by Em Petrova
“Lou, I haven’t been able to get you out of my system.”
Damn you. She wasn’t willing to feel anything for him, so why was he pushing her like this?
Just as she began to contemplate a tuck and roll exit as a means of escape, he pulled into a diner. The place had one car out front, and twinkle lights in the window. A red neon sign read fresh pies.
“I bet they’ve got coconut cream. C’mon.”
Before she could process that they were really going inside and having dinner together—like a real date—he’d hopped out and come around to open her door. She groaned.
She watched him lope around the truck. Every gal in five counties would jump for a nigiht with him, so what was her problem?
In a nutshell, that was her problem—being one of his groupies, a passing fancy. She didn’t do passing and she didn’t do fancies. She wanted more than that.
Hold onto what you believe, even if you’re a tree that stands all by itself.
Chapter Three
Watching Malou taste her very first bite of shepherd’s pie followed by a decadent coconut cream dessert was one of West’s high points of the day. Between the fans, the fights and the cameras, it was damn hard to stay centered on what was real in his life.
Lately, gathering in the Calhoun circle hadn’t delivered the peace it normally did, not with the production manager eyeing him. West wasn’t sure he wanted that spinoff show, but he wasn’t being left alone long enough to consider it.
But being with Malou—that was one-hundred-percent real. There was nothing affected about the way she brushed her dark ropes of hair over her shoulder or her rapt expression when she chewed and swallowed the rich, beefy bite on her fork.
She argued about letting him pay for her meal, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer. He gave the waitress a generous tip—mostly because she hadn’t asked for his autograph in the middle of his date. When he led Malou to the exit, placing a protective hand on her lower back, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
As soon as the night air hit his face, so did a flashlight beam. “West Calhoun?” The rough, barking voice made him stop in his tracks. Malou gasped.
“What is this?” He looked between the two cops before him. Malou skittered to the side, and his heart squeezed in anguish.
“We need to take you down to the precinct for questioning about assault allegations,” the cop said.
“Ffffuck.” He was aware of a couple cameras pointed in his direction, and one of them was definitely from the show. Either way, he’d be all over the news.
His momma would hear of this. Buck would give him that disapproving glare.
I’ll get my spinoff.
He shot a glance at Malou, who was shaking her head and backing away.
“Miss, do you have a ride home?” one officer asked her, and she nodded.
“You need to come with us, Mr. Calhoun.” The cop gripped his shoulder, and he remembered Malou’s truck keys in his pocket.
“Just a second, I need to give her the keys.” He made to reach into his pocket, and the cops were instantly on guard. “I’m not carrying, officers. I just want to give her the truck keys.”
They patted him down and when they nodded, he slowly reached into his pocket to retrieve the keys. Malou came forward reluctantly to accept them. West stared down at her bowed head. She wouldn’t meet his gaze.
He’d fucked this up bad.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. She nodded but didn’t look up.
Then he was bundled away by the officers and put into the back of a police cruiser. He twisted his face away from the window, not wanting to add to the humiliation he faced by giving the cameras a great photo op.
But he did glance back in time to see Malou climbing into her truck, head still bowed. Fuck, he’d never get another chance with her. The only woman who hadn’t put on an act with him, who’d given him total honesty in and out of the bedroom, was lost to him.
Hours later, he was allowed his one phone call. He hoped like hell Wynonna hadn’t pulled out of town with everyone else after the rodeo. He drummed his fingers on the cement block wall that was painted a puke green color. The place smelled like vomit, too.
His sister picked up after two rings, and he practically yelled into the receiver, “Wynonna!”
“Jesus, West, bust my eardrum, why don’t ya? What’s wrong?”
“I need you to bail me out.”
Silence filled his ear. Then a burst of laughter. “Good one.”
He ground his teeth.
“Wait, are you fucking serious?”
“Yeah.” Dammit, now he’d owe his baby sister, and she knew how to blackmail like she did it for a living. He’d be doing her laundry and washing her truck for a year.
“Where the hell are you?”
He gave her the address.
“You’re lucky I’m still in town, dumbass. What’d you get arrested for?”
“I beat someone up.”
“You mean that guy who touched Kashley?”
“No, another one.”
She laughed again. “Ohhh, you’re going to be at my mercy for a long time.”
“Bring your checkbook and I’ll pay you back.”
“That you will, big brother.” She hung up and he smacked the phone back on the receiver. Dammit, this was going south in a hurry.
It turned out Jay Wallace had sustained a coupla busted ribs, discovered after one had punctured a lung while doing some behind the scenes grunt work at the rodeo. The collapsed lung had landed him in the ICU and himself in the slammer.
Dammit, he felt horrible.
