Читать книгу His Kind Of Cowgirl - Karen Rock - Страница 11

CHAPTER ONE

Two years later.

“HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, DARLIN’,” Claire murmured as she drove past a Route 36 sign just outside of Coltrane, Texas. A car’s lights flared in her rearview mirror.

She adjusted the mirror, the only thing she ever changed in the vehicle. Everything in her husband’s vintage truck stayed as he’d left it. All but the paint job. She’d added the teal body coat when he didn’t return from Afghanistan to finish its restoration...or take her on that promised first ride.

Her eyes stung and she cranked the volume dial on her radio. An old country tune played and Claire hummed along, feeling as if she knew the heartbroken singer...or, at least, what she’d gone through. The years since her husband’s death had been tough, and she still felt the need to commemorate their wedding anniversary and talk to him, strange as some might think her.

“Can you believe this would have been nine years?” She twisted her wedding ring then picked up her coffee thermos.

A sports car flashed its brights then sped past. Her gaze dropped to the speedometer. Thirty miles per hour in a forty-five zone. Slow, but not slow enough to make this annual trip last as long as she wished.

The countryside loomed gray wherever her headlights touched, bluebonnets waving in thick clusters from the roadside, their sweet fragrance carrying on the warm March wind through the open windows. The road unrolled in front of her and she felt its thrum in her bones.

“Jonathan’s doing well. Got all A’s in homeschool. He’s smart, like his daddy.”

Her voice cracked at the end, evaporating in the back of her tight throat. She recalled Jonathan’s hushed voice when he’d admitted to being bullied and had begged not to return to public school. To spend his days on her father’s ranch, the home they’d moved to after she’d been widowed. He’d always been small for his age and she’d hated thinking of him being pushed around by the bigger boys.

Would Kevin have handled it as she had? Let their son stay away, even after the bullies were punished? Jonathan had grown so withdrawn after losing his father, and she was concerned that the lack of social interaction with kids his age kept him from maturing the way he should. He was different from the rambunctious child Kevin had left behind.

A night bird ghosted over the Chevy Apache’s hood and vanished. Outside the windshield, the full moon ran wild with streaks of cloud, its light pouring down thick enough to drench her on this humid night.

“Dad’s got his speech back but his left side’s still troubling him. Can’t get around like he wants and won’t use the electric scooter. But he’s dragging his foot less, so that’s progress. Right?”

Silence unfurled in the space and she imagined Kevin nodding, his hand dropping from the wheel to cradle hers. He would have known how to help her father accept his post-stroke limitations with that quiet self-assurance that had once steadied her spinning world.

“We finally got an offer on the ranch. Mr. Ruddell, the neighbor who’s been helping us, said he’ll take it off our hands. He can’t afford much, but it’ll be a quick sale so we’ll beat the bank foreclosure. Just.”

Her father’s grim face and terse silences around her lately practically screamed “traitor.” As if she’d engineered the proposed sale. Had twisted his arm to accept it...

Well...she had, but how else to avoid bankruptcy? A total loss on their generations-old ranch? With her dad’s health failing, he didn’t need extra pressure trying to save a lost cause. The doctor said more stress could kill him.

Ever since she’d intercepted a bank call and uncovered the horrible financial news, Claire would wake up each morning in a panic, sure that she’d run out of air. Then the breath would hit her like a horse’s kick to the heart. She couldn’t imagine selling her childhood home, but what choice did she have? Even her older sister, Dani, a horse wrangler who managed a Colorado dude ranch, supported the decision. Although, she’d never been as attached to the ranch as Claire. She’d preferred wandering on horseback to rocking on a porch swing as Claire did every night with her father.

If her dad passed away, leaving her as Kevin had... The thought scared her so much she wanted to take it back, swallow it down in a great gulp and drive faster, flee the possibility before it caught her.

“Do you remember the time you stopped by to help Dad fix one of the tractors and caught me sleeping in it?” She took a sip of her cooled coffee. “I was such a mess then. You knew I was.”

