The Cowboy's Pride

by Charlene Sands

  A few times when she’d done that, Clay had taken liberties in kissing her back. It had almost gotten hot and heavy once or twice, but he’d always been the one to back off. There was an unspoken truth between them, that nothing would go further until Clay was legally divorced. Maybe he was a fool not to take what Suzy offered, but it was how he rolled. The vows he’d taken meant something to him.

  It hadn’t been easy turning away a woman like Suzy. All this time, he thought it was because he was doing the honorable thing. He’d never been unfaithful to Trish, not even when he’d been roaring mad at her. But now, Clay wondered if there had been more behind it. Maybe friendship with Suzy was all there could ever be.

  Clay led Suzy to the car and helped her get in, then drove off. The drive was pleasant, Suzy chattering about her father’s stubborn nature, her job at the hospital and the apple cobbler she planned on baking tomorrow. She invited him to stop by after his radio interview with WRRN in the morning to share it with him.

  Clay told her he might just do that.

  They spoke about Callie’s pregnancy and how she was doing and when the subject turned to babies, Suzy commented, “I know it’s a sore subject, but I think what Trish is doing with Meggie is admirable.”

  Clay cast a quick glance her way, keeping one eye on the road. “Yep, it is.”

  Puzzled, Suzy asked, “Yep, it’s a sore subject and mind your own business, Suzy, or yep, it’s admirable?”

  “Admirable,” Clay said, focusing back on the road.

  “So you’re okay with Trish being here?” Suzy probed gently.

  Clay blew out a breath. Suzy knew everything about his marriage breakup, except that Trish had accused him of cheating with her. He didn’t know exactly why he hadn’t told Suzy that—pride maybe, or just wanting to keep some private things private. He shied away from awkwardness; having Suzy and Trish both working at Penny’s Song was awkward enough already.

  “She’s here for a reason, Suzy. You know that.”

  “But seeing her with a baby? That must have been hard on you.”

  “Took me a while to wrap my head around the whole thing, but I can’t lay blame on either of them. What happened between me and Trish in the past has nothing to do with the situation now.”

  “So you don’t think she’ll stay on?”

  The moment Suzy had invited him over for apple cobbler, Clay’s mind shifted to a different morning scene. Trish waking up half-groggy before dawn, diapering the baby in the crib, while Clay got a pot of coffee going and warmed the baby’s bottle. They’d take turns feeding Meggie as the sun came up. But those thoughts were quickly banished with reality. “No, she’s got a life in Nashville and a child to raise. Her work is there.”

  Suzy sat back in the seat, visibly satisfied with his answer and peered out the windshield, saying nothing more about it.

  They made a short evening of it, dining and sitting through a few speeches and then ducked out before dessert. Clay took Suzy home and walked her to the door. She lingered there for a moment, looking a little hopeful, inviting him inside for a drink, but Clay begged off. He had an early interview, he reminded her. He waited until he was sure she was safely inside her house before leaving for home.

  He found himself driving past the main house and slowing the car when he reached the guesthouse. The parlor lamp was on. Trish was still up. He wondered if Meggie was, too, fussing or drinking her bottle with her pretty eyes drifting closed. A strong impulse pulled at him. Knock on the door. Finish what you started with Trish. And then be done with it.

  Too damn tempting, he thought. Every nerve in his body wanted to give in to the temptation. He wanted to see Trish. Make love to her again.

  But it wasn’t real. They were not his family.

  In all truth, the two females were only a signature away from leaving town for good. After the divorce he’d never see them again. He turned his car around and headed home. He had no reason to barge in on them tonight and confuse the situation any more than it already was.

  Let sleeping dogs lie, was the saying.

  And Clay would heed that advice.

  For now.

  “Mrs. Worth, are you okay?” Preston peered at her hand in horror. Trish looked on just as horrified. Blood covered her hand, ran down her arm and colored the floor of the general store in a string of red droplets. Wrapped peppermint candies lay across the ground among shattered glass.

  “Oh! I, uh…” She stared at her hand, then at the mess on the floor. “The jar…broke.”

