Carolina could tell something she’d said once again irritated him, but he simply replied, tilting his head, “Ma’am, this isn’t Scottsdale. The only motel in town is no place for a lady. Mostly it’s frequented by barmaids and drunken cowboys or lonely truckers, if you get my drift.”
She cleared her throat, “I see.”
Although her foot and ankle were too swollen for her to press the gas pedal, she supposed she could manage using her left foot, as awkward as that might be. She looked at the floor judging the distance she’d have to slide off the table, then straightened her spine and sighed with reluctant resignation. “Guess I’ll have to drive back to Phoenix tonight after all.”
In stunned silence, he gave her a look of incredulity. He glanced knowingly at the nurse and without a word walked across the room to a cabinet to get what he needed to stitch her wound.
For the first time, Carolina was able to view him full length, all six feet plus of pure well-knit physical brawn. Under his blue denim shirt his broad shoulders flexed as he reached inside the medicine cabinet, his muscular body, long and lean-hipped. His blue jeans snug in all the right places. A man’s man. A cowboy veterinarian.
He turned and walked toward her, seemingly half bemused as he shook his head. “Ma’am, you aren’t going anywhere tonight. You certainly can’t drive on that ankle, and also not until I’m sure you don’t have a concussion. None of us can take you to Phoenix. Manny and I are leaving here around four in the morning for the Oklahoma City Rodeo, and Jenny has this clinic to run because we have animals boarded here who need attention.”
Carolina touched her throbbing head. Even without the discomfort the evening was definitely turning out to be a disaster. “Do you think I could have an aspirin?”
“Yep, Jenny can take care of that.”
At that exact moment, the door opened and Carolina twisted away from Stede’s approaching needle in fear, half expecting the man who walked in to be Carl.
The cowboy doc looked from her to that man and back again, studying her as her posture tensed and she felt frantic and dropped her lashes to shutter her overreaction.
“Ma’am you’re going to have to hold still when I start stitching. And, Manny, you’re going to have to knock first. You got the lady all flustered. Where have you been, by the way?”
“I went to the pharmacy before they closed. Brought your patient some crutches.”
Jenny rushed over and kissed the man on the cheek and said, “You’re so sweet, Manny.”
Manny turned to leave and said, “Oh, I put the lady’s car in the garage and her suitcase in the house; figured she’d be stayin’ a while,” and with that, he left.
“I can’t stay here,” Carolina managed to say.
“Seems like you’ve no choice,” the doctor said as he wiped her head with a cotton swab that he drenched in alcohol. “I’m going to numb this area, then we can get this procedure over with and get you settled.”
“I’m not going to stay here. I can’t,” she said, on the verge of crying.
“Why not?”
“I have to catch a plane back home in the morning.”
“Don’t want ya’ on a plane, yet, with a fresh head wound,” he countered, like a man who expected his orders to be obeyed.
“I don’t even know you,” she pointed out primly.
“No need to fret. I’ll sleep down here on a cot, if that’s what botherin’ you and Jenny will stay up at the house with you.”
“Sure will, hon. No need to worry, I’ll take good care of you and we’ll sort this out tomorrow. I’ll go on up to the house and fix you something to eat,” Jenny said walking toward the door.
“Take the crutches and her shoe and purse up to the house with you, okay?”
“Wait,” Carolina cried. “I need those crutches to get around.”
“Well, Ma’am,” he drawled, “there’s no way you can get up that hill on those crutches and one high heel. The steps from the house down to the new hospital aren’t finished being installed yet and you’d slide down that hill like rain in a flash flood. And we can’t have that.”
Carolina had had about enough of this country bumpkin with the Texas accent. She’d heard everything in Texas was big, and that certainly applied to his arrogance.
“How am I supposed to get up that hill?”
“Reckon I’ll carry you. You don’t weigh as much as my German shepherd, I don’t guess. Besides, if you stepped on a scorpion with that bare foot, you might need a real doctor for certain.”
