by Erin Marsh
“Sounds good.” Lacey lifted her arms above her head again and bent her neck from side to side as they walked toward the elevator. “I should stretch my legs anyway.”
When they reached ground level, Clay opened the building’s exit door for Lacey. As soon as she walked into the sunshine, he noticed her wince at the bright light. Without thinking, he reached for his cowboy hat and settled it on her head. Pushing the brim back to adjust for her smaller head size, she glanced at him in surprise. He gave a sheepish smile. “I thought some shade might help.”
“It does,” she said. “Did anyone ever tell you that you are an observant man?”
Clay managed a short laugh. “People seem more inclined to point out my shortcomings, but I make a habit of paying attention to my surroundings. You need to focus on the details when you run a ranch.”
“Thanks again for accompanying me to my doctor appointments.”
Clay shrugged. “Like I’ve said before, this is partially my nephew’s fault. I figure I owe you.”
“But you could’ve just dropped me off today and picked me up tomorrow. You didn’t need to stay the whole time.”
Clay grinned broadly to hide his discomfort with her praise. “Maybe I just like waiting rooms.”
Her lips parted in a deep belly laugh, the kind shared between close friends or family members. The sound bubbled through him like an underground spring, making him feel buoyant. Lacey shook her head. “Nobody likes sitting in doctors’ offices.”
“I don’t know. They’ve got magazines, a TV, and, if you’re lucky, free coffee.”
“I think you might be mixing them up with fancy car repair shops.”
“Now those are the gold standard of waiting rooms. In fact, I’ve spent entire days in one.”
“I just bet you have,” Lacey said before she sobered. “In all seriousness, thank you. I didn’t want to drag my family with me, and I’m glad I’m not doing this alone.”
“Even if you are with a Stevens.” As soon as Clay said the words, he wished he hadn’t. Lacey’s face immediately went stony, and their fragile camaraderie shriveled up like a dead sego lily under the desert sun. But maybe it was a good thing. Neither of them could afford to get chummy. Their family histories would always lie between them, and it wasn’t good for them to lose sight of that.
“So,” Lacey said brightly, maybe too brightly, “your nephew is okay with you being gone overnight?”
Clay snorted, allowing her to change the subject. “He’s thrilled. I’m glad Bowie agreed he can stay at the zoo and watch over the wolf pups. I could’ve asked one of the ranch hands to keep an eye on him, but he’s legendary for sneaking out.”
“Bowie will keep a close watch,” Lacey said, “and I don’t think Zach would abandon Perseus and Theseus. He won’t admit it, but he’s got a soft spot for them.”
Clay glanced over at Lacey, studying her. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Get everyone to like you, including my nephew,” he said. “I’ve been trying for more than a year to get close to him—nothing works.”
“I think he’s afraid.”
“Of me?” Clay asked, unable to stop the kernel of hurt from sprouting. He’d thought they’d moved beyond Lacey seeing him as the Big Bad Wolf.
“Not precisely,” Lacey said slowly as she clearly considered her next words. “Deep down, he’s worried you’ll leave him. From what I can tell, your brother would flit in and out of his life.”
Clay understood that fear too well. Hell, he’d felt abandoned when addiction had stolen his formerly self-possessed sibling, and Greg had only been his older brother, not a parent.
“And every time his mom or grandma got too high to remember his existence, he’d lose them all over again,” he added.
“I’m not a blood relation, nor am I his guardian.” Lacey gently laid her hand on his sleeve. “Zach realizes I’m just passing through his life, so he knows there’s no risk of forming expectations that could leave him crushed.”
The heat from Lacey’s fingertips penetrated Clay’s cotton shirt, the warmth spreading through him like a bright-orange sunrise over the red-sandstone rocks. The understanding in her simple touch caused the next words to spill from him. “He’s so much like me, you would think I’d know how to reach him.”
Lacey blinked, her topaz eyes huge. “You two are alike?”