  “I heard the crash. Hang on, I’ll get a towel.” Preston raced around the counter looking for something to wrap her hand in, but when nothing immediately jumped out at him, he yanked his T-shirt over his head. “Here,” he said, coming forward shirtless. Trish was amazed at his quick thinking. He pulled the material lengthwise and twisted it around her hand a few times stopping the blood from spurting out. Then he tied it.

  He applied pressure, keeping his eyes on the injury. “Does it hurt?”

  “No, not at the moment. I think I’m in shock. I didn’t expect the jar to break. I knocked into it and it crashed to the floor. I just reacted by lunging for it and a chunk of glass came up.”

  “You’re lucky it didn’t sever your wrist. Looks like a pretty clean cut, though. You may not need stitches, but you should see the nurse.” Blood oozed underneath the makeshift shirt bandage. “I’ll walk you to the infirmary.”

  “Oh, uh…okay. I have to get Meggie.”

  Trish had momentarily forgotten about her. Luckily, she was in the stroller, facing in the opposite direction. Preston strode over to the baby and nodded positively.

  “She’s fine. No glass anywhere near her.”

  “Thank God.” Trish sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

  “Hold your hand up. I’ll get the stroller and we’ll walk slowly. You’re not feeling dizzy, are you?”

  Trish shook her head. She’d lost blood, but not enough to make her dizzy, thank goodness. “Nope, I’m not dizzy, but I feel stupid.”

  “It was an accident,” Preston said, reassuring her. “And they happen all the time.”

  Trish was grateful Preston was with her. He kept her calm and took over when she might have panicked. “You’re good in an emergency.”

  “Thanks.” He helped her outside while pushing the stroller. “I know first aid.”

  “You should be a doctor.”

  Preston sent her a sheepish smile. “I’m pre-med. So thank you for that.”

  That made sense. Most of the volunteers here had a propensity to nurture and heal. That’s why Penny’s Song was as good for the caregivers as it was for the children who’d come here. “Now I know why your nose is in the books all the time. You’re going to be a great doctor, Preston.”

  Trish felt a little weak as she moved, but she forged on. When they got to the infirmary, near the main floor of the bunkhouse, she spotted Suzy in her white lab coat, looking professional. With a silent groan, Trish realized she was going to have to deal with Suzy at some point, but she never envisioned it would be in an emergency situation. The second she spotted her, Suzy’s gaze went straight to the injury, her bloody bandaged arm bent at the elbow.

  Suzy rose from the small counter she sat behind. “What happened?”

  “Glass cut,” Preston said, stepping up. “Nothing severed, but a deep-enough gash.”

  “Okay, have a seat,” Suzy ordered calmly. “I’ll take a look at it.”

  Trish sat facing her, her arm on the counter. She found herself shaking a little. “Preston, will you get Mrs. Worth a glass of orange juice from the saloon, please.”

  Preston parked the stroller so that Meggie faced both of them. She seemed content, oblivious to the injury her mother suffered. “Sure, I’ll be right back.”

  Suzy looked up and assured her, “You’ve lost some blood. That’ll make you a little weak. The juice will help.”

  She put on a pair of gloves and carefully removed the T-shirt from Trish’
s hand, then cleaned the blood away with gentle jabs of cotton-soaked peroxide. “Looks like Preston was right. You’re lucky it’s not worse.”

  “I’ll have to buy him a new shirt,” Trish said, feeling guilty. The shirt he used as a bandage would never be worn again. “I’m glad he was there. He’s a fast thinker.”

  “Yes.” Suzy nodded, intent on her task. Trish took a second to study Suzy while she worked on her hand. She had long dark hair that was pulled back now at the nape of her neck in a ponytail that flowed down the white lab coat. Her complexion was creamy and blended perfectly with tawny amber eyes. She had an expressive face that couldn’t hide emotion well—the open book kind of face that laid her emotions on the line—giving her away, time and time again when she looked at Clay. Trish had hated knowing that, seeing that, when no one else seemed to notice.

  Meggie squawked and Trish tried to quiet her. “It’s okay, sweet baby. Hush now.”