She caught her breath, imagining herself, this time conscious, in his muscle-corded arms, her body held close to his, then mentally balked at the idea of being swept off her feet figuratively or factually. She needed to keep her mind focused. “I don’t want to be a bother,” Carolina insisted, sounding on the verge of tears.
“No bother, Ma’am. Ready for those stitches?” he asked, giving her a half smile that produced a dimple.
“Yep,” she answered with a tad of sarcasm, puckering her lips.
Carolina laid back down and squinted, prepared to wince the minute the needle went into her temple. But, much to her astonishment, she barely felt a sting. After the area was numb, his hands were quick stitching her wound, and he seemed careful not to yank on her skin. The procedure was over sooner than she thought possible.
He took off his gloves and threw them away, sterilized the needle and scissors and put away the thread.
“You’re not dizzy are you?” he asked helping her to sit back up.
“No, but I have an Excedrin headache.”
“Give me a minute. I have to put a few things together for tomorrow, then we’ll head up to the house where you can lie down and elevate your foot. Manny and I ride the rodeo circuit,” he added. “He ropes ’em and I ride bronco.”
Carolina had no idea why he thought to share that information. She twiddled her thumbs on her lap and lowered her head. She didn’t want him to catch her grinning at him and she felt awkward about him having to carry her.
“Ready at last,” he said as he approached her.
“I appreciate your help and I apologize for interrupting your evening.”
“Not a problem,” he said, and without ceremony lifted her off the table and hefted her over his shoulder fireman rescue style.
“Ugh,” she cried when he grabbed her. “What are you doing?” She felt like a sack of potatoes draped over his shoulder and pushed against his back, struggling to be put down.
“Sorry,” he said, “but this is the best way to tackle that hill. Now stop wiggling.”
Carolina’s head throbbed even more from hanging upside down. She didn’t speak to him all the way up to the house. They entered through the kitchen door and crossed into the great room adjoining the kitchen. He stopped beside a leather chair, and as she slid off his shoulder, his arm tightened protectively around her, slowly guiding her body down the lean length of his until the hem of her skirt caught on his wide belt buckle, baring more thigh than she thought decent.
Panic rose in her chest as his warm palm skimmed over her skin momentarily. Deep blue eyes locked with hers and held her attention. Their hands tangled at his waist until she was able to free her skirt.
As he eased her into the chair, he abruptly extricated himself from the awkward situation. With his professional demeanor restored, she watched as he studiously avoided trailing his gaze up her bare leg, and carefully propped her ankle on the ottoman. Her face aflame with embarrassment and her heart wildly aflutter, she tugged her skirt in place.
A handsome German shepherd meandered in to greet him and stopped to sniff her hand. Stede chided him and commanded him to sit. The dog whined, looking at her pitifully.
“This is King. I promise he doesn’t bite. Wait here for Jenny, Ma’am. I have to finish packing.”
“Before you leave, could I bother you for a glass of ice water?”
Stede paused in mid-stride on his way in the kitchen, and she was certain he was tempted to ask her if she pr
eferred cubed or crushed ice. He turned and looked at her, shaking his head, apparently changing his mind, then went to get her drink.
When he returned and handed her the glass, she asked, for the third time, “Do you have any aspirin?” But what she really wanted to know was, what did a person around there have to do to get one?
“I guess Jenny forgot. Got some somewhere.” And with that, he left.
He finally returned minutes later with a bottle of aspirin, and she dared to ask another favor, “I’d like my cell phone from my purse, if that’s not too much trouble?” Wherever that was—her belongings were as scattered as she felt. Without a word he left once more without uttering a sound and came back a minute later with her purse.
“Thank you.”
He merely nodded, then departed. Or maybe escaped was a better word.
Carolina swallowed two tablets—one for her headache and one for her heartbeat. Stede Foster somehow made her intense and nervous inside whenever he was near her. When she finished the glass of water, she relaxed and took a moment to absorb the beauty of her surroundings now that the owner wasn’t invading her senses.
