by Susan Stoker
For some reason, she seemed to be running scared about something.
Something didn’t ring true with Phoebe Smith. As pretty as the woman was, she was holding back. Nash couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was she wasn’t telling him, but he was determined find out. Which, unfortunately, meant spending more time with the woman.
A dangerous prospect based on the way his arm tingled where she’d touched it and his leg ached to be naked against hers. Yeah, spending time with her could only be a mistake. But his curiosity was piqued and, like a dog with a bone, he couldn’t let go. Not yet.
Chapter Six
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Phoebe hurried away from Nash, rubbing her arm. When she’d touched Nash, an electrical current had tingled in her fingers and run up her arm. It spread through her chest and downward, pooling at the base of her belly. Why? He was a stranger. She’d never felt that way about her fiancé. The hot, aching, needy tension swelled inside her.
Why this man?
As the band ended its set, a loud crash jerked Phoebe out of her sensual stupor. She rushed forward, eager to help clean up whatever mess resulted from the accident.
Audrey yelped and hopped up to sit on the bar.
The patrons of the saloon grew silent, all gazes turned toward Audrey.
Phoebe hurried around the corner of the bar to find a trail of broken glass and spilled whiskey. Worse, Audrey bled from a large gash in her knee. “Oh, Audrey, you’re bleeding.” Phoebe grabbed a bar towel from a drawer and applied pressure to the cut. She eased it away and examined the wound. It looked ugly, but didn’t scare Phoebe. Her love of horses had given her a healthy respect for keeping her cool around scratches, cuts and bruises. “Looks pretty deep. You might need stitches.”
“Well, damn.” Audrey stared down at her leg. “I don’t have time for stitches.” She waved a hand toward the swarms of cowboys crowding the bar to capacity. “We can’t afford to lose another waitress tonight.”
Jackson appeared from the storeroom, carrying a case of whiskey. “What happened?” He nearly tossed the case on the ground and hurried forward, picking his way across the glass-strewn floor.
“I broke a whiskey bottle, slipped in the whiskey and landed on my knee.” Audrey sighed. “Do you think you can put a bandage on it so I can finish out the night?”
Nash leaned over the bar. “Bring her over to the table and let Chance have a look. He’s the trained EMT.”
Alerted to the problem, Chance pushed his way through the crowded room.
Jackson carried Audrey over to set her on a nearby table.
Chance examined the wound.
Audrey’s assistant manager, Charli Sutton, emerged from the storeroom, carrying the first aid kit, and laid it on the table beside Audrey.
Phoebe stepped out of the way and helped Libby clean up the broken glass and whiskey.
Chance applied a pressure bandage to the gash on Audrey’s leg, and then glanced at Jackson. “She’s bleeding through the bandage. She really needs to see a doctor and have it stitched. I can call for an ambulance, or you can take her to the emergency room yourself.”
“Oh, please, I’m not going to die. Jackson can take me to the ER.” Audrey nodded to Libby. “Do you mind closing the saloon tonight?”
Charli shook her head. “The woman’s bleeding, and she still can’t let go of this place.” The bartender waved her hand. “Get out of here before you bleed to death. We’ve got this covered, don’t we, Phoebe?”
Phoebe straightened with a dustpan full of glass shards. “Please. Go to the doctor. Your health is more important. Like Charli said, we can handle it.”
“But we’ve got so many customers,” Audrey protested.
Charli climbed up on the bar and motioned for Lacey, one of the other waitresses working that night, to pull the plug on the jukebox.
As the room grew quiet and all heads turned toward Charli, she tossed her curly blond hair over her shoulder and then stood with her fists on her hips. “Do y’all promise to behave while Audrey goes to the hospital?”
“Hell yeah!” rose a shout from every cowboy and woman in the saloon.
Charli turned to Audrey, “There you have it. Now go. I’ll open tomorrow, so don’t you worry.”
“Come on.” Jackson scooped Audrey into his arms. “Can’t have the mother of my baby girl bleeding out in a bar.” He winked and carried her through the back room to the rear exit.
