by Gina Wilkins
Molly had an odd look on her face, Kyle noted as he took his seat. Her cheeks flushed, and then faded to leave her rather pale. She seemed to be making an effort to avoid looking at him, staring down instead at the brownie she was crumbling on her plate.
“Did Jewel tell you about the arrangements I’ve made to get you back home?” he asked, wondering if that had something to do with her behavior.
“Yes.” She looked at him then, her expression somber. “It really isn’t necessary for you to drive me all the way home. I’m sure one of my uncles or cousins would fly out to drive me if Shane is too busy to do so.”
“I’ve already told your brother I’ll drive you. It’s the least I can do.”
“It isn’t your fault that I hurt myself,” she said, as she had a half-dozen times since she’d fallen.
He still had a hard time letting himself off that hook. He had known about the rotten boards and he’d neglected to inform her of them. The fact that he had been distracted—by her—was no excuse.
Paying her medical bills was the easy part of the penance he had assigned himself. Spending two days in close quarters with her, trying to think of her merely as someone for whom he was temporarily responsible— that was going to be the difficult task. He just hoped it didn’t prove to be beyond his ability.
Having stashed her crutches in the backseat of the car, Molly balanced her weight on her uninjured leg as she turned to say goodbye to her hosts Saturday morning. She had grown very fond of both Jewel and Mack during her brief stay with them; it made her sad to think she might never see them again.
Jewel gave her a hug. “You take care of that leg,” she murmured into Molly’s ear. “And don’t take any guff from those bossy men, you hear?”
“I won’t,” Molly promised with a smile that felt slightly tremulous. “Thank you so much for all you’ve done for me.”
Jewel looked a little sad, herself, then. “It was nice to have young people in the house again.”
With a hard swallow, Molly turned then to Mack. “Thank you, too, for opening your home to me.”
He patted her shoulder with a rather awkward warmth. “You make Kyle drive carefully. And make him treat you nice.”
She smiled. “I will. And I’ll send him safely home to you.”
“Do that, too,” he said gruffly, patting her shoulder again. “And come back yourself, sometime. Jewel and I will give you a tour of the area, maybe take you out to Dollywood for the day, if you like amusement parks.”
“I love amusement parks.” But she made no promise to return, since she couldn’t foresee any reason to do so.
Kyle seemed to have had enough of the touching farewells. He opened the passenger door of Molly’s car and motioned her in. “We’d better get underway,” he said to the McDooleys. “See you in a couple of days.”
Molly’s eyes met Jewel’s for a moment as they shared wry smiles, and then Molly maneuvered her way into the passenger seat, lifting her right leg in very carefully. Kyle made sure she was safely inside before closing the door with a decisive snap. She had her seat belt fastened and had wriggled into a reasonably comfortable position by the time he slid into the driver’s seat.
There was an oddly hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach as she watched the McDooleys’ motel disappear behind them.
“You’re a very lucky guy,” she said after a while, breaking the silence within the small car.
“Lucky?” Kyle seemed surprised by the word, as if he wasn’t in the habit of applying it to himself.
“Oh, yes. Not only do you have a great house in a beautiful setting, you’ve found a family here who love you very much.”
One might almost have thought Kyle was stunned by her comments. He couldn’t seem to decide which part to focus on first. “You still think I have a great house?”
“Of course. It’s small, but very well arranged to make the maximum use of the floor space. It needs a little work, obviously—” she motioned almost absently toward her leg “—but that’s all minor stuff. Maybe I
would decorate it a little more, but no amount of decorating could compete with the view from your deck.”
“I would have thought you’d consider it too isolated.” “I grew up on the ranch, remember? Sure, there were always people around, but it’s no closer to a town than your place is. As you pointed out, when you have the urge to be with people, you aren’t that far away from them.”
“Hmm.”
She wasn’t quite sure what to make of that sound, but she didn’t press him to say more. If he wasn’t in the mood for conversation, she certainly wasn’t going to talk his ears off all the way back to Texas. She was perfectly content to ride in silence, if that was what he preferred.
Her resolve lasted all of fifteen quiet minutes. Squirming a little in her seat, she asked, “What kind of music do you like?”
“There’s only one kind of music. Country.”
You could take the boy out of Texas…
Hiding a smile, she asked, “Do you mind if I put in a CD? How about George Strait?”
Without taking his eyes off the road, Kyle shrugged. “I can listen to Strait.”
She reached behind her seat and brought out her bulging CD case. She stored her CDs alphabetically by artist, so it took only a moment to locate a “best of…” collection by George Strait. Shortly afterward, his smooth voice filled the car with the opening verse of “You Look So Good in Love.”
She could relax a little more now that it wasn’t so quiet. She didn’t have to babble to fill the silence. And it was hard to be tense when George was crooning a cowboy love song.
She made it through two songs before the compulsion
to speak grew too strong to resist. “Did you know that Jewel was a nurse in Vietnam?”
“I knew.”
“Mack was over there, too. In the army.”
“Yes.”
