Paul’s door swung open as she started down the steps. He stuck a sleep-tousled head outside.
“Hey, Kenzie. What can I do for you?” Paul asked, rubbing his hand across his eyes, trying to come fully awake.
“I’m so, so sorry to bother you, but I could really use your help.” She rushed back up the steps. “I’ve got a friend who’s hurt and needs a few days of care before going home so he’s staying with me. He can’t really walk without assistance and I was hoping you could help get him to my guest room.”
“Sure, just let me put on some shoes.” Paul disappeared into his apartment and returned wearing slippers. He slipped on a sweatshirt as he followed Kenzie down the steps.
“I’ll run in and make sure we’ve got a clear path,” Kenzie said, unlocking her door. She quickly pushed a chair out of the way then ran into the guest room, pulling the decorative pillows and quilt from the bed before turning back the covers.
When she returned outside, Paul had a strong arm braced around Tate, helping him to his feet while talking about the rodeo finals.
“Dude, I saw you crash last night on TV. That wreck was wicked,” Paul said as he shifted an arm around Tate’s back and helped him shuffle toward Kenzie’s door. “You’re lucky you aren’t in the hospital, man.”
“Lucky. Yep, that’s me.” Tate ground his teeth against the pain that seared him with every step. Somehow, Kenzie managed to offer support on his injured side as he hobbled along. Despite the pain, it took just a minute to get him to the guest room, half-carried as he was by Kenzie and her friend. He sank down on the bed and let out the breath he’d been holding.
While Paul talked about rodeos and cowboys, Kenzie removed Tate’s hat and boots, followed by his sling, then helped him peel off his shirt.
“I think Paul better help you with your jeans,” Kenzie said, blushing as she hurried out of the room.
“That’s okay. I can get it,” Tate said, mortified at the thought of a complete stranger helping him take off his pants.
“Hey, no worries.” Paul backed toward the door.
“Thanks, man. I appreciate your help.” Tate watched Kenzie’s neighbor step into the hallway.
“Anytime, dude. Take care.” Paul offered a friendly wave before disappearing down the hall.
One-handed, Tate fumbled with his jeans and managed to remove them then climb into the bed. Although the room was cool and the sheets chilly, the soft mattress beneath him felt wonderful.
Even though he couldn’t distinguish the conversation, the rumble of voices floated down the hall. Tate closed his eyes. The front door shut and moments later he sensed Kenzie’s presence nearby. Her summery scent filled his nose and he would have breathed deeply if it didn’t make his sore ribs hurt so badly.
A light caress of fingers across his forehead surprised him. He remained unmoving, kept his eyes closed, and savored Kenzie’s touch. Her hair brushed against his cheek as she bent to kiss his forehead.
“Rest well, cowboy,” she whispered before leaving the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Outside the guest room, she leaned against the wall and took a deep breath, followed by another.
She’d fallen in love with a happy-go-lucky rodeo cowboy who was charismatic, strong, and on top of his game.
Seeing him wounded, hurt, and deflated did funny things to her. His vulnerability made her want to champion him while stirring up soft, tender feelings in her heart. She loved the hero image of Tate she’d built up in her head as well as this all too human side of him.
She could only imagine how hard it was for him to lose the championship title he’d worked so hard all year to win. If only that darn horse hadn’t fallen back on him, Tate would have claimed first place with points to spare.
Since she couldn’t do anything to change what happened, she began making plans as she walked toward the kitchen. She had a few ideas on how to put a smile back on his face.
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Caught in a dream that a horse reared over on him, Tate awoke with a startled gasp and pain gripping his side. Swiftly opening his eyes, he realized he was in an unfamiliar bedroom.
Was he in a hotel room? Still in Vegas?
The room appeared too homey to be a hotel.
Where was he?
As he struggled to remember, his gaze shot to the door. It opened and a beautiful brunette walked inside.
Kenzie.
He was with Kenzie at her apartment in Kennewick.
Relaxing his grip on the sheet knotted in his fist, he let out a sigh. His tongue felt heavy and thick, and every inch of his body ached.