Phoebe watched until they disappeared and then turned to Libby. “Okay. What now?”
Charli grinned. “Get to work covering her tables. Between me, Libby, you and Lacey, we can handle it. Thanks for showing up when you did.”
While Libby filled her order, Phoebe ran to another table, returned with their order, slapped it on the bar and took the full tray to distribute the drinks. For the next two hours, she repeated the process, doing her best to keep the thirsty cowboys satisfied.
Throughout the evening, Nash sat at a table with his brothers until, one by one, they left to go home. Each time another Grayson rose, Phoebe’s gaze shifted to Nash, and she wondered if he would leave with them. And he hadn’t.
The crowd swelled near midnight and stayed full and rowdy until after one-thirty when the men finally clamped their hats on their heads and left for another day at the rodeo.
Her back and feet aching, Phoebe worked on, cleaning up the empty bottles, mugs and shot glasses. After the last cowboy left, Phoebe helped Charli and Lacey stack the chairs on the tables. Mops in hand, they cleaned up the spilled beer, whiskey and sodas from the floor.
Tired to the bone, she rinsed out her mop and hung it to dry outside off the back porch. Despite her exhaustion, she couldn’t help but feel better about her situation. Her pockets were full of bills from all the tips she’d earned.
Charli hung her mop beside Phoebe’s. “For a newbie, you did good. Thanks for sticking it out. Rodeo week can be a killer.”
“I’m glad I could help.” She rubbed her hands on her jeans and straightened her back. “I hope Audrey will be okay.”
“Jackson called an hour ago. After ten stitches and a painkiller, Audrey is sleeping. He has baby duty through the night.” Charli smiled. “I’ve never seen a grown man so over the moon about a little girl as he is. Emma is one lucky baby.”
“Audrey and Jackson seem to love each other a great deal.”
“If you work here long enough, you’re bound to run across them getting it on in the storeroom. Just fair warning.” Charli winked. “And they don’t mind if you watch.”
Phoebe’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Their love is true and they aren’t afraid to show it.” Charli pushed her long blond hair back behind her ear. “You better get home and grab some sleep. If you’re available tomorrow, we could sure use your help.”
“I can work,” Phoebe said and then frowned. “Only thing is I might not have a way to get here.”
Charli tapped her chin with the tip of her finger. “Where are you staying?”
“In Hellfire. I’m renting a garage apartment from a woman named Lola.”
“Let me work on the logistics. If I can’t find someone coming out from Hellfire, I’ll swing by myself. We can’t manage this rodeo crowd without your help.”
Phoebe’s chest filled with warmth at the praise. Never having held a job, she didn’t know how good working felt. Putting in a hard day’s effort, gave her a greater appreciation for the staff that made her family home sparkle.
“Charli, I could use a hand in here,” Libby called out.
The assistant manager turned to go back into the saloon before Phoebe had a chance to tell her Audrey was supposed to be her ride home. She’d have to catch her before she left. But for that moment, Phoebe stared out at the starlit Texas night.
A shadow detached itself from the only tree behind the building and a man wearing a cowboy hat walked toward her.
A flash of caution made Phoebe take a step backward and reach for the doorknob. She t
wisted the handle, without taking her gaze off the man whose face she couldn’t make out in the shadow from the hat’s rim. “Who’s there?” she asked, her fingers turning the knob behind her back. It didn’t turn. The door had closed and locked automatically.
Her pulse kicked up a notch, slamming blood through her veins in double-time.
“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s me, Nash Grayson.”
She let go of the breath she’d drawn in, and laughed shakily. “Don’t scare me like that.”
Deputy Grayson nodded toward the door behind her. “It locked, didn’t it?”
Phoebe grimaced. “Yeah. I’ll have to go around the front to get in.” She tilted her head to the side. “I thought you’d left a long time ago.”
“I left when the saloon closed, but sat in my truck. Figured you might need a ride back to Hellfire. Most of the waitresses who work here live in or near Temptation. It’s the opposite direction from where you need to go.”