“Jewel told me all about it last night while you and
Mack were watching the game. Even though they grew up less than thirty miles apart, they met in Vietnam. Strange, isn’t it?”
“I know their history. I’ve learned quite a bit about them in the past six years.”
“Did you know Mack still has nightmares about Vietnam? Jewel said he stopped having them for a long time, but they started again after Tommy died.”
She watched Kyle’s fingers tighten on the wheel. “No,” he said after a moment. “I didn’t know that.”
“Do you and Mack ever talk about your war experiences?”
His expression hardened, though she could only see his profile. “We have other things to talk about.”
“Jewel thinks it would be good for both of you. She said sometimes a man needs to talk to another man— but it’s hard for Mack to initiate that sort of conversation. She knows it’s hard for you, too.”
For several long minutes, George Strait’s voice was the only one she heard. When she finally decided Kyle wasn’t going to say anything, she spoke again, “Have you ever talked to anyone about what happened over there?”
He sighed gustily and shot her a stern look. “This is going to be a very long trip,” he warned in a near growl. “You really don’t want to make me cranky when we’re just getting started.”
“This subject makes you cranky?”
“Very.”
“Then you start a conversation,” she challenged. “We have to talk?”
“I’m afraid so. I thought I could resist, but I just can’t.” It pleased her to see one corner of his mouth tilt with what might have been a very faint, very reluctant smile. “Then talk. About anything you want—except my experiences overseas.”
She would have liked for him to tell her more about Tommy, and the time they had served together—just because it was such an integral part of who Kyle was now. But at least he had indicated his willingness—however grudging—to converse about anything else. “What do you remember most about living at the ranch?”
“Do your conv
ersations always consist of questions?” he asked in mild exasperation.
“Mostly,” she admitted readily. “How else would I find out about people?”
“Anyone ever tell you to mind your own business?” “Other than you—not very often. Most people like talking about themselves.”
“I’ve never been like most people.”
“Which makes you even more interesting,” she pointed out.
He sighed again, a long-suffering sound that made her laugh. “Lucky me,” he murmured. “What was the question again?”
“The ranch?”
“Yeah, okay. What do I remember about being there?”
He thought a moment, then said, “Your mom’s cookies. I don’t think I’d ever had a homemade cookie before I went to the ranch—not that I remembered, anyway.”
It amazed her how easily he could tug at her heart without even trying. She debated briefly about asking him more about his earlier childhood, but decided she’d better not push her luck just then. “I remember Mom sending you cookies after you went away,” she confided, instead. “She packed them in those tall potato chip cans. She let me help her.”
“They were good. Sharing those cookies made me a few friends in my barracks.”
“Tommy?”
“No.” His voice roughened. “I met him later.” “Oh.” Obviously still a taboo subject. “Mom still makes the best cookies in the world. Shane’s girls are always begging her to make some and let them help.”
She spent most of the next couple of hours chattering about life at the ranch—her parents and her brother’s family, the boys currently staying with them, the extended family members she thought Kyle might recall. Kyle didn’t contribute much to the conversation, but she could tell he was listening. She thought maybe he even seemed interested in what she had to say—or maybe she was simply looking for a reason to keep the mostly one-sided conversation going.
They stopped for a late lunch at a roadside chain restaurant in Central Tennessee. Molly noticed that Kyle walked very stiffly after several hours in the car. The long drive had to be uncomfortable for him, but he hadn’t complained—nor would he, she knew.
A large, tourist-oriented gift shop was attached to the restaurant. Molly insisted on going through it after they ate. Though it was difficult maneuvering through the narrow aisles with her crutches, and she had no real interest in the merchandise, she could tell that it made Kyle feel better to walk around a little. He grumbled about the unnecessary delay, but she saw him surreptitiously stretching his bad leg, flexing the knee.
She could almost see some of the tension drain from his facial muscles as the hearty meal and light exercise combined to ease the aftereffects of the morning’s long drive. Pleased with herself, she bought a black coffee mug with the state of Tennessee outlined on one side in gold—her excuse for visiting the shop—then handed the bag to Kyle to carry as they headed for the parking lot.
“It felt good to be out of the car for a little while, didn’t it?” she asked as she fastened herself in.
“It put us another half hour behind,” he retorted, starting the engine.
“That’s just more time for me to pelt you with questions,” she said cheerfully.
It pleased her inordinately when he chuckled—a sound that seemed to surprise him almost as much as it did her. He grew immediately somber again, but she treasured that slight laugh. A bit too much for comfort, actually, she realized, her own smile fading.
Just over eight hours after they’d left Gatlinburg- almost halfway through the trip home—Molly noticed that Kyle’s jaw was clenched and his face was pale. When he glanced her way, she saw that dusky shadows had formed beneath his eyes, making them look hollow, and that the long scar on his jaw stood out in contrast to his ashen skin.
This long car trip was too much for him, she thought guiltily. They had taken a couple of breaks, but he was still obviously uncomfortable. She really should have insisted that he allow one of her family members to come after her, rather than driving her himself. Yet he had been so adamant that it was his responsibility, and maybe she had allowed herself to be persuaded a bit too easily.
