Fully expecting a messy space with clothes and guy stuff everywhere, the room was surprisingly neat.
“Which bed is yours, Tate?” Kenzie asked as the bellman helped Tate to his feet. He pointed to the one closest to the door. Kenzie hurried to fold back the covers and turn down the sheet then glanced at Tate’s dirt-covered clothes. For one night, it wouldn’t really matter if he went to bed dirty, she tried not to think about the grime in his hair and coating his jeans.
Using what little strength his legs had, Tate slid onto the bed and would have continued to the floor if Kenzie hadn’t grabbed his good arm and held him upright.
“Come on, cowboy, stay with me just a little longer,” she said, watching sweat break out on his upper lip and trickle along his forehead as he tried to scoot further back on the mattress.
“Can I get anything, miss?” the bellman asked, helping settle Tate on the bed.
“Ice. Can you please get us some ice? And maybe a stack of hand towels?” Kenzie asked over her shoulder, dropping her purse on Cort’s bed.
She turned back to Tate and divested him of his hat and boots. Carefully removing his shirt, she looked at the variety of bruises beginning to discolor his skin. A large one on his side marked the spot of his cracked ribs. Every breath Tate breathed, every movement he made had to hurt.
Tate collapsed against the pillows, groaned and swallowed hard, looking like he was about to be ill. Kenzie rushed into the bathroom and got him a glass of water along with a damp washcloth.
Gingerly, she held up his head while he took a drink then wiped his face with the cloth.
Cort arrived, followed by the bellman carrying a bucket of ice and towels as well as some resealable plastic bags.
“I thought these might be helpful,” he said, handing her the bags and setting the ice and towels on the stand by the bed.
“Thank you so much.” Kenzie began digging in her purse for a tip, but Cort paid the man then asked him to make sure they had the wheelchair available for Tate to use bright and early in the morning.
When the bellman left, Cort walked over to the bed. “The doc said to give him another dose of meds then let him sleep.” Cort refilled Tate’s glass and held his head while Kenzie shook out pills and put them in Tate’s mouth. He drank enough water to swallow then seemed to lose consciousness.
“I hate to ask this, Kenzie, but I’ve got to go to the awards ceremony.” Cort offered her an imploring look. “Can you stay with him awhile? I promise I’ll hurry.”
“It’s fine, Cort. I know you need to go.” She smiled at Tate’s faithful friend. “Go on and don’t worry about us. With the way he’s out of it, I’m sure things will be quiet until you get back.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all.” She eyed Cort’s dirt-streaked pants and shirt. “You might want to change, though.”
“Good idea.” Cort rummaged through a suitcase then took clothes into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Kenzie heard the shower running and Cort emerged a few minutes later in clean clothes, toweling the last of the water from his hair. “I’ll be back as quick as I can.”
“I know you will.” Kenzie tipped her head at him and grinned. “Have fun, just don’t enjoy yourself too much.”
Cort laughed and finger-combed his black hair, settling his hat on his head and pulling on a pair of polished boots. “I really will hurry back as soon as I can.” He tossed a concerned look Tate’s direction before hurrying out the door.
“Well, cowboy, looks like it’s just me and you.” Kenzie removed Tate’s sling so he could rest more comfortably. She stepped into the bathroom and ran hot water over the cloth she’d used earlier on his face. Quietly returning to the bed, she sponged off his exposed skin, wiping away dirt and sweat. She started with his head and worked until his hair was clean then continued down his neck, across his shoulders and along his chest to his jeans. Tate would rest more comfortably without them on, but she refused to be the one to remove them.
She did unfasten his belt buckle, hoping it made him a little more comfortable. After spreading open the ripped leg of his jeans, she wiped the skin of his hard thigh down to his shin, then removed both his socks and wiped his feet.
A wry grin curved her lips upward as she stared at the ruined jeans. It was a shame to see them destroyed when they fit Tate to perfection.
