The Strong, Silent Type

by Jule McBride

  “I can manage by myself.” His words were succinct, coming through clenched teeth.

  “You’re hurt.”

  “Nothing’s broken.”

  My heart, she thought, looking into his eyes.

  “I don’t need any help,” he said again.

  “I’m sure you don’t,” she retorted, feeling an undeniable rush of anger. Lowering her voice, she continued, “You’ve apparently been managing by yourself for the past year and a half.”

  He pretended not to hear. “What?”

  “You heard me.” As much as she wanted to, she didn’t withdraw her hand. God help her, but she wanted to touch him. Needed to.

  And yet, as her palm nervously settled over the soft cotton of his shirt, she expected to feel something... more familiar—maybe old, well-worn memories of how his waist felt against her palm, of how her side brushed his. But she only experienced an electric leap of her pulse, the flooding of warmth and excitement at touching him. Even worse, his sheer unresponsiveness tweaked something deep within her, challenging her so much that her heart thudded hard against her ribs. And yet, what if she was wrong, and this wasn’t really Dylan?

  She was about to try asking him again when a coworker appeared. “Didn’t think you were working tonight, Alice,” the other nurse said, her eyes curious. “I thought you were...”

  Marrying Leland. “I’m not working.” Somehow, with her hand still settled on Dylan’s waist, Alice managed a smile. “Just down here seeing a friend.”

  The nurse’s eyes held female appreciation. “I can see.”

  So could Alice. She wished she could do something to calm the wild pulse beat in her throat. This had to be Dylan. He was the only man who could affect her this way; there was something magnetic about him that was drawing her physically closer to his side. But now, as they continued walking, she didn’t recognize his slow, almost ambling gait. Hadn’t Dylan’s walk been more purposeful, the pace faster, the strides more clipped?

  She fought against the panic and doubt twisting inside her. Lord, what if she was wrong? What if she was really taking some stranger home? And not just any stranger. But a sexy man whose penetrating, assessing gaze said, despite the circumstances that brought him to the hospital, he was no victim. Feeling another overwhelming rush of anxiety, Alice drew in a sudden sharp breath and inadvertently tightened her hand on his waist.

  He edged away.

  “You’re hurt,” she reminded him, her voice tight. Her eyes darted around, but the hallway was still too crowded for them to carry on a real conversation. So many emotions had washed over her since she’d first seen him—first shock and relief. Then fear: Why had Dylan run away? Where had he been? For so long, she’d been so steadfast in her defense of him, but now—if this was really him—he’d appeared so inexplicably. And he wasn’t talking. Soon she’d be alone with him, she reminded herself. And then he’d surely be forthcoming with the whole truth.

  She just hoped she wasn’t losing her mind. Her throat closed with foreboding as her eyes continued scrutinizing the man beside her. Dylan had always been strong, but this man’s body looked leaner and yet stronger. Muscles bunched under his clothes, straining his jeans at the thighs, pulling the shoulders of the pea coat. His smell wasn’t as she remembered, either. But maybe that was only because deeper scents—the natural oils of his skin—eluded her. He smelled clean and fresh, though, like snow in the mountains. Probably he’d been outside the ranch house for a long time, standing in the cold.

  Watching me.

  She was sure that’s what he’d been doing. He hadn’t come to the ranch looking for work as he’d claimed. She sent him another sideways glance, but he didn’t seem to notice. Before she could stop herself, his name was wrenched from her lips again, now spoken with fear and a hint of pleading. “Dylan—”

  His head jerked toward her, his eyes focusing so sharply on her face that her cheeks burned. “Lady,” he said gruffly. “You saw my ID. My name’s Gerald Williams.”

  Her heart thudded. Her hand on his waist went slack. Dear God, what’s happening? Why are his eyes so like Dylan’s? If it’s Dylan, isn’t he going to say so? Is he really going to persist in pretending to be someone else?

  She just wished Dylan would look at her. Didn’t he know how disturbing this was? For a year and a half, she’d thought he was dead. His sudden reappearance, looking like somebody else, was like something out of a movie. Had he fled and gotten plastic surgery so that he could return to Rock Canyon, solve Jan’s murder and clear his name?

