She and Dylan would be repairing the blades on one of her windmills today and would start oiling the casings on the rest if the weather held out. The wind forecast showed there shouldn't be much breeze the next couple of days. That was the only time you could do windmill repairs.
Of course, there was regular ranch work that had to go on in between these chores.
Her father had asked her mother to wheel him to the barn several times since his stroke. She'd escaped disaster while mending the roof, but she didn't want to count on her luck holding. To keep traffic by the Govain hands around the home place to a minimum, she met them away from the ranch house each morning before they set out to work.
She drove to the damaged windmill since she had the parts in her truck, and Dylan kept up a lazy conversation on the way, which she could barely follow. Guilt ate at her. Should she tell him about Nic? Memories of angry cowboys squaring off at rodeos flashed through her mind, and she bit her lip. Did she really need to tell Dylan? She was only going to dinner to satisfy an old insecurity—to put that horrible torn-in-two feeling away once and for all. It wasn't because she had any feelings for the asshole. No, she wouldn't tell Dylan. It would only upset him for no reason. Still, the niggling guilt didn't leave her.
Dylan insisted on being the one high up on the windmill making repairs. She settled for handing him parts. The blades stayed mostly still during the process, thank goodness, and Dylan had replaced the blades and oiled the gears by lunch time. As usual, he'd brought along enough lunch for her, too.
After they ate, he slid his arm around her. "I like working with you every day."
Leaning her head into him, she closed her eyes. Comparing this loving, caring man to the jackass Nic had turned out to be opened her eyes to what a true man should be. She was so lucky Dylan had come into her life. "I'm sure going to be sorry when your daddy needs you back."
He kissed her temple. "Me, too. But, then, I have to start teaching soon, anyway."
"Yeah, are you ready for that, cowboy?"
"I think so. It's what I've always wanted. I know I have a lot to learn, but help is only a phone call away. I'll do all right."
"You sure will." Love for him flooded her. His self-confidence was something she envied. Dylan was a man she could depend on. She, on the other hand, second guessed herself to death most of the time, though others could never tell that about her.
A sudden, unexplained fear hit her. She had an irresistible urge to cling to him. Pulling his face down, she kissed him fiercely. "I love you, Dylan Govain."
He grinned when she turned him loose. "Well, I love you, too."
She searched his eyes, near panic. Yes, he did love her. Everything was okay. She took a deep breath and exhaled, hoping to expel the black dread from her mind.
A moment later, she felt more like herself, and even a little silly. Sliding behind the wheel, she started the truck. Please God, help me make it through the day without making an ass out of myself.
By quitting time, she'd managed to avoid it, but just barely. She was on edge and hardly able to carry on a conversation.
Dylan had finally given her a hug, and said, "My girl needs to get to bed early tonight. You're exhausted. You call me. I won't call you. That way I won't wake you up."
Guilt hit her like a brick in the face. He'd think she was in bed while she was at dinner with an ex. Could she be more duplicitous? She could only nod.
As soon as she made it to her room, she texted Nic, telling him she would be ready to leave the house in thirty minutes and asked where to meet him. Before he answered, she raced to the shower, desperate to get the night started so it could end.
When she got out, she had a missed call from Nic and had a voice mail. What, he couldn't text? He was pushing boundaries already. She listened to his message as she grabbed a clean pair of jeans from the closet, along with a t-shirt. No way was she getting fancy for this guy. Tossing the phone on the bed, she now knew the meeting place. After dressing, she put on the barest hint of makeup but let her hair air dry. She was ready to face the man who’d starred in her bad dreams.
Nic wanted to meet at the steakhouse in town. They'd eaten there before when he'd visited her family. Her stomach clenched and unclenched as she drove. A litany of this is a big mistake went around and around in her head. Since when did Lennie Duncan listen to the voice of reason, though? Her inner Lennie urged her forward, and she didn't resist her younger, more vulnerable self.
