Calves? Really?
Wyatt nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Sale this weekend. Goats are good, too—eat all the scrub out without having to pay for a lot of feed.”
I blinked. Soon I’ll be gathering eggs and milking cows.
“Really?” My mother smiled at him, opening her car door.
Wyatt nodded again. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Sounds like a good idea then. You two be careful on that scaffolding, please,” she said before climbing into the car and shutting the door.
I followed, feeling confused. It was like I was living in some parallel universe where cowboys weren’t a joke and livestock replaced the family pet. I climbed into the car, knowing he was watching me but refusing to look at him.
And I almost made it. Almost. But right before we turned around in the drive, I glanced back. He was standing on the porch railing, leaning forward to assess the single eye-hook holding the corner of the swing up.
***
We’d cleaned the veterinarian clinic for hours before giving up and focusing on the filing cabinet. That had only made it worse. Not only had the previous veterinarian been clueless about hygiene, but he had also been a complete idiot. The files were in no specific order, not by date or alphabetically, and his handwriting was… What was that old joke about a doctor’s handwriting? I didn’t know how Mom was going to manage it all. There wasn’t a computer in the entire building.
The grungy clinic was a far cry from the lab, her classroom, having every available resource at her fingers—everything she’d left. I couldn’t ignore the twist of guilt… No. It’s not my fault, dammit. I didn’t move us here. I didn’t take her away from her dream job to bring her here. It was all too easy to really dislike my dad at times like this.
By the time we’d locked up her clinic, she was strangely quiet and I was pissed—as usual. She should torch the place and start from scratch. I thought about suggesting that, but decided she wouldn’t be amused.
The drive home was long and quiet. The sun was setting when we got back to the house.
“They got a lot done,” she said, looking out the windshield.
I stared, amazed. “Huh.” The front half of the second story was completely scraped.
“They must be exhausted.”
“Probably starving.” I shifted the bag of fried chicken to my non-sore hand and opened the car door. I climbed the steps to the porch and froze. “He fixed it,” I murmured.
My mother glanced at me, then at the newly repaired porch swing. Not only was it hanging by four new chains, it had been sanded and repainted a nice crisp apple-green.
“Looks great,” she said. “I’m glad your dad hired him.”
I nodded but didn’t say anything.
Mom opened the front door. “Let’s get them fed so they can go to bed.”
I followed her in, trying not to read too much into the swing repair. It was just a swing, for crying out loud. A broken swing, that was all.
The lights in the living room were off. The TV was on, blaring some re-cap of sports scores—not that they were watching it. They were both sound asleep. Dax was sprawled across the couch, snoring softly. Wyatt sat in our recliner, his head cocked at an awkward angle. He looked uncomfortable, like he’d get a crick in his neck.
Mom took the food from me and whispered, “I’ll go get dinner ready. You can wake them up.”
“Gosh, thanks,” I murmured, already making my way to the recliner. I stopped, wondering whether or not I should say something…or if I should poke him…or what. Instead, I cupped his cheek, tilting his head back so that it rested against the headrest of the chair. His cheek was rough, stubbly, and warm. He sighed, leaning into my hand.
“Allie?” Dax sounded as surprised as I felt.
I pulled my hand out from under Wyatt’s cheek and stepped back. Too late. His eyes popped open…sleepy…then round and surprised because I was leaning over him, invading his personal space.
My cheeks were burning as I scowled at my brother. “Dinner’s here.”
I stomped from the room, horrified that I’d been caught. What the hell is the matter with me? Who the hell cares if he gets a crick in his neck? I don’t. Dammit.
“Allie.” Mom didn’t look up as I came into the kitchen, which was good because I knew my face was red—I could feel it. “Could you get the tea out of the fridge, please?”
I yanked the refrigerator door open, rattling the empty jam jars on top, and grabbed the pitcher of sweet tea. It sloshed over the top as I put it, hard, on the table. I slammed the refrigerator door, making one jam jar fall off.
Wyatt caught it.
I didn’t look at him. Or my mom. Or Dax. I sat at the table and stared at the yellow and white paper box full of fried chicken.
