Читать книгу A Cowboy's Pride - Pamela Britton - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Welcome to New Horizons Ranch.

Trent jerked the chair forward with a thrust of his hand, knowing he hadn’t been exactly friendly to Cabe’s girlfriend, but little caring.

He didn’t want to be here.

Cabe had to know that. The man had been part of the scheme to get him to New Horizons Ranch, along with Trent’s mom and his best friend, Saedra.

It’s time to get your life back on track. Time to rejoin the land of the living. New Horizons Ranch will help you do that.

His mom was dead wrong.

Being a “guest” at a ranch owned by some guy he barely knew wasn’t going to accomplish anything. Scratch that. It would accomplish one thing. He’d end up humiliating himself in front of Cabe and that pretty little friend of his, never mind his daughter. The girl would get over the hero worship once she realized his glory days were over.

His stomach twisted.

He thrust down on his wheels harder, enjoying the exercise, not caring that the sweat beaded up on his brow. Pine trees dotted the roadside, the long trunks thin in some spots, thick in others. He’d glimpsed a riding arena and a barn back there, to the left of the road.

Where the hell were those cabins?

He paused for a moment, huffing as he looked around.

Had he missed a turnoff? He was far enough away from the old ranch house now that he couldn’t see it. A grove of thick trees blocked his view.

Should he go back?

“Need some help?”

Son of a—

“I’m fine,” he said, pushing off again.

“You don’t know where you’re going,” she called out after him.

“Obviously I can’t be too far away if you’re here.” He glanced back at her, observing that black tail of hair so thick it reminded him of a draft horse’s, which might not be very flattering, but the damn stuff was a thick mass. “What’d you do? Cut through the trees?”

And those eyes. Such a light blue he found himself wanting to look back just to get another peek at them. Instead he pushed on. Obviously, he hadn’t missed a road.

“Shortcut,” she called out after him. “Makes it easier to get to our guests.”

Damn it. He hated gravel roads. And dirt roads. The wheels of the chair would hook on a rock and pitch to the right or left. He constantly had to correct himself.

“Though I’m curious what you’re going to do when you reach the hill.”

He hands paused, but only for a second. “I’ll be fine.”

“We usually escort our guests to their cabins,” she added. “You know...for safety reasons.”

His hands would work as brakes.

“Or we have Tom drop them off.”

Whatever.

“We’ve only had one person attempt that hill in a wheelchair all by themselves. You should have seen it. Reminded me of sled racing in the Olympics—”

“Okay, fine.” He spun his chair to face her, nearly pitching his bag off his lap in the process. “You can help me down there, though I don’t know why Cabe sent his girlfriend along to do his dirty work.”

“I’m not his girlfriend.”

She wasn’t?

“And he sent me because he’s busy dealing with his daughter, who’s a tad upset right now because a man she’s worshipped for years just snapped at her.”

He looked into her eyes then, spotted the disappointment and disgust and, yes, the loathing that she felt for him.

“So I offered to come and help you out, although I was tempted to let you navigate that hill all on your own. With any luck you’d have kept right on going and landed in the river, maybe even been carried downstream where you’d become someone else’s problem.”

She really didn’t like him. If he were honest with himself, he didn’t blame her. He didn’t like himself much these days, either.

“I don’t want to be here,” he heard himself admit. Funny, he’d promised himself he’d stick it out—if only for his mom’s sake—and yet here he was confessing the truth to a woman he’d just met.

She had the dignity to soften her gaze. “A lot of people are afraid to come here, at least at first. They worry they won’t be able to enjoy themselves. Or that the therapy portion of their days will hurt. Or that their families will enjoy themselves and they won’t. But you know what? At least those people aren’t afraid to confront a challenge head-on.”

Ouch.

She meant the words as an insult, and it worked. That stung him right in his belly.

“Some people come here for their families, for a chance to do something with the people they love for the first time in years. But I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so instantly hostile as you are, so if you’re going to continue to be an ass, I might as well push you back to the main house. It’s not too late to call Tom and have him take you back to the airport.”

Was that a challenge she’d just issued?

“What’s it going to be, cowboy?” She stared him down like a wild horse in a rodeo, daring a cowboy to stay on.

He tipped his chin up. “I’ve never backed away from anything in my life.”

He saw her eyes narrow, saw that gaze flicker over him as if doubtful he would amount to anything, the expression in her eyes setting his temper to flare in a way he hadn’t felt in, well, in a long, long while.

“We’ll see.”

Alana insisted on following him, even though he made it clear he didn’t want her to. He didn’t want her to help him, either, but when he saw the size of the hill leading into the river valley, he changed his mind. Alana almost laughed at the way he grudgingly allowed her to guide his chair.

“We’re pretty secluded out here.” She motioned to the log cabin where he’d be residing, the sun’s rays catching the color of the wood and turning it gold. They were making their way toward a low-lying valley, one with a wide swath of lawn to the left with pine trees sprouting up at odd intervals. They’d had cabins built among the trees, the resulting vista something Alana was proud of having had a hand in. Across from the cabins was the Feather River, and though winter was gone, the water still rushed past with a gentle roar thanks to the snowpack in the hills.

“There are landline phones in every room if you ever need any help.” She leaned back, trying to counterbalance the weight of him in his chair with her own. Too bad they hadn’t had Tom take him down. That would have made things easier. Then again, if they’d done that, she wouldn’t be able to give him such a hard time. And if ever a man needed a hard time, this man did.

“I won’t need help.”

Hah.

But the words confirmed her suspicion that it really got under his skin when she reminded him of the disabled word.

So she resolved to use it as much as possible.

