by Donna Alward
A passenger. Kailey tried to ignore the sharp stab of jealousy and disappointment that rushed through her. She had no claim on him whatsoever. If he’d hooked up with someone after the competition, who was she to judge? After all, wasn’t that basically what the two of them had done?
But still. It stung, and the fact that it did made her mad at herself.
“Kailey,” he said gently, and she met his gaze. What there was of it, anyway. His left eye was swollen enough that it was half-shut. “I was in a cab. I don’t drive after I’ve had a few.”
There was relief, and a little guilt at assuming the worst, but mostly just concern for his injuries. “Are you okay?” she asked again.
He shrugged with one shoulder only. “Not really.” His lips formed a bitter line. “I’ll heal. But this pretty much ends my season.”
His run for the NFR. Kailey’s shoulders slumped as she felt the depth of his disappointment. He’d worked hard and she knew he’d coveted a title since he’d started riding broncs. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I know how much you wanted it this year.”
“Not your fault.” Frustration underlined his voice. “You know, I always thought that if I got injured it would be in competition. Not in a cab on the way back to my stupid camper. Stupid kids out joyriding and hit us broadside. A little bit of fun with a whole lot of consequences.”
Before she could say anything, he bit out, “I’m aware of the irony. Ry Duggan, likes a good time, sounding like an old fogy.”
“You’re angry and frustrated and disappointed. I’d say you’re entitled to a little bit of a rant.” She peered up into his bruised face. “Truly, though, Ry. The most important thing is that you’re okay. What’s wrong with your shoulder and is anything else hurt?”
“My shoulder was dislocated. It’s back in now but it hurts like the devil, and I’m going to have to do physical therapy, of all things. The doctors weren’t sure if I’d need surgery or not. I got a good knock to the head, which gave me this lovely shiner, and the glass from the window left a calling card on my face. And I’m bruised. Down my ribs, which miraculously weren’t broken. And down my hip and thigh. I swear the whole right side of my body hurts.”
“You need an Epsom salts bath,” she decreed. “I’m surprised they let you out of the hospital so soon.” It was only Monday.
“They didn’t have much of a choice.” Again he sent her a slightly crooked grin, and she knew he’d probably checked himself out of the hospital. “Look, do you think you could help me set up the camper?”
“Camper?” She stood back. “You know Lacey isn’t going to let you do that. You should be in the house, in a decent bed. This is not a time to be stubborn, Rylan Duggan.”
“I’m not up to her fussing and fluttering around, okay? I just want my own space.” He seemed to weave on his feet a little and alarm rushed through Kailey at the sight of his suddenly pale face.
“You dumb ass,” she chided, going to his left side. “You shouldn’t even have been driving today. Here, get back in your truck on the passenger side. I have a plan, but it means we have to scoot out of here before Lacey realizes you’ve arrived. I can buy you a couple of days of peace and quiet.”
“What the heck...?”
“Get in. I’ll explain on the way. Unless you want your sister out here.”
He obeyed, getting gingerly in the truck as she hopped into the driver’s side. In seconds they were headed back down the driveway toward the main road, and less than ten minutes later she pulled into the driveway of a cozy bungalow surrounded by a stand of pines.
“What is this place?”
She reached into her pocket and withdrew a key. “My new home as of this morning. Partially furnished, rent is good.” She grinned. “It’s Quinn’s house. He’s been trying to decide what to do with it, and I offered to rent it on a month-to-month basis in the meantime.”
Rylan turned slowly to face her. “Kailey, if this is about what I said on the phone the other night...”
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while, anyway,” she admitted. “What you said just gave me the nudge I needed. It’s time I got my own place.”
She got out of the truck and was around to his side before his feet had even hit the ground. Oh, he was moving slowly. Not like Rylan at all, who she suspected would power through most injuries without letting on he was hurt.
“Come on. Let’s get you settled inside. I’ll make a run back to my house to pick up some necessities, but you can at least take a load off.”
He walked slowly behind her as she went ahead and opened the door, then walked through the house and opened windows, letting the fresh summer breeze inside. She’d always liked Quinn’s house. When Marie had been alive, she’d put her stamp on the décor. But the fire earlier this year had meant renovating, and as a result the main areas of the house were freshly painted and devoid of any personal touch. Kailey didn’t feel as if she was walking into someone else’s home. She felt as if she was walking into a new possibility. It was quite exciting and long overdue.
The insurance had paid to replace the furniture, so a brand-new sofa sat in the living room. Rylan sank into it, his breath hitching as his muscles protested, and Kailey knelt down before him, helping him take off his boots. She knew what it was like to bruise ribs or anything in the core area. Simple things such as getting out of a chair or bending to take off boots were painful. Muscles a person took for granted suddenly made themselves known. She slipped the boots off his feet and put them beside the sofa. “Lie down. I bet you didn’t sleep much last night.”
“Not a lot,” he admitted. “This is a nice place.”
“It’s time I did it. I kept telling myself it was money I didn’t need to spend, but we’re doing well enough now that I think I deserve it.”
“Of course you do.”
“You’re okay here for a while?”
“Peace and quiet. Why wouldn’t I be?”
