Читать книгу The Bull Rider's Homecoming - Allie Pleiter - Страница 15

Chapter Five

Luke sat in his pickup in the Red Boots BBQ parking lot and watched for Ruby’s dinky little car to come up the road. They’d been through two more therapy sessions—very boring, tedious therapy session where she always seemed to know if he overdid his exercises. He was glad she gave him the Fourth of July weekend off, but even now he was itching to do something other than “push, pull, stretch, bend and balance” with her.

When he’d left the phone message, he wasn’t quite sure she’d agree to meet him for lunch. Red Boots was a bit out of town, but the food was good and he wasn’t really ready to be seen in Martins Gap with all its peering eyes. He stood a good chance of being recognized even here, but it was the best option he could think of when Nolan called Friday and said he was coming into town today.

So now you’re too chicken to meet your agent by yourself? Luke shifted in his seat, fidgety with the unfamiliar anxiety. The old Luke Buckton was fearless, and he hated this new, nervous side of him.

You want her opinion, he corrected himself. You need her cooperation for your plan. If she hears it from Nolan, she’ll take to it easier.

Luke checked his watch. 11:25 a.m. Ruby was never late for anything. Luke, on the other hand, was always late for everything. Her eyes would pop out of her head to see him here a full five minutes ahead of time. Yeah, well lots of things about me have changed, he laughed to himself. He’d told Nolan to show up at noon so he’d have a chance to give Ruby a heads-up on the whole deal.

And to head Nolan off at the pass if Ruby threw a fit, which was a distinct possibility given what he was about to propose. Time for a bit of that fearlessness, cowboy.

Luke got out of his truck just as the sign in the Red Boots window flickered on to Open and Ruby’s car swerved into the parking lot.

She looked him up and down as he walked over to her. He’d dressed sharp today, wanting to look on top of his game. If he didn’t feel it, at least he could look it.

“No cane?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Flying solo today. Long as you don’t ask to hit the dance floor, I’ll be fine.” Luke gestured toward the entrance.

“But you’re staying out of the hometown spotlight?” she replied as she began walking toward the door, a giant red wooden slab below a neon sign of a kicking boot. The establishment was about twenty minutes outside of Martins Gap.

“I like their food here.” He kept his voice casual as he picked his way across the gravel parking lot with care.

“You like how far out of Martins Gap that food is.” That was Ruby. It was always impossible to get anything past her.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he admitted as he grabbed the big handle and heaved the heavy door open for her. The action required more effort than he remembered. If his old weight set was still in the ranch house basement, he ought to set it up in the guesthouse. The therapy was only focusing on his legs—he shouldn’t let the rest of his body lose its training. “This isn’t exactly standard treatment protocol.”

“Getting you up and out of the house is a good thing. And I get not wanting to do it in front of an audience.” She paused for a moment before adding, “But I did think about it before I called you back, if you want to know the truth.”

That was Ruby—thoughtful to his impulsiveness. Dependable in all the ways he wasn’t. Mostly invisible compared to his relentless “look at me.” He told himself Nolan had been right all those years ago—she never would have been happy on the tour. “I want us to be friends,” he ventured, meaning it but understanding the surprised look it drew from her. “Think we can do that?”

She narrowed one eye at him, that analytical look that always used to bug him so. “I don’t know.”

“But you’re here.” That had to count for something.

“Am I here as your therapist, your friend or the girl you used to date in high school?”

She wasn’t the girl he used to date in high school anymore. She was older, tougher, probably wiser, but also a bit of something else he couldn’t quite put a name to just yet. He’d be lying if he said that last part didn’t make him curious. “The first two.” Luke stuffed one hand in his pocket as he took off his hat, unsure if that was the right answer. “Table for three, please,” he said to the girl who greeted them.

“Three?” Ruby didn’t look pleased at the surprise.

“My agent’s coming later to talk over something. I want to hear what you think—as a therapist and a friend—before I say yes.”

She stopped following the server to glare at him. “No games, Luke.”

“No games. I want Nolan to hear what you have to say and I want you to hear what Nolan has to say.” He pulled the chair out for her at the table. “Straight up and simple.”

She sat down, a wary look on her face. “You don’t do straight up and simple.”

“Let’s just say I’m trying a new tactic these days.” He sat himself down, grateful he didn’t have to maneuver his leg into a booth. Getting in wasn’t so bad, but getting out could prove a gangly hassle he wasn’t ready to attempt. “I did my exercises over the holiday weekend anyway, you know.”

