he muttered, standing up straight.

  I refused to look at his face as he followed behind me into the house.

  “Nice place,” he said. “Did you know that the land here touches the back of our land?”

  No, I hadn’t.

  My dad had bought it for a steal from a man looking to move to Colorado to be with his family who’d moved there some years ago.

  Apparently, there’d been a lot of interest, but not any real bites.

  Hence the man’s hurry to sell for what my dad had offered.

  “I didn’t,” I answered as I flipped on the hallway light.

  It illuminated the room, and our lack of furniture.

  “Like what you’ve done to the place,” he muttered.

  “The bathroom is through there.” I pointed to the door underneath the stairs.

  He didn’t say another word as I walked over to the couch. Which happened to be the only piece of furniture in the entire dining room, kitchen, and living room.

  Pulling all the numerous toss pillows off and throwing them to the floor, I yanked the quilt off the back of the couch and laid it down over the rough cushions.

  Once I had that done, I grabbed one of the softest pillows—and no, I wouldn’t examine why the hell I’d chosen the softest and my most favorite to take a nap
on—and placed it at the end of the couch. Once in place, I walked to the laundry room where I’d just washed my throw blanket that I used to curl up with when I napped, and tossed it on the couch’s arm.

  When Darby got out, I pointed at the couch.

  He didn’t waste any time at all falling face first into it.

  When I moved around so that I could see his face, it was then I realized that he’d literally already fallen asleep—or passed out.

  Passing out was much more likely.

  Shaking my head, I grabbed the throw blanket and covered him with it.

  It only covered him from the neck to the tops of his thighs.

  Shaking my head at the funny sight, I made my way over to the light, flicked it off, then headed back upstairs to my bed.

  I did not think about him very long.

  I didn’t think of him at all, actually.

  I was too tired.

  But my mind didn’t dismiss him entirely.

  He was the star of my dreams the entire night.

  Him and his sexy shoulders and kissable lips

  His beautiful smile and his high and tight haircut.

  Oh, and there were definitely chaps involved.

  ***

  The next morning, I rolled over to find a wall of chest directly in my face.

  I blinked, surprised to find it there, particularly, and not on the couch that I left it on.

  I poked the chest, watching as my finger didn’t so much as dip a single centimeter into the flesh.

  Nope, not this particular flesh. This flesh was hard, and not soft at all.

  The chest rumbled.

  I backed away as far as my wall would allow and then stared up at the face connected to that chest.

  “What are you doing in my bed?” I asked.

  The eyes on that face blinked open, and suddenly I got an ocean of blue staring directly at me with the look of death in his eyes.

  His death, not mine.

  “I’m dying,” he said in the next moment.

  I tilted my head slightly.

  “But why are you in my bed?” I repeated.

  He closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and then shrugged one massive shoulder.

  “Honestly, I couldn’t tell you,” he murmured so quietly I could barely hear him. “I can’t even tell you how I even got here in the first place.”

  My lips were so dry that I couldn’t help myself from licking them.

  It wasn’t because of all the man flesh in front of me at all.

  “I put you to bed—on my couch—with a shirt on,” I told the chest.

  The chest rose sharply, then fell.

  “You’re lucky my pants aren’t off,” he paused. “Well, my pants are off.” He blinked open one eye. “My underwear are still on, though. In case you were wondering.”

  I wasn’t.

  But I found it amusing that he felt the need to inform me.

  “What happened last night?” he wondered.

  I relayed what happened, ending with putting him on the couch.

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “I remember going there. I don’t remember how I got home.”

  I stared at him with worry.

  “Apparently I was the last call you made on your phone, and they called me,” I answered his silent question. “I walked to the bar, you’re lucky that it’s close, by the way. And then I drove you home to your house, but you told me that I couldn’t take you home because you didn’t live there anymore. Then you said that I could take you here and that you’d sleep in your truck. But then you got out of the truck and nearly passed out on my porch.”

  He grimaced and then rolled over onto his back.

  “I don’t know what happened,” he admitted. “But I do remember that I had a really shitty couple of hours before I started drinking.”

  I looked at him worriedly.

  “What happened?” I pushed.

  He looked at the ceiling for a couple more long seconds before saying, “I think I broke up with my family.”

  I tilted my head on the pillow and said, “How does one break up with their family?”

  He scrubbed his hands over his face so hard that I worried for the state of the skin on his face.

  “I told them that I found a job at the college,” he answered, sounding sick. “And then I told them that I was working for the forestry service as well… and they lost their shit.”

  I listened as he explained the previous day’s events, then looked at him with surprise as he finished up.

  “I don’t think they meant it to come out that way,” I finally decided on. “They’re happy that you’re out there making a living. And if what you said was true, that they didn’t actually need you at the ranch, then I’m not sure why they’re pissed.”

