Читать книгу A Marriage Worth Waiting For - Susan Fox, Susan Fox P. - Страница 8

SELENA couldn’t relax until she heard Morgan walk out of her apartment to get her things. Once he was gone, she leaned her head back against the chair cushion.

A year and a half ago, she would have loved to have had him barge into her life like this, but back then she’d only been gone from Conroe Ranch six months. Six months was almost nothing for men as stubborn as Morgan, and during that time she’d still had hope they could somehow be reconciled. She’d never truly understood why he’d continued to freeze her out those last years.

But that first six months had dragged into seven, then on into eight, then into a year, pounding home and confirming the painful idea that her life at Conroe Ranch was well and truly over, and that she and Morgan would be permanently estranged.

It had taken monumental effort to move on, but she’d done it and she wasn’t about to let herself think it could ever be possible to go back. Morgan was too harsh and unbending to ever again trust his friendship. If she ever gave any indication of attraction, he might freeze her out again, and she’d be faced with another painful struggle to get over it.

After all, Morgan’s out-of-the-blue intrusion into her life might only be because he’d found out she’d been hurt and he’d felt a bit of leftover family obligation to her. She wasn’t surprised by that because his sense of family and duty were two more things about him that she’d admired and been in love with while she’d still felt secure in that magic circle of privilege.

Since neither of them had much family left beyond a handful of distant cousins they rarely saw, his showing up now was probably more because of that than anything else.

Even so, why would he bother? She hadn’t been family to him for years, not since that time when she’d been seventeen and spoiled everything between them. Her mother and his father had passed away by the time she’d moved from the ranch and after two years of no contact, Morgan shouldn’t even have found out this soon about her accident, much less put in an appearance. If ever.

Selena was finally too weary to try to figure it out. It felt so good to simply sit there and feel herself sink into the warm comfort of the chair that she was dozing before she realized it.

The next thing she knew, she was being lifted.

“Oh, would you leave me alone.” The plea was as weak and drowsy as she felt, but Morgan didn’t so much as hesitate as he strode to the hall then walked on into her bedroom.

She didn’t have the physical strength to fight him, and her heart quailed at the realization because Morgan’s nearness and attention after so long of being starved for even a crumb of care from him was almost impossible to resist.

But then he was laying her on the bed and she stirred enough to realize that he’d managed to pull down the comforter and top sheet. Her eyelids were too heavy to open so she lay there, unable to rally a protest as he made quick work of her shoes then pulled the covers over her.

As suddenly as if someone had switched off a lamp, Selena fell deeply asleep.

She’d slept the day away, and it worried him. He’d almost paged the doctor, but when he was able to rouse her and she’d muttered, “Go away,” Morgan decided she was resting naturally.

Once she woke up, she’d feel like hell after sleeping in her clothes, but there was nothing he could do about that. If he’d gotten her to the ranch, there’d be women around to help her with things like nightgowns.

And bathing. He doubted she could stand up by herself very long, especially on a slippery shower surface, so she’d need help or close supervision. He couldn’t handle that for her either. He’d spent too many years keeping on his side of that line, and he didn’t expect to ever cross it.

The reminder made him wonder again why he was here, why he was doing this, but he didn’t let himself think too deeply on that subject. The tension in his gut was proof of something; instinct warned him to leave it alone.

All he wanted to see was that he’d gotten a call and he’d been compelled to do something for Selena. She didn’t have family who’d close around her at a time like this, so he’d had to at least look in on her. That was explanation enough for why he was here. That and the fact that she might have been killed.

Most of the time, he didn’t let himself think about Selena Keith. But the notion that she’d had a brush with death—and if the impact had hit the driver’s side door just a little more squarely, she might have died—had given him a peculiar sense of foreboding that still rode him hard.

Though he rarely allowed himself think about her, he suspected it was partly because he’d known exactly where she’d been all this time, that she was making her own way and doing well. Until now, he’d let it be enough to know she was somewhere within easy reach. If he’d ever felt inclined to see her, he’d known where to look.

She was still on that same invisible tether he suspected they might always have between them, but her brush with death had jolted that sense of connection. He’d suddenly known that if he didn’t do something to take up the slack between them—and quick—that their invisible tether might snap.

