He frowned and reminded himself that no matter how pretty he thought she was, Melanie Brooks was a mystery he definitely didn’t need to explore.
* * *
It was almost nine that evening when Melanie wheeled herself into the room that had once been a formal dining area and had been turned into a downstairs bedroom after her mother had taken ill.
At the time of the renovation Melanie had had no idea that she was overseeing the construction of a room that would eventually become part of her own prison.
With the grace of a lame elephant she managed to pull herself up and out of the wheelchair and careen onto the bed. She straightened to a sitting position, undressed and then pulled her nightgown over her head and released a deep sigh of exhaustion.
She ignored the chronic tingling pain that radiated down her right leg as she reached for the lamp at the side of the bed and turned it off.
Adam Benson. She’d been surprised when he’d shown up on her doorstep, inquiring about the room, but she’d been positively stunned by an immediate, visceral attraction to the long-legged cowboy.
Tilly Graves, her mother’s best friend, who now came in to clean and help out three times a week, had gossiped a lot about the Benson brothers over the last couple of months, but she’d never mentioned that Adam Benson had shiny black hair with just enough curl to make a woman’s fingers itch with the need to ruffle through it. Tilly had never said that Adam had blue-gray eyes with long dark lashes that a woman might covet.
Finally, Tilly had never mentioned that Adam Benson had broad shoulders, slim hips and long legs that would easily turn a woman’s head in his direction.
She stared up at the dark bedroom ceiling and felt the frown that tugged her lips downward. She’d hoped to rent the rooms to a woman. That had been her goal when she’d initially hung the sign, but it had been months since then and Adam had been the first and only person to inquire about the room. Besides, the truth of the matter was that Melanie desperately needed the rent money.
It had never been her plan to be stuck here in the town she’d escaped on her high school graduation day, bringing in only a disability check that barely met minimal living expenses.
This wasn’t supposed to have happened to her. She’d had a life plan since she’d been seven years old and no place in that plan had there been a wheelchair.
She closed her eyes as tears burned and the familiar taste of bitterness surged up the back of her throat. Rude? Sour and cranky? Is that really what people were whispering about her in town?
She told herself she didn’t care what other people thought about her, that she had every reason to be all those things and more, but the truth of the matter was his words had stung her.
She certainly hadn’t had much interaction with anyone since her mother’s death. Once a week her groceries were delivered by a teenager who worked at the Shop and Go, and a month ago she’d had to contact Abe Dell, the local plumber, to take care of a leak beneath the kitchen sink. Had she been cranky with those people? Probably, she thought with a touch of shame. She felt as if she’d been stuck in a place of anger for a while, but surely she had good reason.
For all intents and purposes her life had ended seven months ago at the bottom of the stairs that led down to the basement. It had been exactly a week after she’d buried her mother.
Still grieving, she had been in the process of packing up some of her mother’s things to donate to a local charity. She had started down the stairs to retrieve a couple of empty boxes when her foot missed a rung and plunged her into a free fall.
Melanie’s right leg had been bothering her for weeks before the fall, but as a professional dancer she’d been accustomed to aches and pains for so long that she’d ignored the warning signs of unusual numbness and burning.
The fall hadn’t been what had put her in the wheelchair. The stumble on the stairs had simply been a symptom of a more serious underlying condition.
She now shifted positions in the bed and consciously willed away thoughts of that day and the moment when she’d realized any dreams, any hopes she’d once had for her future had been destroyed.
She squeezed her eyes more tightly closed and sought the sweet oblivion of sleep. It didn’t take long. She dreamed she was dancing, executing perfect pirouettes and leaps that suspended her in midair as music swelled in her chest, filled her soul.
Ballet, jazz and tap, she did it all and she did it well. She’d been born to dance and in her dreams she was all that she was meant to be.
The stark light of morning sunshine streaming through the nearby window pulled her from her night of happy dreams and into the glare of her harsh reality. The right foot that she’d once concentrated so hard to point had betrayed her, now dangling in a permanent point, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t flex it to a flat, walking position.
Peripheral neuropathy and drop foot were the official diagnoses that had put her in a wheelchair and taken away her career as a professional dancer.
For three months she’d had every neurological test there was in an attempt to find the problem and fix it, but nobody had been able to pinpoint the source of the condition, and it had been written up as lumbosacral plexopathy—nerves that didn’t work right, for some unknown reason.
With the sun getting brighter and the clock reading almost eight, Melanie made the clumsy move from the bed to the wheelchair and wheeled herself into the adjoining bathroom.
Thankfully the bathroom shower was equipped with all the special equipment it required for her to be independent. And she had to be independent. Other than Tilly there was nobody in her life and she knew the odds of having anyone else in her life on a permanent basis were minimal. She was damaged goods and would only be a burden on anyone.
It was twenty to nine when she finally left the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed in a pair of soft fleece navy blue jogging pants and a white and navy T-shirt.