  Meggie wiggled uncomfortably, her body taking a long restless stretch. Soon she’d get antsy and want some attention.

  “We’ll be through here in a minute, Trish.”

  “I hope Meggie can hold on. She’s been in the stroller awhile now.”

  Suzy dressed the wound, then bandaged her hand very tightly with layers of gauze. “It wouldn’t hurt to have the wound looked at by a doctor when you’re in town. You won’t need stitches, but it’s lengthy and might need further attention.”

  “All right, thank you.” Trish tested her hand, splaying her fingers. The wound angled above the inside of her right wrist and just below her thumb. The bandage seemed to do the trick by stopping the bleeding and allowing her some mobility.

  She found Suzy looking at the baby with warmth and longing in her eyes. “She’s sweet. I can’t wait for one of my own. I heard you let Helen watch her the other night and she did fine.”

  “You know about that?” Trish blurted. She didn’t want her mind to go there, to believe that Clay had spoken to Suzy about their intimate interlude at the hotel.

  “Oh,” Suzy said, taken aback. “I’m sorry. Clay told me last night that you’d driven over to the Ridgecrest Hotel to speak with the manager and Helen watched the baby while you were gone.”

  Last night? Clay had been with Suzy last night? That was all she heard of Suzy’s explanation. Trish had trouble breathing. Her chest grew tight and raw hot anger bubbled up from her stomach. Damn it. She was still married to Clay for all intents and purposes. “Let me guess, you made white chocolate raspberry cupcakes sprinkled with nuts and cherries.”

  Suzy blinked, then sent her a glare.

  Trish glared back.

  “You hate that Clay is my friend.”

  “And you hate that he married me.”

  Suzy’s face flamed, but it couldn’t have been any hotter than the slow burn that scorched her own.

  “That didn’t work out so well, did it?”

  Suzy’s comment slapped at her rational senses. She forced the stiffness from her shoulders and rose from her seat. If she was still shaky, she was too angry to notice. “How kind of you to point that out.”

  Suzy rose as well, bustling about, cleaning up the counter and putting things away. “I’m sorry,” she said finally, meeting her eyes. “That was…awful to say.”

  Trish couldn’t disagree.

  “I went through a bad divorce and Clay was the rock that held me together. We’ve always been close. We have roots here in Red Ridge. He and I, we’re cut from the same cloth. The truth is, I’ve waited a long time for Clay. You had your chance. You walked out on him.”

  “I had reason.”

  “I’m sure you did. And it’s none of my business, but what’s done is done. You’re getting a divorce and when you leave town again, Clay will be free.”

  Trish couldn’t really argue with that. “He’s not free, yet.”

  “He knows that and so do I.” It was a statement made flatly, but in earnest and maybe with a touch of regret. “I’m not the reason you two broke up.”

  No, but she was a catalyst and the last straw. Trish held her anger in check. She read between the lines and saw the truth in Suzy’s unflinching confession. Clay had been honest with her. He hadn’t betrayed her with Suzy. If he had, Suzy would have let it slip, if not by actual words, but by her candid facial expressions.

  “I’d better go.” Trish turned to get Meggie. “She’s going to need a bottle soon.” Gripping the stroller with her left hand and leaning her body into it, she pushed it past Suzy and then turned. “Thank you,” she said, gesturing with her bandaged hand. “For taking care of this.”

  “It’s what I do,” Suzy said with a shrug, her usual bright smile gone. She stood, her body rigid, but softness filled her eyes as she spared another glance at Meggie. “You’re fortunate to have her, Trish.”

  “I know.”

  “She’s going to fill your life with joy.”

  “She already does.”

  The yearning in Suzy’s voice made Trish uncomfortable. This wasn’t tit for tat. You get Meggie and I get Clay. But in essence, that seemed to be what Suzy was saying in a quietly desperate way.

  “I can make Clay happy,” Suzy said with a whisper. “Once you’re gone.”

  Trish blinked. Was she kidding? Was she asking permission or did she want her approval? No way. No how. She’d be waiting until hell froze over, if that was the case.

