Page 2 of Rough Stock

His eyes widened at the woman gently touching his arm. ‘You!What are you doing here?’

‘Hello, honey.’ Isobel Callahan—Izzy—leaned back in the guest chair, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder where it fell like a sheet of shiny dark silk. Her full lips were taut and expressionless, but they were red and still the most kissable lips on any woman he’d ever met. But this ever-sweet Bee Queen was a honey trap that came with a lethal sting.

‘Nope. I am not sharing the same space as you!’ He struggled to get up, fully intending to get out of this bed, and out of this room. Again, that sharp hot pain stabbed him in the ribs, but this time his left leg demanded attention in this sweet game of excruciating tormented pain. ‘What the hell!’

‘Settle down, Craig.’ Izzy gently pushed him back onto the bed.

With gritted teeth, he forced himself to control his breathing, to fight through the searing agony of his leg, as he lay back on the hospital bed. ‘Why are you here?’

‘Apparently I’m still listed as your next of kin for emergencies.’ Izzy calmly closed the lid on her laptop. Hoisting her trouser braces higher on her shoulders, she stood and brushed down her business shirt and slacks, looking like a sexy Wall Street banker.

Her heels clicked across the floor as she headed for the door, giving him a perfect view of her high and tight arse in those tailored trousers. The suspenders criss-crossed over her back, accentuating her straight posture and strong shoulders. Izzy was the only women he knew who wore old-fashioned braces for trousers, and make it look so effortlessly sexy.

But that walk.

She still had that same hip-swinging,get-out-of-my-waywalk, on a woman who had no right to walk that way.

‘Do you want me to call the doctor?’

‘No.’ Craig wanted out. He pulled off the bedsheet, sliding the dumb hospital gown off his shoulders to expose the bandages on his body. There were way too many. ‘Izzy?’ His voice betrayed his worry.

‘Do you remember what happened?’ Izzy approached the bed. For once, she seemed concerned. But only for a moment. There was no way he’d get any pity from the ever-clever Bee Queen, Isobel Callahan. No siree. That bull had left the chute a long time ago.

‘I don’t want any lectures from you.’

‘I just asked if you could remember how you were knocked out enough for the hospital to call me.’

Sure, he’d walked into the emergency room plenty of times. You didn’t do rodeo without expecting broken bones and a ton of bruising. But this was the first time he’d been knocked out cold, to wake up to a nightmare.

Craig rubbed his temple, the only place that didn’t seem to ache. But if this kept up, he was due a headache, especially with the brunette in the same room.

‘Have you lost your memory or something?’

‘No. I remember what that bull did.’ Like he remembered the day she’d walked out on him, creating that stinging crush to his soul, the type that no man ever recovered from. ‘And I’m not letting you sue the rodeo or that bull. It was a charity event.’

‘I’m not that kind of lawyer.’ She rolled her eyes as if talking to a moron.

He knew exactly what Isobel Callahan did.

‘You didn’t have to come.’ Sliding the dumb gown back over his shoulders, he tried to sit up.

‘Slowly.’ Isobel Callahan was touching him, and tenderly, too.

It had him worried.

‘You’re lucky that bull didn’t hit any vital organs.’ She adjusted his bed so he could sit up.

‘What’s the damage? Give it to me straight.’

‘You’ve got some seriously extensive muscle and tendon damage to your left calf, which is affecting the ankle, and eight stitches in your chest where the bull gored your ribs. None of your ribs are broken, but a couple are cracked.’ Izzy sighed, shaking her head. She almost looked sympathetic, for a viper. ‘Since when do you ride bulls? You usually stick to broncs.’

‘How do you know?’

She propped one hand on her hip, giving him a single shoulder shrug. But her silent stare was enough to make anyone crumble. Normally aimed at people she’d screw over in some court witness box to get her criminal clients off scot-free, there was no way in hell she’d let him go free, not without explaining himself.

‘I did it for Charlie.’

Her gorgeous face of granite fell. She was no longer the cutthroat lawyer Isobel Callahan, but the Izzy he well remembered. ‘What happened to Charlie?’

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