Hurriedly slamming the brakes on her thoughts before they drifted somewhere she didn’t want them to go, she grabbed extra pillows off the closet shelf and placed them beneath Tate’s arm and knee. After filling resealable bags with ice, she covered Tate’s skin with hand towels then gently set the ice against his ribs and knee.
The next hour was spent getting Tate a ticket on her flight and arranging details to ensure his travel would be as painless as possible.
Not knowing what else to do, she sat down in the one armchair in the room and grabbed the TV remote. She muted the volume and flipped through the channels until she came across a news report showing Tate’s ride. The crash looked even worse on television. She sent a prayer heavenward, grateful he was still alive with relatively minor injuries.
Exhaustion overtook her. Her eyes wouldn’t stay open so she decided to rest them for just a minute. The next thing she knew, Cort stood over her, grinning.
“Told you I’d hurry,” he said, glancing at the clock. He’d been gone less than two hours and part of that time was fighting his way through traffic then escaping a group of ardent admirers.
“How’s he doing?” Cort gave Kenzie a hand as she got out of the chair and walked closer to Tate’s bed.
“He’s been asleep since you left,” she said, running a hand over Tate’s head. He looked peaceful as he slept. The pills the doctor gave him really knocked him out, which was probably for the best.
“Looks like you cleaned him up.” Cort observed Tate no longer looked or smelled as if he’d wallowed in the dirt. “Too bad he wasn’t awake to enjoy his sponge bath.”
Kenzie flushed as she picked up her purse, glaring narrowly at Cort.
“I’ll keep watch over him tonight. Do you want me to run you over to your hotel?” Cort asked as she stepped closer to the door.
“No. I can walk. It’s just across the street.” Kenzie gave Tate one last glance. “I’ll leave putting on his jammies to you.” Kenzie shot Cort a sassy grin.
He chuckled and shook his head. “Party pooper.”
Swiftly slinging the strap of her purse over her shoulder, Kenzie laughed and opened the door. “I’ll be ready to go at four if you can pick me up so I don’t have to drag my luggage through traffic.”
“I’ll be there. You sure you don’t want me to walk you back to your room?” Cort wasn’t convinced she should be out alone that late at night.
“I’ve got pepper spray and I know how to use it. I’ll let you know when I get to my room. If you don’t hear from me in fifteen minutes, tell Tate I left him the pink tote bag in my will.”
Cort chuckled again and waved as she walked down the hall and stepped into the elevator. Kenzie hurried through the lobby and across the street. She was safely in her room in less than ten minutes. Quickly calling Cort, she let him know she was fine, and then responded to a call from her boss. He wanted to make sure Tate was going to be okay.
Thanking him for his concern, she climbed into bed exhausted and set her alarm for three-thirty, giving herself just a few hours to sleep.
She stepped outside the hotel at four the next morning as Cort pulled up to the curb. He hustled around his pickup, placed her luggage in the back seat of his truck then held the door for her.
Since she was officially off duty from work and traveling with a wounded man who needed care, she decided to forgo wearing her traditional suit. Instead, she donned jeans, boots, and a soft cream-colored sweater.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Cort asked as he drove across the street to his hotel.
She eyed him a moment then offered a reassuring sm
ile. “I promise to get Tate home in one piece. I know things between us have been… um…” Kenzie struggled to find the right words and finally gave up. “Really, it’ll be just fine.”
“I’m not worried about you taking care of him,” Cort said, winding through the parking lot to the front entrance. “I’m more worried about him being impossible to handle and making you want to parachute from the plane. He’s not the most fun guy on the planet to be around when he’s injured or sick.”
Kenzie laughed and relaxed against the seat. “I can handle it.” She hoped that would prove to be true since her experience in care giving derived from handling cranky, out-of-sorts women, and not angry, disgruntled men.
After entering the room Tate shared with Cort, she watched as he opened his eyes when the door shut behind them.
“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked, groggy and not quite awake. He tried to pull his thoughts together, to recall what happened the previous evening, and think of the reason why Kenzie was with Cort in their hotel room.
Suddenly remembering the horse falling on him, he sucked in a breath that made pain wash over him from his aching head to his throbbing knee.