  And love me again.

  Oh, God. Please, make that be true. As soon as the quick plea was out, her heart squeezed tight, her insides wrenching with emotion. Because if this really was Dylan, then he’d also left Rock Canyon without a word. He’d let her mourn for a year and a half. She’d been so convinced of his death that she’d almost married another man!

  What if he stopped loving me?

  Or killed Jan. At the unexpected, traitorous thought, the hairs at the back of Alice’s neck prickled, and she suppressed a shudder. After all, as much as she was loath to admit it, there was still an eyewitness who claimed Dylan killed Jan Sawyer. And tonight, on the phone, the caller had said he was Dylan, and that he’d killed Jan.

  Not that Alice believed it.

  Still, there has to be some way to find out positively if this man’s really Dylan. Alice stopped in her tracks, eyeing the exit doors. “Wait,” she found herself saying. “I have to check on someone.” Gripping his waist hard, Alice hit the elevator button.

  Whoever the man was, he wasn’t inclined to show much emotion. His voice was low, almost gruff, and yet smooth somehow, with an underlying ripple of seductive silk. “We’re not stopping, Alice. You can check your patients later. I need to get out of here.”

  “I needed to know you were alive all last year.” Tears suddenly stung her eyes. “So I guess we don’t always get what we want.”

  The man who was so intent on calling himself Gerald Williams squinted, looking into her eyes as if she was crazy. Then he said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady. I guess I was as alive last year as the next guy.”

  “Why did you disappear?” she asked.

  “Disappear?” His eyes narrowed. “I’ve never even been here before. So how could I disappear? Like I told the sheriff earlier, I was coming around your ranch, looking for work.”

  She was stunned. And no, she didn’t really believe he’d suffered amnesia and couldn’t remember her. “You’re really going to deny you’re Dylan Nolan?” she challenged. “You’re going to deny that you disappeared the night of our wedding, when Jan was murdered? You’re going to deny knowing me?”

  “Lady,” he retorted, his eyes narrowing in a near wince from the pain of his injuries. “Don’t get your panties in a knot. Whoever ran out on you, I’m not him.” His eyes drifted over her. “And I figure if I ever saw you before, I’d remember.”

  She couldn’t believe it. “You’d remember?” As if he didn’t know her.

  “Sure, I’d remember. You’re cute.”

  This was no time for compliments. “Under the circumstances,” she managed to say, “that’s an entirely inappropriate comment.” As she stared into his eyes, something inside her broke. She lowered her voice another notch. “Sorry, but I’d know your brown eyes anywhere!”

  He shrugged. “Lots of people have brown eyes.”

  Her gaze pleaded with his. “But—”

  He gave a slight shake of his head. “I don’t know who you think I am. And as grateful as I am for your offer of hospitality since I lost my wallet somewhere in the snow and don’t have anyplace to stay tonight, I think I’d best be getting along.”

  She gaped at him. “You mean just leave me?”

  The bemused curve of his lips and wariness of his eyes indicated he thought she was a loose cannon. “Uh...yeah.”

  “You can’t.”

  He stared at her. “Why are you acting like there’s something b
etween us?”

  “Because there is.”

  He stared at her. “Mostly empty space, lady.”

  She didn’t know what to say. Was he going to leave her now—just as he had a year and a half ago? Dammit, she knew it was Dylan! “Why are you even here? What were you doing at the ranch?”

  “Like I told the sheriff, I was looking for the bunkhouse. I could use some work, and down in town, they said the Eastman ranch was the most likely bet.”

  She didn’t believe a word of it. She looked him up and down. “You just happened to be looking for ranch work in the dead of a Wyoming winter?”

  He didn’t miss a beat. “That’s right, ma’am. A man’s gotta eat year-round, come rain or shine.”

  Turning abruptly, she stared into the shiny stainless-steel elevator doors, feeling another rush of anxiety as she took in his unfamiliar reflection. “Hurry up,” she muttered, jabbing the elevator button again with the point of a fingernail.

