“Look,” Travis said, his eyes bright with an idea. “Let Cash stay. I’ll pay you to keep an eye on him.” When she arched her eyebrows in question, he continued. “No. Not like that. Just make sure he has food in the house. Somewhere to sleep. Neither of us can make him not drink, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t keep liquor in the house.”
“So you’re asking me to be a spy for you? Report what Cash is doing? I can’t do that. Won’t do that.”
“No. Nothing like that. God, I don’t want reports.” He chuckled. “But with you there, I won’t have to worry if he’s eating or dead on the floor.”
When she hesitated, he added. “I know about your degrees in psychology and nursing. Caroline was impressed with your education. She told me about you while you were interviewing with the clinic. So I figure with your education, you’d understand what Cash is going through. Be able to help him deal, or at least you probably won’t kill him like the rest of us want to.” He touched her arm. “He’s fallen into a deep hole, Paige. A really deep place. I would be there for him more if I could, but with Caroline and the new babies and all…I just need a little help. Please.”
“Okay, Travis.” She put her hand over his resting on his arm. “I’ll figure out some way to make it work. It’ll only be temporary anyway. I’m supposed to start a graduate nurse practitioner program in the fall provided I can get all my financing in order.”
“I think I can help there. How does this sound? No rent since Cash isn’t paying any. That’s only fair. I’ll pay you a thousand a month, which should cover his food, utilities and whatever. You can save the rest for your fall tuition.”
“Deal.”
His gaze went over her shoulder. “Speak of the devil.”
Paige turned to see Cash striding toward them. So not fair that her heart rate doubled just seeing him. His limp drove an arrow into her gut.
“What are you doing here?” His lips twisted into a snarl. “Running to tattle to Caroline? I told you to leave her alone with this.”
“My God, Cash. What the hell is wrong with you?” Travis snapped. “Paige is a good friend of my wife’s.”
Cash whipped around to face his brother. “I told her not to bother Caroline with anything right now.”
“You mean anything like your moving into Caroline’s uncle’s house?” Travis held up a hand before Cash could reply. “Paige didn’t say a word to Caroline. In fact, she didn’t say a word to me. Caroline just mentioned that she’d rented the house to Paige. My wife doesn’t know that I lent the house to you.”
Cash raked his fingers through his hair. “So what now?”
“Your brother has made me a very fair offer. We’ll share the house.”
“Share?” Cash whipped his gaze toward her.
His steamy stare was as if a hot desert wind had blown across her face. Beads of moisture popped on her brow.
“That’s right,” Travis said. “Share. Paige will pay the same rent you are paying, which happens to be nothing.”
“It’s not going to be forever.” Paige fought the rise of panic churning in her gut. Tightening a hold on her emotions, she continued. “I’ll be going back to school in the fall, so we’re talking only four months or so.” Her mouth tugged into a forced smile. “I’m sure we can keep from strangling each other until then.”
Cash narrowed his eyes slightly but the fire there was barely banked. “Fine. We’ll make it work.” His gaze dropped to his boots before lifting to meet Paige’s eyes. “I apologize. I seem to lose my temper more than I used to.”
Paige held out her hand, grateful to see no shaking in her arm. “Accepted.”
Their hands touched. A zing of newly awakened arousal zapped her. The jolt of energy struck her heart. For a second it quivered, and then its rate took off like a racehorse out of the chute.
Paige gave his rough hand a quick shake and dropped it. “I’ve got to run. Errands to do. People to see.” She looked at Travis. “We will be fine. I’ve had roommates before. I know how to whip them into shape.”
Cash grinned and Paige wanted to groan with longing for the man. She left before her lust put words in her mouth.
Both men watched Paige walk to the elevator.
“She has a nice walk,” Travis observed.
Cash slapped his shoulder. “Hey. You’re a new father. You don’t get to notice things like that.”
Travis threw his arm around his little brother. “I’ll notice things like that until they close the lid on my casket. Now, want to see my kids?”
