At the mention of the headset, she reached up and fingered the earbud. A wooden smile curved her lips. She abandoned the device and extended her hand. “Forgive me for not introducing myself. Rachel Hill. Mitch Cauldwell is my uncle.”
Uncle? Mitch had never mentioned a niece, especially one that looked like this. Apprehension choked off Nick’s reply as he eyed the pert brunette in front of him. Niece. Now he remembered her hanging out with Mitch over the last few weeks, helping around the stock. She’d even handed out Bibles before the church services Mitch worked on Sundays. . .the ones Nick avoided at all costs.
Forget church; think brunette.
Quiet sort, this Rachel, compared to her uncle. Nick remembered thinking she’d looked a little lost wandering around behind the chutes when he first noticed her. Then just when he thought about asking her if she needed help, Mitch had ambled up and she hadn’t looked lost any longer.
“Nick?”
Her soft voice broke through his fog and made him want to lean closer and find comfort. It reminded him of better times. Reminded him of. . ..
Stephanie.
Alerted to disaster, Nick pushed all tender thoughts from his mind. The last thing he needed was adoration from any female. Relation or not, Nick had expected Mitch. His niece didn’t qualify as a substitute. “Where’s Mitch?”
Her concerned expression disappeared as she lowered her hand back to her side and gave him a look any old-fashioned schoolmarm would be proud. “His foreman went back to the ranch so Uncle Mitch had to go ahead to Casper with the stock. He couldn’t wait the extra day they kept you here for observation. He asked me to make sure you got to Casper for the Season Finale.” Her smile tightened even more as she bent toward him. The sweet fragrance of strawberries filled his senses. “Relax, cowboy. I’m not a buckle bunny, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” she said in a hushed voice. “You’re safe with me.”
Nick exhaled with a cough, clearing his head of her scent. Women. . .safe? Not in his lifetime. Besides, his dislike for female rodeo groupies hardly figured into the problem at hand.
He groped to fit the puzzle pieces in place. If Mitch had sent his niece to bring him to Casper, then chances were Nick’s family hadn’t been told of the accident. He drew a lungful of antiseptic lobby air. At least Mitch hadn’t jumped the gun and called Gabe while Nick was unconscious. A small blessing in life’s grand picture, if one believed in blessings.
Now, to rid himself of his escort. He’d go it alone.
“No need to waste your services on me, sweet thing.” He nodded toward the door. “I’ll see myself to the next state.”
Her perfectly shaped brows tilted together again and her already rigid smile became brittle. “Forgive me, I forgot I was talking to a bull rider who couldn’t tell the difference between a come-on and a come-along if it jumped up and bit him in the seat of his Wranglers. Look pal, I’ve got five hours to get you to Casper and be on my way back to Denver. Just enjoy the ride, okay?” She glanced toward his duffel bag containing a change of clothes and other practical belongings which Mitch had brought him days earlier. “That yours?”
Before Nick could answer, she snagged the light bag and flipped it over her shoulder. As her brown hair brushed into place over the canvas, red tints seemed to spit flames in the filtered rays of the sun. If Nick were a betting man, he’d wager a similar flame of fury burned in her eyes. But why? What had he done? Mitch had a lot of explaining to do when Nick got a hold of him.
As she marched away toward the front desk, his gaze settled on her precise gait. Even with the burden of his bag, her self-assurance remained evident. The same take-charge genes flowed in abundance through both uncle and niece. Small comfort considering the situation.
Rachel stacked his bag on a plastic chair in front of the charge desk as she talked to the nurse. Her laughter rang as the nurse slid forms across the desk. Rachel had a way with people. No one else had gotten so much as a lifted brow from the warden nurse in whose care he’d been placed. It had taken a lot of sweet talking, but he’d convinced the doctor and nursing staff he could sit in the lobby rather than his hospital room and wait for his ride.
As Rachel leaned forward and glanced through his release papers, the crease of a dimple reappeared in her smooth cheek. Irrational as all get out, he wanted to run his finger across her skin to see if it was as soft as it looked. At the next burst of laughter, thoughts of soft skin vanished, replaced with a familiar tightness deep in his chest. Chances were the joke was on him. Nick clamped his jaws together and glanced around the room.