Shit. He hadn’t meant to reveal anything about his own past. In response to her question, he gave the best nonchalant shrug he could manage. “My brother and I were pretty close growing up. He was six years older than me, and our parents weren’t around too much. When he got hooked on opioids after a sports injury, I lost him too.”
Lacey stopped walking, forcing him to do the same. She reached for him. Her hand lay softly on his arm, the gesture meant to comfort, not to restrain, but it ensnared him anyway. No one had touched him like this for years, to offer simple human compassion. He had vague memories of Greg soothing him after he’d woken from a nightmare, but that had been years and years ago.
Lacey studied him, and he felt like a damn wolf pup…or a piece of particularly interesting fungus. She was trying to figure him out like an ecosystem, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it. But he didn’t pull away. Didn’t shake her off. Instead, he allowed the inspection.
To his surprise, she didn’t push further. In fact, she changed the subject. “Is there a bookstore around here?”
“Pardon?”
“A bookstore,” she repeated. “This looks like an area that might have an independent one.”
“Uh, maybe,” Clay said as he scanned the tree-lined street filled with neat storefronts built in the Italianate style that populated a lot of Western towns. “Do you want to get something to read during the appointments?”
Lacey shook her head. “You should pick up a book on Greek mythology for Zach.”
Clay waited a beat for the punch line, but she regarded him seriously, her eyes as big and solemn as a boreal owl’s.
“You’re not joking, are you?”
“No. Your nephew likes to read.”
“Zach, the kid who never does his homework and bails on school every chance he gets? That nephew?”
“Yup,” Lacey said. “He’s fascinated by ancient myths. Your brother gave him a book on Greek heroes when he was just five, and he’s been obsessed with them ever since.”
Clay shook his head, trying to make sense of the conversation. Although Greg had gotten mostly As and Bs, he’d never been particularly academic. He’d lived for soccer. If Greg would’ve bought his son any reading material, it would have been about sports. “Why’d my brother choose that?”
Once again, Lacey took her time before she said carefully, “Zach thinks it’s what your brother could shoplift from a sidewalk sale.”
“Ah.” Sadness crept through Clay…at what his brother had become, at what Zach had faced, at the entire frustrating situation. It wasn’t hard to see why his nephew would’ve clung to anything his father had given him.
“He’s smart,” Lacey said. “Part of him is embarrassed by his intelligence, but mostly I think he’s yearning for someone to recognize it.”
Clay jerked his chin as he thought about her words. He’d been messed up too when he’d arrived at his grandfather’s ranch. He’d loved nothing better than challenging authority, but it had been an attention-seeking defiance. He’d wanted someone to see him, value him. And his grandfather had. His tough love had contained an element of respect. His grandfather expected him to learn ranching and finish his chores, no matter how difficult or dirty they were. And he hadn’t let Clay weasel out of responsibility. In trying to recreate his grandfather’s lessons for Zach, maybe Clay was too focused on his own teenage experiences instead of taking the time to understand his nephew.
“I’ll see about finding a bookstor
e.” Clay reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Sure enough, he located one just a couple of blocks away. “There’s one within walking distance.”
“All right then. Let’s go.” She smiled—wide and brilliant and full of life and hope. He wanted to grab onto some of that joy, so he extended his hand without thinking. For a moment, she stared down at it. Just when he was about to withdraw, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his. A heady sensation whipped through him. The gesture was supposed to be simple, and Clay supposed that in some ways, it was. There was something honest and wholesome about a couple walking hand in hand down the street. It was as welcoming and satisfying as a big slice of warm apple pie on a crisp fall day.
Lacey’s knuckles brushed against his jeans, and he glanced down at her. She was a remarkable woman, so full of passion for the causes she cared about. But even with all her outward energy, she was observant. He supposed her job called on her to be both. Whatever the reason for her powers of perception, he was grateful for them. He needed an outsider’s view on his relationship with Zach. He certainly hadn’t been making much progress alone. And he didn’t know too many people who could’ve gotten his nephew to open up. Lacey had a way of drawing people to her, like a spring of cool, fresh water in an otherwise dry, dusty desert.