“You boys must be exhausted,” Mom said as she sat down at the table.
“Wyatt’s a machine,” Dax complained. “Seriously. My arms feel like lead.”
Wyatt laughed. “I’ll try to go easy on you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Dax groaned.
“Believe me,” Wyatt passed the chicken to me as he spoke, “you’ll be worse off if you don’t keep working. Your muscles will tense up.”
I took the box, taking extra care not to touch Wyatt. “Muscles? Dax?” I couldn’t resist.
“Ha, ha.” Dax gave me a look. “Hilarious.”
I laughed, reaching for a roll from another box. “I thought so.” I didn’t mean to look at Wyatt, but…I did. He was smiling at me in a big way. I frowned, grabbed the roll, and sat back in my chair.
“So,” Dax said, “how’d it go for you guys at the clinic?”
My mother’s eyebrows went up. “It’s…well…”
“I think she’d be better off burning the place down and starting from scratch,” I offered, instantly regretting it.
Mom burst out laughing. “You know, I was thinking the same thing.”
We all laughed then, whether from relief or exhaustion didn’t matter. And it felt good.
“Need help?” Dax asked.
“Yes. Lots and lots and lots of it. But,” I shook my head, still smiling, “you’re just trying to get out of helping Wyatt.”
Dax grinned. “Well…okay, yeah, but if you need help…?”
My mother was really laughing now. And for the first time in a long time, she looked relaxed and happy. “Oh, Dax!”
“What?” His tone was all innocence. “I just want to—”
“Get out of sweating your ass off tomorrow?” I inserted. Mom kept laughing.
“There is AC in the office, right?” Dax asked. I threw a roll at him and laughed. “Allie and I can change places,” Dax offered, one eyebrow rising high as he took a sip of iced tea.
I stopped laughing then, and glanced at Wyatt.
Wyatt looked at me, shrugging. “I bet Allie can handle it. Even with a bum hand.”
“That’s cold, man.” Dax shook his head, leaning back in his chair.
I smiled shyly, hating the way my cheeks were burning—again. Wyatt winked at me and I felt something warm deep inside of me. I frowned.
“Thank you for dinner, Dr. Cooper.” Wyatt stood, cleaning off his plate and loading it into the dishwasher. “I hate to eat and run but I promised to help out at the arena.”
Mom was surprised. “You’re not done for the day?”
He shook his head, glancing at the clock. “No, ma’am. Rodeo every weekend means the younger ones have to practice in the middle of the week.”
“What events do you do?” Mom asked.
“Team roping mostly.” He rinsed out his glass. “Sometimes steer wrestling, bull riding… Money’s better.”
I gnawed my bottom lip. Sports were one thing, but a lot of the rodeo stuff was dangerous. “You don’t play football?” I asked him. Random question.
He nodded. “Sometimes.”
“You stay busy.” My mom’s voice was hesitant, curious. “When do you have time for school work?”
He smiled. �
��After practice. In the morning, at breakfast. Whenever there’s no work to be done.”
Bet your grades suck, Cowboy. One flaw, then, at least…
My mom nodded, but didn’t say anything else.
“Want to come?” Wyatt asked. I didn’t know if he was talking to me or Dax, but I was preparing to say “No” when Wyatt added, “It’s just me and my roping partner and a bunch of kids.”
“Sure, I’ll go.” Dax cleaned off his plate and loaded it—just like Wyatt.
I glanced at Mom, hoping she’d come to my defense and get me off the hook. I wasn’t feeling my usual, argumentative self—I needed help to turn him down.
“Go.” Mom smiled at me. “Get out of the house for a little bit.”
“You don’t have to come,” Dax argued, arching an eyebrow in challenge.
I scowled at him. I shouldn’t go. I should stay here, find a book to read, or watch some TV or something.
“Ever ride a horse?” Wyatt asked me.
I shot him a look. “Um, no.”
Wyatt smiled. “Ever been to a rodeo?”
I sighed. “Of course. Texas. Rodeos. Duh.”