“Naw,” Cash said. “I came to see your wife.”
A couple of hours later, Cash walked into a quiet house. “Paige? You here?”
No answer, except for a meow.
“Damn. She has a cat,” he muttered as he hung his jacket on the post of the stair railing.
Paige Ryan. What a cruel bitch fate was. He’d pretty much counted on never seeing her again. But now? Damned if he wouldn’t see her every day.
At least for the moment, he had the house to himself. It’d been years since he’d been in the old Fitzgerald’s house. Before his roommate got back might be the best time for a little exploring.
He remembered the layout from the very few times he’d been here as a child. He walked through the downstairs area and, other than the room he’d slept in, all the rooms were clean, dust-free and fresh-smelling. With every step, the small grey kitten ran ahead of him and waited to grab the leg of his jeans.
When he found Paige’s room, he allowed himself a minute to breathe in the scent. A little floral perfume. A whole lot of Paige. He leaned against the doorjamb and studied the old-fashioned chenille bedspread covering her made bed. The kitten jumped on it and curled into the pillows.
Cash sighed. Seemed like he’d known Paige forever. Had watched her grow up. She’d just turned fourteen when he’d joined the pro rodeo circuit and what a beauty she’d been then. Time had only served to mold her figure into curves and dips men loved.
She’d had a crush on him back when she was sixteen. He’d given her a very chaste happy-birthday kiss and her embarrassed flush had been cute to watch. But he’d enjoyed the feel of his lips on hers too much. She’d been only a teenager. By then, he was a twenty-year-old with too many notches on his bedpost.
He probably shouldn’t have done it. Nonetheless, he couldn’t stop himself from opening her closet door. There, hanging from a nail driven into the door’s wood, was a belt…and a silver rodeo buckle. His belt. His buckle. She’d kept it even after he’d walked out on her.
A soul-searing bomb detonated in his gut. The breath rushed from his lungs and the band around his chest made it impossible to draw in another.
He stumbled back and turned away from his find. He didn’t want to remember her eighteenth birthday. Didn’t want to remember what a jackass he’d been. Didn’t want to see the pain in her eyes that night. Didn’t want the memory of her expression every time their paths crossed for the next couple of weeks.
Walking back to the living room, he looked at the stairs. Yes, with the damage to his leg, they would be a bitch to climb every day. On the other hand, the doctor had advised him to get back to normal. Plus, even though they’d be sharing space, he’d be on a different level.
He climbed the stairs, his left leg muscles whimpering. He wanted a drink. One beer. One whiskey. Something that’d take his mind off the pain.
Instead, he continued to climb until he reached the second level of the house. Three bedrooms, one bath. No furniture. One open area that overlooked the living room.
He opened a door in the overlook area and found another set of steps. As he climbed these, the years of accumulated dust brought tears and sneezes. Something tickled his cheek. He swiped at it and found a long string that turned on the sole light.
When his eyes cleared of tears, he walked around in the attic. F
reshly stirred-up dust was his major accomplishment. All that was stored in this area were broken lamps, a couple of large sea chests and an old table set that needed to be totally rebuilt. No extra bedroom furniture or anything he could use in the upstairs sitting area. He shrugged. Just as well. The bed in that back bedroom had been pretty damn lumpy and uncomfortable. He’d slept in horrible places over his years of travel. He’d have to add his current bed to the list.
After another round of sneezing, he sat at the opening of the stairs to mentally compile a list of what he needed to buy to renovate the upstairs.
“Cash?” You here?” Paige’s soft, Southern drawl floated upstairs and infiltrated his gut. He’d had to remember to keep his distance. She was on an escalator up in her life while he was in total freefall. No sense to pull her down with him.
“Up here.”
“Where?” Her footfalls tapped on each wooden step as she made her way up.
“The attic.”
Her heart-shaped face appeared at the base of the stairs. “I haven’t been up there yet.”
