answer would reflect her strong sense of responsibility, and possibly a serious lack of wisdom. “I can report my findings to the staff while I’m there and make sure you actually go inside.”
“No one waiting for you at home?”
The next response would indicate the sad state of her life. “No. Tonight I have nothing better to do aside from grabbing something to eat and settling in to my motel room. If you accept my offer, we can go as soon as I close up here.”
Houston mulled that over for a moment and smiled in earnest. “Tell you what. If you’ll do this for me, I’ll buy you breakfast since I’m sure we won’t be done before dawn.”
Heavens, she hoped that wouldn’t be the case. Spending all night in a waiting room as a favor for a cranky cowboy wasn’t her idea of a good time.
* * *
At 5:00 a.m., with his wrist and thumb bound in a cast, Houston followed the demanding athletic trainer through the double glass doors and into the warm September night. As he trailed behind her toward the sedan, he realized he’d never observed this side of her before. He’d never really considered that she was taller than most women. He’d never seen her shiny auburn hair out of a ponytail, never noticed the way it swayed against her back when she walked. He’d sure as hell never paid much mind to how well she filled out her jeans, but then again, she was usually facing him when she tended his wounds.
But he had witnessed the impatience in her green eyes on several occasions when he’d put up a good argument as to why he didn’t require her attention. He sure wouldn’t mind her attention now...
Whoa, Calloway.
He had no business lusting after a member of the rodeo medical staff, even if she happened to be a really good-looking member.
Once they reached Jill’s sardine-can car, Houston practically had to fold himself in half to slide into the passenger seat. Having a damn cast on his wrist didn’t help much.
Jill settled behind the wheel, turned the ignition and asked, “Where to now?”
“We need to find someplace to eat.”
She sent him a sideways glance. “I’m too tired to eat.”
“Well, I could eat a whole side of beef. And don’t forget I promised you breakfast.”
“Maybe later.”
For some reason he wasn’t quite ready to part company with her. “I know you’re itching to tell me ‘I told you so,’ and you can do that over a cup of coffee.”
She sighed. “I’ve had at least four cups of coffee over the past five hours.”
“That leads me to believe you won’t be falling asleep soon.”
She shifted slightly to face him. “You have to be the most persistent man I’ve ever met.”
“Persistence pays off most of the time.” He tried on a persuasive smile. “Come on. Join me. I promise to eat fast and talk less.”
She put the car in Reverse and guided it out of the space. “Oh, all right. We can go to the diner next to my motel.”
“Where are you staying?”
“The place where everyone tied to the rodeo stays,” she said.
“The Buckout Inn?”
“The one and only.”
He couldn’t imagine her taking a room in a dive populated with crude cowboys. “That’s where I’m laying over, too.”
“No four-star penthouse suite?”
He stretched his legs out as far as they would go in the cramped sedan. “Nah. I’m more of a down home kinda guy.”
“A down home kinda guy with a private plane.”
Apparently she wasn’t all that impressed. “Technically, the ranch owns the plane. I just use it now and then.”
She sent him a skeptical smirk before pulling onto the street. “Ah. That explains it.”
As they drove down the Fort Worth streets in silence, Houston couldn’t seem to stop stealing covert glances at Jill. He took note of how well she filled out that white tailored shirt stamped with her name right above her breast. Nice, full breasts. And if she caught him staring at that immediate area, she’d probably slam on the brakes and kick his ass to the next curb. Good motivation for avoiding that. He didn’t care to call a cab at the moment.
A few minutes later, they arrived at the deserted diner and claimed a booth near the window. Houston scanned the menu for a few minutes while Jill checked her cell. He raised his gaze to find her frowning.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” she said as she grabbed her purse, slid out of the booth and stood.
Houston figured she either planned to climb back in the car and leave him, or she needed to make a call. “Do you want me to order something for you?” he asked as she walked away.
“A glass of orange juice,” she said without looking back.
Must be the phone theory, and that pleased him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about Jillian Amherst intrigued him. He decided to spend the meal trying to peg exactly what that something might be, provided she cooperated. First, he had to make a call, too.
After fishing his cell out of his front pocket, Houston pulled up his contacts and chose the number listed as The Tyrant. He waited through two rings before Dallas answered with, “What do you want at this time of the morning?”
“You’re always up by five.”
“Yeah, and Luke had us up until two.”
“Sorry, but this is kind of important. I had an accident last night and—”
“Did you fall on your head again?”
“Nope. Got my hand tangled up and it’s fractured, so I’m pretty much done for the next couple of months. Since I can’t find Tyler, I need you to send the plane this afternoon.”
“Fine, but you’ll have to arrange for transportation to the airport. I’d say having you at the ranch might be a good thing, but not if you only have the use of one hand.”
He started to argue that he could do more with one functioning hand than some men could do with two, but thought better of it. “It’s my left hand and I can still manage.”
“I damn sure hope so. And while I have you on the phone, I need to talk to you about Fort’s latest demands.”
Houston didn’t have the time or energy to deal with Worth’s twin. “Look, can it wait? I’m having breakfast with someone and she should be joining me at any minute.”
“You must not be too banged up if you’re with a woman.”
“She’s not a woman.”