She smiled. “Thanks. Jackson gave me a ride here and Audrey was going to take me home, but from the sound of it, I need to find alternate transportation. I don’t like being a burden on anyone.”
“Rider should be able to get a tire on that rental car by tomorrow, if you give him the go ahead.”
She pulled the wad of cash from her pocket and held it up. “Not bad, for my first night.” Phoebe pushed the money back into her pocket and descended the steps to the ground. “I’ll check with Charli and Libby. If they don’t need me anymore, I’m ready to leave.”
Deputy Grayson nodded and accompanied her around the side of the saloon. The parking lot was empty except for the two vehicles in the back and a truck Phoebe assumed belonged to the deputy.
Phoebe stopped at the front door and turned to face Grayson. “You know, just because you rescued me from the side of the road today, doesn’t mean you’re responsible for me.”
His brows rose, and his lips quirked upward on the corners. “Do you want me to leave you to walk back to Hellfire?”
The thought of running into the two men from earlier sent a chill slithering across the back of her neck. But she shook her head. “No, I don’t want you to leave me to walk. I didn’t want to ask Libby or Charli for a ride, because I know they live toward Temptation, and they’re as tired as I am.”
“Then it’s settled.” He opened the door and held it. “I’m giving you a ride home. Not out of a sense of responsibility, but because I’m headed that direction anyway.”
“Oh. Okay.” She found Charli and Libby in the storeroom. “Need me to stick around?”
“We’re done here.” Charli gathered empty boxes in her arms and straightened. “See you tomorrow, then?”
If she wasn’t in jail for murder. “You bet.” She turned to find Deputy Grayson behind her. How ironic to have him taking her back to Hellfire when he might be the one to haul her off to jail when someone stumbled on the body in the trunk of her rental car.
Too tired to care and thinking the bed in the jail house sounded like heaven, Phoebe smiled. “I’m ready.” For whatever is thrown my way. After the day she’d had, her luck couldn’t get worse. And she still had to find a way to get Ryan’s body out of the trunk before someone discovered it.
As they left the saloon, Nash hooked his hand through Phoebe’s elbow and steered her toward his truck, the only vehicle left in the front parking area. “You never said where you’re from.”
“No, I didn’t,” she responded.
Shaking off the bolt of electricity inspired by touching Phoebe, Nash laughed. “I take it you still aren’t going to tell me.”
“No. And if you’re going to question me all the way back to Hellfire, I’ll have to pass on the ride.” She pulled free of his grip and stepped away from truck. “Charli could give me a ride back.”
Nash held up a hand. “Okay, okay. I promise not to grill you.” He opened the passenger door and held it. “We don’t even have to talk, if you don’t want to. That’s fine by me.”
Her brows pressed together, and she studied him for a moment before finally climbing into the cab. “Thank you for not pushing it. And for the ride.”
“You’re welcome.” He closed the door and shook his head as he rounded the front of the vehicle and climbed in. As he pulled out onto the highway, he glanced her way.
Phoebe stared out the window, her bottom lip snagged between her teeth.
“You don’t have to worry. I promise not to grill you,” he said, shifting his focus to the road ahead. He fought to keep from asking her all the questions running through his mind. The woman was an enigma. What made her run away on the day of her wedding? Did her fiancé have an affair with her bridesmaid? Or was he abusive?
Nash’s fingers curled tightly around the steering wheel.
“Have you lived all your life in Hellfire?”
Her voice was soft, slipping across him like a caress. Nash nodded. “All except my time in college and the military.”
She shot a glance his way. “You were in the military?”
He nodded. “Six years. I joined straight out of college.”
“Why?”
His chin rose automatically. “I consider living in this country to be a privilege, not a right. I wanted to give back for all I have been given.” Nash could feel Phoebe’s stare burning into him.
“Did you fight in the war?”
Jaw tightening, he nodded. Fought, killed and watched his troops and friends die. At the ripe old age of twenty-seven, he’d lived a lifetime.