“You’re not missing anything.” He sneezed. “Lots of dust and a few pieces of broken furniture.” He stood. “I’ll come down.”
She hurried up the staircase. “No. Stay. I want to see.”
He retook his seat and scooted to the left. His eyes were at the perfect level to admire her trim, shapely legs as she stepped past him. He fought the urge to stroke her calf. He bet it’d be soft and smooth like the finest silk. He thought about running his tongue from her ankle up to the junction where her thigh met her hip; Imagined how sweet her flesh would taste. How sensitive she’d be to his touch.
She sneezed, breaking him out of his daydream and none too soon as he’d begun to get hard at the thought of her. He wasn’t doing so good with the keep-his-distance plan.
“You weren’t kidding,” she said after a second sneeze. She turned in a full circle, taking in the view. “I wonder if the Fitzgeralds had set this area aside in case the two bedrooms below weren’t enough.”
He shrugged. “No clue. They never had any kids.”
Nodding, she said, “I know. It’s kind of sad when you think about it.”
“I suppose.”
She sat down at the stair opening, dropping her legs down until her feet rested on the second step. “We need to talk.”
If there was ever a sentence that could strike panic in the soul of every man, it’d be that one.
Chapter Four
Cash had no reason to panic in response to her request to talk, so why did his gut screw tight and his lungs fail to fully inflate? He wasn’t leaving here until he was good and ready. He braced himself for battle.
“Yeah? About what?” The edge in his voice was sharp enough to slice paper.
She tilted her head to one side and smiled, but her smile held a tinge of sadness. “Your leg.”
“My leg is just fine,” he snapped, irritation burning his gut and effectively dousing any manners he might have. Flashing an angry glare, he added, “I don’t want to talk about it either.”
She laid her hand on the knee of his injured leg, her heat searing through his jeans like a hot iron. “Let me say what I want to say and it’ll be done. I watched your last ride on television. It’s a miracle you’re alive. An honest-to-God miracle.”
He turned his face away, refusing to look her in the eye. Reliving that night was like volunteering to sweep the floors of hell. No man in his right mind would want to remember the night his life had ceased to have meaning. Wasn’t it bad enough that his dreams replayed the accident over and over? Did he have to talk about it while he was awake too?
She pulled her hand away but continued, uncaring or unknowing what this conversation was costing him.
“When you went into the well, I figured the ride was over. Then the people in the stands closest to the well gasped and that’s when I knew you hadn’t fallen off Bad Bob but were trapped.”
“Stop. That’s enough,” he growled. It’d all happened so fast. The left spin instead of the bull’s usual right spin. The unexpected buck. The sensation of flying through the air. The abrupt stop when he crashed into the gate. The grit of dirt in his mouth. The shock of pain as Bad Bob lived up to his name, stomping on Cash over and over. As the memories flooded back, his heart raced with fear and anxiety. His breathing hitched. He shut his eyes and drew in a deep breath.
“That’s enough,” he repeated softer than before. “I remember. I was there.”
But she wouldn’t stop. “I watched you get hurt. The announcers played it over and over and then again in slow motion.” A catch in her voice made him turn back to her. Cash could see the tears glistening in her eyes. “I thought you were dead. That I’d never see you again. I wanted to kill that sonofabitch bull.”
He couldn’t help it. He smiled. “Bad Boy was just doing his job. I’m the one who fucked up. Not him.” And I’m still fucked up. But he didn’t say that aloud. Didn’t need to. Everybody who got close to him could see he was damaged beyond repair.
“I kept meaning to send you a note while you were in the hospital but—” she shrugged, “—I didn’t know what to say. I kept putting it off and putting it off until it seemed pointless to say anything. I feel bad about that.”
He rocked his knee over until it tapped hers. “Don’t worry about it. That’s in the past. But…” He drew in a breath before he continued, “as long as we’re on the subject of history and things we regret…”
She looked at him but didn’t say anything.
