by Vonnie Davis
Storm’s ex-fiancée was still pulling his emotional strings. She sounded exotic. Pilar was probably beautiful and sexy, while she was short and top heavy and plain. Mousy. A stab of new feeling pierced her, twisting her stomach. She took it for what it was: jealousy.
Everyone would be better off if she ignored the man and focused all of her being on her patient’s recovery. Both Sunny and a darling child depended on her to extend their time together. She wouldn’t fail.
She linked her arm in Sunny’s as they walked around the end of the house. “Let’s get two things straight. One, you’re not going to die just yet. You’ve got too much orneriness in you.”
“True.” Sunny tilted her head and nodded. “Although I never realized it until you came.”
“Second, your brother’s still emptionally attached to another woman, no matter how much he denies it. Now, you and I are going to forget about that kiss and the others. We’ll both be better off if we do.”
“Rachel, you are so full of it.”
She batted her eyes at Sunny. “Of what, girlfriend?”
Sunny chuckled. “You mentioned earlier you had rotten luck with men. What did you mean?”
“I was engaged for a while.” In many ways her engagement seemed ages ago. So much had happened since that awful period of her life.
“Was?”
“Yes. He was my best friend’s cousin, so I knew of him. Just not about him, if you know what I mean.” She glanced at Sunny, and Sunny nodded. “After my father died suddenly in an awful car crash, Kyle started coming by the house. You know, just to see how I was doing.”
“You mean he made his move when you were most vulnerable.”
“Gee, you’re beautiful and astute. Before long, Kyle asked me out on a date. He started doing things around the house, making himself indispensible. I was floundering without my dad. Losing him was extremely hard. I was also busy starting my business, taking extra classes and studying for certification.” She shrugged. “Too much turmoil and pain at one time. Before I knew it, the man—and I use that term loosely—had ingratiated himself into every aspect of my life.”
“I hear that. We lost Dad a few days before Sawyer was born. I lost my father, left my cheating husband, and gained a son all in the span of five days.”
Rachel stopped and turned to face Sunny. “No! How...how did you survive?” She pointed to the front porch steps. “You need to rest. Your breathing’s labored.”
Sunny nodded and sat on the nearest step. She placed her elbows on the step behind her and leaned back to watch a golden butterfly flit from flower to flower. “I haven’t a clue how I survived. Storm willed me to, I guess. He passed some of his strength and toughness on to me. Of course, there was the wonder of my new baby. He was so beautiful.”
Rachel sat next to her, took her wrist and checked her pulse. “He still is.”
“Yes, that child’s my whole world. Enough about me. Tell me more about you and Kyle.”
Rachel looked away for a beat, tamping down the pain of the memories. “Once we were engaged, the putdowns started. When I’d object, he’d say I was paranoid or neurotic.”
Sunny straightened and stared at Rachel for a beat. “Paranoid? Neurotic? Girlfriend, you have got to be kidding me! You’re so not any of those things.”
She swiped at a tear. “No, but I was in such a sensitive state over losing Dad. The suddenness of his death.” She looked at her clasped hands. “Some teen texting and driving hit him head on. Dad and I were so close.” She cleared her throat, trying to regain control. “Initially, when Kyle’s insults started, they didn’t register. Guess I was in the emotional fog of mourning. Every time I didn’t see things his way, he accused me of being paranoid or neurotic.”
Sunny took Rachel’s hand and squeezed it. “That’s so cruel. The manipulating bastard.”
She squeezed Sunny’s hand in return, their emotional bond strengthening. “That’s how the abuse started. With his undermining my mental stability, I actually started to doubt myself. Can you believe it? Long story short: he wore me down emotionally so the remaining steps of the abuse seemed normal.” She shrugged again. “Like I deserved it or something. The temper rages started. He beat me several times, broke my wrist. I got scared and ended the engagement. Took me a while, but I finally came to my senses.”