She offered him the first smile he’d seen since arriving. “Well, this is a new Luke. I hadn’t pegged you for compliance.”

He grimaced. “I don’t take much to that word. Willing to work at it, maybe.”

“Cooperative, then.”

“Easygoing,” he suggested as the server brought over tall glasses of water.

“That might be pushing it. An easygoing person would have warned me I was having lunch with your agent instead of springing it on me after I’d arrived.”

Luke felt himself grin. When was the last time he’d done that? There was always something about Ruby, a gift she had for putting him at ease when his ambition got the better of him.

The tour might have eaten Ruby alive, but right now he couldn’t rightly say the tour hadn’t eaten him alive without her. Riding a bull was a binary science: either you were on the bull, or you were off it. Either you rode, or you didn’t. The clean-cut nature of that world appealed to him. It was one of the reasons all this “maybe” guesswork and “let’s see how things progress” prognosis drove him crazy.

“How have things with this Nolan fellow been since the accident?”

Well, there was a loaded question. Luke fiddled with a packet of crackers from the bread basket. “Fine.”

“A ‘that’s what I tell the public’ fine or truly fine?”

“If I’m not earning, Nolan’s not earning from me. Does that answer your question?” Though the agent had a whole lineup of athletes he represented, Luke used to be one of Nolan’s top clients, getting a hefty portion of the man’s focused attention. Nolan used to return his phone calls within the hour. Now his phone calls got returned by the end of the day if he was fortunate. Friday’s phone call had been the first one Nolan had initiated in a month. He wasn’t going to share that little detail with Ruby, however. Instead, he opted for, “There’s a lot riding on whether I ride.”

“So Nolan wants you riding again as fast as possible, I take it?”

“Whether or not it’s what Nolan wants, it’s what I want.” Luke looked around the restaurant, just starting to fill for the lunch rush. “I’m going crazy sitting around.”

The server took their orders. Ruby had some safe salad thing while Luke opted for the Diablo Double super spicy BBQ sandwich. Home cooking was good, but Gran needed to learn how to use hot sauce the way it was meant to be used—generously.

“I thought you were doing your exercises. I wouldn’t call that sitting around.” She accepted her iced tea, and a basket of biscuits found its way to the center of the table.

“Okay, I’m standing at my kitchen counter, marching and balancing on one leg. I’m used to a bit more excitement than that.”

Ruby was quiet for a moment, and then gave Luke a direct look. “I think I’d like to hear from you first what it is Nolan is going to try to convince me to do.”

“Nolan’s not going to try to convince you to do anything.”

“Please,” she replied, giving Luke a dubious look. “Give me a bit more credit than that. You think I’ll take whatever scheme is in the works more seriously if I hear it from Nolan instead of from you. Mostly because you know I’m familiar with your gift for schemes. How about you just tell me? ‘Straight up’ as you say.”

* * *

Ruby held Luke’s gaze. Clearly Luke was up to something. That man got a gleam in his eye anyone could see a mile off when he thought he was about to get away with something.

He was trying to play it straight, she thought. Ruby just wasn’t sure he was capable of such a thing. Then again, he’d admitted the accident had changed him. Maybe she should give him the benefit of the doubt. It was one of the reasons she’d asked him to tell her now—she wanted to hear his version of whatever was up.

Ruby could see him decide. She was changing his game plan, and she could literally see his brain sort through the merit of her request. You’re so used to being in control, she thought as she watched his jaw work. How does it feel to have your future in God’s hands instead of your tightfisted grasp?

“Okay,” he said slowly. She could hear his gears turning in the tone of his answer. “So you know my accident was big news.”

There was an “of course” in his attitude that reminded her what a monster of an ego he had. But he also wasn’t all wrong about his visibility—the photos and videos of a limp and unconscious Luke Buckton being carried from the arena had been headline footage all over Texas.

“Well, Nolan—and folks at Pro Bull Rider magazine, it turns out—think my recovery and comeback could be just as big news. It would also keep me in the public eye until I get back up and riding.”

Ruby knew Luke saw that issue in terms of when and until and not if, but it struck her doubly hard right now. The fire in Luke’s eyes told her the man wasn’t entertaining even the slightest notion that he wouldn’t return to the arena. That was a double-edged sword; determination could take a patient places medicine couldn’t go, but a stubborn refusal to accept limitations could make someone overpush in a way that could be equally dangerous.