When she pulled into the restaurant parking lot, she recognized Nic's car. Her belly lurched, and she had the sudden urge to vomit. Swallowing hard, she let it subside before she stepped out of the truck. Taking a deep breath, she walked purposefully toward the entrance. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner she'd be home.
Nic met her in the foyer. "We have a table. Come with me." He tucked her hand at his elbow like they were a couple.
Appalled, she yanked her hand back.
He chose not to notice as he led the way to the back where it was less crowded. Pulling her chair away from the table, he smiled. "I've ordered wine. They'll bring it now that you're here."
Wine ... of course. She'd only drunk it in college because he liked it, and he knew it. "I'd rather have iced tea. Sweet."
Frowning, he looked for their waitress.
That's right. Let him learn what the new Lennie was like. She wasn't that sweet little college girl anymore—the one who lived and breathed on his every word.
He'd chosen the chair beside her, rather than across from her, which irked her to no end. The waitress walked over, and Nic changed the drink order. When they were alone again, he turned to Lennie. "I have so much to say, and dinner isn't nearly enough time, but I'll try." He smiled the smile that always drew people to him. He was a handsome guy, after all. "Lennie, I'm so terribly sorry I hurt you. I'll never forgive myself. I have no excuse. I thought a long time about why I did what I did; you have a right to know. I couldn't tell you why at the time because I didn't understand myself. I was mixed up knowing that I would have soon been starting a new career, finding a new city to live in, meeting new people—and it changed me. I needed to let go of everything I already had to make room for the new things."
The waitress brought their drinks, and Lennie took a long swallow of iced tea. So, he'd gotten tired of her is what he was saying. Somehow, she'd expected it. Yet inner Lennie had to ask, "You said you loved me. How did that change?"
He shook his head. "God, Lennie, it just did. I regret that so much now. I want to go back to that time and stop it from happening. I'm here because I want another chance. I want to love you again."
Oh, hell no. But there was something she had to know. She hadn't been able to ask back then. She'd been too devastated. "Were you fucking someone else while we were together?"
He reached for her hand and quickly brought it to his lips. "Do you really want me to tell you?"
She nodded, but his eyes already held the answer. He had.
She heard her name and looked up. Dylan had walked in, followed by Caleb, Eve and the baby.
Dylan's long strides carried him toward their table. She yanked her hand back, but it was too late. He'd seen Nic kiss her fingers. Saw Nic sitting close beside her. God only knew what Dylan was thinking.
She scraped her chair back and stood, reaching her hand out. "Dylan ...."
Nic came to his feet, dropping his napkin on the table.
Dylan sent him a scathing look and stopped before her. "I see you're not getting to bed early tonight, darlin'." His voice dripped with sarcasm.
Shit, he was pissed. "Dylan, this is Nic. He—"
"You're joking." He put his hands on his hips and cast a furious glance at Nic. "I thought I knew you, Lennie Duncan, but I guess I was wrong." He spun around and strode for the door as fast as his legs would take him.
She grabbed her purse. "Nic, you're a jackass. I don't ever want to see you again." She raced for the door, but by the time she got outside, Dylan's tires sq
uealed as he peeled out of the parking lot. What had she done? Dropping her purse, she bent over, clutching her belly. The horrible stress of the day, then facing the man who had hurt her, and now losing Dylan had stabbing pains wracking her body. She was beyond crying. Beyond anything.
In agony, her mind numb from shock, she somehow made it to her truck. By the time she got home, she was sure little knives had chopped her stomach in tiny pieces. Changing into her sleepshirt first, she poured herself a tall glass of milk, hoping coating her stomach would help. The respite was short. Ten minutes later the churning, burning pains were back.
On her bed she clutched her belly in the fetal position; it had been a long time since she'd been this miserable. Since the last time she'd seen that bastard Nic, to be exact. She moaned. What had she been thinking? This is what she got for being weak—for needing answers that didn't even matter. What an insecure shit she was. She deserved everything that had just happened.