The ceilings were at least twelve feet high and every wall showcased huge windows with plantation shutters whose slats looked to be about five inches wide, a much more generous scale than she had seen back east.
The kitchen cabinets were made of strips of hickory with western style handles made of puckered steel. The shiny teal granite countertops with flecks of gold were highlighted with under-the-cabinet lights. All the appliances were stainless and state of the art, right down to a coffee latte center like the ones she’d seen on HGTV’s coverage of high-end kitchens.
In front of where she sat was a large floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace and two oversized camel-colored leather chairs with matching ottomans, separated by the biggest coffee table she had ever seen, made from part of a tree trunk that had been bleached by the sun like driftwood and then lacquered and covered with a thick piece of glass.
A glance around the room revealed clay-colored walls decorated with western art; all appeared to be original oil paintings. At least he hadn’t filled the walls with mounted animal-head trophies.
The quiet that filled the house made her feel abandoned. Picking up her cell phone, she dialed her office. Even though she doubted anyone would still be there at that hour, at least everyone would know in the morning what had happened and how to reach her if necessary.
She left messages also with a couple of friends who might be concerned when she didn’t return the next day. Suddenly full of melancholy, she dropped the phone in her purse, feeling sorry for herself that unlike most people, she had no family member or loved one to call who’d be anxious if they didn’t hear from her. No one to meet her at the airport when she returned. The dog padded over to her and licked her hand, as if he knew how she felt.
Jenny came in and asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Better since I took the aspirin.”
“You must be starving. We ate a late lunch today but I’ve fixed you a shredded beef taco salad and some corn bread that was left over,” she said, taking the dish out of the microwave. “Would you like a soda or a beer to go with that?”
“No thanks, water is fine.”
“Your room is almost ready. Doc insists you sleep in the master bedroom…”
“Oh, no! I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing that.”
“You don’t have a choice, hon. His is the only bedroom on this level. The other two are up in the loft. Manny and I will sleep up there, and if you need anything during the night, all you have to do is holler.”
Carolina smiled as she thought of Lauren Bacall’s famous line, “you know how to whistle, don’t you?” She was left alone after Jenny served her dinner. Her meal finished, she became comfortably ensconced on the leather sectional sofa, with King resting his head on her good knee. She began to feel content in the doctor’s home, and had to admit that he had wonderful taste in furnishings, certain they had been shipped in from Scottsdale or Phoenix.
When Stede walked out of the bedroom with a silver-studded saddle over his shoulder to put with his gear in the kitchen, she asked if he could get her book and some magazines that were in her suitcase.
Dutifully, he brought them to her, and on his way down to the hospital for the night, she heard him whisper to Jenny, but loud enough for her to hear, “Pesky little thing, isn’t she?”
Chapter Three
Carolina shifted fitfully in Stede’s California king-size bed. Although she had never been on a mattress quite that comfortable, her ankle throbbed and the thought of sleeping in a man’s bed, particularly a stranger’s, made her ill at ease. His woodsy scent permeated through the pillow, reminding her constantly of the man.
She lay there for a long time, afraid to try to get out of bed on her own and hesitant to wake Jenny. Staring at the huge bedposts made from the trunks of pine trees, she wondered if the doctor had built the furniture himself. Certainly this room was more masculine than any she’d ever seen even in a magazine.
The pine furnishings had a black wax finish with animal hide insets that she hoped weren’t real. They looked like they came from a Holstein cow or a pinto pony and were outlined with brass accent studs. Their white background glowed in the soft moonlight that shone through the windows.
Two windows arched at the top flanked the bed. Poised on the deep window ledge to her left, like a bird ready for flight, sat an intricately carved antique wooden saddle and stand, which she was positive no one ever rode straddled on a bucking bronco.
The other ledge housed a tall spindly potted plant with a nest of blooming foliage at the top that basked in the moonlight like a sleeping flamingo standing on one leg.