He laughed. “It’s harder than it looks.”
I shrugged. “I believe you.”
He pushed off the counter. “Thanks again for dinner, Dr. Cooper. I’ll be back at first light.”
“You are allowed to sleep, Wyatt.” Mom smiled.
Dax followed Wyatt to the door, almost slamming into his back when Wyatt stopped in the doorway.
“Coming?” Wyatt asked me, brown eyes sparkling.
I knew Dax and Mom were watching. I knew if I went, it would mean something. And I knew I wanted to go…
I shook my head. “Don’t break anything.” I waved.
The slightest frown creased his face before he smiled. “Night.”
Dax, on the other hand, was clearly irritated. He shook his head and rolled his eyes.
When they were gone, I felt like an idiot. Once the leftovers were put away and the dishwasher was loaded, there was nothing to do. Nothing.
“Let me check your hand?” Mom asked. She unwrapped the bandage and nodded. “Looking good. I’ll take out the stitches in the morning.” Good news. “Any new college letters?” she asked as she finished covering my hand with a clean bandage.
“No. Not yet.”
“You’ve got time. I know your heart is set on SMU, but try to keep an open mind, okay?” I shrugged. Even if I didn’t get accepted to SMU, I was leaving. She had to know that. “The clinic needs computers so…” she sighed, looking tired. She had to be exhausted. The move. The clinic. Dad, being Dad. Dax. Me…
“Good luck.”
She nodded and moved to her desk. In no time, Mom became absorbed in her laptop, scouring the Internet, determined to find a deal on computers for the clinic—and some organizational software too, I hoped. Poor Mom. Talk about a big job.
I didn’t have a computer yet—another confiscated item. Which was fine, since I didn’t want to check email or know what was happening in the rest of the world. It was enough to know that the world was going on just fine without me.
I grabbed a book and went onto the front porch and the waiting swing.
***
This was all familiar, this dream…
A nightmare. Inescapable…
Nothing I did could change it. Or stop it. I was watching it happen again—like a movie.
Rain. Icy cold. Dark night outside. Loud, hot party inside. I don’t remember whose house it was. It didn’t matter.
Lindie fighting with her boyfriend, Charlie. The scene. Him leaving. Lindie crying. We did shooters to make her stop crying. Lots and lots of shooters.
Lindie flirting with Zach Haney, Charlie’s best friend.
Me feeling sick…wanting to go.
Lindie laughing, getting too cozy with Zach—again. Zach smiling, totally into her.
I hated this—watching them hook up and having to keep it a secret.
They kept laughing.
I wanted to go home but they wouldn’t listen. I saw myself lean forward, whispering to her—something I couldn’t take back. I’ll tell Charlie about Zach—something I’d promised never to do.
She almost slapped me but I caught her hand, so angry…she might have hated me. But she got Zach to take us home.
It was raining hard and freezing as I made a beeline for Zach’s piece of crap Suburban. His dented tank had heavy-duty clear plastic sheeting duct-taped across the back instead of an actual window. I leaned against the side and threw up—a lot—then climbed into the very back and passed out to the sound of rain on plastic…
Rain on metal.
Screaming.
Screeching brakes.
Impact. My bones hurting. And then I was flying—airborne—out the plastic-wrapped window. Falling…forever.
Hitting asphalt, hard. Pain. Whacking my head. Pain.
Rain. Confusion. Cold. Pain.
Lindie?
Something wet touched my hand. That was new.
Suburban… Pain… Eighteen-wheeler… Sliding off the road…
Something sticky was definitely on my hand. I shook my hand.
Lindie. Zach. The drainage ditch full of rushing water… I screamed and screamed…
There was panting in my ear. Heavy panting. Something was…licking my hand?
“Pickett.” A familiar voice, soft but firm. “Leave her be.”
“Wake her up.” That sounded like Dax. “She’s having a bad dream.”
“Is she?”
“All the time.”
“I can carry her up.” That other voice…Wyatt.
Was this a dream?
Dax snorted. “She wakes up with you carrying her and she’ll probably break your nose.”
