“That’s not a plan, Tess. It’s more like a joke.” Paula settled into the driver’s seat.
“It was until Addie joined the family. She told me she’d be happy to connect me with her old Hollywood pals. She even said I could stay with her parents at first and they’d help me find a place to live and the rest. They might take me up and be my agents.”
Paula wished Tess was serious. Ever since Addie had been revealed as a former TV sitcom actress, Tess had clung to the idea that she, too, could become a Hollywood star. Yet she kept refusing to do anything about it. Paula had offered to help her. Truth to tell, Tess was in no shape to live alone in Hollywood, a place notorious for eating up young, pretty girls.
“If you’re dealing with a hangover every morning, can you handle a real career?”
“I’d straighten up if I had something to do that was a real.”
Paula snorted. “As if acting is real. That’s a laugh.”
“It feels real to me. It always has. I’ve watched as many of Miss Betty’s sitcoms as possible. I know I could do that level of acting with one hand tied behind my back. Now that I have connections, my chance has arrived.”
Paula set the car in motion. She seesawed about whether going to Hollywood would be a good idea for Tess or not. Meanwhile, they urgently needed a way to keep Baron from selling the ranch.
Chapter 3
JD winced as the doctor probed his abdominal wound, but he made no sound.
The doctor looked up. “We’ve left this until last because usually it’s not important. Most people don’t feel anything at all. Lots of men walk around with pieces of bullets in them. I don’t like the position of the shrapnel. It’s moving. Within a few months it could impact your liver, or worse, your kidneys.”
“Then I’d be dead,” JD said flatly.
“Not quite. There’s dialysis if it came to complete kidney failure, but more likely you’d have ongoing issues with the one kidney working and traumatic injury causing decreased function of the other. We don’t want that to happen.”
The doctor finished her probing and covered him up again. She was only a few years older than him, fresh-faced and earnest. The kind of girl he could easily seduce. No, not any more. No woman wanted a man without a foot. Sure, maybe a wife would put up with it, remembering the past when a guy was whole. But a new woman?
The doctor must have seen the speculation in his glance. Her face colored a bit. She pulled her white doctor’s coat around her as if she was cold. Yeah. That’s how appealing a cripple was to a whole woman now.
She shook off the moment of male-female consciousness and regained her professional mien. “You should get the operation to have the shrapnel removed. It’s not a big deal yet, but the more it moves, the harder the operation will be.”
“Would you be doing it?”
“I’m not a surgeon. I’d call in a specialist.” She grimaced. “Because of the war, we actually do have a shrapnel removal specialist here.”
“Don’t bother. I’m not having any more operations. I’m done.”
She frowned. “I’ve just described the risk of that dirty piece of metal harming your vital organs.”
“Yeah, so what? Who cares?”
Now it was her turn to eye him speculatively. “Have you talked to the psychologist about how you feel?”
“No head doctors. I’m fine,” he said emphatically.
She shook her head. “No, you’re not. You’ve got PTSD. It’s not easy to get rid of, and if you don’t address it, it festers inside—like that shrapnel—and causes big problems in your life for many years to come.”
“I don’t have a life. My life ended when that IED exploded. You’re talking to a dead man.”
She picked up a chart and wrote on it. All humor had left her face.
“I’m signing you up for another psych evaluation. We’ve found that the outcomes of operations are impacted by the patient’s state of mind. Yours isn’t good,” she said bluntly.
“As if I care,” he muttered. She left the room.
He was a bastard today. First ripping up at Paula and manhandling her, and now acting like a dick with the doc. He knew why. It wasn’t only his condition, which sucked. It was the imminent visit of one of his buddies from the unit. Rolf Pedersen had sent him a message saying he was out and coming to Cheyenne. JD hated the thought that Rolf would see him like this, in a hospital bed, part of him blown away. His lost foot hurt today, too. Phantom nerve pains, they’d explained. Didn’t make it any easier when he felt pangs in a foot that wasn’t there anymore. Damn.