If only she could sleep. She glanced at the gigantic wall clock and discovered that she hadn’t slept for more than half an hour.
Exasperated, she sat up and flipped off the red paisley quilt at the foot of the bed that weighed heavily on her sore ankle, and with a swoosh, landed the material on the hand-tooled leather storage chest abutting the bottom of the bed.
A sudden pounding on her bedroom door had her pulling the quilted denim-blue bedspread up to her chin, adrenalin pumping in a flash like in days of old when she lived under Carl’s roof.
There were many nights when Carl banged on her door until she shivered under the covers afraid the lock was little protection and wouldn’t hold. The fact that he never broke down her door was a wonder. She guessed he was always too inebriated to succeed.
Only this time the door was unlocked, which was a careless mistake on her part. What had possessed her? Although she surmised Stede probably had a key anyway, unlike Carl all those years ago.
She remained perfectly still, afraid to breathe. Maybe he didn’t realize the door wasn’t locked; otherwise he wouldn’t continue that incessant pounding. And, the dog barking in unison only added to her apprehension.
She didn’t trust men. Period. And a man as good-looking and as well-heeled as Cowboy Foster was probably used to getting whatever he wanted whenever and wherever he wanted, if he was convinced that what he desired was available to him for the taking. And he didn’t have to be drunk.
Proof in point, hadn’t he, without ceremony, enforced the fact that she would be staying under his roof as he literally tossed her over his shoulder caveman-style and carried her into his house?
She didn’t like being manhandled, not by Carl or by him, even if this cowboy meant to be helpful.
“Carolina!” He shouted.
The rumble of his deep voice had her heart racing in a crazy way that she couldn’t explain. She rose to a sitting position, wondering how she’d ever elude him with her swollen ankle. Then, much to her relief, she heard Jenny’s voice.
“Doc! For Pete’s sake. You’ve probably not only woken her, but more than likely scared her speechless.”
“Well, I didn’t want to barge in there unannounced to check on her and waking you is like
trying to wake the dead.”
“Well, I’m awake now. Go back to bed. You’ve got to be alert enough to drive in a few hours and I consider Manny precious cargo, not to mention the horses. I’ll check on her.”
Carolina heard the knob turn, and as the door opened, light from the hallway sliced through her darkened room and spotlighted her, swathed in the blue bedspread up to her chin and frozen in place.
She blinked against the light unbelievably relieved to see Stede dressed in blue jeans and an apparently hastily donned shirt, given its half-buttoned state and the fact that the shirttail wasn’t tucked in, content to rest a shoulder against the doorjamb and come no farther. Jenny, dressed in a bathrobe, hair sleep-tousled, entered and crossed the room to turn on the nightstand lamp.
King brushed past his master, giving his leg a slight reproving nudge with his nose and a big thump with his tail as he passed. The dog positioned himself between the bed and the door, tongue hanging out, facing the doctor. Even the dog seemed as uncertain as she of his master’s next move.
“What’s wrong, Jenny?” Carolina asked, barely finding her voice.
“We forgot to mention that you needed to be checked every two hours to be certain you don’t have a concussion.” Jenny placed a hand on Carolina’s shoulder and gently urged her to lie back on the pillow while she checked her pupils.
For a moment Carolina resisted, turning her attention again toward the door, making sure Stede had not advanced into the room.
“It’s all right, Carolina. We didn’t mean to frighten you. We’re concerned that’s all and want to be certain everything is okay. I told you that Doc’s the best. When you didn’t answer, he became overly concerned you couldn’t wake up.”
Stede’s steady gaze held her wary one. Then like a hot desert wind his intent stare swept over her and probed the lump of blue her tensed and huddled body made under the coverlet.
She straightened, as if physically touched, and challenging his bold observation lifted her chin in defiance lest he see more than she wanted him to, physically or emotionally.
“Doc, close the door. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Proud Mary Page 2
