The Bull Rider's Secret--A Wholesome Western Romance

by Jill Lynn

  “Burning the eight o’clock oil for sure.” It was nice having her brother back—albeit part-time. Cate had been driving home at night and heading back to Denver each day to be with the babies. Luc had been alternating days between the hospital and work. Mackenzie had tried to tell him they didn’t need him, that he should go be with his wife, but the truth was, they did. She hadn’t done a very good job of covering his work, and they both knew it. It just wasn’t the same without Luc, just like the Kids’ Club wouldn’t be the same without Emma.

  Mom had only been able to stay a week, so Mackenzie and Emma had been helping out with Ruby, or she’d been attending the Kids’ Club during the days Luc was gone.

  Supposedly the twins were going to be discharged soon, and it felt like everyone was holding their breath until that finally happened.

  Luc dropped into the chair at the desk, next to hers. “Did you hear about tonight?”

  “No. I’ve been holed up in here, trying to get these last-minute reservations for August confirmed.”

  “We haven’t had an injury around here in forever, and now all of a sudden we had Vera’s, and tonight we almost had another.”

  “What? Who? What happened?”

  “Nothing, thanks to Jace. A toddler sneaked through the railing tonight. It was so quick. He was so quick. The wranglers were racing, and they didn’t see him. Jace had been sitting on the railing—because, of course, he can’t compete with his broken arm—and he hopped down and scooped the boy up before he got trampled. Ran him out of harm’s way. I couldn’t believe it.” Luc rubbed his fingertips into his forehead. “The guests were grateful and not upset. Which is great. I can’t even imagine what kind of nightmare that would be if he’d gotten hurt. They said Titus is just one of those boys who moves so fast, they have trouble keeping tabs on him.”

  Mackenzie’s stomach revolted at the thought of a child getting injured or worse on their watch, their ranch. “I’m so thankful he’s okay. How would we ever live with ourselves if...?” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

  “I don’t know. It would be horrible. I’m sure glad Jace saw it happening and rescued the kid.”

  “Me, too.”

  Luc stood and slapped a hand on her desk. “Go home, Kenzie. Get some rest. You’ve been working enough to cover for three people. And I’m thankful for it.” He flashed a grin. “Cate just got back from the hospital, so I’m headed over to the house to see her and find out how the girls are doing.”

  “Okay. Let me know if there’s an update.”

  “I will. Are you good if I go with her tomorrow?”

  “Of course. It’s no problem.”

  “Thanks, best sister in the world.”

  “I’m telling Emma you said that!”

  His laughter echoed back to her as he exited the office.

  Mackenzie finished the email she was writing and hit Send, her mind stuck on Jace the Hero. She would love to get the lowdown from him, but marching over to the guys’ lodging and pounding on his door didn’t appeal.

  No need to draw any more attention to her relationship with Jace. The hospital visit with Vera had been bad enough. Who knew what the staff had been saying about them in the weeks since?

  Mackenzie had managed to keep things between them at an employer/employee professional level since that time. And whenever a thought regarding Jace popped into her head that wasn’t compliant with that plan, she followed it up with a silent he’s-just-another-staff-member mantra.

  Mackenzie let the computer screen go dark. If it was any other employee, she would contact them to see how they were and thank them. So maybe a short text to Jace wouldn’t be a crime.

  She snagged her phone from the desk. Mackenzie might have stopped following Jace’s career years ago, but she’d never been able to force herself to delete his number from her phone. His new-hire paperwork had confirmed it was still the same.

  Heard you rescued a toddler tonight.

  She added some clapping emoji.

  Trying to get a raise or something? Because we can’t afford your kind of hero salary, Hawke.

  She hit Send and then began another text.

  I’m kidding, of course. I’m very thankful you were there to rescue little Titus.

  “Did you hear about tonight?” Bea popped her head into the front office, startling Mackenzie. The phone slipped through her fingers, clattering against her desk.

