Rodeo King (Dustin Lovers Book 1) by Cheryl Yeko, Char Chaffin Page B

right. She’d wasted enough tears her first time around with the
Rodeo King, and she wouldn’t shed one more damn drop. She had Carson to think
about now. Her baby was going to need her when he learned Caleb was gone.
    Yet she couldn’t help but worry. “You’re
right, Susie. But how am I going to tell Carson his daddy left us?” That
chainsaw took another swipe inside her chest.
    “Lil’ Tuff’s resilient. And he loves
you. He hasn’t known Caleb all that long. He’ll survive. He still has his
uncle. You know Mason loves him like his own son. Why do you think he’s been so
crazy since Caleb came back into town? Your brother’s scared shitless you and
Carson were going to be hurt.” Susan smiled sadly. “And unfortunately, he was
right.”
    Rosemary swallowed against the fresh
grief welling in her throat. No more tears, damn it. “Yeah.
Unfortunately.” She blew her nose a final time.
    Susan stood, placing her hands on her
slender hips. “Hey, you know what? I think we all need a vacation. How about we
head over to the lake? We could rent a cottage for the weekend. Carson would
love it.”
    Thankful to have such a wonderful friend
to help soften the pain of losing Caleb, Rosemary nodded. “I think that’s a
great idea. But I’ll need to stop by my place and pack a bag first.”

Chapter
Twelve
     
    After downing half his beer, Caleb
reached for the phone, got within a few inches of the damned thing, then
clenched his hand into a fist and pulled back, letting it fall with a thud to
the table in the kitchenette of his studio unit.
    Damn it to hell and back. He stood and moved to the window, staring out blindly at the sun-dappled
parking lot.
    Three times he’d tried calling Rosemary’s
cell. The first call had gone to voicemail. So had the second. On the third
she’d picked up, and he’d gotten out a fast, “Don’t hang up, Rosie,” before the
disconnect beep clicked in his ear.
    Stubborn, pigheaded woman.
    Caleb raked his fingers through his
hair, blowing out a harsh breath. He loved her so much he ached with it. He
also knew damned well if she didn’t want to take his calls, she wouldn’t,
regardless of how many times he hit the redial. His stomach knotted. He’d
really fucked up this time. After earning back her trust, he’d destroyed it
with one small hesitation, instead of giving her the answer she’d deserved
immediately. That he loved her and Carson, and there was no way in hell he was
leaving them. Ever.
    But you didn’t do that, dumbass.
    Yesterday, knowing he risked having the
door slammed in his face, he’d borrowed Nash’s truck and drove to her house,
hoping to talk to her. She hadn’t been there. One of the neighbors, a busybody
he remembered from his pre-rodeo days, informed him Rosemary and ‘that wild
gal-pal of hers’ had left for who-knew-where.
    Since it was the peak of summer, and
knowing Rosie, he figured they’d gone to the lake. So he’d spent several hours
trolling up and down the road along Cruller Lake, a retired gravel pit the
nearby town of Raymond had filled with water. No luck finding her car.
    He’d finally given up and driven back to
the Bronco Inn, stopping by the liquor store on the way. Damned if he’d eat his
heart out any longer. Rosemary Carmichael more than lived up to her flaming red
hair.
    Memories of those silken strands tangled
in his fingers as he kissed her, held her, made his body go tight with desire
and his heart ache with longing.
    Jesus , he missed her.
Every tiny thing about her, including her temper.
    Caleb limped back to the table and
dropped into his chair. Hanging his head, he rested his forearms on the edge of
the table, his half-empty beer no longer holding any appeal. Getting shit-faced
on suds wasn’t the answer, although a few days ago it’d seemed like a good
idea. Which was why only eleven longneck bottles of amber remained in the
fridge. He’d started with a case.
    He rubbed at both eyes, then winced.
“Son of a