  And suddenly, Trish wasn’t so sure that Suzy could ever make Clay happy. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore. But Trish knew that she’d made Clay happy once and she was bound and determined to prove that to herself and to Clay.

  For the little time she had left in Red Ridge.

  The sound of Clay’s boots scraping concrete brought a thrill to her heart. Trish peeked out the corner of the parlor window as he approached the front door. Moonbeams guided his way. His Stetson sat low on his forehead and shadowed the top half of his face concealing his eyes, making him look ominous and a little dangerous. She wondered what she would see in his eyes when she opened the door?

  Trish blew out a breath. Determined to see this through, she walked to the entrance. Meggie was comfortably asleep in the play yard in the second bedroom. She wouldn’t know Clay was here and if all worked out as she planned, he would be gone before she woke up in the morning.

  She’d called Clay this afternoon, asking him to come over to work on the fundraiser tonight, after Meggie fell asleep. And Meggie, right on cue, conked out after her 8:00 p.m. bottle.

  Perfect.

  Country music played softly in the background. Trish had to grin. Just a minute earlier, Clayton Worth’s first hit filled the airwaves and helped put little Meggie to sleep. His voice had matured since, but “Losing Out on Love,” the song that skyrocketed Clay to fame when he was eighteen, was still a fan favorite. Now, Josh Turner’s baritone voice carried through the house.

  Trish waited for Clay’s second knock, bolstering her courage, before answering the door. On a rocky breath, she pulled open the door with her good hand and hid her injured hand behind her back. “Hello, Clay.”

  Clay took one look at how she was dressed and raised an eyebrow. Appreciation shone in his expression. Seeing that look on his face helped boost her confidence, but Trish wasn’t a natural flirt. She didn’t play games. Maybe she shouldn’t have come to the door wearing a red halter sundress that dipped into a vee in front and exposed enough skin in the back, edging just inches above her derriere, to tempt a saint.

  “Trish.”

  He stepped inside, walked past her and turned abruptly. She caught him eyeing the back of her dress. Then he slid a long hungry look down her legs to her bare feet and red-painted toenails. His eyes shot up to hers. “You expect me to work with you looking like that?”

  Busted. She’d deliberately dressed for seduction.

  With her good hand, Trish smoothed out the lines of her dress, a motion Clay noticed with a quick snap of his head. He didn’t miss a move she made. “Well, uh, I thought we c
ould have a drink before we started. If you come into the parlor, I’ve got some papers you should look over.”

  “Liar.”

  “What?”

  A broad smile whipped across his handsome face. “You want sex.”

  “What? I, uh…”

  Clay moved on her like a tiger stalking his prey. His hat shadowing his eyes, he came to within inches from her face. “You want me.”

  Trish fluttered her eyes closed. Oh, boy.

  “I bet you’ve got nothing on, underneath that dress.” Busted again.

  “Let me see your hand,” Clay ordered, but with enough sugar in his tone to make her comply.

  “My hand?” A tremor of annoyance zipped through her body. So, the darn Suzy pipeline hadn’t failed. She’d spoken to Clay today about her accident. “How did you know about it?”

  “I ran into Preston today.” He put his hand out palm up and she set her injured hand in his.

  “Oh.” So Suzy hadn’t gone running to him with the news of their conversation. Relieved, she relaxed as much as she could under the circumstances. She wasn’t coy or clever and Clay had seen right through her ploy.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked as he examined her hand.

  “It’s more annoying than anything.” Which was the truth.

  He nodded, then looked toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “And Meggie’s sound asleep?”

  Trish smiled. “In the other bedroom. Yes.”

  Clay took her injured hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed each of her fingers gently on the tips. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”

  She felt a pang in her chest. On a man like Clayton Worth, tender looked really good. And despite his tenderness, or because of it, she wanted to rip his clothes off. Trish saw her opportunity—she wouldn’t pass it up—now was her chance.

  She’d had a change of heart after hearing Suzy’s parting comments today. No one was going to make her husband happy but Trish, not while she was still here in Red Ridge. Suzy wouldn’t have the upper hand. Not this time.