He needed out of here, and fast.
The nurse opened a file and ticked off items with a pencil. Rachel nodded, the tip of her finger directing as she asked questions. Gathering the papers, Rachel rolled them together like a scroll and returned to his corner of the lobby. As she approached, a shadow of a frown replaced all traces of her earlier smile. He didn’t like surprises, and something about her expression told him she was about to slap a big one on him.
Handing him the rolled papers, she dropped to one knee in front of him. “Open your eyes.”
The request threw him and he couldn’t help raising his brows in compliance. “Why? Want to examine my shiner a bit closer?”
“Not really, cowboy.” Her gaze probed one eye, then the next. “I figure I’ll be seeing enough of your trophy bruises during our ride to Wyoming.” She stood again and shrugged the duffel bag back into place on her shoulder. “C’mon, we’ve got miles to eat up if I’m to deliver you to Uncle Mitch on time.”
Nick scribbled his signature on the release forms and handed them to the nurse. Release papers tucked under her arm, she grabbed the armrest of his wheelchair and pointed him in the right direction. Rachel fell in line behind him and chatted with the nurse about the cool weather moving in as they crossed the lobby. Nick had more to say, but his neck was too sore to turn and he wasn’t about to fight with empty air. The glass doors swished open and in a heartbeat, the stiff, late-October breeze cooled his heated face.
“I’ll bring the truck around--”
“I can walk,” he forced out between clenched teeth. He glanced at the nurse beside him. “I don’t need anymore help. Thanks for everything.”
“Sir, hospital policy states--”
“I don’t care what policy states. No one’s wheeling me anywhere, okay?” The nurse glared, but made no move to stop him.
That battle behind him, Nick held on to the arm of the chair, straightened and stood. Electric stars exploded in his vision linking a direct current to his head. The shrubs in front of him spun faster than his last ride on a bull until he plopped back down and sucked in a deep breath. Time crawled as he waited for his vision to clear, and when it did, he found wide green eyes not more than inches from his face.
“Maybe we should start with deep breaths and leave walking for the grad course.” She crouched down beside him and gripped his arm. “I’ll go get the truck.”
“No. Don’t.” The warmth of her palm burned against his bare forearm. The expression on her face mirrored her concern for him. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she cared about his well-being.
The nurse hovered at his side. “Mr. Davidson, hospital policy states--”
“I’m fine.” He squeezed his lids shut. His arm muscles flexed with a mind of their own. He wished he hadn’t rolled up his sleeves when he’d gotten dressed that morning. The unaccustomed tingle of warmth from Rachel’s touch broke his concentration and focus. He just needed a few seconds to regroup and he’d have it all under control.
“Dizzy? The nurse told me that would happen for a day or two, yet. Did they give you anything for it?” She rubbed his arm and shoulder, her touch soft and gentle. “Would a painkiller help?”
Her words, her hands, her tone all peppered him like gravel spewing from beneath a tire. How could he think straight when so many sensations assaulted him at once? The meds clouded his thinking, taking the edge off his reflexes. He needed d
istance and lots of it.
“I don’t need help,” he ground out, feeling much like a bull trapped in a chute. He opened his eye and glared at the asphalt pavement. “They gave me something for my head. . .it wore off while I was waiting for Mitch to show up.”
Rachel pulled her hand from his forearm, rocked back on her heels and stood. Blocking the sun with her stance, she planted her hands on her flared hips. His gaze shifted to the soft flannel tucked into her denim waistband. An alluring view under different circumstances.
His eyelids pressed shut. The last thing he needed right now was alluring.
“Well, Uncle Mitch isn’t here, cowboy, I am. But I’m going to get you to Uncle Mitch as fast as I can--” her tirade stopped.
Careful not to move his head too quickly, Nick tried to follow her movement. Fabric rustled until Nick felt her warm breath close to his ear.
