In her mind’s eye, Paige saw Austin tending the ailing mare, recalled the way he’d touched the animal, the gentle, rumbling tone of his voice. And she felt new emotions, things that had little or nothing to do with the girl she’d been so long ago, and the boy that girl had loved.
She was a woman now.
Austin was most definitely a man.
And watching him that afternoon, sitting on his haunches in that stall, next to Molly, Paige had come to the startling realization that this was a whole new ball game.
“Paige?” Julie prompted in a happy whisper. “Since you seem to have something—or someone—else on your mind, I’ll repeat my question. How bad could it be, taking care of a hunk like Austin McKettrick?”
It could be really, really bad, Paige figured, but again, this wasn’t the time or place to talk about such things.
Paige shook her head, but she was smiling. “I think Calvin and I ought to get back to the ranch. Harry will be wanting his kibble, for one thing.”
“Garrett will feed Harry,” Julie said. But she stood up, and Calvin stood, too, and Julie slipped an arm around her little boy. Bending, she kissed the top of his head and then ruffled his hair. “I won’t be late,” she told the child, her voice tender. “Mind your Aunt Paige and wash all over when you take your bath and don’t ask for more than one bedtime story, okay?”
Calvin looked up at his mother, blinking behind the lenses of his glasses. “Okay,” he said in a tone of mock resignation. Turning to Paige, he added solemnly, “I won’t need any help with my bath, because I’m five now, and I can pretty much read any book on my own, too, but I still like the sound of your voice when I’m falling asleep. It’s almost as good as when Mom reads to me.”
Paige laughed. “Well,” she said, “I guess that’s settled.”
Julie gave Calvin another hug and then started the rehearsal again.
“I’ll be glad when Mom is married to Garrett and making a baby,” Calvin confided as he and Paige left the auditorium, hand in hand, walking toward her car. “The play will be over then, and she’ll be at home every night, like most moms.”
Paige bit her lower lip and helped her nephew into his car seat, checking to make sure that he was properly buckled up. She was behind the wheel with the headlights on and the motor going before she responded to his remark, and then she took pains to speak casually. “The musical is this month,” she said. “And there are only a few performances, aren’t there?”
Turning her head, she saw Calvin nod in confirmation. “Two Friday night shows and two Saturday night shows and then she’s all done.” He paused. “And there’s the class trip to Six Flags, too. You’re going, aren’t you?”
Paige suppressed a sigh. She’d forgotten about the kindergarten field trip to the famed amusement park, scheduled for the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Hadn’t even discussed it with Julie yet, and of course that had to happen before she could make any promises.
“Your mom and I will talk about it,” she said.
“When?” Calvin asked, sounding a little plaintive. The poor kid was tired, she reasoned, and with Julie so busy helping the drama club rehearse their play, he missed his mother.
“Tomorrow,” Paige answered, pulling carefully out onto the main road, pointing the car in the direction of the Silver Spur.
“Promise?” Calvin persisted.
“Promise,” Paige said with a little smile.
After that, Calvin lightened up, having conveyed his dissatisfaction with the long hours Julie had been putting in lately, and told her all about his day. One of the other kids in his class had eaten a bug and thrown up, and his teacher had a headache after that and had to rest in the teacher’s lounge while the librarian’s assistant took over the art program. He asked, as he often did, how long it would be, in “actual days,” until he could start first grade and “learn stuff.”
“You are learning things, Calvin,” Paige pointed out, keeping her eyes on the road.
“How to weave pot holders with those stupid little loops,” Calvin said.
Paige laughed. “I think those pot holders are lovely,” she told him. “I use mine all the time. Your mom and your Aunt Libby love them, too.”
Calvin would not be mollified. “We make hand-prints with finger paints,” he went on scornfully. “I don’t see how any of this stuff is going to prepare me for life.”
“Calvin,” Paige reminded her nephew, “you’re only five. Believe me, you have plenty of time to ‘prepare for life.’” She paused. “What exactly is it that you want to learn right now, immediately, anyhow?”
“How to ride a horse,” Calvin said.
Paige smiled again. “You ride with Garrett all the time,” she said. “What else?”
“Higher mathematics,” Calvin replied. “World history.”
“I think it’s mostly simple arithmetic and the alphabet in first grade,” she ventured, flipping the signal lever and starting the turn onto the Silver Spur Ranch.
“Well, that’s just ridiculous,” he said. “I can already read and write and everything.”
“Maybe you should just go straight from kindergarten to college, then,” Paige teased, noticing that the lights were on in the barn and wondering how Molly was doing.
“I could skip a couple of grades,” Calvin replied seriously, “but Mom and Garrett and my dad all said no. They say I have to put in my time as a kid, like everybody else.”
“There you have it,” Paige said. Calvin’s birth father, Gordon Pruett, had contacted Julie a couple of months before and informed her that he wanted to get to know his son. Things were moving slowly on that front. “So many people can’t be wrong.”
She felt the change in Calvin before he spoke. “What’s going on in the barn?” he asked. “All the chores should be finished by now.”
