Compared to some of the injuries I’d seen, mine were mere scratches. A few months back, a bull stepped on Shannon Laffey’s chest.
The beast he was riding bucked him off, then used his body as a stomping ground. Shannon ended up with several compacted fractures and a collapsed lung, and most seriously, a crushed aorta. Poor guy was still in a medically induced coma.
Broken backs, busted jaws, and battered bodies, you name it, I’d seen it.
“You okay?” the petite blonde asked. “You look like someone died.”
“Sorry,” I said with a small shake of my head. “Few things on my mind. You’re coming back to the main house with me, getting in my truck, and going to town.”
She lowered my shirt from her forehead. The blood had congealed, but unless she wanted a scar on her pretty face, she’d need a doctor to sew it up.
“I said no. Don’t you know what’ll happen if I go into town? Don’t you know who I am?”
“Can’t say I do.”
She didn’t look convinced. “I’m Montana Chambers. Haven’t you ever heard Don’t Get Mad, Get Madder, or Heart Stompin’ Boots? Your aunt didn’t tell you about me?”
I shook my head.
“You listen to the radio?”
“You’re a singer?”
“Sort of.”
“So you’re not a singer?”
“It’s complicated.”
“You’re either a singer or you’re not. Which is it?”
She blew out a loud, frustrated breath. “Are you always this exasperating? I can’t believe Tricia didn’t fill you in about me. I used to live with Colt. I walked out on him. Broke his heart.”
“The only thing she said was that she had a pain in the ass guest in cabin ten who refused to move out.” I shrugged a shoulder and grinned. “But now that you mention it, I do recall her saying something to my mom a while back about a no-good country singing ho-bag who’d treated Colt like a doormat.”
“I would be the ho-bag.” She crossed her arms over her huge rack and scowled. “I can’t go anywhere people might recognize me. They’ll sell stories. If the paparazzi gets wind of where I am, I’ll have no choice but to leave.” She scrutinized my face, then clicked her fingers. “Oh, now I get it. Did Tricia put you up to this? Is this her way of getting me out of her hair?”
The corners of my lips twitched. She was all kinds of crazy. Lucky for her, I liked crazy.
“Nobody put me up to anything. I don’t know who you are or why you’re hellbent on not getting help. What I do know is you’re hurt and you need to get those cuts and your ankle looked at.”
She pushed herself off the ground and winced. She wobbled slightly, and I wrapped my hand around her bicep to hold her steady. My dick stirred, and my mind immediately went to images of getting her naked and fucking her senseless.
She looked at me oddly. Maybe she’d imagined the same things I had.
“If I agree to go with you, and that’s a big if, you’ll have to sneak me in the back then sneak me out. I can just imagine the headlines if I’m spotted: Montana’s Meltdown, Part II. Montana’s Madness-her freefall to rock bottom.”
“You have more than a few screws loose, don’t you? You really think someone at Shady Peaks clinic is waiting for you to show your face so they can sell stories?”
“There are assholes everywhere trying to make money at my expense.”
I helped her onto Winston’s back, and, not wanting to invade her space by getting on behind her, I took the reins and began to lead the horse back to the main house. I wouldn’t have minded pressing my thighs against hers and feeling her ass between my legs, but forcing myself on someone wasn’t my style.
“Why don’t you hop on up behind me, cowboy?”
“Didn’t want to seem impolite. You don’t know me from Adam.”
“I’d feel safer if you were holding on to me. I’ll crack my head open if I fall from up here, and I’m cracked enough as it is.”
“You won’t hear me say no.” I stopped Winston and climbed on. My thighs gripped the outside of hers. Her ass nestled nicely against my crotch, and my cock perked up at her closeness. If she inched back, she’d feel something much harder than my belt buckle.
“Why are you hiding out here?” I asked, doing my best to take my mind off the sweet scent of her hair and perfume.
“Google it,” she said on a sigh. “There are posts galore about what happened.”
“I’m not much for the internet. Why don’t you tell me?”
For a long moment, she didn’t speak, but finally said, “For a while, I was the most played singer on country music radio, but then I did something unforgivable.”
“Did you kill someone?”
“Nope.”
“Did you stab someone?”
She gave her head a small shake.
“Did you kidnap a man and use him for sexual favors?”
“Didn’t do that either.”
“Well, it can’t be all that bad, can it?”
“In the grand scheme of things, no, but...”
“Go on,” I encouraged.
“I was drunk, but I still swear my drink was spiked. My fans mean everything to me, and I’d never do anything to hurt them on purpose. I ripped up some posters two little girls had made for me. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I screamed in their faces. One of their moms caught it all on video.”
I let out a low whistle. “Man. If someone on the rodeo circuit did that, their career would be over no matter how popular or talented they were. Biting the hand that feeds you is akin to killing someone.”
“That’s why I think someone dropped something