So I was sleeping…on the porch swing. That would explain why I was cold…and uncomfortable.
Wyatt’s chuckle was soft. “Guess I better hope she doesn’t wake up.”
Dax murmured, “You’re on your own man. I’ll wait here.”
My brother—my hero.
But my anger died as the most delicious warmth wrapped around me. Oh. My. God. Strong arms, a heartbeat, a hot palm pressed against my side. And I was being lifted, held, by those arms.
Wyatt was carrying me. I like this dream…
I’m glad I was sleeping. If I wasn’t, I’d have to wake up. He’d put me down. I’d have to get pissy with him—because that’s what I did, acted pissed. Right now, I didn’t want him to put me down. And I was way too warm and comfortable to get pissy.
The front door opened. We were going inside, up the stairs…
I burrowed in a little, to breathe against his chest. His really strong, no-give chest. God, he smells good. Really really good.
I turned, pressing my cheek against him. His heartbeat picked up…a lot. And his arms tightened, holding me more surely. Something about that, the way he was holding me, made my heart thump. Maybe I should admit I was awake?
I heard the floorboard creak. We were almost to my room. Which was good. So why was I feeling panic?
Because he’ll put me down and leave…
My hand gripped his shirt front. I needed…wanted to hold on to him, to keep him here, protecting me, holding me. And for some new and bizarre reason, I felt sort of…frantic about it.
“Allie?” His voice was soft, his breath stirring the air by my ear.
I didn’t say anything. What was I supposed to say? I’m awake but don’t put me down? You smell really good…and you feel even better? Yeah, that wouldn’t go over very well.
Or would it? What if he was cool with it? What if he stayed? Did I want him to stay? I swallowed.
I was being lowered, slowly. I felt the muscles in his chest and arms and shoulders move against me and felt…breathless and hot and confused and…
I’m so in trouble.
My bed was soft beneath my back, but before his arms slipped out from under me I opened my eyes.
&nb
sp; He froze, bent over me, his arms under me, looking guilty. “Hey.”
“Hi.” My voice was husky.
“You were asleep,” he said, still not moving.
I didn’t loosen my grip on his shirt. “And you thought…”
“I’d get you out of the cold.” His jaw tightened.
“Oh.” I nodded. “That was…nice of you.”
He smiled. Oh shit. Yeah. Big trouble.
“I’m a nice guy,” he said, still not moving.
“So everyone keeps telling me.” Why did I sound so breathless? Why did I feel so breathless?
He glanced at my hold on his shirt. I didn’t let go.
When he looked at me, his smile was gone. His eyes stared at me, at my face, my eyes, my nose, my mouth. One of his hands slipped from beneath me, slowly reaching for me. His callused fingertips traced my cheek.
My heart went crazy. My stomach was hot and twisting and quivering. Holy crap.
I blew out a deep breath, heard it hitch—knew he heard it too. The muscle in his jaw tightened and he smiled at me. Holy freaking crap.
I wanted to smile back. I wanted to touch that way too gorgeous face. I want to kiss—
The floorboard squeaked.
“Shit,” I hissed, letting go of Wyatt, pushing him away, right as Dax stuck his head in my room.
5 CHAPTER FIVE
“Wake her up?” Dax asked.
I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of my bed. “Yeah.”
“Are you bleeding?” Dax asked Wyatt, laughing. “I didn’t hear any fighting or furniture being broken.”
“No one’s bleeding.” I paused. “Yet.” I glared at Dax, refusing to look at Wyatt. I couldn’t. What the hell was wrong with me? My heart was pounding like crazy. I was all hot and bothered. Over a cowboy?
I needed to find a hobby. Or a job. Or something.
“Good. Nice to know you can still be civilized when you want to be. Or maybe you were just caught off guard, being asleep and all.” Dax smiled.
I continued to glare at him, but didn’t take the bait. I didn’t have the energy.
“You should have come tonight, Allie.” Dax was watching me. “Beats sitting around here alone.”
Cowboys & Kisses Page 5