“I should have called you after your parents’ accident. I should have told you how sorry I was when I heard.”
Her face froze into a sad mask.
“I…I loved your parents. They were special people. As soon as I heard about their deaths, I should have reached out to you. I just didn’t know what to say either. I was too far away to make the funeral. We, you and I, hadn’t spoken in years. I wasn’t sure if you’d even want to hear from me.”
“That’s okay. I understand,” she said, her voice thin.
“No, it’s not okay.” He mimicked her action and laid a hand on her knee. As soft as he’d imagined her skin might be, it was softer, silkier. The floral bouquet of her skin lotion drifted to his nostrils. He inhaled, filled his lungs with her scent.
Her gaze dropped to his hand. For a moment, her breath held and then she sucked in a deep intake of air. Under his hand, her flesh rose in goose bumps and her leg gave a slight shake.
Was she affected by his touch? Or, God forbid, was she repulsed by it? By him? By his damn limp?
Did she think that his life was over too? Or worse, did she feel pity for him?
He’d rather she be repulsed by what an asshole he’d been in the past than pity the man he was today.
He removed his hand. “Anyway, I just wanted to say how sorry I was when I heard and to tell you how special they were. Not just to me, but to all of us riding the circuit.”
“Thanks,” she said, standing. She looked down at him. “Well, on to how to make this work. I think I should move upstairs. It’d be better for your…well, I mean—”
Damn it. Pity etched her expression. She did feel sorry for him and that just made him more determined to not live downstairs.
“I’m taking the upstairs,” he said, interrupting her. He held up a hand when she opened her mouth. “No. I want it. Besides, it’ll be good for my leg to get the exercise of going up and down stairs.”
“Well, that’s true, I guess.” She sneezed. “Let’s go down and see what needs to be done to make it habitable.” She took one step down, sneezed and then wiped her nose. “Now you see why the downstairs got cleaned before I stayed here. Dust makes me sneeze.”
He chuckled, determined to make her see him as something more than a damaged cowboy. “Then I’d suggest you never come upstairs once I
get settled in. I’m not the world’s best housekeeper.”
They walked through the attic door into the area overlooking the living room. Footprints, his and hers, tracked in the floor dust. Numerous small kitten prints wound through each room.
He pointed at them. “The cat’s been exploring too.”
“Ruby. Her name is Ruby.”
He nodded as he continued to study the different foot patterns. From the direction of Paige’s prints, he could tell she’d come directly to him in the attic. For some reason, that she hadn’t looked in all the rooms seemed significant…as though finding him had been important to her.
“So, what’s your plan?” she asked looking around at the closed doors. “Looks like you went into every room.”
“Felt like I was opening a time capsule. Don’t think anyone has been up here in quite a while, well, except for Ruby.” He walked toward the largest bedroom at the front of the house with her following. “I thought I’d take this room for a bedroom. It has the best view and may be a little larger than the others.” He opened the door and allowed her to enter ahead of him.
“Nice,” she said glancing around. “It’s over the study and part of the porch so it’ll be quiet, not that I make a lot of noise in my bedroom.”
The thought of her having noisy sex made him frown. He hadn’t thought about her and other men. Now that he did, he didn’t like it.
“What’d I say?” she asked with a crinkled brow. “Why are you frowning at me?”
“Nothing,” he said with a shake of his head. “I think all the dust and dirt is giving me a headache,” he lied. “I didn’t think about this being the quietest room, but you’re probably right. C’mon. I need to show you something else.”
She followed him into the antiquated bathroom. The old pedestal sink and clawfoot tub were in remarkably good condition. The toilet was showing some age but still, for something nearly fifty years old, it looked surprisingly usable.
“Well,” she said, looking around. “My downstairs bathroom looks like it had a renovation compared to this one, although this one has a whole lot more character.” She walked over and turned on the cold tap at the sink. Nothing happened.
Texas Twist (Texas Montgomery Mavericks) Page 5