“You stay here, I’ll have a look outside.” Elliot tried to open the door, but it was jammed shut. “Can you open your door?”
She tried, but hers was stuck as well. Elliot bit his lip, thinking. He had no choice but to climb through the window beside him. He checked, but no glass shards remained on the frame. As he maneuvered his way out, the pain in his chest made him wince. His hat came off, but he grabbed it, clamping it down on his head again.
The ground was spongy beneath his feet, and he grabbed the side of the truck bed to make his way up the side of the truck. The rain made it hard to see, and he squinted as he glanced around, looking for Kinsley’s purse. He made his way around the entire truck, still nothing.
So they couldn’t use her phone either.
He tried to open her door from the outside, yanking on it, but it didn’t budge.
Rain streamed down his back, pouring off his hat.
They had to get moving. The steam from the truck was making him nervous.
“You’ll need to climb out my window,” he called.
She bit her lip, looking apprehensive.
“I’ll help you,” he assured her.
She nodded, shifting to the other side of the truck as he worked his way back to the driver’s side window again.
“Just come out head first.” He held out his arms. “I’ll help you.”
Kinsley hesitated a moment, looking from him to the broken windows. The seats were wet, the dashboard was wet, and it would get worse as the wind picked up.
Then with a shrug she leaned out, stretching her arms to him. He held her as she wiggled her way out of the truck. But at the last moment, as her full weight came on him, he was thrown off balance. He caught her, falling back against a tree, holding her close.
For a moment their faces were inches from each other, moisture spiking her thick eyelashes. He shifted, still holding her, suddenly aware of the slenderness of her body, her warmth. His breath caught a moment as he saw a sudden spark in her eyes. Then she blinked and looked away and that brief moment of connection was gone.
“We’ve got to get going.” He swallowed down his reaction and gently moved away from her.
“Just follow me,” he said, walking back along the side of the truck.
He got to the back of the truck and saw that Kinsley was struggling. Should he help her? Would she be insulted?
“Just hang on to the frame to help you along,” he called out to encourage her.
Her narrow skirt and high heels were hampering her progress, but he waited, getting wetter by the moment.
Finally she made her way to where he was, but this time he didn’t even hesitate. He caught her by the arm, supporting her, as he helped her up the steep incline to the road.
She accepted his support, but when they got to the road she jerked her arm back.
“I’m sorry. I was just trying to help,” he said.
Kinsley swiped the moisture away from her face. “So where do we go?”
“Just down the road here. I’ll lead the way.” Elliot glanced once again at her high heels, wondering how she was going to manage the muddy road.
And when she started walking, the hitch in her step was even more obvious. She hunched her shoulders against the rain, wrapping her arms around herself as she walked. It would be a long, slow haul.
He caught up to her and pulled his coat off. He draped it over her shoulders and was given a grateful look. Then to finish it off, he dropped his hat on her head.
“You’ll get soaked,” she protested.
Elliot shrugged as he sidestepped a huge puddle. “As you so wisely once said, ‘I’m not made of salt.’”
Kinsley chuckled and looked like she about to say something more when she stumbled over a rut on the road. She cried out as her ankle twisted.
Elliot caught her before she fell, holding her up as her face twisted in pain.
“I’m sorry, I turned my ankle,” she gasped.
Elliot wasn’t surprised. Her high heels looked dangerous on flat surfaces, let alone a rutted gravel road in the rain.
But this meant it would take them forever to get to the house. And the rain wasn’t letting up. Rainstorms this close to the mountain always dropped the air temperature. Hypothermia was a real concern.
“You won't like this, but you’ll need my help.” Elliot stopped, his arm still around her.
“But you’re helping me now,” she said through gritted teeth.
“You can’t keep walking like this,” Elliot insisted. “You'll do some real damage to your ankle, and we’ll both be freezing by the time we get to that house.”
As if to underline his point, she started shivering.
“Sorry, girl, you’ll have to climb on my back so I can carry you piggyback.”