It was a hell of a way to feel, a hell of a thing to want to keep, and it made him restless. There was nothing useful to do in her apartment but wait for her to wake up. He’d looked closer at the pictures in the hall that he’d noticed earlier, seen a couple of himself and felt a sharp nick of regret, then turned on her TV to channel-surf and check the weather and market forecasts. He finally made a few business calls including one to the ranch, before he settled sullenly in her living room to wait.

When suppertime finally came around, he found her phone book, called a restaurant to place a carryout order, then left the apartment to pick it up.

Selena focused blurrily on the alarm clock on her night table. It was 6:00 p.m. She lay there a few moments more, listening, but the apartment was silent. It was the kind of silence that told her she was alone, so she slowly got up, grateful Morgan had gone.

She went to her dresser for fresh underwear and a T-shirt and jeans then walked into the bathroom, pleased that she felt stronger. Nevertheless, by the time she took a quick shower and washed her hair, she was worn out.

Selena sat out in her bedroom on a chair to blow-dry her hair and tried to remember what she had in the kitchen to eat. Her arms tired long before her thick mane of straight hair was completely dry, but it would finish rapidly enough on its own. Since eating something would go a long way to boosting her strength, she got up to make her way to the kitchen.

The moment she stepped into the hall, she heard the apartment door open. Her heart sank as the sound of bootsteps confirmed that Morgan must only have gone out for a while. She’d forgotten he still had her keys so of course he’d be able to come and go at will.

Morgan was just walking into the kitchen from the entryway as she stepped in from the hall. The boxes of hot food he was carrying had the name of a local steak house stamped on the side, so he’d evidently gone out to pick up supper.

The rich, meaty aroma of marinated beef made her stomach clench with real hunger. Hospital food hadn’t appealed to her at all, and now suddenly she was starved. Morgan’s voice was gruff.

“If you’ve got an appetite, this’ll fix it.” And then his blue gaze made a head to toe sweep of her and his neutral expression went stony.

He’d noticed that she’d showered, and it was clear he took a dim view of that. At least he’d kept his disapproval to himself. On the other hand, she couldn’t have missed reading it in his face so he’d communicated as efficiently as if he’s said it out loud.

“Sit down wherever you want and I’ll bring it to you.”

Selena felt her heart shrink in self-protection. “Morgan…I appreciate the food, but after we eat…” She let her voice trail off. She sounded ungrateful enough without adding some version of “you’ll have to leave,” but Morgan knew exactly what she’d left out.

“We’ll discuss it later,” he growled, and Selena was reminded of how very often he growled or was gruff. And also that Morgan rarely “discussed” anything. She wasn’t too sure he knew the definition of the word, at least not the dictionary one.

She offered a lame-sounding, “We can sit at the table.”

“This one or the one in the front room?”

Selena felt an unexpected spark of amusement that she concealed. “The front room,” she said, though she was referring to the apartment’s combination living room/dining room.

For all his wealth and business finesse, Morgan had a very informal manner of speech, along with a few down-home expressions that only a handful of people used anymore. His big house had an old-fashioned parlor that was rarely used, a dining room, a family room, and a living room he called the “front room.”

Since her living room/dining room was nearest the street, he’d of course refer to it the same way. Household terms weren’t a priority for Morgan, and he had a way of making himself understood that didn’t encourage him to amend his vocabulary. And anyway, he hired others to pay attention to those kinds of things because his domain was the outdoors.

Morgan waited for her to lead the way into the dining room end of the “front room” while he followed with the food boxes.

“D’you still eat medium rare?” he asked as she sat down and he put the boxes on the table.

Selena nodded then remembered they’d need something to drink. She braced her palms on the edge of the table and stood stiffly.

His low, “Now what?” made her glance his way.

“I’ll make some coffee. Or get sodas if you’d prefer those.”

“I’ll get the sodas. You can tell me how to make coffee later.” He opened one of the boxes and set out a cardboard plate of steak and vegetables in front of her. “Looks like I’d better get some decent plates. Where at?”

Selena sank back down, secretly relieved he was taking over. “Plates are in the cupboard to the left of the sink, glasses are in the one on the right. Silverware’s in the drawer next to the stove.”

When he went off to get them, Selena eyed the wonderful steak, baked potato and steamed vegetables on her plate. She reached for a pea pod and had a taste, then felt a surprising rush of emotion. Her head hurt, she felt weak again, and she was so hungry she felt like picking up the steak in her bare hands and taking a big bite. Most of all, she was confused by all this, confused by Morgan.