  He nodded resolutely.

  “I have to go over there and do my shit that I promised I would keep doing,” he finally said, jack-knifing out of bed. “Then I have to find a place to stay.”

  I’m not sure how or why the next words came out of my mouth, but they did.

  “Stay here,” I blurted.

  He frowned.

  “What?”

  I got up with him, very aware that I was only in a t-shirt and panties, and made my way over to stand in front of him.

  “My dad called last night,” I said softly. “He’s not coming back here.”

  He frowned. “Why? He just bought this place to live here.”

  I sighed, then shifted on my feet uncomfortably.

  “He found a woman to live with,” I muttered. “And he’s pretty sure that he’s going to marry her.”

  His mouth fell open.

  “Is this the one he was with a couple of weeks ago?” he asked.

  I nodded my head.

  My dad had met a woman at a rodeo in Oklahoma a couple of weeks ago. She was actually the reason he wasn’t at the house that he just purchased, and the reason that I was here.

  I wasn’t aware that Darby knew about the woman, though.

  Because if he did know about her, it meant that my father wasn’t hiding her.

  Which also meant that it really was serious.

  My dad didn’t flaunt his conquests around.

  He was a private man since my mother had left him. And for him to be introducing the woman around to the rodeo crowd, it meant that shit really was serious.

  “Yes,” I mumbled, raising my hands to my hair and running my fingers through it. “I’m starving. I’ll go with you, and then we can go get breakfast, and we can talk about you staying.” I paused. “I’m going to need help fixing up the place since my dad isn’t here to do it. I’ve been waiting… but there are just things I have no clue how to do. And things that I’m not sure if I need a licensed professional for. And, from past experience, I know that contractors deal with men better than they deal with women.”

  He frowned harder.

  I turned my back on him, bent over, then picked my pants up from last night.

  After slipping them on, I turned back around to see him still staring at me.

  “Let’s go, or they’re going to be awake and want to talk to you,” I ordered, snapping my fingers at him.

  That got him moving.

  After disappearing into the bathroom, he came back out fully clothed and a lot more presentable.

  I kind of hated to see his bare chest covered.

  In fact, I wasn’t even going to look into the fact of why I was so sad.

  I was going to ignore it.

  I was going to pretend that it wasn’t as big of a deal as it probably was.

  Instead, I walked to the front door and ushered him out of it.

  I blinked at the complete darkness.

  “It is five in the morning, correct?” I asked, looking at the sky.

  Darby walked to his truck, but made a detour to my door and held it open for me.

  “It’s supposed to storm like a mother
fucker,” he told me. “Do you need to be at the Apache?”

  I nodded. “At nine.”

  He looked up at the clouds again, then shook his head.

  “I doubt that you’ll be going today,” he said. “My guess, you’re going to be getting a call real quick. He’ll hear the storm. He’ll say ‘fuck it.’ Then he’ll text or call saying that you should stay home today.”

  I frowned.

  “If I stay at home,” I said. “Then I don’t get paid.”

  Darby was already shaking his head. “Actually, he’ll probably pay you. Gibson is really good to his people.”

  I wanted to know more about Gibson and Darby, but I wasn’t sure if that was too invasive. If it was something that was considered too personal to discuss with a potential roommate.

  Chapter 7

  Dear NASA, your mom thought I was big enough.

  -T-shirt

  Darby

  My head hurt.

  Like a mother.

  But just because my head was hurting didn’t mean that I couldn’t read the question in Waylynn’s eyes.

  “What?” I asked.

  She smirked at me as she hopped into the passenger seat of my truck.

  I closed the door on her and rounded the truck, waiting for her to answer me.

  “I’m wondering about you and GQ,” she admitted.

  GQ.

  I loved that she called Gibson that.

  It wasn’t often that Gibson got recognized for the faker that he was, but when it happened, it never ceased in amusing me.

  See, Gibson and I had been little pieces of shit when we grew up. Both of us had our stories, Gibson’s just as bad as mine but in a different way. And where I channeled my anger into doing bad shit, Gibson channeled his anger into doing worse shit.

  I hung along for the ride, and eventually both of us saw the error of our ways.

  Luckily it wasn’t too late.

  Unluckily, it was too late for Gibson’s younger brother.

  From that point on, Gibson had made it his life’s mission to appear like a perfectly groomed, well-to-do, functional member of society. One that treated everybody right—hence the reason I said she would get paid—and never allowed anybody close in case his life went to shit again.

  But, with anybody else, Gibson was an untouchable, aloof man that looked as if he was a capable adult.

  He wasn’t.

  He was drowning, just a lot more slowly than what we had been when we were kids.