She looked horrified and tried to take another step, stumbling again. She stopped, pulling Elliot’s coat closer around herself, squinting through the driving rain. She bit her lip, then glared at him.
“I don’t like this at all,” she complained.
“Protest acknowledged. Swallow your pride, put your arms through the sleeves of my coat, and I’ll help you up.”
Her narrow skirt was a hindrance, but as he hitched her up, he heard a tear. Guess that skirt was a write-off.
Thankfully she wasn’t heavy, and with her on his back, he immediately felt a little warmer.
He shifted her again, lowered his head into the rain, and continued walking, hoping the house was as close as he estimated.
Kinsley clung to Elliot’s neck, the driving rain more of a concern than her feelings of self-consciousness. Elliot’s coat was warm and his hat protected her. She felt bad that she wore them instead of Elliot, but really, that was the least of her worries right now.
Her ankle throbbed, and her hip hurt, but she rode out the pain. She had no choice. She couldn’t walk, and they had to get to shelter.
“How much longer?” Kinsley asked, her mouth close to Elliot’s ear.
“One step at a time,” he grunted, stepping around another puddle.
“You sound like my physiotherapist,” Kinsley muttered through lips growing numb with the cold.
“Actually, I sound like mine.”
“You have a physiotherapist too?”
Elliot nodded. Kinsley couldn’t see his face, and she guessed he needed all his breath for the walk. So she kept quiet, hung on, and endured.
His back was warm, and to her surprise, she stopped shivering. But her hip was throbbing even more now, keeping time with the pulse of pain in her ankle. Her legs were wet and her feet, in their ineffectual high heels, freezing.
Please, Lord, let us get there soon, she prayed, her head now tucked against Elliot’s, trying to garner what precious heat from his body she could.
“Hang in there, honey,” Elliot said, breathless, breaking into her thoughts. “Just a few more yards.”
Kinsley was too miserable to protest his endearment.
She could tell Elliot was getting tired. His breathing grew heavier, and his steps slower.
“Let me down, I think I can walk from here,” she said, feeling guilty and too aware of how he held her and how close they were.
“Not a chance,” he grunted, stopping to give her another shift, moving her a little farther up his back. His arms held her legs just a little tighter.
He was strong. She could feel his muscles moving under her arms. She doubted Drake could ever have carried her this long let alone this far.
And then, finally, through the rain she saw a driveway with a mailbox at the end. A few minutes later, Elliot was trudging up some wooden steps and onto a dry porch. A pair of metal chairs sat by the front door. Elliot walked over, gently slipped her off his back, and helped her onto one of the chairs. It was freezing as well, but at least she could sit.
Shivering in earnest now, Kinsley clutched Elliot's coat close. To her surprise, he knelt down and picked up her ankle, touching it as carefully as he had touched her neck, gently
probing. She winced, and he gave her an apologetic smile. He grabbed the other chair, dragged it across the porch, lifted her foot, and placed it there.
“You’ll be okay for a little while?” he asked.
Kinsley shot him a look of dismay. “Where are you going?”
“I need to break into the house.” Elliot wiped the moisture off his face. “I helped build it, so I know how to get in.”
Then to her surprise, he touched her cheek with his fingertips. As if to reassure her.
“We’ll be okay,” he said. “Once we get inside.”
Kinsley nodded, resisting the urge to grab his hand.
“You better take your hat,” she said, tugging it off her head.
“Keep it. It will keep your head warm.” His smile flashed at her, and then he vaulted over the porch railing and jogged around the side of the house.
As she sat in the gathering dark, rain spattering down, her thoughts spun. She didn’t like being by herself in the rain, and being alone, soaking wet, and in pain made it even harder. Would anyone miss them, and if they did, would they come looking for them? How would they get warm in a house that looked uninhabited? Would this do even more damage to her aching hip?
An old memory flashed into her mind. Another time when she was alone and wet, afraid, pinned under a flailing horse, pain and fear flooding her as she waited. And waited.
