Adam

by Jennifer Ashley

  “Just … just sit down and rest. I’ll be right there. All right? I have to go, so I can come find you.”

  A few more calming phrases, and Bailey finally hung up.

  Adam was right next to her. He’d not been able to stay away when he saw her agitation, the worried look on her face. Bailey started to move as soon as she clicked off the phone, but Adam caught her in his arms.

  “No, hang on, sweetheart. Tell me what happened.”

  Bailey shoved her hair out of her eyes. “An accident. On the highway. She and Ray … Ray’s in the hospital. Christina’s all right—she thinks. I have to go.”

  Accident. Mangled metal, fire, shouting, sirens, Dawson sitting motionless, while Adam couldn’t get to him, couldn’t move …

  Bailey jerked under him, snapping Adam back to the present. Not Dawson, Bailey’s sister, the woman she cared most about. Her eyes were wide, her body shaking, her movements frantic.

  Adam held her in place. “You’re not driving while you’re upset like this. I’ll take you.”

  “Take me? But you—” Bailey broke off, biting her lip, her concern for him returning

  “Haven’t driven since my own accident? I know, but I’m fine. I’m off all my meds. I’m cleared to drive.”

  “I know, but—”

  Adam stopped her words by kissing her gently on the lips. “Bailey, love, if you rush out there in a panic, you’ll hurt yourself. Trust me. I got this.”

  He held on to her as she searched his face, then finally she gave him a nod. Adam let go of her and grabbed his own clothes, thrusting them on, not giving himself time to change his mind.

  He finished dressing before Bailey did. Allowed him the pleasure of seeing her bend down for her jeans, easing them on over her hips. She slid her shirt over her bare breasts, shutting them from view, but they moved, unfettered, beneath the fabric.

  Adam used Bailey’s sexiness to distract him from the ordeal before him, but he knew he had to face it. He held out his hand. “Keys.”

  Bailey eyed him closely as she dug into her pocket and handed him the keys to her pickup.

  Adam didn’t let himself think as they left the house for the truck. He hadn’t driven since the crash, didn’t matter that his doctors had given him the green light on driving. His palms began to sweat, the cool of the evening doing nothing to cut the nervous trickle down his back.

  This was for Bailey. She needed him. He had to push aside his panic and help her. Adam knew how to drive and drive well, never letting emotion come between him and operating the machine.

  Something deep inside him clenched as he helped Bailey into the small truck’s passenger side then walked around and slid into the driver’s seat. He sat there, his hands on the steering wheel, feeling the now-familiar fist tighten around his throat, cutting off his air.

  Don’t think. Just do.

  Adam slid the key into the ignition and started the truck.

  The hum and roar of the engine jarred him, the vibration of the seat adding to his shakes. Bailey was watching him in concern. Damn it, she was the one who was supposed to be worried and scared right now, not him.

  Bailey reached over and touched his hand. A flood of warmth came to him, and with it, the vision of her hot and moving beneath him, the sound of her delicious cries when she came. Nothing faked—Bailey giving all of herself.

  Adam’s resolve firmed. He could do this. For Bailey, he could.

  He put the truck in gear and pulled out of the driveway.

  The only hospital in the area was at the crossroads of two highways about ten miles south of town, on the way to Burnet. There was almost no traffic as he drove out of Riverbend, the one car they passed belonging to Mrs. Ward, heading back to her restaurant.

  Bailey kept her hand on Adam’s thigh all the way down the back road to the highway. Her pickup was small, a compact black GMC that went with her personality. Cute but tough and got the job done.

  They said nothing at all. Bailey sat rigidly, her contact with him as much to calm herself as Adam.

  She was the biggest sweetheart in all the world. No other woman would ever be quite like Bailey.

  Christina called again as they neared the two-story hospital and outpatient clinic that served most of this part of the county. Adam was familiar with the place, though he could see they’d added a small one-story wing for something-or-other since he’d been gone. He’d come here enough as a kid, both for checkups and after he’d broken bones while riding, or to visit his brothers when they’d broken various things.

