Cowgirl Come Home (18 page)

She could understand the attraction of these click-to-start units, but they didn’t compare to the romance of a wood campfire like the one she and Paul made love beside that last summer. They’d lied to their parents and spent an entire weekend hiking, fishing and camping alone. They’d shared a single sleeping bag. She’d never experienced sex as pure and delicious—lust combined with the stamina and abandon of youth.

Her breasts tightened and her nipples puckered inside the cups of her mostly dry swimsuit. The still damp crotch of her bottoms felt unnaturally warm and moist.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had sex—aside from the occasional self-pleasure that usually left her a sobbing wreck.

“You need to get laid,” Maureen told Bailey at their last physical therapy session. “Sex is a great healer. So is forgiveness. Once you dump that heavy burden you’re carrying around, you’ll be able to run and ride again.”

Run? Maybe. She’d been walking a lot the past few days and her ankle felt much stronger. But, ride? She couldn’t picture it. She’d told herself her riding days were over. But she had to admit, she’d enjoyed helping Chloe bond with her horse this afternoon. She’d missed the smells, the feel, the connection more than she’d thought possible.

Before she could call up her mother’s cell phone number, Bailey’s phone rang. Mom’s image appeared on the screen.

Bailey sat on the chaise and crossed her legs. “Hi. Are you home?”

An awkward pause—as if someone fumbled the phone—made her sit up. “Mom?”

“No. It’s me,” OC said. “She’s asleep. They gave her something.”

They?
Bailey’s pulse jumped.

“Luly has a lump on her side. I made her call the doctor. He saw her right away and sent us to Bozeman.”

“T…to the hospital?”

“Yeah. Took six hours to get a room. Can you believe that? The surgeon’s going to do something in the morning.”

“What time?”

“Nine. But you know how that goes.”

“Wh…what do they think it is? Cancer?” Her voice cracked in a broken whisper.

“Not sure. One of the doctors thought it might be some kind of infection. Endimidercondriac or something.”

“Endometriosis?”

“That sounds like it. Could be leftover from her gallbladder surgery.”

“Her gallbladder? But that was last year.” Bailey’s last trip home before Ross and Daz died.

“I know. I don’t get it. But, she says it doesn’t hurt.”

Oh, Mom. Do you ever complain?
“Do you need me to come pick you up?”

“No. The nurse made a bed for me on the couch. I got my pills. I’ll be fine. But I know your mother wants to see you before she goes in.”

“Of course. I’ll be there first thing. Text me if you need anything from home.”

“I…” He paused. “I’m sorry about today. You were right to think the worst. They say you have to hit rock bottom before you can start to climb out of the pit. I’m climbing, Queen Bee. And this time I’m gonna make it. You’ll see.”

He ended the call before she could get her emotions under control to reply. Did she dare hope? He’d made promises before. Did OC’s problems even matter now? Her mother—the glue that had been holding them all together—was sick, dealing with a potentially serious disease.

Dad isn’t the only one who has to step up.

She got to her feet and walked inside. Her expression must have conveyed her distress. Before she could say a word, Paul cleared the distance between them. “What’s wrong? Your dad?”

“Mom. She’s in the hospital in Bozeman. They’ve scheduled her for surgery in the morning. Some kind of l…lump.” She shared what little OC told her. “If it’s cancer, they’ll discuss a protocol. If it’s not—please, God—they’ll remove it and release her.”

“How big a lump?”

“I…I don’t know. She never told me. All this time. I can’t believe it. I don’t know whether to cry or scream.”

He took her in arms. “Whichever makes you feel better.”

She closed her eyes and for a moment she felt…home. Was this what it was like to know somebody had your back?

I could have had this.
But she chose to leave. And she knew why.
Because, bottom line, she was Bailey Jenkins, and Paul Zabrinski always deserved better.

That hadn’t changed.

She started to pull away, but Paul tightened his hold. “Don’t run away, cowgirl. Not tonight.”