She pressed her hands to her eyes, willing the pictures away. That’s done. It’s over.
Please, Lord, she prayed again, rubbing her aching hip, wincing at the pain in her ankle. Please, Lord, she begged, sending up another plea, fighting down her guilt.
As a young girl she used to pray all the time. After her accident and dealing with months of physio and pain, she struggled with her faith in God. Especially not after enduring the taunts of some of her classmates about her limp. Crooked Kinsley they called her.
And stop.
Kinsley clenched her fists, shaking off the thoughts. That was long ago. She was a successful woman now, on track to becoming a partner in a flourishing business.
If this wedding goes well.
Kinsley groaned again, thinking of the plants in the back of Elliot’s truck. They couldn’t have survived the crash. They’d have to get more, which was too bad. There weren’t many decent pots left at the nursery.
She shivered again, her present distress overtaking thoughts about the wedding. A gust of wind swirled around the house, blasting rain on her back. She wanted to get up, but her hip was aching and her foot throbbing.
Where was Elliot?
Then, finally lights flicked on, the door beside her opened, and Elliot stood in the doorway, framed by a gentle glow of light coming from inside the house.
He knelt down beside her, gently lifting her foot off the other chair. He fitted his hands under her arms and helped her up.
“We’ll be okay,” he assured her. “Someone will come looking for us. Or someone will drive by and see the truck and let Kane or Zach know what happened.”
Kinsley let his words wash over her. Right now her focus was on getting inside the house. She tried to take a step when Elliot caught her by the arm, stopping her.
“Hold up, honey. You’ll do more damage to that foot if you try to walk.” He slipped his arm around her waist, holding her close to his side. “Walk with me.”
She had no strength to protest, and she knew doing so would be foolish. So once again she let him help her along, trying not to be self-conscious about the rip in her skirt. She needed to get out of the cold and wet.
They stepped into the entrance of the house and Elliot closed the door behind her. “There’s not much for furniture in here but we’ll make do,” he said looking around the large, open space they had stepped into. A stone fireplace, flanked by two large floor-to-ceiling windows took up one wall with a cracked leather couch sitting in lonely isolation in front of it. The floor was bare plywood—no carpet or flooring anywhere. One lone lamp supplied a feeble light.
“Here, let’s sit you on that couch. There’s electricity but the furnace isn’t hooked up yet. But I can build a fire.”
Kinsley wanted to protest. She was far too aware of the rip in the back of her skirt, but if she walked slowly, maybe he wouldn’t notice.
So she let him take her to the couch. When she got there she tried to sit down slowly but her hip gave way and a hot surge of pain seared her ankle, so she plopped ungracefully down, her entire body shaking with cold. Elliot lifted her legs and shifted her sideways so she could keep her ankle elevated. “I think we can take these off,” he said, flicking a finger at her heels.
“Probably,” she admitted, knowing full well what he thought of her shoes, now caked with mud. And, she had to admit, right about now, they did seem foolish. He pulled them off and set them aside, the simple gesture oddly intimate.
“You’re freezing,” he murmured, grabbing her hands as if to warm them. “I’ll get that fire going.”
“With what?”
“There’s a stack of wood outside. Tanner and I cut that up when we cleared the yard. Hang in there, I’ll be back.” He gave her a crooked smile that made her heart skip, then, once again, left her alone.
Moments later he returned with an armload of firewood and an ax.
“Are you going to chop that in here?” she asked, aghast at his boldness.
“It’s just plywood flooring, and I’ll be careful. It’s too wet to make kindling outside. Besides, this will all be covered once Tanner puts flooring down. If that ever happens.”
“Why hasn’t it?”
“He doesn’t live here anymore. He stops by maybe once every half year to visit his grandma down the road, but for the rest, he stays up north. Working.”
“What does he do?” Kinsley asked, sensing there was more to this story.