She paused. She’d already told her parents about her idea of renting Quinn’s house. She’d gotten the feeling they were almost relieved, though they’d never say so. But she wasn’t sure how they’d feel about Rylan staying, even for just a few days as he recuperated. She’d just pick up what she needed to make him comfortable. There was no rush to move all her things in, too. Besides, in a day or two Rylan would be back at Crooked Valley, sleeping in his camper again. Once the soreness eased he’d feel more like himself.
“I’ll be back in a while. The power’s still on, but there’s no phone hooked up, so if you need anything you’ll have to reach me on your cell.”
He stared up at her with glassy eyes. “Be careful with my truck.”
Right. She’d nearly forgotten they’d brought his rig over. “I’ll unhook the camper. Don’t worry about a thing.”
As she left he eased himself down on the cushions. The long drive really must have sapped all of his energy. She unhooked the camper and leveled it before heading back to her parents’ house. She packed toiletries and a few cleaning supplies, a handful of new towels they’d kept on hand for the barn but had never used. She didn’t want to take her mom’s groceries, so she decided a quick trip into town was in order. By the time she got back to the house it had been two hours, and Rylan was still asleep.
She put the bags down quietly and stared into his face. One other time she’d been awake and watched him sleep. It was no less personal now. After everything he’d said during their late-night phone call, she knew he had to hate being sidelined, being at the mercy of his injuries and forced to stay at Crooked Valley. He looked so vulnerable, so young. Sometimes she forgot that he was the youngest of the Duggans, not even thirty.
Deep down he had an old soul.
Gently, she smoothed a lock of reddish-brown hair away from his brow. He must have been sleeping lightly, because he opened his eyes, his right one still squinted but the left iris was a deep, intense blue.
She slid her fingers away. “Hello, sleepyhead.”
“
Hey.” He moved to sit up and grunted as the muscles protested. “You’re back already?”
“I’ve been gone over two hours.”
Rylan moved to stand up, but she heard the gasp of pain as he levered himself off the sofa. “I swear, I get stiffer by the hour.”
“I brought salts. I’ll run you a bath and fix you something to eat.”
“Don’t you have work to do? I don’t need a baby-sitter.”
She shrugged, knowing she could always find work to do. Knowing she often did just to avoid other stuff. “I think the ranch can survive without me for one day. Besides, I needed to pick up some groceries and cleaning supplies.”
“Kailey—”
“Shut up, Rylan, and let someone help you for once. You don’t have to be so fiercely independent all the damned time.”
She left him muttering in the living room, and went to the bathroom to run water in the tub. She added a good dose of Epsom salts to ease his muscles, and got out one of the new towels for when he was finished. As the tub filled, he went to the camper and found clean clothes. It was all good until it was time for him to get undressed.
He got the sling off okay, if somewhat awkwardly, using his left hand. The problem came with taking off his shirt. He couldn’t use his right hand to pull the cuff off his left arm or shrug the fabric off his shoulders as he normally would. After watching him struggle and hearing a few choice curse words, Kailey stepped in. She pulled his left sleeve off his arm and then moved to his right side, easing the freed fabric over and off his shoulder and down to his wrist.
“Better?” she asked, her throat tight. With his shirt off she could see the tight curves of his muscles as well as the shocking amount of bruising down his right side. How he must be hurting right now. The desire to lean in and kiss the purple spots was strong, but she held back. Friends only. That’s what she’d said. That was what was best for both of them.
“Thanks,” he murmured. “I think I can get the rest.”
“Call if you need anything. Towel’s hanging on the towel bar.”
She escaped before he started unbuttoning his jeans, half hoping he wouldn’t need help, half hoping he would. But all she heard on the other side of the door were a few scuffling noises and then the soft sound of him sinking into the water of the bath.
She’d been holding her breath and hadn’t even realized it.
While he was soaking, she emptied out his duffels and sorted the laundry into piles. The first load was in the washing machine when she went to the kitchen and began unpacking the groceries and supplies she’d bought.
It had been fun and a little bit exciting, knowing that the purchases were for her own place. She literally had nothing, but with what Quinn had left behind, she could make do. It was midafternoon but neither of them had eaten lunch. When the fridge and cupboards were filled with groceries, she started cooking what she’d picked up for a simple but hearty meal: pork chops and baked potatoes and a salad kit.
The chops were sizzling when she heard the squeaky sound of Ry’s feet on the bottom of the tub as he got out. She took out butter and sour cream for the potatoes and listened with one ear in case he got into trouble. Minutes ticked by until she heard the bathroom door open.
“Did you manage okay?” she asked, turning around, and then every other thought fell clean out of her head.
He looked good, so good. His hair was wet and tousled around the tanned skin of his face, and he had on a light cotton shirt and clean jeans. The only problem was he hadn’t buttoned either, and he held his right arm close to his chest while the sling dangled from his left hand.
“I had help this morning,” he confessed. “One of the nurses at the hospital.”
“I just bet you did.” She teased him, hoping it would dispel the feeling she got in the pit of her stomach just from looking at him.
He grinned. “Apparently some women actually can resist me, you know.”