  “I did. I’m so thankful the little guy is all right.”

  “Definitely. Glad I’m not over here as the bearer of more bad news.”

  “Hey, do you know where Jace is? I wanted to talk to him.”

  “I think he was heading over to his mom’s. Said he needed to check on her.”

  Sounded like something a hero would do. And Mackenzie was sounding awfully wobbly on keeping her thoughts about Jace professional only.

  “Okay, thanks.”

  With a wave, Bea took off. Mackenzie definitely wasn’t going to drive over to Mrs. Hawke’s house and stalk Jace, so she’d have to talk to him tomorrow.

  Her phone rang, and she plucked it from the desk. Jace’s name filled the screen.

  She swiped to answer. “Things are turning to hero worship around here.”

  No chuckle filled her ear. “Mackenzie? This is Carleen Hawke. Jace is here, and he’s sick. He says there’s some pills he needs from his room there. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I called you. Can you get them and bring them over?”

  “Of course.” Mackenzie popped up from her desk and grabbed her keys. “Tell me what they look like, where they are.” While Mrs. Hawke described what Jace needed, Mackenzie hopped into her pickup and tore across the ranch toward the guys’ lodging.

  She took the steps two at a time and barged into Jace’s room. It wasn’t locked—no one bothered locking their doors, because it wasn’t necessary. On the nightstand, Mackenzie found numerous pill bottles. Prescription and over-the-counter.

  So the man was in pain... He just hadn’t thought to mention it to her.

  Mackenzie spotted the bottle Mrs. Hawke had described, and then, at the last second, decided to bring them all, just in case she’d gotten the details wrong. She made a basket with her shirt and scooped the medicines into it, then held the bundle close as she hurried down the stairs and over to her pickup truck.

  “I’m on my way. Do you need to call for an ambulance? How bad is he? What’s going on?”

  “He says it’s just a migraine, and he won’t let me call anyone. I’m not even sure he’s coherent enough to know I’m talking to you right now. Just come.”

  They disconnected, and Mackenzie raced into town.

  Jace’s mom lived just off Main Street, in a little yellow house that usually begged for a coat of paint and some yard maintenance, but when Mackenzie arrived, all of that had changed. The house had been painted—a nice buttercream—the bushes were trimmed and the grass had been recently cut.

  Jace had been busy—or more likely, with his broken arm, he’d hired the jobs out.

  Mackenzie parked and gathered the bottles again as Jace’s mom came outside. “Hey, Mrs. H.” She rounded the front of her vehicle.

  “I’m so glad you’re here. He’s pretty messed up right now.”

  She followed Mrs. Hawke up the steps and into the living room. The scent of roast mingled with old house and what was likely an imitation version of some potent perfume.

  A long flowered couch perched under the front window, and Jace was stretched out on it. He had a washcloth over his forehead and eyes.

  He looked... Mackenzie didn’t like it. His color was gray. He didn’t remove the washcloth, didn’t greet her. No teasing. Nothing. She dropped to the floor next to him.

  Jace lifted the corner of the washcloth so he could peek out. “What are you doing here?”

  “I brought your meds.” A
nd I’m going to excuse your snarl because you’re in pain. “Is this the one?” She held up the prescription bottle.

  “Yeah,” he rasped.

  She fished out a pill and took the water glass that his mom offered. “Can you sit up enough to swallow this?”

  Jace moved the washcloth up to his hairline and began the slow and tedious process of lifting himself into a semisitting position with one good arm. It was strange to see him so weak. Hurting so much.

  Once he was halfway upright, he froze and slammed his eyelids shut. He didn’t take the pill or the water. Mackenzie stayed silent, praying for relief for him.

  Jace moaned, and she scooted out of the way as he dropped from the couch, onto one hand and two knees. Then he crawled—using his elbows—into the bathroom. The door kicked shut behind him, and then she heard him lose everything in his stomach.