“Something in the oil fields.” Elliot shrugged as he dropped the firewood on the floor with a heavy clatter. “He used to work in the local sawmill, saving money to start up his ranch here. After what happened to his wife and kid he needed to get out of town. I just know he got Kane his job after he and Faith…after Faith joined the band.”
She wanted to ask after Tanner, but Elliot’s momentary hesitation after mentioning Faith caught her attention more.
“Which was a mistake with some bad repercussions,” he added.
“Are you talking about her breakup with Kane?”
Elliot swung the ax, neatly cleaving a log. He set it aside, then chopped another one, frowning as he worked, as if it required his entire focus.
“Yeah. I wish I’d had nothing to do with that.” He stopped abruptly as he grabbed another log and chopped it. Harder than before. He snatched one up and, with rapid cuts, broke it down into much smaller pieces for kindling. One of the pieces he feathered with his jackknife, frowning as he worked, intent on the job, not adding to his previous comments.
With quick, efficient movements, he had the kindling set up. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket, flicked it on, and in a few moments, the welcome crackle of wood burning filled the room. Elliot got up and fiddled with, what she assumed, was the damper. The entire time his mouth was set in a grim line and a frown darkened his eyes. Smoke eased up the chimney, and the fire grew.
“I’m sorry if I stepped out of line with my comment about Faith and Kane,” she said.
The warmth from the flames was reaching the couch, and she took Elliot’s wet coat off and rubbed her arms, shivering again, thankful for the heat.
He shook his head then turned to her, still squatted in front of the now-blazing fire. “It wasn’t you. It was me. I know Kane is happy now, and that he and Faith are good. Obviously, they’re getting married, but I still feel like he resents me being around because I took off with her after their fight.”
“If he’s concerned about you and Faith, he has nothing to worry about. She’s head over heels in love with him.”
“I know that,” Elliot said with a wry smile. “She always has been. T
ruth is, Faith and I didn’t leave town ‘together,’ the way Kane seemed to think.” He made air quotes with his fingers. “The guy in the band I introduced her to was a friend of mine. They were looking for someone to sing and play guitar. Faith did both and wanted so badly to play music. Wanted to give herself some space from the pressure her grandfather and Kane were putting on her to become a lawyer. Something she had no joy in. When she left with the band they were following the rodeo circuit, so I went along for the ride. I knew Kane was angry with me and blamed me for Faith leaving, so I didn’t come back to the ranch.”
“Does Kane know about you and Faith not being a couple?”
“I’m sure Faith told him,” Elliot said, pushing himself to his feet. He laid his coat on the remaining stack of wood, close to the fire. Then he walked over to the couch and picked up her hands, rubbing them between his. “You seem to be warming up a little.”
“Once my clothes dry, I’ll be nice and toasty,” she said with a smile. “How about you? Are you warming up?”
“Yeah. I am,” he said.
He seemed only too willing to move on to another topic of conversation, but Kinsley couldn’t forget the note of bitterness in his voice as he spoke of Faith’s decision and his brother’s reaction.
“You said you think Kane resents you being around,” Kinsley pressed. “Have the two of you talked about it?”
Elliot shrugged then started unbuttoning his shirt. “It’s been busy since I came back,” he said.
Kinsley swallowed, trying not to stare as Elliot stripped off his shirt. Thankfully he was wearing a T-shirt underneath it. Not that that helped much. The sleeves were tight around his bulky arms, emphasizing his biceps. The damp shirt clung to his broad chest, showing her the defined muscles she’d been clinging to as he carried her.
She couldn’t help but compare him to Drake, who was slender and shorter than Elliot. Who always wore a suit and kept his hair perfectly clipped.
Elliot’s hair, however, was a tangle of waves curling past his neck and falling over his broad forehead. He looked exactly like the cowboy he was.
“Why don’t you give me your suit jacket?” he asked. “I can dry it and my shirt at the same time.”
Taming the Cowboy (Family Ties Book 3) Page 8