She was trying to think of a tactful way to suggest that he take a break for the evening when he said, “You’ve been suspiciously quiet for a long time. Is your leg hurting?”
The dull throb was still tolerable, but she seized quickly on the excuse. “It’s getting sort of cramped and sore. But I can keep going as long as you can,” she added bravely.
He frowned. “You don’t have to try and keep up with me. If you need to rest, you should have said something.”
She tried to look contrite.
“We’re coming up on Memphis. We’ll find a place to spend the night, then head out again early in the morning.”
It would be dark soon, so she felt fully justified in nodding and saying, “I am getting pretty tired. Maybe we should call it a day.”
Half an hour later, Kyle parked in front of a brightly lit chain motel. “I’ll go in and get us a couple of rooms. Keep the car doors locked until I get back. It’ll only take a couple of minutes.”
“At least put my room on my credit card.”
He didn’t even bother to reply. He just got out of the car and closed the door.
Shaking her head, she leaned back into her seat and watched him cross the driveway and enter the glass door into the motel office. He really did have a sexy way of moving, she thought with a wistful sigh. She noticed the limp, of course, but her attention tended to focus on the purposeful swing of his arms at his side, and the way his nice, tight…
With a groan, she made herself stop thinking along that particular line. She had never let herself think that way about any of her foster brothers—had never been tempted to do so, actually. They were her brothers for the short time they’d stayed with her. The one constant about them was that, eventually, they all moved on.
It was the one sure prediction she could make about Kyle—and one she would do well to keep in mind at all times with him.
As he had promised, he was back in a very short time. He handed her a key, then started the engine and drove to the back of the building, where he parked in front of a blue door marked 116.
“I’m in one-sixteen, you’re in one-seventeen,” he said, opening his door. “I’ll get the bags. You need help getting to your room?”
“No, I can make it.” She reached for her crutches, determined to prove that she didn’t need his assistance. If he could tough out this trip without complaining, then so could she.
“There’s no room service, but there are a couple of fast-food restaurants nearby,” he said as he dumped her bag in her room. “I’ll go get us something to eat and we can crash in front of our TVs until bedtime. Unless you want to go out?”
His expression told her he would escort her to every blues bar on Beale Street if she desired, but that he really, really hoped she was too tired to even consider leaving the motel room.
“I’m much too tired to go out again,” she said dutifully.
He didn’t exactly sag with relief, but she got the distinct impression he had to make an effort to prevent himself from doing so. “I’ll go get us some food, then. Any preferences?”
“Why don’t you stay here and order pizza? If we do that, you won’t have to go out again, either. And, besides,” she added quickly, before he felt the need to assure her he was perfectly capable of making a food run, “I like pizza.”
“So do I,” he admitted. “I don’t get it much at home—no one delivers to my house,” he added with a slight smile.
“I don’t doubt it.”
They were both still standing in the center of the room, which looked like every other motel room on the planet with its two beds, blue-and-green patterned spreads and curtains, boring landscapes and obligatory bolted-to-a-dresser television set. A small, round table with two blue-upholstered chairs sat in front of the single window. Molly made her way to one of the chairs and lowe
red herself into it, dropping her crutches on the floor beside her. It felt good to stretch her legs out in front of her; there wasn’t room to do so in her small car.
Kyle moved to the small nightstand attached to the wall between the two beds and opened the single drawer, pulling out a telephone directory. “What kind of pizza do you like?”
“There is no bad kind of pizza.”
“Then I’ll order one with everything.”
“Sounds good.”
The order placed, Kyle moved toward the door that connected their rooms. “I think I’ll take a quick shower before the food gets here.”
Her mouth went dry at the thought of him naked and wet, but she managed to reply airily, “Okay. I’ll just chill in here.”
Which was exactly what she needed to do, she scolded herself after Kyle disappeared into the other room. Chill out. Cool down. Stop carrying on like some love-struck fool over Kyle Reeves.
Having a harmless little crush on him would have been okay, maybe even sort of fun—but this wasn’t feeling like a crush. The emotions that were growing stronger with every minute she spent with him seemed significantly more dangerous than a simple schoolgirl-type infatuation.
She had never had her heart broken before. She suspected she was coming entirely too close to learning about that pain firsthand. And that was one experience she would just as soon forgo.
There was only one sure way to handle this disaster-in-the-making. The same way she always kept any potentially awkward relationship safe and pleasant—by turning Kyle into a buddy. Just another in a long line of temporary brothers—emphasis on temporary.
She could do that, she assured herself. No problem— she had done it plenty of times before.
And then she heard the shower start in the other room, and her heart started to pound again.
Okay, so maybe it wouldn’t be quite as easy as it had been in the past. But Molly Walker never surrendered without a fight.
His hair still damp from a long, steamy, muscle-loosening shower, Kyle walked back into Molly’s room with only a quick knock to warn her he was coming in. She had moved, he noted, from the chair to one of the beds. Having piled pillows against the headboard, she leaned against them as she sat with her legs stretched in front of her.