“No worries, man. Your ol’ buddy Cort is on top of things.” With a forced brightness, Cort smiled at his friend. “Let’s get you up and dressed.”
“What’re you doing here?” Tate turned his attention to Kenzie, noting she looked fresh and pretty for it being so early in the morning. A glance at the clock confirmed that it was barely past four.
“Helping,” was Kenzie’s short reply as Cort motioned for her to turn on the bathroom light.
“Why are you both up so early? Aren’t we leaving closer to noon, Cort?” Tate asked, sure he hadn’t forgotten their departure time. He groaned as Cort helped him sit up then noticed he still wore a pair of dirty, torn jeans.
“Yeah, well, some plans had to be made and um…” Cort hesitated to share the rest of the details with Tate because he knew his friend would balk at the plans.
Kenzie waited for Cort to tell Tate he was traveling with her, but the coward stared at the floor as if it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.
“Oh, good grief,” she said, stepping next to the bed and planting her hands on her hips. “You’re flying home with me this morning, cowboy, so you better get a move on. We’ve got an early flight to catch.”
Maintaining her bravado, even at the stunned look on Tate’s face, Kenzie pointed to the suitcases across the room. “Help him get dressed. I’ll be back in a minute.” She snatched his room key off the desk and marched out the door.
Tate watched her leave the room with his mouth hanging half-open. He tried to stop the spinning in his head as Cort helped him out of bed and into the bathroom. They were both bad-tempered before Tate was satisfied he looked presentable.
“I need to pack my stuff,” Tate growled as Cort assisted him back to the bed. He sat on the edge while Cort helped him put on his boots, since he couldn’t bend over without gasping in pain.
“I’ve already got your stuff packed and ready to go,” Cort said, not making eye contact with Tate. “You really should be grateful Kenzie is willing to travel with you. Between your cheerful attitude and delightful smell, this isn’t exactly going to be a walk in the park for her, you know.”
Tate shot Cort a cold glare. Smart aleck comments from the peanut gallery were unwanted and unwelcome. He just wanted to be home where he could lick his wounds in peace.
“Did you get all my gear?” Tate asked as Kenzie tapped on the door and walked in pushing a wheelchair.
“Yep. It’s all in my truck.” Cort packed the last of Tate’s belongings in his suitcase then gathered his own things. He’d taken their bags of gear to his truck when he went to get Kenzie, now he just had to get Tate and the suitcases loaded.
After settling Tate in the wheelchair, Kenzie took the handles, pushing it out the door while Cort lugged the suitcases and two smaller duffle bags. Once Tate was situated and the suitcases loaded in his truck, he ran inside to the front desk and checked them both out of the room, returning the wheelchair.
Tate sat in stony silence next to Kenzie on the truck’s front seat. She did her best not to be intimidated by the trip ahead or the sullen man beside her.
Cort slid behind the wheel, looking around her at Tate’s dour expression. “He’s still grumpy, but at least he shouldn’t embarrass you too badly on the way home.” He gave Kenzie a teasing smile.
At Tate’s narrowed look, Cort and Kenzie both laughed, trying to ease the tension.
Unable to find anything to laugh about, Tate frowned. Rather than indulging in a pity party on his way home, he would have to put some effort into trying to be a tolerable traveling companion for Kenzie.
Irritated they made plans without his consent, he was grudgingly grateful to be going home sooner rather than later. He just wished he wasn’t traveling with Kenzie. Appearing weak and helpless wasn’t exactly how he planned to woo his way back into her good graces.
At the airport, they pulled up at the outdoor ticket counter to find a wheelchair waiting along with an attendant to see them to their gate.
“Thanks for everything, man.” Tate stuck out his hand to Cort once he sat in the wheelchair.
“Anytime, Tater.” Cort leaned down to whisper to his friend while Kenzie spoke with the ticket agent. “Be good to Kenzie and don’t give her too much sass. She didn’t have to be your personal nurse or make arrangements for you to fly home with her.”