  He’d seen plenty of doctors and hospitals in his career since then—he liked best the shoots where no one had been injured at all. Lately, of course, Adam had been to too many hospitals, clinics, and physical therapy centers. He was sick of the places.

  Bailey directed them to a ward on the second floor. Christina was sitting in the waiting area outside the nurses’ station, a bandage wrapped around one wrist, a small piece of gauze taped to her cheek.

  Christina flew to her feet and ran at Bailey as soon as she and Adam stepped off the elevator. The two sisters met in a hug, both of them talking at the same time, crying too. Adam stood patiently while they held each other.

  “How’s Ray?” Bailey was finally able to ask.

  “He’s in surgery.” Tears slid down Christina’s face, wetting the gauze. “They think he’ll be fine, but this is to make sure. Oh, Bailey, I can’t stop crying.”

  “What happened?” Adam asked her.

  Christina’s head came up as the rumble of his voice cut across hers. They were the only ones in the waiting area.

  “Adam. Didn’t know you’d …”

  She broke off, studying Bailey, who started blushing, and then Adam. “Oh,” Christina said. “Oh.”

  “Stop saying oh,” Bailey said. “Just tell us what happened.”

  Christina gave them another look, then shook her head. “I don’t even know. We were heading to that new steakhouse out by Fredericksburg, the one in the historical mansion. Ray was driving along fine, but an SUV pulled out to pass a semi-truck coming the other way. Didn’t even bother to find out if there was someone in the oncoming lane. Ray drove into the ditch, but the SUV clipped us, and we flipped. I don’t remember everything, but I was so scared.”

  Adam had moved to them during her speech, and he put his hand on Christina’s shoulder. “But you’re all right. That’s the main thing to remember.”

  She was standing up and well, not in a hospital room surrounded by worried faces, with people in scrubs sending a ton of voltage through her body. Nor peeled from the seat of a truck, taken away, body covered, on a stretcher.

  Head-ons occurred on two-lane back highways unfortunately and stupidly often. Drivers were drunk, or not paying attention, or over-confident. Adam had found L.A. freeways a snap to drive after Texas back roads.

  He tamped down his anger and the deep knots in his stomach. He was here to help Christina and Bailey. Focus on Bailey.

  “What happened to the other driver?” Bailey was asking.

  “Nothing at all,” Christina said, tears returning to her voice. “He smashed up his SUV, but he got out, even called the ambulance for us, because I couldn’t hold on to my phone. He acted like it was no big deal.”

  “Tell that to Ray,” Bailey said indignantly. “Does Ray’s family know?”

  Christina nodded. “Yeah, Kyle’s on his way, and—”

  The ding of the elevator interrupted her. Off came Kyle, face like thunder, and behind him, Grant.

  Grant stopped outside the elevator door, looking pole-axed as he stared at Christina. Kyle didn’t wait for him, striding past them all to the nurses’ station. He gave Adam an irritated, “What are you doing here?” but didn’t stop to hear the answer.

  Grant remained by the elevator, his face working through different shades of red. Christina stared back at him, as transfixed as he was.

  Adam knew that what had been between his brother and Bailey’s sister had been po
werful. They’d had fights—he’d witnessed several—that were loud and passionate. Their make-up sex had apparently been just as passionate.

  Now they were looking at each other as though Adam and Bailey, the hospital, and the nurses ten feet away, didn’t exist.

  Adam leaned to Bailey. “Let’s get some coffee.”

  “No.” Christina dug her fingers into Bailey’s arm. “Bailey, stay.”

  Bailey shot a look at Adam. Adam understood, though he wasn’t happy. But he realized that the last thing Christina needed while she was banged up and upset was a confrontation with her ex.

  Adam squeezed Bailey’s hand as he handed her back her keys. He wanted to lean down and kiss her good-bye, but he knew that if he did, news of the kiss would be all over town by tomorrow. Might be anyway, because Christina had figured out that he’d been with Bailey, and not in a just-friends way, when she’d called. The soap opera of Riverbend ground on.

  Adam broke away from Bailey—not an easy thing to make himself do—and went to his brother.