Right. Maybe not everyone looked at Rylan Duggan and got flushed all over. Which meant it might just be her who was crazy.
“It’s been almost twelve hours since my last pain pill,” he said quietly. “I could use a hand. If you don’t mind, that is.”
“Of course. Just a sec.”
She turned down the chops and met him in the living room. He’d put his sling on the back of the sofa and had sucked in his stomach, trying to manage the button on his jeans with one hand. Heart in her throat, determined to not make a big deal of it, Kailey silently went to him and reached for the waistband of his pants.
His sharp intake of breath pulled his stomach in, but not enough. The backs of her knuckles still touched the soft, warm skin of his belly as she put the rivet through the buttonhole.
“I can zip,” he said, his voice strangely husky.
He pulled the zipper to the top and then Kailey went to work on his shirt buttons. One by one she fastened the buttons, staring at his chest rather than into his eyes. But it didn’t matter. The swirl of intimacy still surrounded them. She studied the hollow of his throat, the ruddy color of the little bit of chest hair that curled at the center of his collarbone, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. As she got to the second-last button, she realized that her fingers had slowed, taking their time in covering the distance from waist to neck.
“There,” she murmured, her voice cracking a little.
“Can you help with the sling?”
“Of course.”
What on earth was wrong with her? She cleared her throat and reached for the sturdy brace, helping him position it just right and making sure it was fastened securely. She stood back. “Nearly good as new,” she stated.
“Something smells good,” he said, looking over her shoulder. “Are you cooking?”
“We missed lunch. I made an early dinner. It won’t be much longer, I don’t think.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I can’t cook like your sister. Besides, you’re going to be on your own after dinner. I’ve got a lot to do.”
She headed for the kitchen and he followed her. “I know you do. I really appreciate you giving me a place to stay. You’re right. The camper isn’t the most comfortable, not now, anyway. And Lacey would hover. Not to mention Duke riding my ass.”
Kailey slapped her palm against her forehead. “Oh, my gosh! How could I have forgotten? You haven’t heard the news.”
Rylan frowned. “What news?”
“Carrie was in labor this morning. Duke texted while I was grocery shopping. They have a bouncing baby boy. A few weeks early and a little under seven pounds. You’re officially an uncle.”
She was surprised by the look of pleasure that transformed his face. “I already consider myself an uncle to Amber,” he confessed. “But Duke has got to be over the moon. Hard to imagine my big brother a father.”
“I’ve only had the one text, but he sounded pleased as punch. Lacey probably knows more if you want to call.”
He reached into his back pocket. “That reminds me. I thought I heard my phone buzz while I was in the tub. Maybe it was her.” He checked the call log with a few swipes of his thumb. “Yep. One missed call, and it was the ranch. I’ll call back in a bit, get more details.”
“Do you like kids, Ry?” He was really good to Amber and seemed pleased about the new baby. It would be a surprise, though. Rylan didn’t seem the type. He was too much of a free spirit.
“I do, actually,” he said. “Kids have generally got it right. They’re not old enough to complicate stuff with personal agendas.”
Lacey thought about that for a moment. “But, Ry, kids aren’t really old enough to understand that life comes with consequences.” She turned the burner back up, checked on the potatoes.
She was just reaching for the bag of salad when he spoke again. “I don’t think kids are oblivious to consequences,” he said, sitting down at the little table and chairs in the eating area. “I think...well, I think they aren’t afraid of
them yet. Until we make them that way.”
It was an interesting thought. She considered the idea for a moment. She agreed children had a wonderful sense of innocence and simplicity. It wasn’t until they got older that they understood fear. That they made decisions based on being afraid rather than taking chances and doing the impossible.
But then there were children such as Amber. Such as Rylan.
“You might be right,” she agreed and poured lettuce into a bowl. “But you learned fear early on. When your dad died. When you had to move. And Amber has, too. She lost her mother when she was just a toddler. You know things like that shape who we become. You said so yourself.”
She looked up, drawn to his gaze. Maybe he’d think her silly but one of the first things she’d noticed way back last Christmas had been his eyes, thickly lashed, a stunning, clear blue. Her mom would call them Paul Newman eyes. Kailey had seen enough of the older movies to agree.
“That’s true,” he admitted. “But answer me this. If you took a survey of six-year-olds and asked them what they wanted to be when they grew up, and then asked a room full of thirtysomethings, how would the answer differ?”
That made her stop and think. She vaguely remembered being six. But she remembered friends and classmates talking about being movie stars or sports figures or astronauts. There were no limits. Most thirtysomethings she knew were thinking about kids and bills and making the mortgage payments.
“Is that why you don’t settle down, Ry? You’re avoiding those responsibilities and consequences for as long as possible?”
He lifted one shoulder. “Maybe. There’s a TV show I like and one of the guys has this saying: I reject your reality and substitute my own. I like to think I’ve been making my own reality. Calling my own shots.” He frowned. “Up until this point, at least. Now I can’t ignore consequences and complications. I’ve wanted that title for as long as I can remember, Kailey. I gotta be honest and say it hurts knowing I’m not going to get it.”
“Maybe next year,” she suggested. “You’ll heal. Be good as new.”