“Besides.” Warm breath tickled his ear sending tiny pulses down his back. “Do you know how difficult it is to park that rig of yours at a hospital lot? I must have displaced four parking places.”
The lure of her sweet scent vanished as his eyes snapped open and he jerked his head back. She knelt nose-to-nose beside him, her satisfied smile revealing straight, white teeth as her finger tapped against her cheek. “You drove my truck?”
The tapping stopped. A sly wink turned the skittering pulses to ice.
“You didn’t think we were taking a cab, did you?”
CHAPTER THREE
Grin plastered in place as the heels of her boots clicked against the asphalt, Rachel forced her stride to stay casual even as every cell in her body boiled. A little favor Uncle Mitch had called it. Next time, she’d dig deeper into innocent requests since her sense of loyalty to her uncle may have skewed her sense of judgment this time. If she’d only met Nick Davidson, face to face, she’d have known better than to have postponed her return to Denver and drive him to Wyoming. The man was just like her dad -- a daredevil junkie who never considered the anguish and fear of those who loved him. Bud Hill would have ridden with a broken anything for the glory of besting a bull.
Rachel shook her head to clear away memories that had no business cropping up right now. Oh, she’d return this bull rider to her uncle all right; she just held no guarantees whether the cowboy lived to tell of his travels.
Rounding the black, full-ton pickup, Rachel jammed her hand into the pocket of her jeans. She withdrew the few keys attached to a simple ring as she peered over the bed of the truck. Nick slowly made his way through the parking lot, his halting gait a clear testament to his injuries.
Guilt washed through her anger as she mechanically reached for her headset. Hurts she’d dealt with years ago clouded her mind. Lord, forgive me for my insensitivity. How Nick Davidson dealt with his life was not her care. Bull riding had brought enough misery in her life, and Nick was not asking for her help with anything. This entire scenario had nothing to do with her. Uncle Mitch asked a favor of her; she’d complied. Pure and simple.
Twisting the headset between her fingers, Rachel recounted the past three weeks of spiritual study that had helped her mind deal with the pressures of a volatile stock market and the demands of clients who trusted hundreds of thousands of dollars to her care. The hours of prayer and Bible study had fed her soul and nourished her spirit. Uncle Mitch, her rock on earth; Christ, her foundation.
How could she harbor resentment against anyone when her life was so blessed?
She opened the door and tossed the duffel bag into the back seat of the extended cab. Keeping her eye on Nick, she also noticed the nurse standing ready to sprint to her patient’s aid. Guilt dealt her a final blow. Cowboy or no, Rachel couldn’t just stand by and watch him struggle. Besides, every cowboy had his pride; this one just seemed to have a greater measure than most.
Shooting a prayer for patience toward heaven, she hopped around the edge of the truck bed and hurried to his side. A keen breeze cooled the air despite the illusion of warmth on the clear day. Rachel peeked under the brim of his hat and noticed the sweat beading across his brow.
“Got your land legs yet?” She linked her arm through his. The heat radiated through his clothing causing warmth to spread through her. She wrapped her fingers around his forearm.
“I’m as fine as fine can be.” He reached out and gripped the back bumper of a Suburban parked next to the truck, his knuckles showing white as he steadied himself. “Give me the keys and we’ll get going.”
“Sorry cowboy, you’re grounded. If you could drive, why would I be here?” She pulled away to give him space to pass between the parked cars, but instead he lowered his arm around her shoulders for support. As she absorbed his weight, she inhaled the subtle scent of male. Pure, unadulterated male. She pressed her palm against his back as her fingers curled into his belt. They shuffled between the parked cars, not quick enough for her peace of mind.
“Remind me to discuss that issue with Mitch,” his voice rumbled over her head. “Why’d you park so far away?”
When she’d arrived at the hospital, four rows over didn’t seem like such a big deal. From now on, she’d park on the curb if necessary. Anything to avoid the unnerving body contact. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had to maneuver a truck the size of a semi. I didn’t think you’d want me to practice my parking techniques in the section marked for sub-compacts.”