She could imagine her husband’s firm head shake. He’d built her back up when she’d been breaking down. Restored her as he repaired everything else, like this 1959 truck. Not content there, he always improved on the original. Even her.

Especially her.

“I miss you, babe.” And she did, the stabbing loss as deep as the day the Army broke the news. “But I’m doing okay.”

She envisioned the skeptical, downward slant of his eyes.

“Want to hear our wedding song?”

A yellow light in the near distance caught her attention. She attempted to replace her thermos in its holder, missed and grabbed for it before it spilled on the reupholstered front seat. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the top edge of the traffic fixture as she entered the intersection.

Everything happened at once and in slow motion.

A crushing jolt shuddered through the truck. Her wheels skidded sideways. She smacked against the window when her pickup rolled down an embankment, as if punched by something large and lethal. Glass rained deadly sharp. The earth tumbled around her, her truck in spin cycle. When a massive tree loomed, the Chevy slammed into it then stilled.

Winded and stunned, she hung upside-down in her lap belt, blood, metallic and warm, on her tongue, a rushing sound whistling in her ears. Her heartbeat changed and grew slow and rolling in darkness. Something hurt, a long way away. Then nothing.

“Ma’am. Ma’am. Are you all right?” A man’s voice shouted, rousing her. She tried turning her head but pain held it in place. When she opened her mouth, silent panic flew out.

“Hold on. I’m getting you out of there.”

Acrid smoke pierced her consciousness. She closed her eyes against the billowing grit.

This wasn’t happening. It was a dream. No. A nightmare.

A tugging motion jerked her right and left, followed by a ripping sound. Large hands halted her sudden fall.

“Got you.”

Her rescuer cradled her against his chest, his breaths heaving beneath her ear. After carrying her some distance, he lowered her slowly to the ground. Grass scraped against her stinging cheeks and she opened her eyes.

“What?” she croaked, then swiped at the trickle leaking from her mouth. A man wearing a cowboy hat hunched over her, his features blurred.

“You’ve been in an accident. We have. Our trucks collided in the intersection.”

“My truck!” She bolted upright and clutched the swirling ground.

An arm snaked around her back and eased her down. “I called the dispatcher. The fire department’s on the way.”

She heard a wail in the distance and wanted to shriek with it.

Her special day. Her anniversary. Ruined. No. Demolished by this...this...

She squinted upward and focused. A dark swirl of hair brushed across the tall man’s forehead; a light scar zigzagged down his square jaw.

It couldn’t be...

“Tanner?”

“Hello, Claire.” His mouth went up, just a fraction—the same ready-for-anything smile that had once undone her.

She closed her eyes, heart thudding. Ten years since she’d vowed never to see him again...and now here he stood, two for two in wrecking her life.

* * *

THEY WERE THREE miles outside of town. Tanner Hayes knew it was unlikely another car would be passing for a while. He peered anxiously down at Claire. The lines of her face, turned up to the sky, nearly broke his heart.

“What are you doing here?” she rasped, winded. Was she having trouble breathing? Punctured a lung? His pulse sped.

“I’ll tell you later. Where are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.” Long lashes swept her cheek and the paleness of her skin blurred its edges like watercolor. But her green eyes flashed the way he remembered, her delicate features still arousing his protective instincts. Was she going into shock?

He shrugged off his jean jacket and draped it around her shoulders. She looked frozen to the bone, too cold to even shiver.

“Wear it,” he insisted when she shook it off.

Her hand rose when he made to resettle it on her. “No. Thanks.” She pushed to her elbows and held her wrist.

“Can you move that?” He hunkered beside her.

She winced slightly when she flexed it and edged away. “Just a strain. Bruising I’m guessing.”

“Anything else?” Headlights illuminated the night and his eyes ran over her lithe form, taking in the fiery hair that seemed to grab the color from her porcelain skin. She looked smoothed, luminous, as if her flesh had been stripped away and she were made out of something so clear it was almost glass, something that could shatter. She looked beautiful.