“I know,” Tate said quietly while Kenzie finished checking their luggage and getting their boarding passes. “I’ll do my best to behave.”
“See that you do.” Cort winked at Kenzie as she turned to study the two men.
Both very handsome in their own way, the one in the wheelchair had the ability to make her knees feel like jelly and her stomach flutter wildly.
Cort placed a hand on Tate’s shoulder. “I’ll check in with you later and make sure you made it home in one piece.”
“Thanks again, bro,” Tate said to Cort as Kenzie gave him a parting hug.
“Take care of my travel partner,” Cort said as he returned her embrace. “We’ve got to come back stronger than ever next year, you know.”
“I know.” Aware of how driven the two rodeo cowboys were to take titles next year, she smiled warmly. “Safe travels home, Cort.”
“Thanks.” He tipped his hat to her then climbed back in his truck and drove off.
“I think we’re ready to roll,” Kenzie said to the attendant who would push Tate’s wheelchair to the gate.
Kenzie paid to upgrade to priority screening. They breezed through the security line and were soon at their gate with plenty of time to board.
“Do you need any further assistance, ma’am?” the attendant asked as Kenzie took a seat next to Tate’s wheelchair.
“I think I can get it from here. Thank you.” She tipped the attendant and sent him off with a smile. When she turned to Tate, fatigue rimmed his eyes and pain rode the tense line of his jaw. “Would you like something to eat or drink? Coffee or a bagel? Anything?”
“Tea would be great, Dewdrop. I don’t think my stomach is up to coffee this morning.” All he wanted was to fall into his own bed and sleep for hours on end, but he mustered a smile. “If you promise you won’t tell anyone I ate a bagel, just a plain one would be good.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Kenzie whispered confidentially. She dug around in her bag, searching for her wallet but looked up as Tate waved a twenty-dollar bill in her face.
“Let me buy breakfast, please.” He held the bill out to her. “It’s the least I can do after being such a burden to you today.”
“Let’s get one thing straight right now, cowboy.” Kenzie took the money while giving him a look that made him open his eyes a little wider. “You aren’t a burden, or an inconvenience, or whatever else you’ve convinced yourself you are. Let’s just say it’s a friend helping a friend and l
eave it at that. If the boot was on the other foot, would you help me get home?”
“Of course, but…”
Kenzie cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand as she got to her feet. “No buts. No arguments. Just sit there and try to stay out of trouble until I get back.”
Tate looked up at her and nodded his head, swallowing his wounded pride.
It took her almost twenty minutes to purchase mint tea, bagels, and bananas. Kenzie tamped down her annoyance when she returned to the gate to find three inappropriately attired women surrounding Tate, chatting away.
From the ashen tone of his skin, Kenzie could see him fighting both exhaustion and pain, but the women didn’t appear to have a clue.
“How nice of you ladies to keep Tate company while I was gone.” In her sweetest tone of voice, she broke up the circle they made around him. “He’s a little worn out from his adventure yesterday, so I hope you’ll excuse him while he has some breakfast and prepares for his flight.”
Kenzie somehow managed to set the box holding their breakfast on Tate’s lap, escort the women away from him, and send them off with a friendly wave before he even realized what happened.
“Can’t seem to stay away from the floozies, can you?” Kenzie took the box of food and handed Tate a plain bagel, sliced open and toasted.
“It’s not like I invited them over here.” Tate bit into his bagel, willing his stomach to settle down before the flight. The doctor gave him some medicine to take after he ate that would cut the pain. He hoped it kicked in before they boarded because he was ready to crawl into a hole and die. The parts of his body that didn’t ache pounded with acute, sharp pain.
“I suppose not.” She sipped her tea.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked sharply, stopping his bite of bagel halfway to his mouth.
“It means that no matter where you go women like them are always going to be fawning over you.” As much as she wanted to ignore their existence, seeing them with Tate really got to her. How could they have a relationship when she would constantly be worried about women chasing after him?
The Christmas Cowboy: (Sweet Western Holiday Romance) (Rodeo Romance Book 1) Page 13