  Mackenzie wanted to be sick with him. What was going on? She’d never had a migraine herself, so she didn’t know much about them. But she hadn’t realized they could take down a man like Jace and render him so helpless, so tormented. Should they call someone? Jace had mentioned seeing Dr. Sanderson for his follow-up care while he was home. Mackenzie could try him, but was that the right thing to do? Or did Jace just need to get this medicine in him?

  “I’ve never seen him like this.” Carleen sank to the armrest of the couch.

  “Me either.”

  The seconds turned to minutes as they waited, and Jace didn’t return.

  “What do we do with him? I’m no good at this stuff. I never was very maternal.”

  “That’s not true, Mrs. H. You raised two great boys.” Mackenzie stood, holding on to the water and pill. “I’ll check on him. Why don’t you make us a cup of tea?”

  Carleen’s hands wrung and shook. “I can do that.” A hacking cough racked her small frame, and she held on to the armrest until the fit subsided. So, the emphysema had worsened like Jace had said. Mackenzie’s heart split in two. Over the years, she’d checked up on Jace’s mom—dropped off some extra ranch food or a dessert when she thought of it. But in the last few months, she hadn’t been by. Now she was kicking herself for that.

  Carleen moved into the kitchen as Mackenzie slipped off her black-and-brown cowboy boots by the front door, then padded quietly back to the bathroom in her socks. She touched the door softly, a slight tap with the pad of her finger.

  “J, can I come in?”

  A groan answered. She’d take that as a yes. Inside the bathroom, he lay sprawled out, head resting on the tile. The old bathroom fan revved and then settled, its rhythm erratic.

  Mackenzie sank to the floor, next to him, with her back against the wall. There really wasn’t room for the two of them in here, but moving Jace right now wasn’t an option.

  “Think you can keep one of these pills down?”

  “I’m going to try.” Jace managed to raise his head off the floor, and she supported it while he popped the pill and downed a quick swig of water.

  Mackenzie took the glass from him and set it on her other side. When he shifted back down, his head landed on her legs.

  “Sorry.” He attempted to move, but she stopped him with a hand to his forehead.

  “It’s okay. Just stay still.” All of those don’t-touch, stay-professional and don’t-dip-into-the-past warnings flew out the window. And truly, they’d never really had a chance.

  Mackenzie had tried so hard to view Jace as a temporary employee, but her plan most definitely had not worked. Because her concern for the man was nowhere near a platonic level right now.

  Seeing him in pain flattened her. Made her want to punch a hole in the wall or call every doctor on the planet until someone offered him relief.

  And those were strong feelings for a staff member. She hadn’t felt any of those things for Vera when she’d sliced open her hand. Just a lot of concern. But nothing like what was roaring through her right now.

  Mackenzie traced two fingers along one of Jace’s eyebrows, then the other. She repeated the motion on the agony lines that were etched into his brow, while wondering how she’d gotten here...and what it would take to climb back out.

  * * *

  Wherever Jace currently was—and his mind was so hazy, he wasn’t quite sure—he never wanted to leave. Fingers slid through his hair, past his ears, across his forehead.

  He squinted, taking in the tiny square beige tiles in his mom’s bathroom and Mackenzie’s concern peering back at him.

  “How long have we been sitting here?”

  “Awhile. Long enough that your mom brought me some tea and offered me a refill.” She lifted the mug in a salute and took a sip, her fingers regrettably no longer on duty.

  “You hate unsweetened tea.”

  “Hate’s a strong word for something like tea. And I asked her to make it. She was so upset, I was trying to occupy her with something to do.”

  He let his eyelids fall shut again. The black felt cool and calm now that the terror in his head was subsiding. “She’s probably cleaning the kitchen right now. That was always her go-to when she was upset. She’d scour everything and make us pull our weight, too.”

  “Smart woman, when she had two capable boys. And yes, Evan was still that after the accident.”