Hell, even he, her only opposition, found his fingers entwined in hers. All because he wanted a bit of her goodness in his life. For once, they weren’t enemies fighting over the wolf program. Their families’ past didn’t matter in this city. No one knew them. Here, they were just two people, strolling down the street, giving each other a little comfort.
* * *
Perseus was not pleased. Despite his most plaintive cries, his brother was getting fed first! Although Perseus generally liked the Blue-Eyed One, he did not appreciate being overlooked. True, his brother may have started complaining first, but Perseus did not care. He could smell the milk. It made him think of how delightful the sweet substance tasted and how it warmed his little belly…a little belly that was now rumbling in anticipation.
He opened his mouth and tried to make a loud demand. A rather impressive squeak came out. This pleased him, even if it did not have the desired result of a bottle being placed in his mouth. Perseus tried again. The sound sort of caught in his throat, making it longer and more drawn out. Something about making the noise seemed right, natural. But it seemed like he should be doing something more, something impressive. Perseus tried again. And again. He forgot about his hunger pains. He’d just loosened his jaw for a third time when a hand gently caught him around the middle. His big noise came out in a disappointing squawk.
“I hear you. I hear you,” the Blue-Eyed One said. “Your bottle is ready.”
Perseus smelled the delicious formula again. Noise-making forgotten, he clamped his lips around the rubber nipple and suckled. Excited by the taste, he paddled his paws. The Blue-Eyed One chuckled. Perseus liked the sound. It made him feel safe.
“It’s a good thing you’re still so little or you could do some serious damage with those claws. You have a good shredding motion.”
Perseus’s stomach began to feel wonderfully full. He loved the sensation. When he finished his bottle, the human laid him down next to his brother and the nice warm rodent. Perseus enjoyed snuggling against her. It made him happy and content. Even her huge sighs relaxed him. They seemed to whoosh through him too, making everything settle inside him. They were a pack—Perseus, his brother, Sylvia, and their human caretakers.
Just then, the Blue-Eyed One sat down across from him. He opened a paper-filled object on his lap and began to emit a steady stream of noise as his eyes slowly scanned back and forth. Perseus’s eyes had almost drifted closed when he spotted a white-and-black creature entering the room. The newcomer stared at the biped for a moment before he too curled into a ball. It seemed he also liked the rise and fall of the human’s voice. A few moments later, the Blue-Eyed One paused, his gaze landing on the interloper for the first time. The human looked startled, but then he gave a nod and returned to making the calming noises. Cocooned in comfort, Perseus faded into sleep.
* * *
Waves of light-headedness crashed into Lacey. It didn’t help that a band of pressure dug into the left side of her head. It wasn’t a particularly severe headache, but she’d had it since they’d left the bookstore. The fluorescent lights and rows and rows of paperbacks crammed into a tight space had triggered a dull ache. The pain had only worsened while she was in the waiting room at the doctor’s office. Now, all she wanted was a soft bed and soothing blackness.
“You’re really pale,” Clay said as they rode the hotel elevator to their floor.
Lacey responded with a weak smile, not wanting to complain.
“Maybe we shouldn’t go out for dinner,” Clay said. “I can bring some food to your room. And I swear that’s not a line.”
She laughed softly. “I didn’t take it as one. Your suggestion sounds perfect. Thank you.”
“Okay,” Clay said as the elevator door opened, and they both stepped out into the hallway. “I’ll just drop your bag off at your room first, and then I’ll find us some grub.”
“All right, cowboy.”
At her comment, Clay’s sculptured lips spread into a wide grin. A flicker of excitement started in her belly and then roared through her like a swollen river during a flash flood. When Clay spoke, his voice was husky and as smooth as top-shelf liquor. It was a voice a woman could get drunk on. “You know, that’s the first time someone’s called me that. I kind of like it.”