A few more steps and they reached the door. Rachel untangled herself from under his arm. “You’re big for a bull rider,” she said as she stepped back, needing air and space. Plenty of space.
“Show me the regs for riding rough stock,” he countered with a scowl.
Odd sense of humor. . .but she liked it. She tilted her head and stared at his bruised face. “None I know of. Usually I can look bull riders in the eye when I’m talking to them.” He rolled against the side of the truck, his complexion paler than she’d remembered in the lobby. She reached out and grasped the waistband of his jeans, tucking her fingers in the belt loop for a good hold in case he slipped. “I fit you well as a crutch. Use me.”
The puffy flesh of his cheek tightened as his other eye narrowed and the muscles in his jaw worked. “A good crutch would hand over my keys and let me get on my way.”
“A good crutch never abandons a patient.” She held his gaze even as awareness of his solid warmth tingled her nerves.
“Go away.” His blue eyes seemed to crystalize to ice. “I don’t need your help.”
Frustration with the entire ridiculous situation returned full measure. Cowboys. Not a one of them had a lick of sense. “Lucky for you, this crutch was carved from the back side of the tree and never learned to take orders well.” She opened the passenger door and nodded toward the cab. “Now get in before I stick you with a splinter.”
Rachel rounded the truck and settled into the driver’s side. Slamming the door, she snapped the seatbelt in place then gripped the steering wheel. The dashboard displayed every option available to guarantee a comfortable ride. She brushed the buttons that operated the climate control and sound system, her finger lingering over the Global Positioning System control. She shook her head at the irony. The truck even had a safeguard in case he got lost. Cowboys weren’t particularly known for their savings habits. Obviously Nick Davidson played the prestige game with the best of the big money winners.
“You sure you can drive this?”
She inserted the key and turned the ignition. The clatter of the powerful diesel engine surrounded them. The steering wheel vibrated beneath her palms and all the idiot lights on the dashboard went dark as she stomped the clutch and slipped the gears into reverse before guiding the beast out of its stall. “Watch me.”
Having spent the better part of an hour studying the map before she’d arrived at the hospital, Rachel guided them out of the parking lot and wove through various city streets until reaching the Interstate. After merging onto the highway, they drove along in silence until traffic thinned and she felt confident enough to loosen h
er grip on the wheel.
“Had you worried, didn’t it?”
Rachel jumped as his gravelly voice broke the silence. He’d studied her every move, rather than side-seat driving. Thank God for small blessings. “The traffic lightens at the outskirts.” A quick roll of her shoulders loosened the tightened muscles. “We should have smooth sailing from here on out.”
Seeing a gap in traffic, she changed lanes and shifted into overdrive. The truck handled well and responded to the lightest touch. Great asset for a rodeo cowboy.
“I didn’t think my seat adjusted that close to the dashboard.”
Rachel tore her attention from the highway to the leather covered wheel gripped snugly in her hands. Her lack of depth perception required her to see the front edge of the truck to gage distance. Sitting straight and tall had become habit. She’d learned to field remarks about her penchant for hugging the dashboard with humor and grace. At the moment, she didn’t think she had enough grace left in her to bless a meal.
“Just making sure I see the road.” She forced her smile in place and waited for the familiar barrier of distance she’d practiced the past weeks to rise and save her from situations she didn’t want to deal with. Instead, only a filtered ambivalence dulled her mind, knocking off the high points of her anger and replacing it with steady frustration. Nick was messing with her mind and he didn’t even know it. “You don’t want me to take a gamble with your prize vehicle, do you?”
“No. I’m trying to win my vehicle back.”
He surprised her with his quick wit. The corners of her mouth eased giving way to a genuine compassion at his doggedness. She couldn’t blame him. She’d wager Nick Davidson wasn’t accustomed to taking orders.
“Sorry, Nick,” she softened her tone. “I know sitting back and letting me drive your truck is hard, but the prize for this game doesn’t include anything with a sharp edge or a motor. They gave you some pretty strong medication back at the hospital. In your condition, I couldn’t allow you to drive a tricycle.”
Rough Road Home (The Circle D series) Page 2