She headed for the kitchen, her heart beating just a little bit faster than usual, knowing that today was the day she would start to share her house with Adam Benson.
While her emotions screamed that it was a big mistake, her logical side reminded her that renting the upstairs to him was a necessary evil. Her mother had loved this house and now it was all that Melanie had, her only security in the world. Although it had been paid off several years ago by her mother, the yearly real estate taxes would soon be due and she didn’t want to give the obnoxious Craig Jenkins any opportunity to sneak in and grab the house out from under her because she couldn’t afford to pay them.
She was sorry she’d ever contacted the real estate developer, but at the time she had called him, her intention had been to sell the house and get back to her dancing life in New York City as quickly as possible.
Now she had no life to return to and this house in the small Oklahoma town where she’d grown up had become her source of safety, her only real security.
It took her only minutes to fix a pot of coffee, and by the time she’d poured her first cup of the morning, a knock sounded at the door.
Nervous tension jumped in her veins as she glanced at the clock and realized it was precisely nine and her new roommate of sorts had arrived.
When she opened the door to let him in, she was once again struck by his hot handsomeness. Clad in blue jeans that hugged the length of his long legs, and in a gray T-shirt that made his eyes appear more gray than blue, he looked as if he could be a model for the quintessential cowboy.
“Good morning,” he said as he swept his black hat off his head.
“Morning,” she replied. “You’re right on time.”
He smiled at her and she felt the warmth of it deep in the pit of her stomach. “I’ve always thought that punctuality was a virtue.” He gestured toward the curb, where a black pickup was parked. “I’ve got things to move in. Should I do it now, or do you want me to sign the agreement and give you a check first?”
He carried with him an energy that seemed to
pulse in the air around him, an energy that seductively drew her to him. “We can take care of the business end of things after you’ve moved everything inside,” she replied. She wheeled herself backward. “I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re finished.”
She didn’t wait for his response. Quickly pivoting her chair around, she escaped into the kitchen and moved to the table that held her cup of coffee.
Maybe it was because she’d isolated herself for the past six months that Adam touched a chord inside her. He appeared so big, so capable, with strong shoulders that could hold the weight of the world.
Since her mother’s funeral seven months ago the only people she’d seen on a regular basis were Tilly and Craig Jenkins and various doctors and nurses in Oklahoma City. Craig reminded her of a snake, with his hooded dark eyes and slender frame. Surely it wasn’t any wonder that she’d react to the first attractive man who entered her small, narrow sphere.
She cast her gaze outside the window, where a light breeze stirred the trees, tugging some of the dying leaves to the ground. She’d always loved autumn, when the summer heat released its grip on the Big Apple. With her dance shoes in a canvas bag slung over her shoulder, she’d race from audition to audition with the welcome cool fall air on her face.
Now the dying leaves outside mirrored what she felt inside her soul and she had a feeling she would always hate this time of year...the time of her virtual demise.
As she heard the front door open and then close, her thoughts snapped back to Adam. A man who looked like him probably could have any woman he chose. Certainly he had a girlfriend somewhere in town.
Her heart stuttered a bit as she realized she hadn’t considered that he would probably want to have guests, perhaps even female overnight guests.
She tried to imagine lying in bed at night and knowing that he was upstairs entertaining a lady. A surprising surge of envy swept through her. She told herself it had nothing to do with Adam himself but was rooted in the fact that she knew she would never again feel the comfort of a man’s arms around her. She would never again enjoy the passion that a kiss could hold, experience the joy of making love.
She closed her eyes, and for just a moment she was the woman in Adam Benson’s arms, she was the woman tasting his mouth, feeling his body move in unison with hers.
As she heard the front door open and close once again, she snapped out of the fantasy, irritated with herself and irrationally irritated with him.
He hadn’t even finished moving his things in yet and already she had a feeling her life was about to change dramatically. She just wasn’t sure if it would change for the good or the bad.
Chapter 2
It took Adam nearly an hour to get everything from the back of his pickup and to the rooms upstairs he would now call home. Deciding to unpack the boxes and clothes later in the afternoon, he went back downstairs to find Melanie and take care of the business of the new digs.
As he walked through the living room, he noticed that one of the walls was covered with photos of dancers. Funny, he’d never thought of Olive Brooks as being the type of woman to hang artsy black-and-white photos like those that adorned her wall.
It was a fleeting thought, as he found the woman in the kitchen much more of an enigma. After he’d left here the day before, he’d headed to the café. While eating lunch and chatting with the pretty owner, Mary Mathis, he’d asked what she knew about Melanie Brooks.
If anyone would have the inside scoop on anyone, it would be Mary, as the café was the social hub of the town. But she’d said that the only thing she’d heard was that Melanie lived like a hermit, never having ventured outside since her mother’s funeral.
When Adam had mentioned the wheelchair, Mary had been stunned and had told Adam that at Olive’s funeral a little over seven months ago Melanie had appeared healthy and perfectly capable of walking. So whatever had put her in the wheelchair was a fairly recent event.