“You’re bleeding.”

She jerked from his touch and his pulse raced at the swelling lump on her temple, the red slash through her full bottom lip. He stuffed unsteady hands into his jeans pockets, assuring himself she was okay. In one piece. Not seriously harmed.

Not again.

In the tense silence, the siren grew deafening and a fire truck thundered by and jerked to a halt. An ambulance and police car sped behind it then pulled to the opposite side of the road. Blue, red and white lights illuminated the velvet night.

EMTs raced their way. Tanner refused their help and moved aside, watching closely as they checked Claire’s vitals and examined her. One wound an Ace bandage around her ankle and handed her an ice pack. Less than twenty yards away, firemen hosed down her smoking truck, their walkie-talkies squawking in the still air.

“Talk me through what happened.” A young, heavyset police officer flipped open a pad and clicked the end of his pen.

When Tanner finished, the trooper continued scribbling and asked, “So, you’re sure the light was green when you passed through the intersection?”

Tanner opened his mouth but another voice answered.

“It was yellow on my end.” Claire limped their way, pain tucked in the corners of those determined eyes.

“When it’s your turn, I’ll take your statement.” The officer lowered his gaze to Tanner’s license.

“Are you the Tanner Hayes? The bull rider?”

Tanner nodded curtly. This wasn’t some meet and greet. Plus, the man had been rude to a lady. To Claire. That didn’t go down so good in his books.

The official pocketed his pad and thrust out a hand. “What a heck of a surprise. Can’t wait to tell the boys I met the PBR world champion. We watch you on TV every week. Say. Can I get an autograph?”

A throat cleared behind them. “I’d like to give my statement now.”

Tanner narrowed his eyes at the fawning officer. “Happy to oblige once you’ve gotten Claire’s statement.”

The cop glanced between them. “You two know each other?”

Claire’s head bent and her red curls obscured her face. “Once,” she whispered. “Not anymore.”

Her words stung. She had it about right, but Tanner wished otherwise. That things could have gone differently. That there’d been another path. One that hadn’t left her behind and him full of regret.

After she gave her statement, she refused further medical treatment and wandered closer to her damaged truck. Tanner trailed her, stretching his steps to catch up. Pebbles ground together.

The passenger side of her pickup was crumpled and her windshield was smashed. His lungs burned as he imagined the worst. He’d heard from her father that she had a son. A nine-year-old who depended on her. Why the hell had she been running a red light in the dark? And why hadn’t he spotted her in time?

He eyed his own truck with the experienced eye he’d gained helping mechanics on his rodeo crew. A crushed bumper. Smashed headlights. Pushed-up hood. Otherwise, drivable. At least, he supposed so. Someone had moved it to the other side of the road.

“I’m sorry, Claire.”

Her shoulder bones moved restlessly under his touch. “This was my husband’s truck.”

Her admission went through Tanner like the punch of an electric fence. He knew she’d moved on. Married. Yet hearing it from her trickled cold oil down his skin. His pained gaze flew to her truck—her spouse’s truck—again. He could see it now. What he’d done... Sorry wasn’t enough.

“I need to get it fixed back to the way Kevin wanted.” Her last words ended on a watery gulp that made him step closer.

The officer handed them both tickets. Tanner scanned his. Driving without insurance. He winced. Rodeo travel. Road work meant irregular mail. His renewal must have come last month when he’d been laid up in a hospital, unable to remember his name and sure his career with the top thirty-five elite was over. His future a black hole ready to crush him.

“Running a red light?” Claire’s voice rose and Tanner glanced up at her. She was all patches of black and white, like an illusion. As though one blink would turn her into moonlight and grass.

The cop looked at Claire and pointed to a motorcyclist donning his helmet. “Got a witness statement. He rode up behind you and saw the red.”

Confusion sharpened Claire’s features.