At some point while he slept, Kenzie placed a pillow so it would support his arm. She carried another with her now, along with a glass of water and a bottle of pills.
“Time for some more drugs.” Kenzie grinned, handing Tate a pill followed by the glass of water. He drained the glass and reached to set it on the nightstand by his bed, gritting his teeth at the strain it put on his ribs.
“Let me get that.” She took the glass from him then stuffed the pillow under the covers near his knee and slid it beneath his leg.
Tate settled back against the pillows. His eyes grew heavy again and he let himself fall asleep.
The next time he awoke, he could tell from the lack of light sneaking around the blind at the window it was probably late afternoon. The clock beside the bed confirmed it was almost five.
“You doing okay, son?” a familiar voice asked from across the room, startling him.
“Pop?” Tate turned his head to see his dad sitting in a chair in the corner. “What are you doing here?”
“Kenzie thought I might like to see for myself that you’re alive, if not well,” Kent said with a grin. He worked himself out of the chair and walked to the bed. Carefully sinking down to the edge of the mattress, he patted Tate’s good leg and nodded his head. “That is quite the girl you’ve found, Tater. I think you better hang onto her.”
“I’ve tried, Pop, but I’m not so sure she wants to be held.” Attempts at analyzing what happened with Kenzie in Las Vegas left him even more confused. It seemed as though she suddenly decided he was no longer the enemy and was open to being friends. He hoped much more than friends.
With his brain still sluggish from his medication and unable to think things through clearly, he turned his attention to his dad. “How’d you get here?”
“Kenzie picked me up after she ran to the grocery store.” Kent chuckled. “Nearly insisted I come over and stay for dinner. From what I can surmise, we’re having soup and homemade bread.”
Tate could smell something yeasty in the air and his stomach responded with a growl. He was no longer nauseous, and looked forward to putting something in his empty belly.
Slowly lifting back the covers, he tried to decide how he was going to walk to the bathroom to take care of some other basic needs, even if he had no clue where it was. Although Kenzie spent time at his house on the ranch, he’d never been inside her apartment.
“Where you headed?” Kent stood and stared down at Tate.
“Bathroom.” Tate set both sock-covered feet on the floor and hoped his knee would bear his weight.
“Hang on.” Kent walked across the room and grabbed a cane. He handed it to Tate and grinned. “Kenzie said you’d probably need to use this for a few days.”
Apparently, Kenzie had been busy while he slept. Tate glanced around and noticed a door in the guest room that looked like it connected to a bathroom. As he shuffled across the floor to the door, he felt every bit as old as his father.
Shocked by his reflection in the bathroom mirror, Tate cringed at the dark shadows beneath his eyes. His hair pinwheeled every direction and a growth of stubble covered his face.
Opening the bathroom door, he called to his dad. “Pop, is my suitcase in there?”
“Sure is. You need something?”
“My shaving kit.” Tate looked around the door. His dad opened the suitcase resting on a small, upholstered bench by a che
rry wood dresser. Kent dug around and retrieved the case, carrying it to Tate.
“I don’t think you need to worry about a shave right now, son. She’ll overlook your whiskers considering the circumstances,” Kent said with a teasing light in his eyes.
“I’m not worried about a shave, Pop, but I’d like to brush my teeth and comb my hair.” Tate dug around in the case with his good hand. When the effort of getting toothpaste onto his toothbrush proved more than he could handle, his dad did it for him, making him feel useless. It reminded him of being a little boy when his dad taught him how to take care of himself.
He managed to comb his hair without Kent’s assistance and even used one of the soft, fluffy washcloths rolled into a basket by the sink to wash the grit from his eyes. Somewhat refreshed, he hobbled to the suitcase and shuffled items around with his right hand until he found a pair of black lounge pants. By sitting on the edge of the bed, he managed to get the pants on without asking his dad for help.
“You’re looking almost bright-eyed and bushy-tailed now.” Kent patted Tate on the shoulder, watching as he scooted back on the bed until he could lean against the headboard.