“Meaning?” She had a pretty good idea where this was going, but wanted to hear it from Luke.

“The magazine wants to do a piece on my recovery. A couple of pieces, actually. Documenting how I heal and train. If I give them exclusive access, it could be a pretty sweet deal.”

Ruby pictured photographers nosing in on therapy sessions while some stunning blonde reporter hung on Luke’s every word. None of it sounded like conditions she’d want to work in, much less on a case as demanding as Luke’s.

“Think of it,” Luke went on. “Cameras on hand to capture my first run, my first ride...”

“Your tenth fall,” she cut in. “This kind of recovery doesn’t go in a straight line, Luke. You’re going to have setbacks. Are you sure you want an audience for that?”

“Everybody loves a comeback story. And you know me—I work best with an audience. And a finish line to strive toward.”

Ruby felt her appetite leave the building. She pushed away the salad that had arrived moments earlier. “What do you have in mind for that finish line?”

“An exhibition ride.”

“A ride? On a bull?”

“Well, not the meanest bull around, but one with—”

“Absolutely not.” She started to push her chair away. “How can you even think I’d agree to something so...so...” She couldn’t come up with a word for how reckless and foolhardy an idea this was.

“It’s dramatic, I grant you, but I’ve got to—”

“No, it’s not dramatic. It’s irresponsible. You’ve been seriously hurt. We don’t know the full extent of the nerve damage you’ve suffered, and there’s no set timeline for recovery. All your publicity ideas mean that ride has to be scheduled in advance. How can you make a promise we might not be able to keep? Guarantee you’ll be ready in time? You can’t just cowboy up and grit your teeth past this, Luke.”

“Sure I can. I’ll compensate for whatever I don’t have. You’ll teach me.”

Ruby stood up. “I can’t teach you split-second reactions if you’ve got no sensation.”

“Whoa, lower your voice,” Luke hissed, pulling her back down. “Don’t say that kind of stuff where people can hear you, okay?”

Ruby made herself sit down and look him in the eye. Maybe she could get him to see reason before this doomed stunt went any further. “Don’t say what’s wrong with you? Don’t tell you what you refuse to hear? You expect me to not only stand by and watch you potentially get yourself killed, but you want me to play guest star? Ruby Sheldon, therapist to the late, great Luke Buckton? Because trust me, Luke, that’s what it’ll be. You cannot do this.”

“I can’t just disappear, either.” Luke ran a hand through his hair. “Look, Ruby, I told you how this works. No ride, no pay, no rankings. There are no sick days, no medical leave here. If the fans can’t see me, they’ll forget who I am. That’s why this could be such a great chance. Think about it: this magazine’s paying to watch me heal. What better incentive could a guy get?”

It had to be said. “And what if you don’t heal? Will they want their money back?”

“I’ll heal, Ruby. You know I will. You wouldn’t have signed on if you didn’t think I could do it.”

Ruby hated that there was a grain of truth to that. Luke Buckton had made a career of beating the odds. Part of the shock of his injury came from the fact that before the incident, he’d been able to rise up from spectacular falls and ignore seemingly serious injuries. He’d once wrapped an injured arm in tape and ridden through an event only to have it leaked later that that arm had been broken in two places. If common sense ruled the day, he shouldn’t even be standing up, much less contemplating an all-star comeback.

Luke leaned in. “Look me in the eye right now and tell me it’s impossible. Tell me I don’t stand a chance.”

It was just like Luke to find the one inch of plausibility and stretch it into a mile. It was highly unlikely that he’d make a full, flawless recovery—it was foolish beyond reason to bring the media into it—but she couldn’t sit there and tell him it was impossible, much as she wanted to.

“You stand a very small chance. Minute.”

He leaned back, victorious. “Itty-bitty’s all I need. You know that.”

“But if you push yourself too hard and too fast then you stand a much larger chance of doing yourself serious harm. The you-won’t-get-up-and-walk-away-from-it kind of harm. Luke, I don’t see why you have to do this. And with press watching. It’s not worth the risk.”

“Maybe not to you.”

Ruby scrambled for a way to talk him out of this before his agent came and turned it into a hopeless two-against-one. “Explain it to me, then. Make me understand why it’s worth it to you to risk the rest of your life to get a spread on eight pages of a magazine.”

“Ten,” Luke corrected. And she wasn’t really surprised when he added, “Plus the cover.”