Tanner moved, restless. He didn’t want Claire ticketed. “Might have been a mechanical failure, officer.”

The uniformed man slit his eyes at Tanner. “Are you taking back your original statement? The light wasn’t green?”

Tanner shifted in his boots. He wasn’t a saint, but he was no liar, either. “No,” he admitted, then glanced at Claire’s pained expression. How many wrongs would he do her before he’d make it right?

The cop’s face relaxed into friendly lines and he held out a pad and pen. “Now, how about that autograph?”

“Sure.” Tanner scrawled his name without looking and turned at a metallic squeal. A tow truck’s chains hoisted Claire’s pickup. It was beat up. Had some mechanical damage given the small fire...but it wasn’t totaled. Could be fixed.

Her small exclamation had his gaze swinging her way, his concern growing. She looked scraped right out. When she swayed, he slipped an arm around her and held her tight. She could squirm all she wanted, he wouldn’t let go.

“Where are they taking it?”

Tanner read the side of the tow truck. “Bob’s Auto Body. Not far.”

As their small town’s biggest repair shop, everyone knew Bob’s. Tanner had even applied for a job there, but had been turned down when, like most of the townsfolk, Bob had been leery of hiring the fatherless child of a drug addict who’d caused his own share of trouble growing up.

Good thing he’d been hired at a local ranch. The job had helped him support his single mother until he’d caught the rodeo bug. Found an outlet for the jittering energy that roamed through him like fire ants. Proved everyone wrong who’d sworn he wouldn’t amount to anything; that he’d turn out like his deadbeat dad and junkie mother.

Now that he faced the real possibility of a career-ending injury, his old neighbors might be proved right after all. Unless his last-ditch plan worked out... The one that’d brought him to Coltrane in the first place.

Claire waved away the hovering rescue personnel and turned on him once the cop drove off, the ambulance following.

“If you weren’t here, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“It wasn’t my fault, Claire.”

A wounded laugh escaped her. “It never is, is it? And you’re right, it’s not your fault. But somehow, whenever you’re around, bad stuff happens to me.”

Her slender back arched as she swung away.

“Let me see you home.”

At his offer, she turned in a quick circle, noticing, as he did, the taillights of the towing company disappearing around the road’s bend.

“I’ll walk.” Her uneven gait churned up road dust, her face wincing with each step on her wrapped right foot.

He reached her side then jogged ahead, stopping her. “Your ranch is miles away. Be reasonable.”

Her jaw jutted. “I’ll call home. My dad’s helper, Marie, might still be there. She could pick me up.” Her face froze. “My cell phone is in the truck.”

He handed over his phone and waited as she dialed and asked for Marie, then listened as she made reassuring noises before hanging up.

“She’s gone?”

“Yes.” Claire twisted her hair, her expression faraway.

“You didn’t tell your dad what happened.”

“I didn’t want to worry him.” She stared over his shoulders, a line forming between her brows. “I don’t have any other numbers memorized.”

“Claire, I’m not letting you stand out in the dark figuring out a ride when I can drive you myself.”

Her right eyebrow rose. “You stopped being able to ‘let me’ do anything ten years ago.”

He blew out a breath. Patience. He’d left when she’d given him the ultimatum: rodeo or her. Her ruffled feathers were justified. Still, he’d figured she’d have gotten over it by now. If he hadn’t given her father his word, he’d leave. Then again, where else could he go? With his invested winnings mismanaged and lost, and a forced retirement possible, he needed a place to figure out a new future. Fast.

“Claire. Please get in my truck.”

Her hands fisted on the slight flare of her hips. “And if I say no?”

“It won’t affect the outcome either way,” he said evenly, containing his rising temper.

Obstinate woman.

Her eyes roamed skyward and she spoke to the stars. “It’s taking you out of your way. Why bother?”

He cupped her jaw and looked her square in the eye. Truth time.

“I’m heading to your father’s ranch anyway.”