No, he wanted to shout. Wanted to demand. He didn’t know what they had between them, but surely she could see it wasn’t casual, wasn’t something to be flippant about.
Why? he asked the void. Why her?
You could go with her, a little voice murmured. It’s the world you always wanted. The life you planned.
He sank to the side, separating their bodies. Within him, memory stirred. For a moment, he ignored that he was damaged, that his grandmother needed him, that so many people depended on him. Wanted him to be something he wasn’t.
Instead, he let himself linger in the dreams he’d once had. Let them become new dreams, where he fit into Diana’s world, where he was once again free—
Bitter longing twisted inside him that she could go back and he never could. That she belonged and he never would.
He was playing with fire. Maybe she could be casual about this, but it wasn’t in him. Better to remain alone.
In his mind’s eye rose the faces of those he loved here, those who depended on him, who believed in him. He couldn’t leave, even if Diana wanted him.
And she wouldn’t stay.
Awkwardly, he pushed himself to his feet. “I’d better go,” he said.
“Wait,” she called out. “Rafe—”
“I can’t.” He didn’t look back as he stumbled through her front door and out to his pickup. He avoided his rearview mirror for fear of what he’d see.
If only he could forget what he’d just lost.
He didn’t return to the clinic as he’d intended. Tonight his will was not up to the task of prevailing, not this time.
He considered seeking out his grandmother but rejected it out of hand. She’d comfort him, yes. She might even understand what he couldn’t yet grasp himself.
But he couldn’t take the chance that she’d see how tempted he was to leave this place. Diana dredged up yearnings he’d thought long dead and buried.
So instead, he drove back to his place and parked the truck. Lobo brushed against his legs, whimpering, but Rafe barely paused to scratch his head.
“Not now, buddy,” he said. “Let me be.”
Alone, he headed for his spring, the place he’d passed many an endless night, searching for peace.
As the sound of his pickup died away, Diana rolled over on the floor and curled into a tight ball.
If she let herself think about what had happened, she’d scream. Or claw. Or break something or—
Damn him. How could he abandon her like this? How could he turn away from what she’d offered—
But she knew without asking, really. There was no trick to it at all; hadn’t she known that?
She was hard to love.
But easy to leave.
She shoved to sitting, jerked her head high. Screw him. He was nothing to her, a man hiding out in the back of beyond, too afraid of his past mistakes to try again, to take the leap—
But even as the uncharitable thoughts bloomed like poisonous flowers, shame assailed her.
It wasn’t that simple.
He was far from that simple. He’d hurt her pride, yes. Scared her by how much he could make her want him. Terrified her with the need she’d felt, the way he’d refused to let it be just basic sex and opened her, for a moment, to a breathless vista of more, of possibilities that called out to a part of her she’d thought long dead.
She scrambled to her feet. Headed for her bedroom and yanked a suitcase from the closet. Opened it on the bed and whirled toward the bureau—
And remembered that she had no way to leave, not tonight. She was over two hours from the nearest airport and had no way to get there, anyway.
Evita. Would Evita take her? Without asking questions?
No.
Ramón was with his wife and kids and new baby. Rosaria didn’t drive.
She slapped the suitcase closed and began to pace. In the morning, she would call Sam and force him to order her a car and driver. She could be out of here by noon.
Okay. She would go ahead and pack. Be ready to take off.
Her gaze drifted to the quilt she’d bought from Evita; her thoughts returned to the miracle of Mariela’s child.
Then she considered Rosaria and how she’d explain to her why she was leaving. Something came up. A patient needs me.
But Trini Vargas needed her, too. The equipment could be here any day—
Damn you, Rafe. You’ve made me care. I don’t want to. I have to go back. I don’t belong here.
She remembered the devastation in his eyes. Recalled how much she’d wanted him. Craved him. Wanted to lose herself in his arms.
It’s important, he’d insisted.
It can’t be, Rafe.
She couldn’t let it.
Chapter Ten
But in the morning, Sam couldn’t be reached. Off at a conference, his assistant said. Diana had insisted that she try. She knew him; he was never totally out of contact.
Sam’s assistant would not agree to hire a car and driver; she would consent to giving Sam the message when he called in. No taxi would come two and a half hours from El Paso.
Diana kicked the couch and slammed down her phone. All she’d gotten for her effort was sore toes.
She grabbed up her mug of tea and stomped out to the porch. For a few moments, she saw nothing, blinded by frustration.
But slowly the vista settled in; the peace of this place eased her breathing back from a huff. She heard the mockingbird that seemed to have taken up residence in the tree a few feet from the porch. In the distance, she heard cattle. When she looked to her right, she saw the rapidly growing foal race past his mother.
Diana drew in a deep breath and smiled. What was it about this place, so different from anything she’d known? The air hadn’t yet heated too much; the wind blew her frustration away. Once more, something deep inside her settled.
Movement off the porch caught her gaze. When she saw what it was, everything in her stilled.
Lobo.
She glanced around for Dulcita, but the old dog was nowhere to be found. The two of them came her way often now, but never Lobo by himself.
