Page 23 of Take Me Please, Cowboy (The Calhouns & Campbells of Cold Canyon Ranch #1)

Ansley waited, wanting to give him space, but when she went to bed, she felt puzzled, and hurt. He’d promised to call. Had he broken his phone? Had his truck broken down again? What had happened?

*

One minute, Rye was on the Eureka Fire Department’s roof and the next he was flying through the air. Rye only had a split second to react before he slammed to the ground, hurtling himself forward trying to create a ball to protect his back. He hit the ground hard, knocking the air out of him.

Rye never lost consciousness, so he heard the shouts around him.

It took a moment to catch his breath, but he knew almost immediately he’d broken something.

Or somethings. The pain was severe. It was a similar pain to what he’d felt when he’d broken his shoulder a couple of years ago, only this was hotter, more brutal, and throbbing in more places.

Because he’d been at the fire department, one of the volunteer paramedics raced out to help while another one got the gurney from their ambulance.

During the drive to the hospital, Rye created a mental list of things he’d need to do—alert his insurance, let his family know, take a look at his schedule and see what upcoming jobs needed to be shuffled or rescheduled, and then there were three upcoming rodeos he’d have to withdraw from.

And then there was Ansley. He’d have to tell her, he supposed, but didn’t want to. She’d worry, and she had enough on her plate.

There was also the lost revenue. The new bills, too, as his insurance wouldn’t cover all the hospital costs.

Rye wasn’t happy. It was terrible timing with winter coming.

The roofing business slowed down considerably during the coldest months.

Of course, they tried to work all year long.

But there were some weeks where the weather was just too bad and surfaces too icy to get his guys outside, never mind on a steep, slick roof.

Twelve hours later, Rye woke up for a second time. He was still in the hospital, still recovering, the surgery having been lengthy due to bones in his shoulder and arm being fragmented, and fear that the fragments would damage the nerves, ligaments, arteries, and veins in his arm.

In saving his back, he’d done a number on his arm.

The doctor was concerned that Rye would lose some function, but Rye wasn’t worried about that.

He’d recover. He’d always recover. A broken arm was nothing, even if he’d broken it in three places.

He just needed to recover soon so he could get back to work.

Josie and Hannah came to see him together in the morning. Hannah perched on the edge of the chair while Josie sat on the foot of his bed, both sisters watching him with wide solemn eyes.

“Stop with those faces,” he said dryly. “The world hasn’t ended. It’s just a broken arm.”

“And shoulder,” Josie said.

“It’s serious,” Hannah answered. “I’ve been discussing your injury with your nurse. She said you were in surgery for hours.”

Rye tried to shrug but it sent pain washing through him. “But I’m here and as you can see, I’m fine.”

“Mom is planning on coming later,” Josie said.

“Tell her she doesn’t need to,” he answered.

“You tell her,” Hannah said.

He made a face at her. “Find my phone and I will.”

Josie sat taller. “What’s happened to your phone?”

“I don’t know. It was on me when I was on the roof. Don’t know where it is now.”

“I’ll find it,” Josie volunteered. “Because you’ll want it. They said you’re going to be here until at least tomorrow.”

Hannah glanced at the whiteboard across from his bed where his vitals and medicine were written down. “Or longer.”

“I’ll be home tomorrow,” Rye predicted. “You’ll see. But I wouldn’t mind the phone. I’ve calls to make.”

Josie found his phone, locating it in the bushes at the fire station, and brought Rye’s charger from his trailer, handing over both to her brother at the hospital before leaving Rye with a kiss on his cheek so she could make her classes at the community college in Kalispell.

Alone, Rye scrolled through his phone’s messages and voice mails. Work calls, a text from one of his cowboy friends, a call from Ansley, and a number of brief texts.

Hey, you okay?

Hope you’re alright.

Are you in Idaho?

Rye, are you mad at me?

His chest, with ribs bruised from the fall, hurt as he drew a deep breath. He needed to tell her, but he also needed to tell her the truth.

This wasn’t working between them. It wasn’t the right thing for him, and it was time he made the break.

Rye didn’t blame her, though. He blamed himself. He should have been better about boundaries and sticking with his initial decision.

The whole accident on the roof—that was because he’d become careless.

He’d become absent-minded. He’d lost focus and failed to concentrate.

Again, Rye couldn’t blame Ansley because she didn’t know how much of a distraction she was, and she couldn’t know that she intruded into his thoughts and life constantly.

He hadn’t been thinking about work when he slipped on the roof.

He’d been thinking about her. He’d been thinking about how and where they could possibly meet up, wondering if she could break free from the Campbell ranch to meet him somewhere off the I-15.

And because he’d been so caught up in the fantasy, he’d failed to take the necessary safety precautions, and then slipped and fell, just as his dad had slipped and fallen.

Thank goodness Rye had rolled, landing on his shoulder and arm rather than his back or his head.

But it was the same shoulder he’d injured before and it was as his doctor said, a season-ending break, possibly career ending.

Personally, Rye didn’t believe that. With new screws and plates, he’d heal and be as good as new, but it would take time and until then he had to stay off ladders and roofs, horses, and bulls.

For the next few months, he had to keep his feet on the ground and his head down. Time to be practical.

Which meant, he had to stop the madness. Had to regain control over his heart and head.

He knew his life, knew what he could handle, knew when he was beaten.

Ansley was too great of a distraction. She was too beautiful, too appealing, too challenging, too smart, too creative, too fascinating.

She was too much of everything, and he found her impossible to resist. He’d loved and hated talking to her this past week.

He’d loved and hated hearing her voice and seeing her texts.

She made him feel so much. She made him feel so intensely that he lost focus. He lost perspective.

He didn’t want to hurt her, and he didn’t want her sad. He was doing his best to take care of her but how could he take care of her, when he couldn’t even care for himself? He was a mess. A certified, bona fide disaster. He had to cut the communication once and for all.

One day she’d thank him. One day she’d realize he’d saved her from a lifetime of disappointment and sacrifice.

Bracing the phone against the pillow supporting his left arm, Rye carefully typed a text to Ansley.

Sorry to have been out of touch so long.

I took a fall at work and needed some surgery.

I’m going to be fine but it’s ended the rodeo season.

I won’t be doing any more traveling until spring.

I think it’s also the right time to step back and make a clean break.

You know I’ll always be your fan. Take care, Ansley.

He hit send, and after a moment of feeling the most ridiculous lance of pain, not in his shoulder or arm, but in the center of his chest, he blocked her number so the break was complete.