He’d always been tough, strong, active. This was no way to live. Lying here in a hospital while the world kept turning. More guys being blown up every day. More guys dying. It stank.
At least his mother wasn’t here today crying over him. He could barely stand it anymore. She came every day, with his dad and Tess. Tess hated it, Robert he couldn’t figure, but his mom was clear as stream water. She grieved every hurt to his body. She couldn’t stop compulsively patting him and smoothing his limbs, what remained of them. It made him want to run away, but he wasn’t in shape to run anywhere.
Rolf finally showed up that evening.
“Hey, buddy,” he said, walking into the room. The Pedersens were originally from Denmark and it showed in Rolf’s height and his rangy frame. He was a true Nordic blond, too, but his personality was pure Texan. While deployed, Rolf had matched JD tale for tale about ranching hijinks.
JD cast a glance at his sleeping roommate. “Let’s take a walk.” He ignored the pain in his abdomen and stood, balancing himself with the crutches. “There’s a place at the end of the hall where we can hang out,” he said, and led the way. When they reached the small sitting room, JD dropped into a chair.
Rolf said, “Looks like you’ve got those down. But what about a new leg?”
JD felt his expression sour. “A prosthesis, as they like to call it? I’ve got a choice. Standard fake leg, although now they’ve added batteries that make small changes in the foot angle—kind of like ABS on your car. Or I could go full geek and go for an embedded piece of metal. It gets absorbed by the bone and acts much more like a real leg, but doesn’t pretend to be one.”
“I’ve seen athletes with them on television. You interested in the Olympics?”
“I don’t care one way or the other.”
Rolf seemed baffled by JD’s attitude. “Right. Okay, here’s the update. I could have emailed you the info but I wanted to see how you were doing. The guys have been asking.”
“Which guys? Where’s Joey?”
Rolf winced. “No one’s heard from Joey. She’s officially MIA. We think she’s dead, but there’s no evidence.”
“Rob’s dead,” JD said flatly.
Rolf nodded. “I just visited his widow. Once her time on the base was up, she moved back to the house she and Rob had in West Virginia. Two little girls. Carrie’s a kindergarten teacher now. Seems to have adjusted. She’s lonely, of course. Missing her man.”
“He was a good captain.”
“That he was. His number came up.”
“Mine came up, too, but somehow fate still has me dragging around anyway,” JD said, not bothering to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
Rolf absorbed that without blinking. “How are things at your family’s ranch?”
“My brother wants to sell up. Dad’s in la-la land thinking Baron will settle for staying there the rest of his life. Not gonna happen.”
“Are you going back to take over?”
“You’re joking. I’m in no shape to go anywhere or do anything.”
Rolf frowned. “I talked to your mother on the phone before I came out here. She said you’ve recovered almost completely and could be back to regular life whenever you chose.”
JD hated that people talked about him. They’d never talked about him before except to comment on his prowess with women. He’d lost interest in women completely. There was nothing left. A void where his min
d should be. Except for Paula. Today she’d riled him so much he’d started thinking about her as if she was a woman he wanted to conquer.
He looked up. Rolf was still talking about the ranch.
“You don’t get it, pal,” JD said, “I’m a mess. A cripple. I can never lead a normal life again.” He held up his hand with the missing fingers.
Rolf laughed, then quickly said, “Sorry. Don’t get started on missing fingers. Half the guys on my dad’s ranch are missing at least one.”
JD’s good hand went through his hair, scratching because he’d had it buzzed only a week ago. “Those are the old guys.”
“Which we’ve now got a chance to become. I’m out. My hitch is up and I’m not going back for another deployment. I’m done.”
“What are you planning to do next? Go back to your daddy’s ranch?”
“Can’t. My sister took over the ranch while I was away. Dad decided to retire. No place for me there.”
“Your sister?” JD was incredulous.