She patted him on the shoulder patronizingly. “We’re here for you, Trent. We specialize in helping disabled guests.”

They were halfway down the hill, and she would bet if he didn’t fear a runaway wheelchair, he would have used his hands to jerk away from her.

“Once I get to my cabin, I want to be left alone.”

He sounded like a petulant child, and in a way he was. He was having to learn how to walk again, was completely dependent on other people to teach him to do exactly that. Things he’d taken for granted were no longer easy—like making his way to a cabin in the woods. And as she thought about all that he’d had to overcome, including the death of his best friends in the tragic car wreck that had almost cost him his life, well, suffice it to say she started to wonder if she wasn’t being a little too hard on him.

That was until they reached the bottom of the hill and he did exactly what she knew he’d been dying to do. He wrenched away.

“Damn.” She stopped and rested her hands on her hips, her fingers stinging from the force of the handles being ripped from her grasp. “You’re good at that.”

He ignored her, just made a beeline for his cabin. He must have seen that it was handicapped equipped because he zipped toward the place as if he rode in a two-wheeled sports car. A ramp had been built to run straight up to the front door. His wheels hit the slats with a clackity-click-click. His bag nearly slipped from his lap he stopped so hard as he spun his chair so he could push on the handle.

“It’s locked,” she called out in a singsong voice, knowing it wasn’t very nice of her to take such naughty pleasure in his impatience.

He glanced at the door, then her, clearly frustrated.

She contemplated for an instant how it would feel to walk away and leave him there. She wished she had the gumption to do exactly that, but in the end, she really did understand what he was going through. She’d watched Rana go through the same type of emotional turmoil. Grief was tricky. It brought out either the best or the worst in people. If he was anything like her, he felt the loss of his friend like a kick to the stomach.

She headed for the front door.

Sunlight turned the surface of the wood-framed window into a mirror. She spotted her reflection as she walked toward the cabin. Reflected, too, was the image of blue sky, the mercury-like surface of the river and the meadow that lined the water’s edge, and the low-lying mountains.

“Here.” She turned the key with a flourish. The smell of pine and beeswax greeted her as she opened the door. “Light switch to the right. Bathroom straight ahead, just before the bedroom. It’s handicapped equipped, by the way.”

He rolled past her. She caught the scent of him then, an interesting combination of citrus and cinnamon, which she might have taken a moment to admire if he wasn’t a guest and a soon-to-be patient. He really was good with that chair, judging by the way he wheeled around the small table and chairs to their right. He paused in the sitting room area that lined the front of the cabin. To her surprise he suddenly faced her, cowboy hat momentarily shielding his gaze until he lifted his chin.

“Tell the girl I’m sorry.”

It took a moment to realize who he was talking about.

The hat dipped down again. She saw his jaw work, the little muscle along the side of it ticking as if he were grinding his teeth.

“Long flight.”

He leaned forward, suddenly slipping out of the jacket he wore and exposing a toned upper body covered by a white button-down shirt.

My, my, my.

As patients went, he was pretty dang easy on the eyes.

“Three-hour flight from Colorado to the West Coast, another wait to catch the small plane that brought me here, then a long drive to what felt like the middle of nowhere, all to get to a place I don’t want to be.”

Maybe he wasn’t such an ass after all.

She studied him anew. He really was a handsome cuss with his dented chin and his piercing gray eyes. She could see why girls the world over had followed his rodeo career.

“You really should give the place a try.” She clutched her sweater around her tighter. Good-looking or not, this man came with a lot of baggage. “It’s worked wonders for some people.”

His chin moved up a notch. “You some kind of therapist or something?”

She almost laughed. “Didn’t you know?”

“Know what?”

“That’s what I do here. Physical therapy. And cook on occasion for Cabe and Rana, although Cabe’s the better cook. I do make a mean pot of chili, though.”

He stared at her anew, looked at her hard. She could see the wheels turning behind those pretty eyes of his.

“You were Braden Jensen’s fiancée, weren’t you?”

The nerves of her face suddenly turned cold.

“I remember seeing you at the Pendleton show. He told me you were in college. That you were studying sports medicine. That you wanted to help athletes with injuries.”

Breathe, Alana. Breathe.

“We weren’t officially engaged,” she heard herself say. “He hadn’t asked me yet, but we’d talked about it. After...it happened, I learned he’d bought me a ring. He was going to ask me at Christmas.”

And that had been a lifetime ago.

His gaze flicked over her, as if assessing her for damage, too. When their eyes locked again, there was an expression in his, one that made her face come back to life, her skin blazing with color.

Get the hell out of here, Alana.

“Dial zero if you need to reach the main house.” She crossed her arms in front of herself, for some reason uncomfortable with this new and more friendly version of Trent Anderson. “Breakfast will be brought to you around eight, unless you think you’re capable of making your own.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Good. Your refrigerator is fully stocked. We have a cleaning service that comes in once a day. Just hang out the sign on the door if you’d rather we leave things alone.”

“Is that why you stick around? Is this your therapy?”

Go to hell.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Anderson.”

Because, no, this wasn’t her therapy. She was here for Rana, a girl who needed her mother, but who’d lost her instead. She might be a poor substitute, but she loved Rana like a daughter. The therapy? That was just a job, a good job, one she enjoyed. Helping people was her calling in life, always had been. Of course, she’d assumed she’d use her degree working for the Professional Bull Rider’s Association or something. How ironic that she might find herself treating the very type of athlete she’d originally trained to help.

“I guess I’m not the only one with old wounds,” she heard him call out.

“Good night, Mr. Anderson.”

Ignore him.

She was over Braden. She had been for years.

At least, that’s what she told herself.