“Smart girl.” She pointed her finger at Rachel. “Now I understand. That’s why you reacted the way you did earlier when Storm was rough with you, isn’t it? Oh, honey, if Storm knew…”
“There’s no reason for him to know. You ready to go the rest of the way?” Sunny nodded and stood. They started walking again, arms linked.
Sunny patted Rachel’s hand. “Honey, I think the two of you are kidding yourselves about the way you feel. If you could only see how you look at each other, hear the sound of your voice when you address one another…” She wiggled her fingertips in the air. “…see the sparks between you two, then you’d know what I know.”
Rachel shrugged. “I’ve accepted how I feel. I’ve also accepted the man I care for is attached to another woman no matter how much he denies it. They’ll work things out and she’ll have her hooks deeper into him than she did before. I refuse to bemoan how much it hurts, ’cause frankly, it hurts like hell.”
“What am I going to do with you two?” Sunny stopped and looked at Rachel, who crossed her arms and regarded her with one eyebrow cocked in defiance. “Okay, okay, I can see you don’t want to talk about it. So, tell me what your ex-fiancé did when you broke off the engagement.”
They started walking again. “He slashed my tires.”
“Bastard.”
“I replaced them. He slashed them again.”
“Oh, a determined bastard.”
She looked away. “Yes. Next he smashed a window in my SUV and slashed the seats. When that didn’t make me come crawling back to him, he broke into my house and cut up all my clothes.”
“Oh, see, now we’re gonna have to kill him. A man doesn’t mess with a woman’s wardrobe and live to tell about it.” Sunny smiled wryly.
“Of course, there were harassing phone calls and emails. Terrible texts.”
“Did you go to the police?”
She nodded. “Oh, yeah. Repeatedly. Got a restraining order against him after he beat me and broke my wrist, making it illegal for him to come within five hundred feet of me or my house. He wasn’t allowed to contact me by phone or text or e-mail.”
“I gather that didn’t stop him.”
“No. He broke in one night.” She bent to smell one of Noella’s peach roses, giving Sunny a second or two to rest. Their walk around the house was tiring her.
Sunny plucked a yellow rose and ran it over her cheek. “What happened?”
“At the time, I was taking care of a patient in a little town about thirty miles from Yazoo City, where I lived. So I commuted every day. Got home after dark every night. One night he was waiting on me, sitting in my living room, big as you please. Said he wasn’t leaving. Claimed we were getting married within the month.”
Sunny took her arm, and they started walking again. “Oh, that gives me the chills. What a sick creep. What did you do?”
“I surprised him. I pulled a gun out of my purse and ordered him out of my house.”
Sunny stopped and looked at her with a shocked expression, one tinged with respect. “Really? You had a gun?”
“Yes, I had a permit for it and everything.” They’d finished their trek around the house, and Rachel held the door open for Sunny. “He left, but not before threatening to kill me. Said I had two options—marry him and live or die without him.”
They stepped inside to the coolness of the mudroom and then entered the cleaned kitchen, where the hushed noise of the dishwasher created a humming background. Sunny collapsed in a chair, her breathing labored again. “And?”
“And I figured I had another option. I hid from him. A coward’s way out, I suppose. He didn’t know where I was working.”
“He never followed you?”
“No, I made sure of that. Once my patient was in remission, I went to Colorado for a few weeks to relax and decide what I was going to do about Kyle. That’s where I was when you contacted me. Since I came straight here, he has no idea where I am. I got a new cell phone number and e-mail address. No one in Yazoo City has it except Grace. She’s the only one who knows how to get in touch with me other than my mom. For the first time in months, I feel safe.”
Rachel went to the refrigerator and poured them both a glass of a carrot juice concoction she’d made earlier that morning. “Here, drink this before you lie down.”
Sunny accepted the glass of orange liquid. “What will you do when you’re through here?”
“You mean once you’re in remission?”
Sunny lifted her glass in a mock salute. “I like how you think.” She took a sip and shuddered. “What the hell is this ghastly stuff?”
Rachel laughed. “It’ll grow on you. As for what I’ll do once you’re in remission, I don’t know. I’ll figure something out. I’ll do some online research and find a good place to live. Somewhere warm, I think. I’ve never driven much in snow.”