  “Look—” The man beside her sounded suddenly testy as his eyes darted to the exit doors. “I really do want to get out of here.”

  “Too bad,” she told him, deciding two could play at this game. “I’m nice enough to help you...” She paused for effect. “Mr. Williams,” she emphasized before continuing. “But I work here. And I’ve got to check on one of my patients before you leave. If you’re leaving with me, that is.”

  His short sigh was barely audible. “Fine.”

  She swallowed hard. Maybe it was wrong not to prepare him, but when the doors swished open, Alice moved toward them. He resisted following. When she glanced up, her eyes meshed with those familiar brown ones. Everything in the caramel irises said he was as intractable as she. “You’re coming,” she said under her breath, “whether you like it or not.”

  His gaze was hard, flinty. “Bossy, aren’t yon?”

  “When I want my way.” She stepped inside and, with a quick glance over her shoulder, said, “Coming?”

  The lips of the man she thought was Dylan compressed grimly. “I’m not sure I’ve got a choice.”

  Alice smiled tightly as he got in, then she punched the button for the third floor. She trained her gaze on the lit numbers overhead, but from the corner of her eye she saw Dylan.

  He merely stood next to her with that intent expression, his jaw rigid except for the occasional quick quiver in his cheek that made him look like the strong, silent type from the movies. Like Gary Cooper in all those old westerns. Or Gregory Peck.

  When they reached the third floor, she got out, feeling rather than seeing Dylan close on her heels. She headed down the long hallway, not stopping until she reached the last door, and a dimly lit private room. The second before she entered it, she settled her gaze on the nearest window. In it, she could see a sharp reflection of the man’s features. Again, she felt that jarring sensation as she took in those eyes she’d know anywhere set in such an unfamiliar face. Because she kept her eyes riveted on him as she neared the bed, she saw the exact second that recognition hit. His eyes widened. His tall, almost lanky, but muscular body took one of those ambling strides forward, as if he were drawn magnetically toward the bed where Nancy Nolan lay.

  She didn’t look good. No matter how much Alice worked with her, Nancy continued to waste away. Oxygen and feed tubes were in place; the woman who’d once turned heads on the main street of Rock Canyon was uncharacteristically thin. Even though Alice had recently washed Nancy’s once-thick, luxurious hair, it hung limp and lifeless, and her skin was papery, as pale as the sheets.

  A soft gasp came from Dylan’s lips, and Alice whirled toward him, her heart breaking, the apology for her cruelty on her lips. “She was attacked some months ago in her house. The police and Sheriff Sawyer said they thought she interrupted a break and enter. But I don’t believe it. I think the attack has something to do with Jan’s murder. I don’t know why I think that, but I do—” Her voice broke. “I should have warned you she’d been hurt,” Alice continued after a moment, her voice catching with emotion as she moved toward him. “But I had to see your reaction. To know it was you. And now I know—”

  His eyes suddenly narrowed, daring her to take another step toward him, and she stopped in her tracks. Whatever emotion she’d seen in this man’s face had been replaced by mere watchfulness. Quickly glancing toward the bed as if he’d never seen Nancy Nolan in his life, he then settled his unnervingly intent gaze on Alice. “Do you have other patients to check on?”

  How could he react so fleetingly at seeing his mother in a coma? Alice felt stunned. “You’re going to deny you recognize her?”

  He glanced at Nancy Nolan. “Who is she?”

  “Your mother.”

  He merely raised an eyebrow. “You sure are a pistol,” he offered. “Now, c’mon. Do you have any other patients?”

  She could only stare at him. “No.”

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  “All right,” she said after a moment. And maybe it was. Getting him to talk might prove futile, but Alice’s litmus test hadn’t really failed. She’d seen enough of a reaction to know this was definitely Dylan. Recognition had come into his eyes when he’d seen his mom. And shock. Obviously he had no idea Nancy had been attacked.

  Which was further proof that he wasn’t the perpetrator, as the sheriff had claimed.