Rolf shrugged. “Sure, why not? She knows as much about ranching as I do. Anyway, I was deployed when it all happened. She’s made her life on the ranch. Got a husband and a couple of kids now already. I have to look for my own future somewhere else. She bought the ranch from Dad. I don’t have any right to complain. Husband’s nice enough. They let me visit anytime I want, but it doesn’t feel like home anymore. The kids are cute.”
“You want to run a place? Or do something else? Our ranch needs a manager.”
“Why aren’t you going back to run it?”
“I’m in no shape to do anything.”
“You look recovered. Why are you still here? Sounds like you don’t like it.”
“I’m sick of this place. Sick of my life. Believe me, I thought about checking out at first. Got over that. Now…now I don’t know. I don’t want anything. Paula—family friend—keeps coming by to nag me into doing something. Says I’m destroying my family.”
“She sounds tough. Drill sergeant?”
He smiled briefly. “In another life. She’s a friend of my sister’s. Blames me for my family members going a little nuts and messing up their lives.”
He told Rolf what he knew about Baron kidnapping Addie six months ago.
Rolf shook his head. “Amazing. And you say they’re engaged now despite what happened?”
“If he can dump the ranch duty. He’s a geologist. Likes to play with rocks.”
“Well, then,” Rolf grinned. “Easy assignment. Go back to the ranch and take over. Get on with your life.”
The same words Paula had flung at him hours ago. JD said nothing. His foot hurt. The foot that wasn’t there anymore. Damn.
Rolf waited him out.
Finally, JD lifted his head from contemplating the empty space below his knee where his ankle and foot should be.
“Good to see you. Hope you can find a second act.” He could hear the frost in his voice.
Rolf took his dismissal gracefully. He gave JD a card with his email and phone. “Call or email me if you need anything. Anytime.” He stood and offered his hand. One powerful grip later, he was gone.
JD looked around the little hospital lounge. Nice place, compared to some of the corners where he’d had to pitch a tent during deployment. Safe place. No one could blow him up here. No one could walk toward him with pleading eyes, and kill herself to kill him.
Chapter 4
“How about a movie?” Paula suggested, as she drove away from the hospital where Robert Selkirk was staying.
Tess listlessly agreed. “Why bother? My family drama is much more involving than anything on the screen.”
“You can get in some practice emoting for the cameras.”
“You think I’m joking, don’t you? One of these days I’m going to Hollywood. My life coach career is the real joke.”
“I’m in your corner,” Paula said. “Go to California and become a star.”
Tess sniffed and looked out the passenger window. She was all talk and no action. Her mother and father still ruled her.
After the movie, a forgettable romcom, they went to Paula’s home to change. Tess ripped off her conservative blouse and donned a glittery top with a swishy cut that revealed more than it concealed of her lean figure. She added a ton of makeup, accentuating her eyes. Paula teased her hair into something like a tousled mess, adding long dangly gold hoops to her earlobes, and found a tighter pair of jeans to wear. She wasn’t the cowgirl type, so she didn’t bother with a hat like Tess. She wore a vest to disguise her too-prominent breasts. The breasts JD had touched only a few hours ago. She still felt his hand. He hadn’t been gentle with her mouth, but he’d touched her breasts as if he knew how to love a woman right. Oh, lord. She was getting heated all over again.
They threw on coats—it was January after all—and headed out the door.
***
They’d danced at two bars. It was two a.m., but Tess was still eager to hit another.
“Have mercy on me,” Paula said. “I work for a living.”
“Liar. Daddy’s money bought your bank. You can do whatever you like.”
“I prefer to take my responsibilities seriously, unlike you.”
“I resent that,” Tess said, her consonants slurred. “I’m a good life coach. My clients are just too easy. All they want to hear from me is ‘You can do that.’ They want permission to enjoy life at last after being good little wives and mothers. Sickens me. Is that all we have to look forward to with men?”