“I have to leave early in the morning.”

“I know. I wish I could drive you, but…”

“You have the kids. And a business to run. A life. I appreciate all the help you’ve given me. In fact, I feel a little guilty about it. I…I feel like I need to give a little back. What would you think about me driving Chloe to the ranch every day to spend an hour or two with Skipper? I can’t do it tomorrow, of course, but maybe the next day. If Mom’s okay.”

“Are you serious? That would be fabulous. Chloe has talked about nothing else all day. She’s determined to get him in good enough shape to participate in the fair. I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out a way to make that happen.” He frowned. “But what about B. Dazzled Bling? You haven’t changed your mind about setting up shop here, have you?”

She moved back a step. She could barely think when he was holding her. “I changed my mind so many times today I was starting to feel like a politician.”

“Like Austen,” Paul put in. “He’s a pretty unhappy politician at the moment and probably wouldn’t recommend it as a career choice.”

She vaguely remembered Paul’s older brother and wasn’t curious enough to ask for details. Instead, she admitted, “I’ll admit, I considered throwing my suitcases in the back of Dad’s truck and leaving. The thought of watching OC implode again…” Her throat tightened. She forced a swallow and straightened her shoulders. “But then I decided, no. I’m done letting OC’s issues determine my future. I don’t know if Marietta is the right place for me—business-wise, but if I leave, it won’t be because my father fell off the wagon.”

“Good for you.”

“But before I commit to a lease and a full-fledged store, I need to figure out whether or not there’s a retail market here for my product. And I need to find artisans to work with my designs. I can use the back rooms at the Fish and Game for now, but until we hear from Sheri Fast, we don’t know if the bank will work with us to get back on our feet. And how fast that happens will depend in part on Mom.”

“Are you sure you want to take on coaching Chloe, too?”

“If you’d asked me yesterday, I’d have said no, but I really liked working with her today. She’s a quick study, bright and passionate about her horse. She reminds me of myself at that age.”

“Me, too.” He rolled his eyes and made a face. “I mean, she reminds me of you. Did I ever tell you the first time I saw you? You were Chloe’s age, riding in a fair parade with your dad. You had a big smile on your face and you waved right at me. I told Austen, ‘That’s the girl I’m going to marry some day.’”

“Really? You said that? How come you never told me?”

His blush made her want to wrap her arms around him and start something she couldn’t finish so she stood perfectly still and waited for him to say, “Because I knew you’d ask me what Austen said.”

“Oh.” She hesitated. “I was only a kid. What’d he have against me?”

“Not you. Your dad. He said I could do better than the daughter of the town drunk.”

Nothing she hadn’t heard before but it still hurt, oddly enough.

He pulled her into his arms again. “My brother was an opinionated ass. Still is. I’m sorry.”

Then he kissed her. And her lips remembered the feel of him…as if she and Paul had never been apart.

*

“You should have
let her come pick you up.”

OC was so startled by Louise’s voice, her phone jumped out of his fingers and landed on his lap—the only good thing about being in a wheelchair. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I nodded off for a minute. I’m sleepy but worried about you. You’re too big for that couch. You’ll roll off in the night and re-injure your leg. If your stump gets infected, it’ll be months before you can be fitted for a prosthesis.”

He leaned over and grabbed his stump—whoever would have pictured OC Jenkins with a stump? Dead before thirty, maybe, but cut off below the knee? Never. The craziness of the situation made him laugh. “You know what everyone at rehab asks me?”

She shook her head back and forth in a laconic way that told him the drugs were taking effect.

“Do I have diabetes? I say, ‘No. I lost my leg the old-fashioned way: booze and orneriness.’”

Her pretty lips curled up in a smile—the smile that saved his life so many years before.

“Is Bailey coming tomorrow?”

“Of course. She wouldn’t miss a chance to scold you the same way she’s been harping on my case all these years. ’Bout time you got a piece of the action.”

“Defense mechanism,” Louise muttered.