Though she’d been warned that her emotions might be a little precarious for a while, she was stunned by the stinging nettle of tears that blurred everything and made her want to sob. Somehow she managed to get control of them, but the consequence of that was a pounding headache.

Morgan came back in with plates, silverware and glasses, thunked it all on the table, then set about shifting her food from the disposable plate to one of the plain white china plates he’d brought in. He did a surprisingly deft job, then opened one of the other boxes and took out a paper bag of Texas toast slices that he tore open and set within easy reach.

He left to go back to the kitchen for a tray of ice cubes, which he brought to the table, and two cans of soda. Since it would be impolite to start eating before Morgan was ready, Selena fidgeted a little as she waited for him to finish putting ice in the glasses and opening the sodas. She reached for one of the paper napkins he’d taken out and spread it on her lap to keep herself from grabbing a piece of toast.

As if he’d guessed she was starved and almost couldn’t wait, Morgan’s gruff, “Dig in,” was a profound relief. She did just that as he transferred his own food from one plate to another, then sat down to cut into his steak.

Selena practically inhaled those first few bites. She hadn’t cared about butter or sour cream until Morgan belatedly reached into one of the boxes to set out little containers of each. When he did, she took one of the sour creams and emptied it on her potato.

Just like meals at the ranch, this one was silent. Because the work there was hard, the appetites were large and by the time they’d sat down to a meal, everyone was too busy eating to waste time on talk until later in the meal. Morgan was also a creature of relentlessly entrenched habits, so Selena was grateful to take advantage of that and get as much of her own meal down as possible before there was a chance for any appetite-spoiling words.

She was almost finished before she finally began to feel full. Morgan was still methodically working his way through the food on his plate, but he paused to watch as she reached for her glass of soda and had a first taste.

“I saw your pictures in the hall.”

The low words dropped like a firecracker in the quiet room, and Selena nearly choked on her drink. She hastily set the glass down and grabbed her napkin to lift it and briefly touch her lips. She’d forgotten all about the photo collection. Most were of friends, one was of Pepper Candy, her favorite Appaloosa filly. Another was a photo of her mother and Morgan’s father, but two were of Morgan.

Though both were evidence of the foolish adoration she’d probably feel for him the rest of her life, at least they were scattered among the others and not placed tellingly on her bedroom wall or dresser.

Thank God she’d limited the display to her two favorites, because she had several more tucked away in one of the photo albums she’d done of Conroe Ranch.

“I saw the one of Pepper Candy. She foaled a while back. I’ll bring them to the house so you can have a look when you come home.”

There it was. The opening salvo she’d been expecting that would have stolen her appetite if she’d not just finished her meal. He’d bear down now.

“I can’t go to the ranch,” she said quietly.

“Now that you’ve had a good meal, you won’t get carsick.” His brisk statement was a refusal to acknowledge the real reason she didn’t want to go home with him.

“That’s not the issue,” she persisted softly.

“The issue is doctor’s orders, Sel,” he said grimly and she had to force herself to maintain eye contact with the somber look he was giving her. He was a heartbeat away from the harsh expression that signaled he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I’m not an invalid.”

“Head injuries are nothing to mess with. If you’re afraid of me, I can bunk someplace else for the next week. You won’t have to see me.”

If you’re afraid of me…

She flinched inwardly and glanced away because he’d hit the mark. But then, he didn’t need to use any real intuition to guess that since she’d probably made it clear enough that she was afraid of him. Or rather, afraid to be around him. Not because she thought there was even a remote chance he’d hurt her physically, but because it was her heart that was at risk. She made herself look at him again.

“Why are you doing this, Morg?”

“Damned if I know,” he growled, “but it’s time, Selly. You’ve grown up, and you’ve still got your cut of Conroe. Wouldn’t hurt you to spend a little time there once in a while. You liked it well enough once, and that won’t have changed.”

No it hadn’t changed; it would never change. Selena had loved the ranch, and she was still too often homesick for it. Conroe Ranch had been her first real home, the first place in her life where she’d felt accepted, cared about, and completely secure.

Morgan had given her that, and what child wouldn’t fall in love with everything—and everyone—connected to the place where she’d had such emotional abundance? And yet without her memories of Morgan and his goodness to her, along with a few others, Conroe Ranch would be just another massive piece of Texas, then and now.