Almost afraid to breathe for fear of scaring him off, Diana sank slowly to the porch steps.
Lobo halted, but he didn’t run away. Instead, he watched her with wary eyes, his entire body rigid.
He made her think of Rafe. For precious moments last night, Rafe had trusted her. Had let her close.
Had accepted comfort that was so unlike her to give. Doing so had opened something new inside her, had weakened walls she’d counted on for years.
With that weakening had come hunger—roaring, clawing, desperate to be filled. The remembered power of it could make her shudder still.
She had wanted him badly. And not just for sex, no matter what she’d said. If he hadn’t torn himself away, no telling what kind of mistake she would have made.
“Where is he, Lobo?” she murmured. “What did he do last night?”
Lobo cocked his head, an almost human intelligence in his eyes.
“You love him, don’t you?” She extended her hand. “He loves you, too.”
It was her damaged hand she held out, and soon the arm trembled, once her strongest but too long unused and now turned weak.
Just as she was about to drop it, Lobo moved. He crouched, edging forward only a pace or two, but the thrill of it sang through her. She braced her right arm with her left hand and gritted her teeth to hold on. “That’s right, fella. I won’t hurt you, I swear.”
Lobo eased a few feet closer.
“You’re such a handsome guy…come on.”
He was within three feet of her; the muscles of her arm screamed, but she held still. “Come on, boy. It’ll be okay,” she crooned.
Two feet. One foot. He stopped.
Diana extended her fingers, palm up, and bent forward with exquisite care. “Aren’t you the most beautiful thing?” Perhaps two inches separated them now. She held her breath.
His nost
rils flared as he drew in her scent, ears high and alert, body singing with tension.
She was afraid to speak. Slowly…very slowly, she leaned.
One finger touched his muzzle. He didn’t run.
Lobo’s wolf-yellow eyes caught hers and held. Diana had the oddest sense they had a message for her, if only she could make it out.
So much like his master, he was. Strong but so alone. Afraid to let himself be loved.
Love. The very word shook her hard.
And Lobo bounded off, disappearing around the porch.
Diana’s arm gave way. She dropped her head to her knees.
After a while, she couldn’t stand her own company anymore. She tucked her cell phone in her pocket, put on her hat and strode out the door toward town.
Outside Rosaria’s gate, she paused, wanting more than was rational to invite herself inside.
But the old woman saw too much, and Diana was too raw. So she kept walking.
When she arrived at Ramón’s store, chaos reigned. Evita stood at the cash register, casting glances toward her kitchen and muttering Spanish in tones that had Diana betting the words weren’t polite.
“Come here—” Evita ordered. “Do you want to run the cash register or cook?”
Diana jolted. “What?”
“Don’t be slow, girlfriend. I don’t have time. Ramón and Mariela are sleeping in, and for Dios knows what reason, I told him to stay home today. I can’t be in two places at once and—” She let out a shriek. “My frijoles—they’re burning—”
Before Diana could blink, Evita had shoved her behind the cash register and taken off at a run.
“But I’ve never—”
Evita was already too far away.
The old woman standing patiently on the other side of the counter smiled softly. A rapid stream of Spanish ensued as she gestured toward the small stack of groceries.
“I don’t—I can’t—” Diana dug back in memory to high school. “No hablo español,” she said.
The old woman lifted one palm and shrugged. “No hablo inglés.” But she smiled as though they were boon companions.
Diana glanced at the ancient cash register and attempted to decipher its keys. Then she looked at the groceries for price tags, but there were none.
Evita’s colorful curses split the air.
The old woman grinned.
Diana grinned back. “All right,” she said. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”
The transaction required trips back and forth from the shelves and more than a little sign language, but between the two of them, Diana and her first customer came to what she sincerely hoped was the correct total. She helped the old woman out the door, ridiculously proud of the few words of Spanish she’d dragged out of the far reaches of her brain, as well as the fact that she’d been able to push a few keys with her right index finger without her wrist brace and twice released her grip on cans without using the other hand to pry them out.
Evita was still muttering when she returned. “So would you like a job?” she asked.
“You’d better let me run through what I did before you take that step.” Diana explained; Evita had only a few corrections to make.
“Why aren’t the prices marked on the groceries?” Diana asked.
Evita shrugged. “Ramón is always here and he knows them by heart.”
“That was nice of you to offer to help him out so he could stay home today.”
“Well, my brother is a pain in the neck, but oh, that little Diego—don’t you just want to eat him up?”
Diana had never been all that interested in babies before, but she’d never forget the feel of that tiny head. “He’s beautiful.” Her fingers tingled with the memory of the precious weight, of Rafe’s fingers beneath hers.
“So are you here to help Rafe today?”
Diana jolted. “No—I can’t—I’m going to—” She frowned. “Where is he?”
“Checking on Diego, seeing someone who can’t make it in—who knows?” Evita leaned closer. “I think he’s going to be very busy today.”
“Why?”
“Because—” Evita’s eyes danced. “Everyone is working together to keep the party a surprise.”
“Party?”