Feeling worse by the second, the tears she couldn't cry earlier leaked from her eyes and she despised them. She would never be weak again. How terrible it was that it took losing Dylan to bring her to that decision.
Losing Dylan ... that thought hurt so badly she couldn't stand the pain. Lurching from the bed, she grabbed her stomach and paced the length of her room, back and forth, back and forth. Walking did seem to help. She closed her eyes, knowing the confines of her room by heart, and kept moving. The warmth from her arms comforted her belly, the walking lulled her, and the pain eased a little. Yet she walked on, afraid her mind would jerk into gear and thoughts of Dylan would torture her. She couldn't bear to think of her loss.
When the balls of her feet hurt, and her knees felt like putty, she realized that her stomach hadn't stabbed her in ages. She laid on the bed and covered up. She had one more thing to do before she tried to sleep—text Dylan:
You all don't need to help me anymore. I know you don't want to see me. It's not what you think, Dylan, but I understand why you're mad. I would be, too, if I saw what you did. I can explain if you'll let me. I love you.
He was still awake because he shot back:
The boys will be there tomorrow.
Her gut clenched. But Dylan wouldn't. Eyes squeezed shut, she turned over, pulling a pillow into her belly. Please God, help us. I don't want to lose him. I love him so much. Please help him find a way to forgive me. If he'll only let me explain, it will be okay. Better for her prayer, she faced the night. It would take all her courage to get through until morning.
Chapter Eleven
`DYLAN KICKED HIS GELDING's ribs, racing after the cow who'd broken from the herd. He'd tried to rope her the easy way while she milled with the other cattle, but she'd dodged his loop. The speed of his horse eased his hurt—stilled his painful thoughts. His broken heart had tortured him since he'd laid eyes on Lennie last night. He needed the hectic pace of this chore.
This morning the cow was spotted drooling and frothing at the mouth, a sure sign she'd swallowed something she shouldn't have—most likely a piece of bone. The obstruction was lodged somewhere at the back of her throat. This prevented her from eating and drinking and had to be handled immediately.
The cow, realizing he was moving in on her, cut to the right. His horse dodged with her and, with two long strides, put Dylan in the zone. He threw his loop and caught her around the neck. Turning his horse toward the truck, he pulled the resisting cow to the trailer and let her settle until she stopped fighting. Then he dismounted and quickly moved the rope from his saddle horn to the side of the trailer.
The cow appeared distressed. Her eyes were dull and she looked like she'd gone a while without water, and in this hot desert pasture that took a toll pretty fast. Resisting the rope had taken what strength she had. Still, it wouldn't be easy getting the object out. Pasture cattle weren't used to being handled. At least she wasn't huge. As one of the younger animals, she'd yet to put on the weight and muscle of the older cows in the herd.
One of the hands attempted to hold her head still, and she lunged back on the rope.
Dylan moved in and pried her mouth open when she settled, trying to look inside. Cattle only have lower teeth in the front of their mouth, but at the back are sharp upper and lower molars for chewing their cud.
The cow threw herself forward just as he spied her problem. Hopefully he could pull it out by hand. Using pliers in a cow's mouth was a real pain. Once she was on all fours again, he shoved his hand in her mouth, instantly touching the hard contours of the blockage. The thing felt like a vertebra. Shit. It wouldn't be easy to remove. The cow threw her head and his hand came out, her bottom teeth scraping his wrist. Dammit! That hurt.
This time his helper focused on holding her mouth open. She threw her head up but the cowboy yanked down on her jaw and she opened wide.
Dylan rammed his hand inside again and stuck his forefinger against the edge of the bone near the molar, working quickly until his finger slipped between the two. With a sharp tug, he loosened the bone, pulling it forward, but lost the damn thing as the cow ducked her head and coughed.
Before he could go in again, she rolled her tongue a few times and gagged and the bone fell in the dirt.
He slapped palms with his helper and realized he hadn't thought of Lennie in at least fifteen minutes. There was hope for him yet.