“I don’t think I’ve ever actually met someone who has served.” She shook her head, a sad smile lifting the corners of her lips. Her hand touched his arm. “Thank you for your service.”
He glanced down at the slim fingers on his arm and then returned his attention to the road.
“Was it hard?” She let her hand drop to her lap. “Being in the military and away from your family, that is.”
He shook his head. “When you’re in a unit, your peers are your family. You’d fight and die for them.” Although, the hard part was watching them die.
“You must have loved them.”
His eyes stung. Nash had pushed those memories as far to the back of his mind as he could since he’d left the army. His time in Afghanistan seemed like another life. He’d been a different person than the one he was now. Images flashed through his memories of the men with whom he’d served—many of whom died in the final battle that ended his career and gave him a banged-up knee.
“Why did you leave the military?”
“So it’s okay for you to ask me questions, but I can’t ask you any?” he bit out. “I left because they kicked me out. Otherwise, I’d still be over in some hellhole, fighting for my life and the lives of my men.”
“Kicked you out?” she persisted.
“Medically retired, due to an injury.” Thankfully, they weren’t far from Hellfire. In a few short minutes, he’d drop her off, and he wouldn’t have to answer any more of her questions.
A long pause stretched between them and Nash thought Phoebe had given up on her interrogation.
“Did you lose some friends?”
He slammed a palm against the steering wheel, feeling as though she’d ripped open a wound in his heart. “Yes, damn it!” He’d lost too many. Her soft, “I’m sorry,” spread over him like warm butter, melting into his pores, slowly calming him. His grip on the steering wheel loosened and he eased up on the accelerator.
Phoebe glanced his way again. “You must have healed well. You seem okay to me.”
His knee twinged, the familiar burning sensation flaring whenever he thought about it. Since they’d replaced the kneecap, the joint worked pretty well. But it would never be the same as before he’d been hit. The muscles and tendons were still getting used to the replacement. He’d been lucky enough to live to get that new knee. So many of his men hadn’t had the choice. “Yeah, well not good enough for the army.” If he could have gone back to fight, he would have. If for nothin
g else than to exact revenge on those who’d ambushed him and his troops.
“Really, I’m sorry for your loss. I wouldn’t have brought it up if I’d known it was a sore spot.” Phoebe faced forward again.
For a long moment, silence reigned.
Memories spun in Nash’s head, happy times joking with his men, heartbreaking times when he’d knelt beside a soldier whose life ebbed away with injuries so horrific he had no hope of recovery. “Tell my wife I love her,” were his last words. Nash’s heart clenched and his vision blurred. What must it have felt like to know you were dying, leaving the woman you loved to face the world without you?
“Was it hard starting over once you got back?” Phoebe asked, her voice little more than a whisper, her gaze on him.
“Yes.” He’d been home for almost two years, and he still wasn’t sure how he fit in, or if he ever would. He turned into Lola’s driveway, thankful they’d arrived and that Phoebe’s line of questioning, and all the thoughts and feelings it resurrected, would end. “I can give you a lift to the Ugly Stick Saloon tomorrow evening, if you like.” God, why had he opened his big mouth? But now that he’d said it, he couldn’t take back the offer.
She smiled. “Thank you. But I hope to have the rental car back by then. I can use it while looking for alternate transportation.”
“The offer is open. All you have to do is call.” He reached for the door handle. Her hand on his arm stopped him.
“I can get out by myself.” Phoebe leaned over and pressed her lips to his cheek. “I, for one, am glad you’re back from the war. If you hadn’t come along when you did, I don’t know what I would have done. Thanks again.”
The softness of her lips on his face muddled his brain. Before Nash could think to move, Phoebe was out of the truck and halfway to the garage apartment.
She turned and gave him a little wave and then ran up the stairs, unlocked the door and disappeared inside.
Nash sat for a long moment, staring at the empty stairs as lights blinked on inside Phoebe’s apartment. He touched his cheek where her lips had been, the residual warmth spreading from that point throughout his body and downward, his groin tightening.