In truth, it wasn’t so much the women chasing after him as the thought of him not running away that bothered her.
“And?” Tate asked, finishing his bagel in two bites and washing it down with the soothing mint tea. He accepted the banana she peeled and handed to him.
“Not everyone would want to compete with your ardent fan club.”
“Not everyone would think they need to compete,” Tate said in a voice that turned hard and flat. Kenzie’s inability to trust him or believe in him combined with the pain from his injuries was about to push him over the edge. He was tired of waiting for her to see reason and in no mood to put up with her insinuations that he was a skirt-chasing snake. “Not everyone would jump to conclusions, assume the worst, and lump me in with a bunch of two-timing losers.”
Instead of responding, Kenzie picked up their trash and dumped it in a nearby garbage can, giving herself a moment to think about what Tate said. Not willing to get into an in-depth discussion in the busy airport, she instead asked him if he’d called his dad.
“Not yet. I didn’t want to wake him up.” Tate studied Kenzie and decided to resume their conversation another day when he didn’t feel like he’d been slammed to the ground by a thousand-pound load. On second thought, that was exactly what happened when he considered the weight of the bronc that crashed on top of him.
Kenzie glanced at her watch, wondering what time Kent usually started his day. If she was ninety, she might be excited to get up and greet each day, happy to be alive. “Is he an early riser?”
“Most of the time.” Tate took out his phone and called his dad. A brief conversation assured the old man that he was fine, on his way home, and all would be well.
Kenzie tried to hide her smile when she heard Tate reassuring his dad he would behave himself.
With an announcement that boarding would soon begin, Kenzie wondered how offended Tate would be if she asked him if he needed to go to the bathroom. He saved them both the embarrassment by asking her to push him to the nearest restroom.
She paid a quick visit to the women’s restroom then stood near the men’s restroom, waiting for Tate. He emerged pale-faced with sweat running down his neck. Kenzie handed him a bottle of water and the medication the doctor prescribed. Tate took it without saying a word.
When they returned to their gate, the plane was starting to board. An attendant stood ready to push Tate onboard.
“All ready to go?” Kenzie asked, forcing a friendly smile.
“Yes, ma’am,” the attendant said, pushing the wheelchair while Kenzie followed along behind, carrying both her purse and Tate’s small duffle bag that wouldn’t fit in his hastily packed suitcase.
Once they were on the plane, Tate sank onto a front row seat, giving him room to stretch out his leg. The brutal force of the throbbing made him both queasy and bad-tempered.
“How’d you score these seats?” Tate asked as Kenzie stowed his bag in the overhead bin and sat beside him.
“My boss was quite impressed with you. When he heard about your injury, he offered to pay the difference to upgrade us to first class.” Kenzie took a book out of her bag before stuffing the bright pink catchall under the seat. “Normally, I would have objected, but I thought this would make the flight more comfortable for you.”
“I’ll have to remember to thank him.” Tate removed his hat and leaned his head against the seat. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. Even though the flight was only a couple of hours, he had an idea it would seem like half of eternity unless his pain medication kicked in soon.
“So what’s your plan when we get to Pasco? Is your truck at the airport?” Kenzie asked, taking Tate’s hat from his lap and standing to put it in the overhead storage. He opened one eye and looked at her before closing it again.
“No. Monte will pick me up. He won’t know I’m flying in today, though. I was going to spend a few days with Cort and his family in Boise before going home.” Tate dreaded the hour or two it would take Monte to get to Pasco from the ranch once Tate let him know he was at the airport. He should have called and let him know he’d be landing in a couple of hours when he had the opportunity.
“I see. Who’s going to take care of you for the next week or so? You know the doctor said you need to keep your leg elevated and iced, and stay off it. Then there’s the whole concussion and cracked rib thing, not to mention your arm. You’re lucky you’re right-handed.” Kenzie studied Tate. He looked absolutely miserable even though he worked at pretending he was fine. “Do you have someone at the ranch that can take care of you until you’re feeling better?”