If his reaction was going to be like this every time she called him cowboy, Lacey kind of liked it too. Clay’s eyes darkened into a blue-green as rich and as stunning as a Yellowstone hot spring. Lacey sucked in her breath as he leaned closer. The memory of their last kiss flickered to life, and she could almost feel his warm lips against hers. Her eyelids had just started to flutter downward when Clay pulled back. Her momentary sense of rejection fled when she saw the deep blue hue of his irises. He wanted the kiss too.
“Get some rest,” he told her gruffly. He gave her a half smile before he opened her door and laid her bag on one of the beds. Handing her the room key, he turned and headed back down the hallway. As soon as he disappeared around the corner, the air whooshed from Lacey…and so did the welcome sense of excitement.
She didn’t even bother turning on the lights when she entered the room. She just strolled over to the nearest bed and collapsed. Despite the solid mattress under her, the world seemed off-kilter. To her horror, tears of frustration stung the backs of her eyes. She wanted to cry out and pound her fists against the pillows, but she’d learned long ago that railing against the unchangeable accomplished nothing.
Sleep, unfortunately, evaded her. She would’ve turned on the TV, but she knew from past experience that its glow would only increase her symptoms. Finally, she heard a knock. Climbing from the bed, she walked over to the peephole. She saw Clay standing there with a large paper bag in one hand and a six-pack of ginger ale in the other. When she opened the door, he lifted the cans and gave her a devastating smile. “I feel like a G-rated version of a college student on spring break, but this stuff might settle your stomach.”
“How’d you know I was a little nauseated?” She’d purposely kept herself from grousing.
“My brother’s concussions gave him a sour stomach. Ginger tea works too.”
She reached for one of the cans. As soon as her fingers closed around the cool aluminum, she had a sudden urge to press the chilled surface against her throbbing head. Sending Clay a sideways glance, she decided he wouldn’t judge her, and she gave in to temptation. He laughed, the sound warm. “Not exactly what I intended, but hey, that works too.”
Lacey realized she didn’t want to be alone in the dark. She wanted companionship. More specifically, she wanted Clay. She shuffled a few steps into the hotel room, giving
him space to enter. “Why don’t you come in? We can eat together.”
“Are you sure you’re up to it? You don’t need to feel obligated. I’m fine eating alone.”
Lacey would’ve nodded, but she was beginning to train herself not to. Instead, she said, “I’d like the company, as long as you’re okay eating in low light.”
“Works for me.”
She padded into the room and opened the drapes halfway. Natural light always seemed better than artificial, and luckily the sun had started its retreat below the horizon. Clay laid the food on the small table, and she moved the desk chair over.
As they ate, she began to feel better. Slowly, the pressures of the day receded along with the worst of her symptoms. The food gave her energy…and so did Clay’s presence.
The hotel room only had a small desk pushed against the wall, which forced her and Clay to crowd next to each other. His thigh pressed against hers, sending a welcome warmth through her body along with a whisper of anticipation. Trying her best to ignore the giddiness his closeness triggered, she tried to think of an innocuous discussion to distract her and asked him about his plans for the ranch.
Placing his burger down, he leaned back in his chair. Lacey tried not to notice how the movement caused the cotton of his shirt to pull over his muscles. She purposely shifted her focus to his words. “We’ve used controlled burns to get rid of the woody plants and invasive species. Some of the natural grasses are returning.”
“Have you tried transplanting?” This was a good conversation. Safe. Scientific. And decidedly not romantic.
“Some. I planted alkali sacaton plants,” Clay said.
“Not a bad choice,” Lacey said between bites of fries. “Since the native animals don’t typically eat it, that’ll leave more for your cattle.”
“I’m trying to introduce ellisiana prickly pear.”
Intrigued, Lacey straightened as he mentioned the spineless variety of the cactus. She’d read about ranchers, especially in Texas and New Mexico, using the nopal for fodder. Unfortunately, her response caused her body to brush against his, causing an altogether different interest to ripple through her. Ignoring it, she resolutely stuck to their conversation. “Are you planning for the cows to graze on it?”