Paula took a second to stare at Tess before turning back to the traffic. “Did you just ask me a serious question?”
“Damn right I did. We’re living in the middle of sexist central. The guys we meet all want docile little women—whores in bed, of course—women who won’t break out of whatever the most conservative mold is for women. What a drag.”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
“Dance and drink until I fall down, of course. Let’s go to Blackie’s.”
Paula said, “It’s a dive. Attracts the worst sorts. We’ve had trouble there before, remember?”
“Their drinks are strong.”
“I’d rather not.”
Tess started to open her car door.
Paula screeched the vehicle to the curb. “Are you crazy? Do you want to die?”
“Yes,” Tess said baldly. “Take us to Blackie’s or I swear I’ll get out and hitchhike.”
Paula measured her with her eyes. “You mean it.”
“I’m at the bursting point. I’ve got to.”
“You’re very brave when you’re drunk. Why can’t you be this way sober? Why don’t you let me buy you an airline ticket to Los Angeles?”
“I wish I knew. Something’s got to change,” Tess muttered.
Paula sent her car toward the seamier side of town, where Blackie’s, a bar that claimed to feature dancing and karaoke, but mostly featured hard drinking and sleazy pick-ups, clung to the corner of a run-down block.
“Good thing your parents don’t know anything about this bar.”
“They don’t know anything, period. They even pretend I’m not a drunk.”
Paula wished there was a parking lot attendant. Her car usually picked up some damage at places like Blackie’s. The patrons got more than a bit rowdy here after drinking for hours. Tonight would be more of the usual, drinking and dancing with Tess and fending off the cowboys who wanted more than a dance partner. Tess was a wild dancer. The guys all wanted to dance with her when she was lit. Paula’s job was to see to it that Tess went home with her, not some randy cowboy itching to get lucky. Tess only drank because she was miserable, not because she was a slut who wanted to have sex with one stranger after another.
After JD had come home so injured, Paula had tried that life for a short period. She quickly decided it sucked and had taken a vow of celibacy. It wasn’t much fun. Paula wanted JD with a burning passion and lord knew if she’d ever get a crack at him. She’d take whatever he off
ered, even if it was five minutes in the hospital bed with him. Or on her knees in front of him. She didn’t care. Not that she confided that to Tess. For virginal young Tess, Paula had to be strong, to be confident that everything would eventually turn out all right for the Selkirks, every one of them.
Sometimes being a couple of years older than Tess didn’t make for a perfect friendship, but there was true affection between them. After Tess had bailed from college, Paula had accelerated her classes and finished up in a hurry so she could come to Cheyenne. She’d never expected to fall hard for JD. Bitter, amazing kisser JD.
An hour later, Paula was getting another drink at the bar when she saw a beefy cowboy doing more than dancing with Tess. He seemed to be half-supporting her as he led her outside. Uh-oh.
Paula nodded significantly at the bartender and followed them out. God, it was cold, but no time to grab her jacket. She was in time to see the cowboy trying to load Tess into the back seat of his extended cab truck, at the same time tearing at her clothes.
“Hey!” she yelled, and started running.
Tess seemed to have no fight in her. Her body was like spaghetti as the cowboy bent it trying to get her half-on, half-off the passenger seat.
“Let go of her. You’re not taking her anywhere.”
The cowboy pulled at Tess’s shirt, ripping it to get at her breasts. He put one brawny leg between hers and tried to get her jeans down. Tess was letting it happen because Tess was drunk. In about thirty seconds, the cowboy would find a way inside her pants and then inside Tess.
“Back off, cowboy,” Paula called as she ran toward them. “She’s drunk. That’s not consent.”
“Leave us alone. She wants it,” he said in a growl.
“I’m saying no for her.” Paula confronted him, her hands making fists at her sides.
“Go away or you’ll be sorry.” The guy returned to unzipping Tess’s jeans.
Saving the Soldier (Selkirk Family Ranch Book 2) Page 3