  Chapter Five

  “I wish he’d stop,” Alice muttered. All the way back to the ranch, Leland’s truck had been tailgating her Toyota. She could swear he was aiming to run her and Dylan off the road. When blowing her horn and waving at him hadn’t made him slow down, Alice tried driving faster, but the mountainous roads were dangerously icy. When they’d reached Cat’s Canyon, where she’d first made love to Dylan, Leland had backed off a little, but now he’d gotten too close again. Even worse, Dylan had remained stoically silent and was staring out the window, which wasn’t helping Alice’s mood. “That’s it,” she suddenly announced, pulling over.

  Dylan—and she knew it was Dylan—glanced over. “Want me to talk to him?”

  She shook her head. “No. Please, I want you to stay right here. If I need help, I’ll wave, but I’ve got some things to say to Leland...privately.” With that, Alice got out of the car and slammed her door.

  Running back to where Leland was now idling in the road, she nearly slipped on the ice. “Why are you tailgating me like that?” she fumed, coming to a standstill near his rolled-down window. “Are you trying to get us all killed?” She whipped her chin toward a steep dropoff.

  Leland stared down from the darkened cab. “I’m gonna be watching you, Alice,” he warned simply, the voice carrying an unmistakable threat.

  “Suddenly,” she returned, her breath fogging the air, “I feel like I don’t even know you, Leland. You never acted this way with me before.”

  “You never walked out on me before.”

  “Le-Leland.” She stammered from the cold or confusion, she didn’t know which. “I’m not walking out on you. I’m just—”

  “Taking a stranger to your house.”

  “Yes, but...” He’s not really a stranger. He’s Dylan.

  “By this time tonight,” Leland continued, his voice little more than a growl, “you were supposed to be my wife. Right now we should be in bed together. It’s our honeymoon night.”

  The venomous cold she saw in his eyes made her blood curdle. “Leland,” she managed. “You never loved me. We were only getting married because—”

  “I always loved you, Alice.”

  Something akin to, but not quite panic made her insides shake like jelly. “You loved Jan,” she said, feeling uncertain. Alice glanced around, her eyes darting back to the car where Dylan sat. When she turned back to Leland’ truck, strong wind hit her face, making her hair blow wildly beneath her hat, her cheeks sting and her eyes tear. Leland leaned closer to the truck’s steering wheel, the wide brim of a Stetson shadowing his face. She could barely see him, just a sliver of his clean-shaven cheek, a hint of mustache and his hunc
hed shoulder where the suede of his fleece-lined coat bunched up, hiding his chin.

  But she saw his eyes—in her mind. She saw now the darkness in the depths of those eyes that suddenly chilled her to the bone. How had she assumed that the anger people said he possessed would never be directed at her?

  “I never loved Jan,” he announced fiercely.

  At the words, her heart went wild, stuttering with confusion and fear. “You did...you did love Jan,” she countered.

  Leland’s voice dropped so low it should have been whisked away by the wind, but it reached her ears anyway, sounding menacing. “It was you I wanted, Alice.”

  Enough to kill?

  The thought came from nowhere. She glanced nervously toward the Toyota. and was relieved to see Dylan had turned around in the seat to watch her. Instinctively she knew he’d protect her as he had at the hospital.

  “All this time, Leland,” she began again, her teeth chattering. “You told me...” You loved Jan more than life. The way I love Dylan. You said you and I were brought together through grief after Jan’s murder. “You said you loved Jan. Were you lying about that?” She couldn’t even believe the words came from her lips.

  “I was with Jan because I could never have you,” Leland said angrily, his breath coming in fogged tufts. “I wanted to be with you for years, since back in high school, but I didn’t have a chance with Dylan in the picture.”

  The words chilled her. What was Leland saying? That he’d wanted Dylan out of the picture? Had he wanted Jan out of the picture, too? Alice tried not to remember her friend—how she’d looked, lying motionless on her back with blood coming from her chest, soaking the white bridesmaid’s dress.

  For a second, Alice stared unseeingly at Leland, feeling frozen—no longer from the cold, but from recollections of the horrible voice that had sounded so much like Dylan’s. You know how it felt to kill Jan? Good, that’s how. I pushed the knife in and out. In and out. She gushed like a pig. C’mon, Alice, want to come through the looking glass?