Unbreak My Heart (Rough Riders Legacy #1)(3)

He hissed in a breath.

I saw his struggle, the temptation to ditch decorum and drop his gaze from my face to my ass—which was completely bared by my thong.

My ass won out.

Sucker.

And oops—I accidentally shook my ass at him as I leaned over to rest my hands on the edge of the exam table.

“Hold still,” he said tersely. He prepped the area with a cool swipe of liquid on my skin.

I clenched my cheeks together; I couldn’t help it. Better that than him believing I broke out in goose bumps from his simple touch.

“Relax,” he murmured.

Then before I fully prepared myself, he jammed it in.

A soft grunt escaped me.

He soothed me, gently curling his hand around my hip. “Just a little more.”

I knew he was dragging this out. Big surprise that the bastard got off on causing me pain. The injection site started to sting, sending electric sparks shooting beneath my skin.

“Done.”

Paper rattled and I looked over my shoulder to watch him press a circular Band-Aid over the tiny dot of blood. Then he slowly swept his hand over my butt cheek.

I felt the pure male heat of him even through the latex.

“You can get dressed,” he said without conviction or even looking at my face.

Asswipe.

I ignored him as I yanked my pants up.

Boone was still standing there when I turned around. “I’ll come find you when you’re feeling better so we can talk.”

I shook my head.

“You can’t escape the past, Sierra. More to the point, you can’t escape me. See you around, McKay.” Then he flashed that killer smile—my smile, the one he used to bestow only on me—and backed out of the room.

After that, I fled the office.

Three days later, I fled Sundance.

I told myself I wasn’t fleeing from him.

I told myself the only reason my dad let me know that Boone stopped by every day after he’d seen me at the clinic was to make sure I was over him.

I was in the clear now, with Wyoming in my rearview mirror and Arizona in my headlights.

But as the miles dragged on, I could admit that I did run from him.

I just didn’t expect Boone West to chase after me.





The first time I saw Sierra Daniels everything around me just stopped.

Time, objects and people were suspended in place as if I’d stepped into a sci-fi movie, where the hero has a moment of absolute clarity that only he experiences.

When her whiskey-hued eyes connected with mine, I knew pure joy and utter misery in equal measure.

Joy because I’d found her.

Misery because I couldn’t have her.

Not then, anyway.

I still felt that whomp in my gut every damn time I thought of it. Of her. Even now.

A horn blared, dropping me back into reality.

Traffic in Phoenix had me missing the wide-open spaces of Wyoming. Even cruising across the desert in a transport truck beat this bumper-to-bumper bullshit.

Pain shot up my forearm. I glanced down to see my knuckles were white from my death grip on the steering wheel. I uncurled my fingers and unclenched my jaw.

Breathe, man. Stay calm.

Yeah, like that was gonna happen. It’d been seven years since I’d seen her.

Seven. Years.

Technically, that wasn’t true. Sierra had shown up at the clinic in Sundance ten days ago. Our mutual shock at the unexpected run-in had been overshadowed by the fact she was so goddamned sick…

My hands tightened on the steering wheel again. It still burned my ass that she f*cking ran away from me as if I was the dirty rat responsible for infecting her with the plague.

When I’d driven out to her dad’s house the next day to check on her, Gavin Daniels refused to let me see her. While I understood his protective streak—especially given my history with his daughter—I pointed out that Sierra was an adult; he didn’t have the right to make that decision for her.

That’s when Daddy-O reiterated it had been Sierra’s decision; she wanted nothing to do with me.

A reaction I’d shrugged off and blamed on her high fever.

Justification? Or cockiness on my part?

Both. But I knew in the marrow of my bones that an apathetic woman wouldn’t have made such an edict because she wouldn’t have cared. Sierra cared.

Being a determined bastard, I’d shown up at Sierra’s house every day.

Being a stubborn McKay, she refused to see me every day.

By the third day, I recognized that even Gavin and his wife Rielle were starting to feel sorry for me. I used that to my advantage when Gavin informed me on day four that Sierra had returned to Phoenix.

My demand for her phone number garnered a “f*ck no” and the door slammed in my face.

My request for the name and address of the place she worked resulted in a detailed description of the legal definition of stalking.

My promise that I would willingly let every male member of the McKay family—notoriously bad-tempered cowboys—hog-tie me to the flagpole in the middle of town and take turns beating the ever-lovin’ f*ck out of me if I harmed a single hair on Sierra’s beautiful head had finally convinced Gavin of my sincerity.

He provided the information I wanted…after I’d signed a binding legal contract.

In blood.