“Huh? What’s that?”

“You heard me. She yells at you because she loves you so much and she wishes she didn’t. You disappointed her.”

“Yeah, well, she did her share of letting me down, too. Got pregnant. Dropped out of college to marry a goddamn cowboy. She was too smart and ambitious to mess up like that.”

Like the way I messed up.

She lifted her hand, wanly. OC rolled closer to the bed. The nurses had moved a table and extra chair so he had room to maneuver. He wasn’t very coordinated, but he planned to get better. And he would walk again. As soon as possible.

He reached out to take her hand in both of his own, then leaned close to kiss her fingers. He couldn’t imagine life without his rock.

The thought terrified him in a way losing his leg never had. Physical pain was part of life. His father taught him that lesson, hands on. But emotional pain scared the bejesus out of him and made his mouth turn dry. A drink would have been nice, but that option was off the table.

“Go to sleep, dear. I’ll be right here.”

Her breathing evened out and her grip lessened. When he was sure she was asleep, he rolled to the skinny little couch under the window. Someone had set up sheets and a pillow. He locked the brake on his chair, removed the left armrest and levered himself onto the couch using his good leg and upper body strength.

He had a long way to go, but he’d be damned if he was giving up. He was a husband and a father whose family needed him.

“H
e’s doing better,
isn’t he, Bailey? Look how he turns when I shift my weight in the saddle.”

Bailey caught herself unconsciously shifting her weight on the top rail of the fence and nearly fell off. Damn. Not a good thing. “You’re both amazing. But keep your focus on him, Chloe. Remember what happened the first time you rode him.”

A lazy horse ready to be done with all the rules and riding in a circle simply lowered his head and gave a small buck that sent unsuspecting Chloe airborne. Luckily, only her pride was bruised.

“Skipper’s still in the testing phase, Chloe. If he senses your attention is elsewhere…”

“I know. Sorry.”

They’d only been at this for two weeks, but Chloe’s and Skipper’s progress surprised them both. Bailey had never considered herself a teacher, but she guessed a really motivated student made all the difference. For two hours every morning, Chloe did anything Bailey asked—right down to mucking out the horse stall.

They’d covered the care and feeding of her horse the first day.

“Caring for your horse is your most basic expression of love. You want him safe and healthy, his hooves clean, his coat shiny. The same way your mom and dad feed and clothe you and provide a clean, cozy house.”

“How come you don’t have any kids?”

Bailey had known the question would probably come up so she had her answer ready. “Daz was my boy. I loved him like a child.”

To Bailey’s surprise, she’d found herself talking about Daz a lot during these sessions. She’d been afraid the pain would be too great to bear, but Skipper wasn’t anything like Daz, and Chloe was such a sweet kid and so eager to learn, Bailey found she was too busy teaching to feel sad.

“Don’t saw the bit, sweetie. Nice even pressure. Squeeze with your knees and don’t forget your posture.”

Bailey watched for each correction then said, “Nice. Ten more trips around then we have to go.”

“No…” Chloe protested. “Please? Half an hour longer?”

“Maybe tomorrow. I have to meet with the Dazzling Minions this morning.”

She could hardly believe it. She’d hired four local crafters who were not only happy to make jewelry from her designs, they were thrilled to be working for her. Apparently, they liked what they saw on her Etsy page and were eager to be part of her team.

“I have a team,” she murmured softly. “Amazing.”

Thanks to the Minions, Bailey had stock. Added to what she’d brought from California, she had enough earrings, necklaces and bracelets, boot bangles, hat bands and belts to risk signing up for a booth at the Great Marietta Fair.

Paul had used his connections to secure her the last indoor booth in Exhibit Hall-A.

She hadn’t seen him much since their kiss, except in passing. She’d thought about him a lot and dreamt about him more than she wanted to admit, but between his commitments to the fair and her juggling both parents’ doctors’ appointments and setting up a workspace in the back of the old Fish and Game building, they were lucky to catch a minute alone.