While the ranch hand turned the animal out, Dylan loosened the cinch on his gelding and loaded him in the trailer. This little episode had been a good distraction, but now what was he going to do?
After the other horses were loaded, the two cowboys got in the truck, and Dylan headed back to the ranch. As expected, Lennie haunted him. He'd glanced in his rear-view mirror when he left the restaurant last night and saw her come out. He was too damned mad to care at the time. Now that he'd settled down some, he wondered if he should have stopped. She'd seemed so bereft standing there, looking after him. Now he thought of that guy, Nic, kissing her hand and sitting so close to her and nothing made sense. She said she'd be home in bed.
He stopped himself there. Lennie hadn't said that—he had. But, dammit, she hadn’t corrected him. Why in the hell would she go out with a guy who broke her heart? What did she see in a man like that? The Lennie he knew—correction, thought he knew—wouldn't do that. Maybe he didn't know her at all. Maybe he had a fairy tale idea of who Lennie was. One he'd dreamed up in the years since high school.
He let that sink in. Really thought about it. Who was the woman he loved? The woman he was determined to marry?
By the time he got back to the house, he'd made a decision. The only way to find that answer was to talk to Lennie.
LENNIE SLAMMED HER palm on the truck door and bent double, bracing against the pain. She'd brought crackers and a thermos of milk with her today, hoping to coat her stomach against the acid that churned and burned like a second sun in her belly. It hadn't helped. The stress of the past few months had worked their black magic, and this disaster with Dylan was the last straw. Biting her lip hard, she stood and reached for her phone, punching up Randy. "Hey, I'm knocking off early today."
He was silent a couple of seconds. "You okay? You need me to do anything?"
She never left early. No wonder he was concerned. "Nothing to worry about. Call me if something comes up. I'm running into town, then I'll be home." She had to find something to ease her stomach. The pain was overwhelming.
After driving straight to main street, she pulled in front of the pharmacy and parked with no idea what she should buy. Her stomach had never felt this bad before. She strode inside and decided to ask the pharmacist for help. He directed her to a box of pills that used to be prescription only, but were now available over the counter. In addition, she bought some chewable antacids to take with her out on the ranch. Grabbing a bottle of water from a glass-doored refrigerator, she headed to the register to pay.
Back in the truck, she ripped open the box and took one of the pills and chewed two antacids for good measure. Reclining her seat, she stre
tched her torso, hoping the medicines would work fast. Eyes closed, scenes of her time with Dylan played out before her. Without thought, she raised her hand, massaging her chest where her tortured heart resided.
Last night there had been no phone call before she slept. There was no call as she started her morning. At lunch, she'd longed for his kisses and hugs and to tell him about her day. How could she go on like this? Dylan was so enmeshed in her life that no aspect was left unaffected.
Unable to stand her thoughts, she raised her seat back. Her phone lay in the console. She stared at the thing a moment, then took a deep breath. She had to try again. Grabbing it before she chickened out, she texted:
Dylan, I'm sorry. I know I screwed up, and I miss you terribly. I love you so much. Can we please talk?
She dropped the phone back in place. Though she hated begging, Dylan was worth it. Her belly had calmed down a little. Was the medicine starting to work, or was it the text that made the difference? Thankful either way, she headed out of the lot.
Her text tone sounded. She slowed and pulled over.
Meet me at the pasture fence. I can be there in thirty.
She glanced at the time.
Make it forty. I'll be there. Thank you, Dylan.
Heart pounding, her mind raced as she considered what to say. How much would he want to hear about Nic? Could she trust him if she bared her soul? Maybe she should just stick to a few details. Dammit, she should have made a plan before asking to talk to Dylan. What had she been thinking? And why did time fly just when you needed more?
When she arrived at the pasture fence, Dylan was already there.
He got out of the truck and strode to the front bumper, crossing his arms.
The Cowboy's Wish (The Govain Cowboys Book 3) Page 11