  True. Evan was a world traveler now. After a few rough years, he’d stopped letting the amputation hold him back. And while that was great, Jace would never be able to completely let go of his guilt over what had happened to his brother. Because mowing was supposed to have been his chore that day, not Evan’s. Something he’d admitted to no one ever. Something he’d never talked to Evan about. It had been too painful. He’d been racked with remorse and shame for years. Jace had worked through some of it with time, but that core had always remained. It was part of why he’d followed Evan’s dreams for him. Because Jace was the one who’d stolen them in the first place.

  Mackenzie looked so serious as she studied him. He reached up to smooth the pucker splitting her brow. “You’re beautiful even when you’re upset.” And he didn’t like being the one who’d created those worry marks.

  Her head shook, but a faint smile crested. “You’re crossing the line, Hawke.”

  “No. I would never do that.” But of course he was.

  “Don’t make me drop your head to the floor.”

  He winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I take it back.”

  Mom appeared in the open bathroom doorway. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Yeah. I’m okay now.”

  The exhale she released was haggard, and she leaned against the wooden frame. He was supposed to be helping her, supporting her—not the other way around.

  “Need anything? Water, food?”

  “Nah. I don’t even want to move yet. Don’t want to mess anything up with my head, so I’m just going to chill here another minute.” On the bathroom floor, with the girl I once loved with everything in me supporting and comforting me.

  Maybe Jace would never move at all.

  “Just holler if you need anything.” She pushed off the door frame. “Oh, I almost forgot. Mackenzie, hon, I found a dish when I was cleaning that I think is one from the ranch. From when you dropped off food. So I’ll just set it by the front door.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Mrs. H.”

  “Call me Carleen, dear. How many times have I told you that before?”

  His mom left. Mackenzie studied the floor, the bathroom cabinet, the ceiling.

  “You visit my mom?”

  “Sometimes. Not lately, unfortunately. That’s why I didn’t know her symptoms were getting worse.”

  “Kenzie Rae.” He reached up and slid a hand along her cheek before letting it fall back to his side. “What am I going to do with you?”

  She destroyed him. She was so caring, so sweet and yet so feisty. She was everything he’d ever wanted
and still couldn’t have. Not if he wanted his life back. Jace couldn’t abandon Mackenzie a second time. Couldn’t hurt her like that again and live with himself. And he did want his life back. He loved the rodeo—and his brother—that much.

  “I think the real question is what am I going to do with you?”

  “I have a few suggestions.”

  “Hawke!” She whacked him on the arm, and he chuckled.

  “I didn’t think you’d go for that.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve been having migraines like this and you didn’t say anything.” She’d ignored his flirting, which was good. At least one of them was keeping their head on straight today. “Is that what was going on the other times you acted strange, too? What’s the deal? Is this a riding injury of some sort?”

  “That was a lot of questions. I think my brain hurts again.”

  “Argh!” Her fingers raked through her hair, an action he’d happily take over for her.

  There was no point in trying to hide anything from Mackenzie now. She’d already seen him at his worst. “I have a lingering concussion from the ride that broke my arm—” he paused “—and bruised my spleen and ribs.”

  “What?” She actually squeaked. If he wasn’t supposed to be resisting the magnet that was Kenzie Rae, he’d tell her how cute she was.

  “The head stuff... It’s not going away like it has before. But then I’ve never had a concussion this bad. I’m fighting some vertigo. And the migraines are unpredictable.”

  “I wonder if tonight’s was because you rescued that little boy. From the movement?”

  “Maybe.”

  She was quiet for a good long while. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want to give you any extra reasons to kick me off the ranch.”

  “Can you ever be serious?”

  “I am being serious. Kind of. I suppose I didn’t want you to know how messed up I was. It’s easier if people just think it’s the arm. That’s visible. That makes sense. I hate that the concussion isn’t getting better. At least not fast enough for me. It makes me feel like a wuss. Guys don’t quit for a concussion. They don’t quit for anything. Some of them have a busted Achilles tendon and they keep riding. We all do it.”