“Let’s find out,” Paige said, stopping the car in the square spill of light at the entrance to the long, rambling structure housing the McKettrick horses, including the golden ponies Austin had given Audrey and Ava for their sixth birthday, back in June.
Calvin had unbuckled himself and pushed open the door before Paige could pull her keys from the ignition and reach for her purse.
She had planned to give him a modified rundown on Molly’s situation, but she didn’t get the chance. Calvin sprinted into the barn.
Paige sighed and followed.
Austin was standing in front of Molly’s stall door, looking deliciously rumpled. A cot stood in the center of the breezeway, with a sleeping bag spread over it and Shep curled up underneath.
“You’re going to sleep out here?” Calvin demanded of Austin, sounding delighted. “You’re going to camp out in the barn?”
Austin slanted a glance at Paige, greeted her with a nod so slight it might not have happened at all.
“That’s the plan,” he told the boy, reaching out to ruffle his hair.
Still impressed, Calvin climbed up the rails in the stall door to peer over the top. Austin looked ready to grab him if he slipped.
“This is Molly,” he explained. “Molly, this is my good friend, Calvin.”
Paige wondered why his voice made her heart flutter, weak as the first motion of a hatchling’s wing.
“Hey, Molly,” Calvin cried exuberantly.
By that time, Paige was standing close enough to hook an arm around Calvin’s middle and hold him up so he could see the black-and-white mare without clinging precariously to the stall door.
Her arm touched Austin’s, and she took a half step to the side.
Molly had been groomed since Paige had seen her last, and she was on her feet, too. There were raw strips on the animal’s head, where the nylon halter straps had been, glistening with ointment.
“Can Molly be my horse?” Calvin asked, squirming so that Paige had to set him down. “I could feed her and ride her and put medicine on her cuts—”
“Calvin,” Paige interceded softly, laying a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
He was so excited, he was practically vibrating.
“Could I pet her?” he implored, tilting his head back to gaze up at Paige’s face, then Austin’s. “Please?”
Paige felt a jolt worthy of a stun gun when her gaze connected with Austin’s. Again she had that odd sense that he was a stranger, that he’d never been the Austin she’d loved so much when they were both teenagers.
“If it’s okay with your aunt,” Austin drawled, looking at her instead of Calvin, “then sure.”
Paige hesitated, then nodded her permission.
Austin unlatched the stall door and stepped slowly inside, holding Calvin by the hand.
“I can’t reach,” Calvin said.
Paige took a step toward the boy, intending to lift him up again, but Austin beat her to it. He paled slightly, beneath the bristle of his beard, holding Calvin in the curve of one arm.
“Austin,” Paige said, reaching out to take the child from him.
He hesitated before he let Calvin go.
Calvin, for his part, was too busy petting Molly’s nose to care who was holding him. He hooked an arm around Paige’s neck, though, and she felt a rush of such love for her sister’s child that it made her light-headed.
After a few more moments, she carried Calvin out of Molly’s stall and set him back on his feet. She was aware of Austin moving behind her, shutting and latching the door.
“Can I sleep out here in the barn, with Austin and Shep?” Calvin asked, his upturned face earnest with hope.
“Not tonight,” Paige told him gently.
Conveniently, Shep wriggled out from under the cot, wagging his tail, and Calvin, distracted from the camping prospect, squatted to ruffle the dog’s ears.
Looking up at Austin through her eyelashes, Paige was both gratified and shaken to find him watching her.
His color was coming back, but she couldn’t help wondering if he’d hurt himself, lifting Calvin up to pet Molly the way he had.
The grin came suddenly, nearly setting Paige back on her heels, dazzled.
“You know,” he drawled, leaning in close and keeping his voice low, “I’m starting to think I might need a nurse after all.”
CHAPTER FIVE
ONCE HE WAS FAIRLY SURE Molly’s visiting hours were over for the night, Austin took a couple of muscle relaxants, throwing them back with tepid tap water from the tack room sink, shut off the barn lights and eased himself down to sit on the shaky cot he’d set up earlier. He began the tricky task of taking off his boots.
With some sighing and some shifting around, Shep settled himself underneath the makeshift bed.
“Don’t snore,” Austin said. So far, that was the only drawback to having Shep for a dog.
Austin smiled and rubbed his chin with one hand, hoping it wouldn’t start itching before morning, when he could reasonably shave.
Just sitting there, thinking his own thoughts and mostly at peace, the way he generally was around dogs and horses, he almost missed the movement in the doorway of the barn, would have disregarded it as an illusion if Shep hadn’t growled once and low-crawled out from under the cot to stand guard.
“Best show yourself,” Austin advised the unknown visitor mildly, rising to his feet with a lot less ease than he would have liked. “It’ll save us all some grief—you, me and the dog.”
No answer.
He rubbed the back of his neck and waited. How long would it be until the pills kicked in, anyhow? Austin wasn’t exactly hurting, but he was stiff as hell, and in all the wrong places, too.
The shadow in the darkened doorway resolved itself into a small and enticing shape.
“It’s me,” Paige said. From the tone of her voice, she was a little surprised to find herself in that barn, after nightfall, with all the lights shut off. Maybe even more surprised than Austin was to see her there.