He stepped through the threshold of the kitchen and found the object of his thoughts sitting at the table with several papers and a pen in front of her. She held a cup of coffee in her hands.
“That was fast,” she said as she gestured him to one of the chairs at the round oak table.
“Actually, I just carried everything upstairs but didn’t really unpack anything. I figured we’d get the paperwork out of the way first.” He eased down in the chair across from her. “I thought I’d sign the papers and then, to celebrate, maybe you’d join me at the Cowboy Café for an early lunch.”
She looked at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted a second head. “Thanks, but I don’t go out, and besides, I think it’s important that we maintain the boundaries of landlord and tenant.”
“Why?” He gazed at her curiously.
“Why what?” She returned his curious gaze.
“Why don’t you go out?”
“I would think it was obvious,” she replied tightly as her eyes deepened to a midnight blue. “I can’t walk.”
He frowned thoughtfully. “I get that, but what does that have to do with you going out for a meal?”
Her mouth worked for a moment, making no sound, and then she sighed in obvious frustration. “It’s too complicated for me to leave the house and in any case I don’t think it’s a good idea. Now, if you’ll just look over these papers I drew up.” She shoved two computer-printed papers across the table, along with the pen.
Adam scanned the informal agreement and saw nothing in it that raised any red flags in his mind. “Looks fine to me,” he said as he grabbed the pen and signed on the line beneath where she had already signed her name.
He pushed the contract back across the table and then withdrew a check he’d written the night before from his shirt pocket. “I went ahead and wrote it for six months’ worth.” He leaned forward and placed the check in front of her.
“Quite the optimist, aren’t you?” she said dryly.
He released a low rumble of laughter. “It’s been a long time since anyone has accused me of being an optimist, but yeah, I think this arrangement is going to work out just fine.”
“That makes one of us.” She picked up the check and folded it in half, then tucked it into the pocket on her T-shirt.
He made her nervous, he realized as he noted the slight tremble of her hand. He’d feel better if she’d just smile...a small, simple smile. But that didn’t seem to be in her repertoire of expressions.
“And now I think I’ll head over to the grocery store and pick up a few items. I mostly take my meals at the Cowboy Café, but there are times I just don’t feel like the company and will be eating here.” He got up from the table and could almost feel the relief that coursed through her.
“I’ll just remind you that the upper cabinets are all yours, and of course, you can use any space in the refrigerator that you need.” She pulled back from the table a bit. “Don’t you work?” she asked suddenly. “I mean, don’t you have someplace you need to be every day?”
“My job has always been the family ranch, but with my younger brother back in town and taking care of things there, I’ve decided to take a little time off.” He could tell his words didn’t exactly thrill her. She was probably hoping he’d leave each day for a job and be at the house only during the evenings.
He went on. “But don’t worry. I don’t intend to be underfoot here.” He was oddly disappointed to see an edge of relief creep into her eyes. “In fact, I’m going to get out of here right now and get those groceries.”
“Before you go, I have a house key to give you.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew a key. “It works on both the front and back doors.”
“Thanks.” He plucked it from her long, slender fingers. “And I didn’t notice anything in our contract that indicated I had a curfew.”
“No curfew,” she replied and then shifted her gaze from him to the window. “And while I don’t mind you having a guest now and then, I would prefer if you didn’t have a parade of women coming in and out of the hou
se.”
He laughed again, a sharp burst of surprise. Her gaze shot back to him. “A parade of women? Hell, I haven’t even had a date in over eight months. Trust me, that won’t be an issue. I’m not looking for any kind of relationship right now.”
Minutes later, as he drove to the nearby grocery store, he thought about her concerns regarding him and other women. He supposed he should be flattered that she thought him man enough to have a bevy of beauties at his beck and call, but the truth of the matter was Adam had never had much success with the opposite sex. Of course, he’d never tried very hard to have any kind of a relationship.
Most of his life he’d been more comfortable working with the livestock on the ranch than socializing. Recently, at thirty-three years old, Adam had come to the conclusion that he would probably live the rest of his life alone, with only the companionship of friends and extended family.
Since his oldest brother’s, Sam’s, arrest for attempted murder, Adam had found himself questioning what madness might lie inside himself, just waiting to spring out of nowhere.
He and Sam had been not only brothers, but also best friends, and Adam hadn’t seen any of the growing madness in his brother. Somehow he’d missed important warning signals, and there were times when he lay awake in the darkness of night and wondered if that same kind of crazed madness resided someplace hidden inside him, just waiting for a trigger to release it.
He dismissed these troubling thoughts as he pulled into the parking lot of the Shop and Go, a mental list of items he wanted to buy in his head.
As he stepped into the store, the first person he saw was Sheriff Cameron Evans.
The man looked as if he’d aged ten years in the last six months, since the first waitress had been found murdered. The discovery of another body a month later had only added to the stress the sheriff had to be feeling. Thankfully for the past three months there had been no more murdered women.
Cowboy with a Cause Page 2