With his right hand, Tate tried to adjust the pillows behind his back. Not having much success, he was about to give up when Kenzie breezed into the room.
“I thought I heard some noise in here,” she said, going to the bed and arranging the pillows for Tate until he could comfortably rest against them. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kent said, winking at Tate. “It sure is nice of you to have me stay for dinner.”
“There’s nothing nice about it.” Kenzie got down on her knees and slid a card table from beneath Tate’s bed, setting it up in front of Kent’s chair. “If you’re here, you can keep an eye on this guy. It gets me out of nursing duty.”
Unsure if she was teasing or serious, Tate worried about being a burden to her. Lost in his thoughts he failed to see the sassy look she turned his direction before disappearing out the door. She soon returned with a dishcloth and wiped off the table then dropped a tablecloth over the top of it.
Her next trip back to the room, she carried a large tray with glasses of milk, bowls of steaming chicken soup, and thick slices of homemade bread dripping with butter. She set a glass of milk, bowl of soup and a plate with bread in front of Kent, put her dishes on the table then placed the tray across Tate’s lap.
Again, she exited, returning with a kitchen chair. She set it at the card table beside Kent.
“I think we should give thanks for this fine meal,” Kent said, bowing his head and offering a short but heartfelt prayer.
Half-starved, Tate enjoyed every bite of the filling soup. The bread was warm and aromatic, as only made-from-scratch bread can be. “Thanks, Kenzie, for this wonderful meal.”
Kenzie looked up from her soup, surprised Tate would thank her for such simple fare. Her grandmother always made soup and bread whenever Kenzie felt down when she was a young girl and needed some comfort food.
“You’re welcome.” Nodding her head, she returned her attention to the meal. Kent’s hand on her arm caused her to look his direction.
“It’s very good, honey. Some of the best bread I’ve had in years,” Kent said, reaching for another piece. “A beauty who can cook, Tate... you don’t come across that every day.”
“Pop…” Tate’s voice held a note of warning, not wanting to know what ideas danced through his father’s head.
“Just saying, Tater.” Kent laughed before taking a bite of bread. While Kenzie ate her soup, Kent winked at Tate.
“How did he get the nickname Tater?” Kenzie asked, enjoying the teasing going on between Tate and his father.
“It could have been that he was always grubbing around in the dirt or that he never cleaned behind his ears and we’d tell him he was going to start growing ‘taters’ back there,” Kent said with a jovial smile wreathing his weathered face. “But it’s probably from the ranch foreman we had when Tate was a little boy. He was forever saying ‘Tate, ‘er ya gonna…’ so we all started calling him Tater.”
“I like it.” The saucy grin she shot Tate caught him off guard. “Do we need to check behind your ears before we let you go back to sleep? I don’t want any taters growing in my guest bed.”
“No,” he grumbled. Despite his gruff tone, he was pleased at the way his dad and Kenzie interacted with such ease. He knew Kenzie had been to see his dad a few times even after she dumped him in September. He didn’t realize they were quite so chummy, though. In light of the way his dad and Kenzie both liked to tease, it could mean trouble for him.
A good kind of trouble.
Mostly.
While he mused over the possibilities, Tate’s eyes once again grew droopy. Kenzie walked over to the side of the bed and handed him another pain pill. Once he took it, she moved the tray off his lap, rearranged his pillows and pulled his covers up.
Her efficient care for him put a huge dent in his ego, but he was too exhausted and sore to do anything about it at the moment.
“Looks like we’re losing him to dreamland, Kent. Shall we move our party elsewhere?” Kenzie asked with a smile as she loaded dishes onto the tray and walked out of the room.
“I’m right behind you, honey,” Kent said as he followed her to the kitchen.
Kenzie talked with Kent about the Morgan Ranch while she washed dishes and put away food. After she placed a handful of cookies in a resealable bag for him to eat later, he talked about what Tate was like as a little boy.
