Free Bucked by Cat Johnson

ma’am.”
    Recuperation on his mama’s couch hadn’t been as bad as Mustang anticipated so far. Then again, he’d only been released from the hospital for a few hours and his father hadn’t gotten home from work yet. He glanced at his watch. He still had another hour or so of peace and quiet. He intended on taking advantage of it.
    He’d barely closed his eyes for a little mid-afternoon snooze when there was a light tap on the back door followed by a voice Mustang recognized immediately greeting his mother.
    “Can I get you something to drink, darlin’?”
    “No, thank you, Mrs. Jackson.”
    “You let me know if you change your mind. Michael’s right inside.”
    “Thank you, ma’am.”
    Smiling, he waited for her to come around the corner from the kitchen and when she did, his grin got wider.
    “Hey there, Little Bit.” Damn she looked good in that blue dress. Mustang’s ass was dragging after the surgery, but now she was in the room he felt wide awake.
    “How are you feeling?” She kept her voice low, he supposed in deference to his recuperation.
    “I’m good.” Even better now that she was there.
    “You don’t have a cast on?” Perched on the edge of the chair next to the couch, she eyed his bandaged arm in the sling.
    “Nope. The steel plate or whatever kind of space-age metal they put in me does the job of the cast. I just need the ace bandages and sling for the next few months or so to support it.” Hopefully she’d keep visiting regularly and make those months more bearable. “I have to go back in a week and get the staples yanked out of the incision though.”
    She cringed. Apparently she felt about staples the way he felt about needles. “You know, if you need a ride anywhere while you’re here, just give me a call. I’d be happy to drive you wherever you need me to.”
    He pulled his eyes away from where the neckline of her dress had gaped so he could just see the lacey edge of her bra. “I think I might take you up on that offer.”
    Sure the doc had said he could drive himself, but having Sage drive him would sure be nice, especially if she was wearing that little number she had on now.
    “Okay. Great. I’ll give you my cell-phone number.” She grabbed the pen from the table where his mother had left it after they’d done the crossword puzzle in the paper together and looked around for something to write on.
    Mustang felt in his jeans pocket and came out with a fuel receipt from when he’d filled up on the highway between Trenton and Magnolia. Had it only been a few days ago that he’d left the circuit and headed home? It felt like a million years, though spending time with his father always felt like that.
    He handed the small scrap of paper to her. She jotted down her number and then gave it back to him. Perhaps having that new cell phone wasn’t such a bad thing after all. He’d program her number right in, if he could figure out how.
    “Thank you, Little Bit.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”
    “Nope.” He grinned. If she only knew she had been starring in his painkiller-induced daydreams ever since their meal together.
    “Hmm. Maybe I should start calling you Michael again then.”
    Mustang laughed. “Darlin’, you can call me whatever you want.”

    That offer came out a bit more flirty than it should have considering he’d decided Sage would be off-limits while he was home.
    Although, what harm could a little innocent flirting do?
    One dark eyebrow shot up. “I’ll remember that.”
    “I hope you do.” Damn, she could go from innocent to vixen at the drop of a hat. He liked it. Mustang wondered briefly what she’d call him, what terms of endearment she’d use with him in bed. His conscience poked at him. Sage was off-limits.
    “I found the video on the Internet from when you broke your arm.” Luckily, she changed the subject to safe territory. She touched his good arm lightly. “I’m sorry. I know you’re out of