He’d offered to keep his distance while she was there, but it was an empty offer. His essence permeated everything, so there’d be no avoiding him, not really. Perhaps it was because she’d stayed silent so long that he decided to press.

“Miss Em and Miss Minna can’t wait for you to get there. They made up your room yesterday, and they’ve been baking all day today.”

The mention of Em and Minna Peat, the old maid sisters who’d taken care of the Conroe ranch house since Morgan was a toddler, sent a wide sweep of emotion through her that made her eyes sting again.

The Peat sisters lived to cook and clean and spoil every visitor to Conroe Ranch, and they’d both spoiled her. Selena still sent cards at birthdays and gifts at Christmas to the sisters, and she received an occasional chatty letter from them that she always had to answer carefully.

Selena gave her head a weary shake. “Why did you tell them?” Feeling trapped and teary, she put her napkin beside her plate and started to get to her feet. Morgan’s hand flashed out to gently catch her wrist before she could.

“It’s time to come home, Selena.”

The soft burr in his low voice sent a persuasive warmth through her that threatened her precarious emotions even more. And it was all she could do to withstand the sweet tingles that shivered through her just because his big hand was tenderly shackling her wrist.

Her voice was a whisper. “You fight dirty.”

“I can. When I’m after something I want.”

His calm pronouncement was no earth-shattering surprise, and neither was the wild leap of her foolish heart. This wasn’t personal, at least not in the way she used to dream it might someday be. This wasn’t anything romantic on Morgan’s part, not in the slightest.

Taking her to Conroe Ranch was something he felt obligated to do because he felt a certain duty to her. His father had been married to her mother, and they’d lived under the same roof and worked together for years. It wouldn’t matter that they’d been estranged for far longer than the two years she’d been gone from the ranch. Not when Morgan felt a responsibility to her.

She was well aware that if news of the accident hadn’t brought her name back into his mind, apart from quarterly checks and at tax time, Morgan might have gone on for years more—perhaps for the rest of her life—without ever wanting to contact her or even thinking of contacting her.

Or thinking about her at all.

Selena knew all that because it was the brutal, unvarnished truth. She also knew, despite Morgan’s insistence that this was “doctor’s orders,” that she had a choice. She could either refuse to go, or she could give in and let him take her to the ranch.

Her heart shook with a crazy mix of terror and groundless hope at the idea of going with him, of being with him. It was because of that groundless hope that she realized what she needed to do. Perhaps she hadn’t been hurt enough before. Perhaps what she truly needed to forever inoculate herself against Morgan Conroe was to again put her heart in harm’s way for one final devastation. She’d got over the first one, so she’d surely know how to get over him a second time if she had to.

“I meant what I said about bunking someplace else while you’re there,” he said, and she tried not to let herself show her reaction as his callused thumb brushed impatiently against the tender underside of her wrist.

“N-no need,” she said, then gave her wrist a tug that prompted him to release her. She hoped he hadn’t noticed the small stutter. “I suppose you’d rather not wait until morning.”

“You’ve only got one bed.”

“What if I’m carsick again?”

“Then we’ll either come back here, stop as often as you need to, or find a motel for the night and try it again tomorrow.”

Selena stood up stiffly. “We’ll see how I feel after I pack my things,” she said, and turned away to start for the bedroom.

The hearty meal had perked her up significantly, so it wasn’t such an ordeal to pack. When she finished, Selena sat down in the armchair to rest for a few moments. She noticed the blow-dryer she’d left sitting nearby, so she reached for it to wrap up the cord and put it in her suitcase.

Once upon a golden time she and Morgan been friends, good friends. Once upon a golden time, she’d worshiped the ground he walked on. And once upon that same golden time, he hadn’t minded.

In her head, Selena knew that her once upon a time had burned away long ago. But in her heart, once upon a time was still a last magic wish that lingered on in a tantalizing mirage over a future yet to be seen.

Maybe it would take going back to Conroe Ranch and seeing it all from the perspective of two years away that would knock a little of the golden glow from that sweetly remembered time.

And perhaps it was because she was hurting and weary and in a deeply emotional and sentimental mood that she was going back. It could even be because it was an instinct to retreat to a place of remembered security when you were feeling weak and needy. Though she was certain she’d regret this, Selena couldn’t seem to muster the will to tell Morgan no and make it stick.