“Why not stay near here? I’d hate having you go away. We’ve grown so close. I could help you house hunt.”
Stay here in Rosefire? Near Storm and his new wife, if they do marry? No way. She couldn’t bear it. “I was thinking Arizona or New Mexico. Now, finish your juice and lie down for your nap. Leave your drapes open. The only time I want you in a darkened room from now on is at night.”
The corners of Sunny’s mouth twitched into a smile as she looked into her glass. “Yes, doctor.”
Chapter Eleven
Storm knew he should be out checking on the sick cattle or the new mustangs. The vet was here giving them a good going over, seeing to their inoculations. Red, his foreman, was helping the vet. Still, he ought to do his fair share, especially with Eduardo in the hospital. He just couldn’t seem to drag himself away from the house. He assured himself it had nothing to do with the magnetic allure of Nurse Rachel.
Pulling the navy drapery away from the window, he watched Sunny and the nurse slowly walk around the house. He was glad to see she didn’t have Sunny running laps.
He ran a hand through his black hair. The infernal woman was like a tick. She bored under his skin, irritating him one minute and turning him on the next. He desired her so badly, craved her, in fact, that he thought he’d die for the wanting of her.
Damn if she hadn’t been a glorious sight the day the mustangs arrived, holding Sawyer and giving him a go-to-hell glare after he told her to stay clear of the fence. Of course, if he hadn’t been so taken with the image she’d presented—rebellious woman holding a child—he’d have kept Lightning away from the attacking mustang.
Sawyer moaned and rolled over. Storm glanced over his shoulder at his nephew. Back when Sunny was so sick from the chemo, getting Sawyer to take a nap was next to impossible. The child seemed to sense his mother’s extreme discomfort. Storm came up with the idea of offering a treat—the boy could take his naps in Unkie Storm’s big bed.
They’d made it a special private time, the two of them. Three, if you counted Pistol. Sawyer could choose two of his books for Storm to read. Sometimes he’d read the same book three and four times before the little fella finally closed his eyes. Today, it had only taken one reading of Curious George Goes to the Beach before he’d fallen asleep.
Storm peered out his window again, hands in his pockets. Just look at the two of them, arms linked and heads tilted toward one another, chatting as if they’d been friends forever. What were they talking about? Or whom? Had Rachel told his sister about seeing him naked or about his kissing her?
He ran a hand across the back of his neck. Would he ever stop wanting the blonde spitfire? The kiss at dawn, a few weeks ago, with her arms tight around his neck and her legs wrapped around his waist was a memory he’d have until he inhaled his final breath. He felt himself tighten again and softly swore. He’d go crazy with her staying here for another month or two until Sunny was strong enough for another round of chemotherapy.
The dreams weren’t helping, either. Course right now, he had no clue if they were actual vision dreams or sexual dreams. Whichever they were, they were damned unsettling. Those blue eyes staring up at him while he made love to her.
His dad had talked about his dreams from time to time. During his teenage years, Storm had felt a sense of embarrassment over his Native heritage. When his dad had spoken of such things, he tuned the old man out. Now he wished he’d paid more attention. After college, when he sensed his dad was getting weaker, he’d listened more, asked more and remembered more. Even so, many of the gems of wisdom his dad shared during those rebellious teenaged years were lost.
Sunny and Rachel stopped walking, and that change of movement caught his attention again. Rachel was so animated when she talked. He smiled. He surely did enjoy watching her; doing so calmed him in a strange way. Calmed him and coaxed him to draw closer to her.
Pilar’s call earlier had upset Rachel. She’d never admit it or make a big scene the way Pilar would in the same situation, but the pain was there in her eyes. Damn, he hated hurting her. But it looked as if he had to have another blow-up with Pilar, tell her once more he didn’t want to see or hear from her again. This time he’d be more adamant and unyielding. He’d make damn sure she knew they were through. Maybe he’d even tell her he was interested in someone else.