“I’ll manage,” Tate said through clenched teeth. He felt sick to his stomach again. Between a splitting headache and his other aches and pains, he wasn’t sure flying was the best idea after all. The alternatives, though, were even less appealing. He couldn’t imagine feeling like he did, holed up in a hotel room for days on end. The thought of riding home stuck in the cab of Cort’s truck made him shift uncomfortably in his seat.
Maybe everyone did have his best interest at heart in trying to get him home as quickly as possible.
“Right.” She mulled over the idea of Tate trying to manage without any assistance. Most likely too stubborn to admit to his crew or his friends he needed help, the thought of him suffering alone didn’t set well with her. “You could always share a room with your dad until you feel better. I’m sure the nursing staff would be happy to take care of another charming Morgan.”
“Funny. Real funny.” He opened his eyes long enough to give her a halfhearted smile that still managed to bring out his dimples and make her heart skip a beat.
Of all the men on the planet, why did Tate have to be the one who made her fall head over heels in love? Why couldn’t she have gone for a banker, an insurance salesman, or even the FedEx guy?
It just had to be the most handsome cowboy she’d ever laid eyes on or kissed. Tate was an undeniably great kisser.
As the plane taxied down the runway and took off, Kenzie noticed he held the armrest in a death grip.
“That’s my move, you know.” She pried Tate’s right hand from the armrest and grasped it between both of hers.
“I thought I’d borrow it this trip.” His jaw clenched against the churning in his stomach and the pain rolling over him in waves.
He would not be sick on the plane. And he most definitely would not be sick in front of Kenzie.
It wasn’t going to happen.
Sucking in a deep breath that made him remember his cracked ribs, he tried not to crush Kenzie’s delicate fingers in his as she held his hand. He allowed himself to inhale a whiff of her fragrance, to let it penetrate past the pain and sickness, and bring him a sense of calm.
Amazingly, she smelled like a field of summer flowers even though it was now December. Her hands were soft and he remembered the feel of her skin beneath his hands from the past times he’d touched her.
As he pictured her eyes full of warmth and compassion, he let his mind drift to her high cheekbones flushed pink from something he’d said to make her blush, her lips curving up as they most often did like she was about to smile or trying to keep a secret. He thought about how tall and poised she always looked, her keen intelligence, and how she could make him laugh when she wasn’t driving him crazy.
The pain meds finally kicked in, allowing him to sleep and dream of Kenzie.
As his breathing evened out, his grip on her hand loosened. Kenzie knew Tate slept. She released the breath she’d been holding, relieved he could rest.
Eagerly picking up the holiday romance she’d started reading, she lost herself in the love story and was surprised when she heard the announcement their flight would soon arrive in Pasco.
A glance at Tate confirmed he continued sleeping. No doubt, he would wake up when they landed.
Hurriedly shoving her book into her bag, Kenzie was surprised when Tate continued to sleep right through the landing. When the flight attendant leaned over to wake Tate
, Kenzie stopped her and asked if they could get off the plane last.
Once the few remaining passengers exited the plane, Kenzie gently nudged Tate. He opened his eyes and gave her a disoriented look.
“Kenzie?” he asked, seeming confused about where he was and why she was there.
“Hope you had a nice nap, sleeping beauty, but it’s time to get your two-wheeled carriage and leave the plane.” Kenzie stood to retrieve Tate’s hat and carry-on bag from the overhead storage compartment.
The flight attendant waited with a wheelchair and between the two of them, they settled Tate in the seat.
Kenzie plopped his hat on his head and draped their bags over her shoulder, taking the handles of the wheelchair in her hands.
“Thanks so much, I can take it from here,” she told the attendant with a smile. She rolled Tate’s wheelchair down the ramp, into the airport, and toward baggage claim.
Tate fished his phone out of his pocket and called his ranch foreman while Kenzie watched for their luggage to appear on the carousel.