“It’s Rafe’s birthday. Tonight we celebrate, if only—ah!” she exclaimed. “You—you’re the answer.”
“To what?”
“You have to stay with him. Keep him here as much as you can, but if he must leave, keep him away from Rosaria’s.”
“Me?”
“You’re the only one, don’t you see that? You have the perfect excuse.”
“But I can’t—” What if Sam called? She was leaving today and—
“It’s important. The entire village is coming together to celebrate. Everyone wants to thank Rafe for all he’s done. For what he means to us and to our future.” Her dark eyes turned serious. “We need him. Abuelita grows old, and for so long we all worried. But now Rafe is here. He will take her place. He will save us.”
Diana thought of the weight Rafe carried already—the guilt and pain, the physical cost to him. Added to the burden of the past were the hopes and needs of his people. Few men could shoulder the load; she knew Rafe would never drop it. The villagers were in good hands.
But what would it cost Rafe?
“Evita—” She almost launched into an argument, but it was not her place.
Evita breezed on. “Abuelita had offered to accompany him, but he’s so protective of her that he wouldn’t agree. His mother said she would try, but he’d never fall for it. We didn’t know what we were going to do, but now you—”
“His mother? Will she be here?”
“Of course. His entire family will. Alex is coming from Washington, and Liam intends to fly in from location, though he’ll have to fly back out tonight.”
His entire family. Rafe seemed so alone that though she’d heard about them, they didn’t seem real. “Where will they stay?”
“Oh, they’ll probably go back to Alpine. Jilly has school, Alex and Liam have to return to work and Hal Sullivan swears he can only sleep in his own bed. It’s just fifty miles back to their house.” Excitement vibrated the air around Evita. “So will you do it? Will you help?”
How could she spend the day with him after last night? “I don’t know if he’ll let me.”
Evita’s eyes dripped pity. “Mujer, the day a woman can’t convince a man to take her where she wants to go…bite your tongue. Of course he’ll let you. Hasn’t he been wanting you to help?”
“But—” Last night. She would never share it with anyone. It was too private.
Evita was right. He had invited her more than once. But that was before she’d all but thrown him to the ground and—
“You don’t know what you’re asking.”
Dark eyebrows arched. Then Evita’s eyes narrowed. “What’s happened between you two?”
“Nothing,” Diana said too quickly.
The door opened, and Rafe stepped inside.
“Showtime,” Evita hissed. “Don’t let us down.” Then she turned, smile bright and wide. “Buenas días, Rafe.”
He smiled in answer. Then he saw Diana, and the smile faded.
The silence was deafening.
“Coward,” Evita spat, then her voice rose. “I have excellent news for you, compadre. La doctora has decided to accompany you on your rounds. Paulo Aguirre just called, and his eldest daughter’s stomach hurts.” She pushed Diana in front of her. “Paulo’s truck is acting up, and he wondered if you could come there instead.” In Diana’s ear, she whispered. “We need until four o’clock.”
Here’s your hat—what’s your hurry? Before either of them could protest, Diana and Rafe found themselves outside, heading for his truck.
She was good. She hadn’t given herself enough credit, Rafe thought. Watching Diana Morgan become a doctor again had compensated for the awkward silences whenever they veered from the subject of patient care.
She’d been all nerves at first, hanging back, dodging any real contact with the patients. But it hadn’t been long before she started asking questions, then firing off opinions like rounds of ammo. If there hadn’t been a language barrier, she might have taken over completely.
She loved it; he could see that. Practicing medicine made her seem both wise and young. Despite the limitations of her injured hand, her moves were sure and smooth, her concentration intense, her mind quick to grasp nuances and find solutions. Even with the limitations of his supplies and equipment, she found ways to circumvent them.
And all the while, her eyes sparkled. Her frame straightened. Pride reemerged and joy surfaced. At the moment, she looked all of sixteen.
“Why did we get away from house calls?” she mused. “You learn so much seeing the patient at home.”
“Tough to do surgery in the kitchen,” he said. “Mortality rates aren’t pretty.”
She answered his grin. “But homes don’t have the nasty infections that only live in hospitals.” She studied him. “You had to do field surgery, didn’t you?”
He nodded.
“How? How could you ever—” Her hands rose, palms up. “I try to subtract all the benefits I’m accustomed to having in the O.R., but I just can’t imagine what it’s like.”
“You do what you have to.” He shrugged. “Every man carries an IV kit and bag of saline on him when he goes into a mission. The medic carries his own pack loaded with all the essentials.”
“What do you do if there’s fighting?”
“First you secure the area. If there’s gunfire, you return it. Then you get to work on stabilizing the patient.”
“So you have the same weapons training as the rest of them?”
He nodded. “You’re Special Forces first, then a medic. You have to be able to fight.”
“Was it hard?” she asked softly. “To have to kill?”
He didn’t answer at first.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I have no right—”
“Yes.” He cut her off. “It’s hard. It goes against your instinct to heal, but you can’t think about that. Your team is all that matters. Protecting them, caring for them…you do whatever it takes to ensure that they survive.”
Texas Healer Page 14