  “Come on,” he said under his breath. A touch of the elevator button had the door open. Adam pushed Grant in with one hand. The door closed, shutting out Bailey, her warmth, and the sweet hint of afterglow in her eyes.

  “Is she all right?” Grant was at Adam’s shoulder in the small elevator. “Damn it, Adam, is she all right?”

  The elevator lurched downward. Grant’s face was gray, lines around his eyes Adam had never seen before.

  “Christina?” Adam kept his voice calm. “Yeah, she’s fine. It’s Ray who got hurt.”

  “I know; I was with Kyle when he got the call. No one said a word about Christina.” Grant’s jaw hardened as the slow elevator hit the ground floor and the doors cranked open. “Ray had better pull through, because I’m going to kill him.”

  Grant strode out and into the night. Adam had to speed up to catch him, his stiff leg protesting. “Christina said it wasn’t Ray’s fault,” Adam said when he reached his brother.

  Grant swung around, his eyes flashing with all the rage he’d been bottling up. “Wasn’t his fault? Hell yes, it was his fault. It was his fault for having Christina in the car with him at all! What the fuck was he thinking—why can’t he leave her the hell alone?”

  It might have been a year since Grant’s breakup with Christina, but Adam saw that Grant hadn’t moved on. The pain in his eyes was as fresh as if he and Christina had split yesterday.

  “Sorry, bro.” Adam put his hand on Grant’s shoulder. They were well into the parking lot, the harsh lights showing the anguish on his brother’s face. “You need a drink? Or maybe a coffee? Either way, at home.” The last thing Grant needed was to get roaring drunk and thrown out of the bar—the manager would call the cops, and Ross would have to come and arrest his own brother. Ross was always embarrassed when that happened.

  Grant wanted to argue, Adam could see, to rage and do something violent. When they’d been younger, he’d have told Adam to go screw himself and taken off. Then Adam would have gone after him and talked him back home. Grant had done the same for Adam, when Adam had needed to let off steam. The two would have gotten into far more trouble than they did if they hadn’t had each other’s backs.

  Grant balled his fists and let out his breath. “Yeah, all right. Let’s go home. But I swear to God, Malory’s dead meat as soon as he recovers.” He started striding for his truck, in which he must have driven Kyle here. Kyle would have been as agitated about Ray as Bailey had been for Christina, and Grant would have offered him a lift, worried about Christina and determined to see her.

  The two reached the black 250. Grant unlocked it, then he stopped in the act of opening the door. “Wait a sec, what the hell are you doing here? Bailey said she was staying home tonight, and you walked away from the bar …”

  His words died as he started to put it together. Adam yanked open the door on the passenger side. “Can we go?” he demanded.

  “You went to Bailey’s.” Grant’s agitation turned to interest. “You were at Bailey’s house when Christina called her. Am I right?”

  Adam growled. “Could you mind your own business?”

  Grant’s grin shone out. “Aw, man, you were with her. I bet you weren’t watching TV. Look at your face …” He let out a laugh that was loud if strained, and climbed into the truck.

  Adam slid onto the passenger seat and slammed the door. “Keep it to yourself, will you? Bailey doesn’t need the whole town talking about her.”

  “Right.” Grant gave him another grin, the truck roaring to life. “I’ll keep it between you and me.” He shook his head, putting the pickup in gear and swinging out of the lot. “This is great, bro. I always knew you and Bailey were meant for each other.”

  “Yeah, well, let’s just get through tonight,” Adam said. Grant laughed again, the truck sliding a little as Grant peeled out of the parking lot and headed back to town.

  **

  Grant knew. Bailey saw it in his big smile when she came in to work the next morning, late and tired, her dreams keeping her up most of the night.

  Tyler apparently didn’t know—he was all sympathy for Christina’s accident—but Grant’s look spoke louder than words.

  He knew. Christina knew. Which meant that, soon, everyone in town would.

  Bailey had stayed with Christina until Ray made it out of surgery. He’d be all right, his mom said—she’d arrived at the hospital not much later than Kyle, with Grace Malory trailing her. The other Malory sister, Lucy, lived in Houston now; she’d been on the phone with Grace as they came in.