“He was always a happy kid,” Kent said, sitting at Kenzie’s small kitchen table sipping from a cup of hot tea. “Nothing ever got him down for long, so don’t worry about him overmuch. He just needs a few days to get his feet under him and he’ll be back to his old self.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Kenzie hoped what Kent said was true. It made her heart hurt to see Tate in his current maudlin state. Suddenly, she wondered what drove him to get involved in the rodeo in the first place. From what she knew, it was only his third year in a pro career. “Why did he decide to go pro with the saddle bronc riding?”
“He was always good with animals, loved the horses.” Kent sat back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “When he got old enough that I didn’t think he’d get the stuffin’ knocked out of him, I let him start working with the untrained horses on the ranch. He came alive when he climbed on the back of a bucking horse. Something about the thrill of taming it, I guess. His friend Cort, have you met him yet?”
At Kenzie’s nod, Kent continued. “Cort and Tate were thick as thieves growing up but they were about thirteen when Cort’s folks moved to the Boise area. The boys would visit back and forth summer vacations. Anyway, Cort started steer wrestling several years back. Told Tate he had fun and made good money at it. Ol’ Tater wasn’t interested in steer wrestling at all, but he liked the idea of riding broncs. He went to one of those rodeo schools and learned all he could then spent the rest of that year practicing before he felt ready to take on the rodeo circuit. In no time at all, he’d gone pro.”
“Why does he do it? I don’t get the idea it’s for the money.” She sat down next to Kent at the table, tracing her finger over the plaid pattern in the tablecloth.
“No, it was never about the money.” That would be the last reason his son would participate in the rodeo. “It’s a challenge for him. His plan was to quit once he earned a world champion title. Unfortunately, he thought that might happen this year. Looks like he’ll have to decide if he’s going to give it another go or hang up his spurs. He’s a solid boy, Kenzie. He made sure the ranch was in good hands with Monte managing it before he ever decided to get involved in the rodeo. I think the hardest thing for him was trying to decide how to keep an eye on me and be on the road so much. When I agreed to the care home, it took a load of worry off his shoulders. I don’t mind living there, although sometimes it’s nice to see something besides the inside of that place.”
“We’ll hav
e to get you out and about more often, then.” Kenzie stood and gathered their coats. “For now, though, I better get you back or someone will think you’ve been kidnapped.”
Kent laughed, pushing himself up to his feet. “Now wouldn’t that be something.”
Kenzie ran out to start her car and let it warm while Kent snapped his coat and put on his hat. Although the wind had died down, it was still bitterly cold outside.
She grabbed Kent’s bag of cookies and held onto the old man’s arm, helping him out the door, almost walking into Paul.
“Hey, how’s your friend?” Paul asked, stepping back as Kenzie and Kent moved toward her car.
“Doing okay. Thanks for asking,” Kenzie said, smiling at her neighbor. “This is Tate’s dad, Kent Morgan. Kent, this is my neighbor, Paul Jones.”
Paul shook hands with the elderly man and smiled. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Morgan.”
“You, too, son,” Kent said, giving the man a quick once-over. He looked like a decent sort and acted respectfully toward Kenzie.
“Well, I gotta run or I’ll be late for work,” Paul said with a wave as he rushed to a big SUV and drove away.
“Paul helped me get Tate settled this morning when we got home. I couldn’t quite manage by myself,” Kenzie explained as she helped Kent into her car.
“That was nice of him,” Kent said, wondering if a little jealousy on Tate’s part might spur him into action where Kenzie was concerned.
His son was taking much too long to get down to the business of courting the lovely girl. Kent wanted to see a grandbaby before he died.
Forcing himself not to rub his hands together in anticipation of stirring up Tate and prodding him into doing something about his feelings for Kenzie, Kent realized he hadn’t had this much excitement for a long while.
Chapter Thirteen
Worn out from the events of the past few days, Kenzie awoke to light peeking around the edges of her bedroom drapes.
Lazily rolling over in bed, she stretched, letting her thoughts wander to the handsome cowboy in her guest room.
The Christmas Cowboy: (Sweet Western Holiday Romance) (Rodeo Romance Book 1) Page 15