He felt the right corner of his mouth kick up in a grin, as his heart staggered like a drunk and slammed against his rib cage before righting itself.
A shaft of moonlight found its way in through a high window way up there in the hayloft and Paige passed through it, a goddess in blue jeans and a pullover sweater, moving slowly toward him.
Shep had long since given up growling by then, and taken to wagging his tail instead.
Paige bent to muss the dog’s ears, then straightened and looked up into Austin’s face. “Did you hurt yourself?”
He couldn’t stop grinning. Good thing it was dark in that barn—mostly. There was that liquid-silver moonlight spilling in, but things were cast in angled shadows.
“Hurt myself? How would I have done that?”
She might have been flustered; there was no telling, since he couldn’t really see her face and her tone of voice wasn’t giving away much of anything. “Earlier, when you lifted Calvin so he could pet the horse?”
“Oh, that,” Austin said. He splayed the fingers of his right hand and pushed them through his hair, just to be doing something other than grabbing Paige Remington by the shoulders and kissing her until her knees buckled. Right then, that was about all he wanted to do.
She saved him from temptation by stepping away to stand in front of Molly’s stall door. There was enough light to see that the mare was on her feet, crunching away on the scoop of sweet feed Austin had given her just before cutting the lights.
Molly wanted for some fattening up, and a few alfalfa pellets now and again would probably do the trick.
Austin didn’t move from where he stood. This was one of those pivotal moments, he figured, where one wrong move could change the whole course of his life—and Paige’s, too.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked. His voice was as rough as if he’d taken sandpaper to his vocal cords. “Right now, I mean. In the barn. This late and everything.”
Her laugh was quiet, brittle. “I’m not sure,” she admitted.
Some of the muscles in Austin’s lower back tightened ominously. Taking care not to make any wimpy sounds, he lowered himself to sit on the cot again and then questioned the wisdom of the move. What if he needed to get back up all of a sudden, and couldn’t?
Damn, that would be a new low.
Once again, Paige surprised him. She sat right down beside him, on top of his flannel-lined sleeping bag, close enough that their thighs touched.
He’d felt a similar sensation once before, helping a ranch crew install electric fence lines, when he’d forgotten and closed his fingers around a live wire.
She was the one who broke the silence; Austin wasn’t about to. “Molly’s doing okay, then?” she asked.
“So far, so good,” Austin managed, and then wished he’d cleared his throat first, because his answer came out sounding rusty.
It soon became apparent that Paige had exhausted whatever reserves of diplomacy she might have had on hand. “But you figure you ought to sleep out here? In a barn? With a herniated disc?” She was really building up a head of steam now, and it was fascinating to watch. “It’s November, Austin.”
Fools rush in, he thought ruefully, where angels fear to tread. If discretion was the better part of valor, he was just plain screwed in the valor department.
He put his hands on either side of Paige’s face and he kissed her, tentatively at first. She stiffened, and Austin was prepared to back off, but then, in the next instant, the next heartbeat, she softened against him, and he deepened the kiss.
He used his tongue and goddamn it was good. But then it happened.
She shoved him away, hard.
And then pushed both hands into her hair and paced back and forth in front of him, muttering to herself.
Austin stood because she had, and the move was too sudden. His back seized up so ferociously that he groaned and doubled over.
And then he couldn’t straighten back up.
Paige caught her breath, stopped the pacing, hurried along the breezeway and flipped the first light switch she came to, causing the overheads to flare to life. Austin stayed where he was, flat-out inc
apable of doing anything else.
Shep sat at his feet, the picture of canine goodwill, whisking his tail back and forth in the sawdust.
Austin was still bent in the middle, like an old-fashioned hairpin.
Paige returned, all professional now. Reaching Austin, she took his arm in a gentle hold. “Can you walk?” she asked.
“Hell, no,” Austin responded, in pain and mortified that he was helpless in front of the last person in the world he wanted to think of him as weak. “Do I look to you like a man who can walk?”
She started to giggle, nervously at first, still holding on to his arm. “Well, can you at least stand up straight?”
“No, I freakin’ cannot stand up straight!”
“Take it easy,” Paige urged, rubbing his back with one small hand. “It’s probably just a spasm, like a charley horse. You’ll be all right in a minute.”
“Do you have any idea how much this hurts? And you stand there laughing—”
Paige’s giggle turned to a chuckle, followed by a half-swallowed guffaw. Out of the corner of his eye, Austin saw her slap her free hand over her mouth. “I’m—really—sorry—” Another peal of mirth escaped her. “It’s just that this whole situation—it’s so—”
Bracing his hands on his thighs, he glared at her, sidelong. “Funny?” he supplied.
She laughed again. “I must be hysterical,” she said, dashing away tears with the back of her hand. “Austin, I’m sorry. Really. I don’t mean—”
The ache seemed to be slacking off a little, but he was a long way from okay. Plus, he felt like a damn fool, standing there, bent like a twist in the road.
“Will you just—go back in the house or something?” he said.
She blinked, shook her head. “And leave you like this?”
“I hate to say it,” Austin ground out, “but you’re not really helping all that much by sticking around.”
McKettricks of Texas: Austin Page 8