  Kyle wouldn’t look at or talk to Bailey, but the rest of the family had been too worried to notice. Once they knew Ray would recover, Christina had asked Bailey to take her home. Ray would want to be with his mom and family when he came out of it, not with her.

  Bailey wondered why Christina had added the not with me part, but she hadn’t explained. Bailey had dropped Christina off at her house, she declining Bailey’s offer to stay, saying she’d rather be alone.

  So Bailey had gone home to straighten the afghans on the couch and relive lying there with Adam. She’d relived making love to him again when she’d finally gone to bed, and again when she’d slept. She’d dreamed of Adam thrusting hard into her, the feeling so exact she was surprised to find herself alone when she woke up.

  Today Bailey rode around the large ring on Dodie, while Grant gave commands from the ground. She was learning to hold on while Dodie reared up on cue. Grant worked them for a time, and then Bailey walked Dodie around to rest her.

  Dodie’s ears pricked, the mare interested in something at the rail. Bailey looked ahead and saw what had grabbed her attention, or rather—who.

  Adam stood there, arms resting on the top rail, watching them. Grant raised his hand in brief greeting, and then abruptly turned away and climbed out of the ring on the far side.

  “Keep walking her,” Grant called back to Bailey. “She needs another couple of turns.”

  She didn’t, but Bailey didn’t argue.

  Adam didn’t move as Bailey rode around, as though watching her cool down a horse was the most interesting thing in the world to him. At the end of another lap, Bailey gave up and pulled Dodie to a halt next to him. Dodie stretched her head down for petting, and Adam stroked her neck.

  “Hey,” Adam said to Bailey.

  Bailey’s face went hot, and it had nothing to do with the sun. “Hey, yourself.”

  Adam looked better than ever, his dark hat shadowing the ruined side of his face, his stance easy. His blue eyes took her in and didn’t let her go.

  “I never told you what I needed help with last night,” he said. “I still need it, Bailey, and I’m still gonna ask you.”

  No, they’d gotten … distracted. Bailey remembered Adam’s fierce anguish that had led to their bruising kisses and then lovemaking like they couldn’t get enough.

  “Ask me what?” Bailey gave Dodie a pat. “What could you possibly need my help with? You passe
d your math class years ago.”

  Adam didn’t smile. His distress was more muted today, controlled, but it hadn’t gone away.

  “I need your help with this stupid-ass challenge I let Kyle talk me into.” Adam’s eyes darkened, whatever tortured him returning. “I’m a fucking coward, Bailey. I need you to get me over it. There’s no one else I can go to about this. Only you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Adam’s throat closed up after he made the declaration, not letting him say anything more.

  Bailey studied him for a time from her height on the horse’s back, her supple thigh at his eye level. It was all Adam could do not to stroke her instead of the horse.

  Bailey slid her feet from the stirrups then swung down from Dodie, a soft puff of dust wafting upward as she landed. She slid the reins over the horse’s head and folded the ends in her hand.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice calm. “You’re not a coward.”

  “You bet I am,” Adam said bitterly. “I’m a total fucked-up mess.” Whatever held back his words broke, and they came flowing out.

  “I’m sitting on my ass, doing nothing. Mark is calling me, telling me to get back to L.A. now that I’m better, and I’m still here. I told you all the shit I’ve done and walked away from like it was nothing. I’m supposed to show up Kyle at the Fall Festival, but thinking of doing any kind of stunt—hell, even getting up on Dodie and jogging around the ring—scares the shit out of me.” He bunched his fist on the rail¸ but he didn’t hit it. No sense spooking the horse. “I’m finished. It’s over. I had a nice life.”

  “Stop it.” Bailey scowled at him. She started to say more, then stopped and motioned to one of the guys who’d worked there forever as he passed the riding ring. The man nodded a greeting to Adam as he climbed through the rails, his stringy body fitting easily between the bars. Bailey handed him Dodie’s reins, and without a word, the man led Dodie out of the ring and back to the barn.

  Bailey faced Adam again, but remained inside the ring, the horizontal rails between them. “What’s this about the Fall Festival? You took a dare from Kyle? What are you two—twelve?”