“Hey, Monte,” Tate said, trying to sound upbeat, but coming across as half-drugged and pain-ridden. Kenzie looked over her shoulder at him and shook her head.
“Yeah, that wreck was something else, all right. Listen, I’m…” Tate’s conversation ended unexpectedly when Kenzie grabbed his phone from him.
“Monte, this is Kenzie. Remember me from last fall?” Kenzie stepped far enough away from Tate he couldn’t hear her conversation. “Look, Tate’s going to need some care and I know you guys aren’t set up for that there. He’s going to stay with me until he can at least walk. The doctor thought he should be up and around in a few days. He’ll give you a call when he’s ready to come home. If you get any random calls from him in the next two or three days insisting you come get him, please ignore him. He’s being a little stubborn about the extent of his injuries and he’s on a lot of painkillers.”
Tate couldn’t hear what Monte or Kenzie said, but by the smile on Kenzie’s face, she found the conversation amusing. He scowled as she disconnected the call and gave him back his phone. “That wasn’t necessary. I’m perfectly capable of speaking to Monte.”
“I know you are.” Kenzie snagged their suitcases and Tate’s bag of rodeo gear, setting everything by his wheelchair. “I told him not to worry about coming to get you. You’re going home with me.”
Chapter Twelve
Convinced his pain medication made him loopy, Tate thought he heard Kenzie say she was taking him home with her, but it had to be a mistake.
Less than twenty-four hours ago he thought she wanted him out of her life for good and now she planned to take him home to her apartment. It didn’t make any sense.
Not only was he drugged, he could add hearing issues to his list of troubles. Maybe that was a result of the concussion.
“Did you hear what I said?” Kenzie asked as she pushed him toward the door, trying to drag their luggage behind her.
“Not exactly.” Tate looked at her with pain-glazed eyes. There was no way he was going to her apartment and let her care for him like an invalid until he was well enough to walk out of there.
Not happening.
If he had to call a taxi to drive him out to the ranch, he’d do it. He’d offer bonus pay to whichever one of the hands would stay in the house and play nursemaid for a few days.
“I said you’re going home with me until you’re back on your feet. The doctor said it would only be a day or so before your knee will bear weight again.” Kenzie positioned a suitcase on either side of Tate then set his bag of gear near his feet. She slid her hot pink bag off her shoulder and rummaged through a zippered pocket.
While she dug through her purse, Tate pulled his phone back out and started searching for the number of a taxi service.
“What are you doing?” Kenzie asked, still riffling in her bag.
“Calling a taxi.” Quickly finding a number, he placed a call. Kenzie snatched his phone away and shut it off.
“Stop being ridiculous. I promise I’ll take good care of you.” She studied him, trying to decide if he was lucid and stubborn, or dopey from his medication. Since he was always upbeat and optimistic with a smile on his face, his surly behavior was enough to give her reason to pause,
“I’m not worried about that.” Tate dropped his gaze to his knee. If he stared hard enough, he was sure he could actually see it throb. “I just think I better go home.”
“Nope.” Finally fishing her car keys out of the bag, she leaned down and looked in his face. “I’ve got some time off, I’m more than happy to help, and you’ve got no better prospects. No more arguing. Besides, the doctor in Vegas said you need to see your doctor and you might have to do some therapy on your knee soon. You can’t exactly drive yourself since your truck has a clutch.”
“Fine,” Tate said, still scowling. Apparently, Kenzie was trying to figure out how to get him, the luggage and herself out to the car. The wind whipped violently and it looked freezing outside. Chilled sitting in his shirtsleeves near the big sliding doors, he wished he had on his jacket. Then again, it would be a challenge to get it on without help and he’d rather be frostbitten than ask Kenzie for assistance.
“How about you wait right here while I get my car and bring it to the door? I think that will be easier than trying to get you and our stuff to the far side of the parking lot in this wind,” Kenzie said, taking a step toward the door.