Without a doubt, Rachel affected him. He didn’t think his heart could stand another look at her in a tight bathing suit. With her figure, she made a conservative suit look obscene. If one of his ranch hands saw her, he’d have to shoot the bastard. Imagine what she’d look like in a skimpy bikini. He groaned.
Seeing her talking to Ben that morning soon after she’d arrived touched off something so elemental, it scared him. She’d only talked to the ranch hand for a few minutes, yet he was ready to tear something apart in a rage so deep, so dark he barely recognized it for what it was—jealousy.
He ran a hand down his face and gazed longingly back at the bed. For two cents, he’d lay down with Sawyer and take a nap, too, especially now that he was taking Pilar to an art exhibit full of weird paintings he didn’t understand or like. Getting gussied up in a tux and driving the hour plus to Austin was the last thing he wanted to do tonight. Still, he had to make sure Pilar understood they were no longer a couple.
Now his desires raced toward Rachel which was odd, for she wasn’t his style. She was too opinionated and, at times, too plucky. He smiled. He didn’t think she’d back down from anyone. He had to respect that quality in her. The girl had nerve.
She’d also brought the house back to life, demanding everyone talk in normal tones again and that music fill the home. He and Noella had only tried to create a home environment where Sunny could rest. According to Nurse Rachel, they’d turned it into a tomb.
The vet’s van slowly drove away from the paddock where the sick animals were kept. No use to hurry outside now. Storm turned away from the window. More ranch records waited for entry into the computer. He’d sooner take a beating. Before he left his room, he tugged the sheet over Sawyer’s shoulders. The child mumbled in his sleep, “Wachel...”
“Feel sorry for ya, kid. Know just how you feel. I dream about her, too.”
Over an hour later, Storm rubbed his forehead, wishing he could ease the pounding. He searched through his desk drawers for aspirin. Nothing. He was sure Noella kept some in the kitchen. Striding down the hall, he heard humming coming from the den. He poked his head in and found Rachel sitting, with her feet tucked under her, sewing. Her glorious hair was loose, curling and cascading around her shoulders and down her back.
“What are you doing?”
She jumped, jabbing her finger with the needle. “Must you always scare me like that?” She sucked her finger in those luscious lips of hers. More male fantasies grabbed him
by the throat, making breathing difficult.
He entered the room. “You never answered my question.” Remnants of T-shirts lay on the coffee table. “What are you sewing?”
She held up the project she’d been laboring over. “I’m making a Superman cape for Sawyer, just like I promised.” The body of the cape was royal blue. She was sewing on a big red “S.” “I didn’t have any material, so I used two of my T-shirts. What do you think?”
He was touched. “I think he’ll love it.” He fingered the red T-shirt, noting the hole shaped roughly like the letter she was attaching to the cape. “You didn’t have to ruin your shirts.”
She shrugged and made a few more stitches. “They’re just clothes. I’ve learned not to get too attached to things. Life is about people, not objects.” She knotted the thread and cut it. “There, all done. I can see him running through the house wearing it. Can’t you?” She chuckled in obvious delight, holding it up and inspecting her handiwork with a critical eye.
Storm watched her excitement over making something for a child. Pilar was just the opposite. Clothes ranked high on her priority list, more so than people. During their engagement, he often wondered if he made enough money to keep her in silks and satins. A pain jabbed his head, and he reached for his temples.
“What’s wrong? Headache?” Rachel lay her sewing aside.
“Yeah. I was on my way to get some aspirins. Three or four ought to knock out the worst of it.” He rubbed his temples some more.
“Uh-huh. Sit down, cowboy.” She motioned to the sofa, and he sat. “Where does it hurt? We can’t have you going to see your main squeeze tonight with a headache, now can we?”
“Look, you think I want to go? I promised Pilar over a month ago I’d go to this stupid art event. A friend of hers is having a showing.”
She looked away and sighed. Did she really want to have this conversation? Wouldn’t it be better to let sleeping dogs lie, as her daddy used to say? “Let’s not argue. Just show me where your headache hurts. I’ll see if I can help.”