Tate nodded his head and resigned himself to sitting in the wheelchair looking like an invalid while everyone stared at him as they walked by. A few people stopped, offering their condolences on his injuries and losing the championship title, doing little to bolster his already low spirits. He didn’t know so many people recognized him. Maybe the cowboy hat, arm in a sling, and bandaged knee tipped them off.
Curious what took Kenzie so long, he started to call to check on her when he remembered she kept his phone.
Words his father wouldn’t be happy to hear filled his thoughts as he fought to control his anger.
That infuriating woman was doing her best to make it impossible for him to arrange a ride out to the ranch.
Part of Tate wanted nothing more than to hang out at Kenzie’s and spend time with her. He wanted to see if they could resurrect the relationship they’d been building until she jumped to the wrong conclusion last fall.
The other part of him, the part that felt cheated, angry, and broken, just wanted to go home where he could mourn the loss of the championship alone and mope as long as he liked.
Left sitting in a wheelchair unable to move while she ran out in the cold to get the car wasn’t helping his already dark mood. If he could have walked more than two or three halting steps, he’d have chased after her despite his pounding head, throbbing arm, and aching ribs.
He glanced outside and saw Kenzie hop out of her car. She raced back inside, wearing a dark green wool coat that highlighted her glossy brown hair. Transfixed by her beauty, for a moment Tate could do nothing more than stare at her.
“It’s cold out there.” Kenzie hustled toward him with a plaid fleece blanket draped over her arm. Gently placing her hand on his back, she urged him to sit forward and draped the blanket around his shoulders. As she pulled it together in the front, she stepped back and smiled. “It’s not a coat, but warmer than just your shirt.”
“Now I’ve got the lap robe to go with my wheelchair,” Tate commented dryly, embarrassed beyond reason to not only feel like an invalid, but to look the part. “Maybe you should take me over to stay with Pop, like you mentioned earlier. If I had a set of false teeth, I’d fit right in.”
“Not quite.” She laughed as she wheeled the two suitcases out the door and put them in the trunk of the car. She came back and retrieved Tate’s bags, setting them in the back seat.
Finally, she was ready for Tate.
“I’ll try to help you in as quickly as I can, but be prepared for the bite of the wind. It’ll steal your breath away,” she sa
id as she pushed him outside.
Tate shuddered, despite the warmth of the blanket. Gathering all the strength he had left, he used his good arm and leg to get out of the chair and into the front passenger seat of the car. The heat blasting through the vents delivered welcome warmth.
After pushing the wheelchair inside, Kenzie returned, sliding behind the wheel and heading out of the parking lot.
“I’ll get you settled then make a run to the grocery store.” They entered the freeway and drove toward Kennewick and her apartment. Tate was glad she lived on the bottom floor of a fourplex because he couldn’t make it up any steps. Concerned how he’d manage the few steps from her car inside the apartment, worry churned in his stomach, pushing his queasiness to an unbearable level.
Kenzie continued glancing at Tate out of the corner of her eye and saw him clench his jaw along with the armrest. Although she acted confident about taking care of him, the prospect of being his caregiver frightened her.
It had been a long time since she’d nursed anyone and the thought of having Tate so close for an extended period made her feel unsettled and jumpy. To compensate, she put on a bright smile and bluffed her way along, trying to keep upbeat.
When she pulled into her parking space at the apartment complex, she noticed Tate’s fingers turned white from his death grip on the door handle.
“Can you sit tight for just another minute or two?” Kenzie asked. She didn’t wait for a response before jumping out of her car and running up the steps to the apartment above hers.
Her neighbor worked nights and was a friendly sort of guy. They’d gone out a few times, as friends, but she’d never had a romantic interest in the man.
Anxiously ringing the doorbell, she waited and rang it again. She’d have to do something nice for Paul in exchange for waking him up and begging for his help. She prayed he hadn’t gone to sleep yet. Impatiently waiting another moment, she rang the bell again and knocked on the door.
The Christmas Cowboy: (Sweet Western Holiday Romance) (Rodeo Romance Book 1) Page 14