He was still brooding over this stupid course of events when his sister showed up. He rolled his eyes when he heard her sweet-talking the officer on duty as she paid his bail as well as his fine.
And, of course, she was grinning when the officer led him out.
West growled. “Wipe that smile off your face.”
She turned to the cop. “He’s much nicer than usual. What did you do to him, Officer?”
The guy laughed and ran his fingers through his salt and pepper crewcut. “Keep him in line, Miss Calhoun.”
She batted her lashes at him.
Free, West found his equilibrium again. He grabbed his sister’s elbow and marched her out of the building.
“What the hell do you have with old guys anyway? You’ve got daddy issues.”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s not old. I bet he’s only in his early forties. What’s wrong with a man who has a little experience? All these guys my age are into drinking until they puke and buying the biggest tires they can find.”
He snorted. He couldn’t argue with her logic. He’d seen it firsthand with the Doublemint Twins—only they weren’t looking for big tires. “Let’s go.”
They crossed the parking lot and she climbed behind the wheel of her truck. He was in for hours of lectures and the third degree. But he’d brought it on himself.
“First, hear me out. I need to swing by the hospital and apologize to the guy I put there.”
Wynonna turned to him. “Fine. What the hell happened?”
“I figured you wouldn’t lay into me until you at least started the truck.”
Like a smart ass, she pushed the ignition button, her stare never wavering from him.
He waved a hand. “Just drive, Wyn.”
“Okay, but only because I need to get home. Everyone else will be there hours before us.”
“I’m glad you were running late. Your hair looks nice, by the way.”
She stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes.
He shoved her shoulder. “Drive, you stupid shit.”
“Look who’s calling the kettle black.” She backed out and put the truck into drive. “So, who was she?”
“What?” His heart did a back handspring.
“The woman you beat up that guy over.”
“Who said it was a woman?”
She gave him a look and then
turned back to the road. “Your fists always do the talking when it comes to a female, West. Now, beating up that guy who touched Kashley I understand.”
“Is she okay?”
“She was shaken up, but yes, she’s fine. That fucker is lucky Ridge didn’t break his neck. He was doing fine on his own. Why did you jump in and throw those punches?”
He grunted. “Long story I won’t get into.”
“Okaaaay,” she drawled. “So tell me about the other guy you beat up. Broke his ribs, is what Hunky Officer said.”
He groaned. “Gross. Keep your hormones in check, Wyn. I didn’t know I’d broken ribs. Who knew Jay Wallace was so wimpy, but it was a misunderstanding and I feel like crap about it.”
“Jay Wallace? That’s who you beat up? Shit, West. He’s sidelined with a rotator cuff injury.”
“I know.”
“All right, you threw some punches. He suffered broken ribs. Why was this more than just a bar fight? How did you get charges for assault?” They made it to the interstate, and he breathed a little easier with the town behind him.
“He was working, lifting or something and punctured a lung. I thought he was harassing someone.” He leveled his glare at his sister, who’d been about to open her mouth.
She snapped her jaw shut and turned back to the road. “And the woman?”
“She’s through with me, after watching me be taken for questioning after our dinner date.”
Wynonna released a whistle, but he was certain it was to cover the giggle she wanted to issue. “You actually found a woman with brains, West? That’s new.”
“I know you’ve got rope somewhere in this truck. You wanna be hog-tied all the way back to the ranch?”
She gave a breezy laugh. “As if you could. What’s her name?”
“You’re not as subtle as you think you are, sis. You can’t distract me and then throw in a question and think I’ll answer it.”
“Why won’t you tell me her name?”
“She doesn’t want to be part of this world we live in. Hell, I don’t want her part of it.” Except he did, in a big way. His chest still burned from the way Malou had refused to look at him.
“So why’d you drag her into it?” Wynonna pressed.
West folded his arms and leaned back against the seat. He’d better tell his sister something or face her constant questioning for the next hundred miles. “She’s not a Buckle Bunny. She stays under the radar.”
“But she went out with you. She knows you’re on the show. Did you sleep with her?”
His silence was answer enough but when it came to Malou, he didn’t feel like pretending.
“You did. Are you falling for her?”
“Hell no. I’ve only been around her a coupla times.”
“Before or after the sex tape scandal?”
“Fuck, you had to bring that up. Before. And after.”
“God, you’re a slut. I can’t believe any woman would want you after that.”
He couldn’t believe it either. His sister was right—he was an ass. It probably wouldn’t help his case to say he’d been trying to purge Malou when he’d booked the flight to Cabo.
“We have a sort of connection,” he said.
“Ah.”
“Ah?” He unfolded his arms and tapped his fingers on his knee.
“I’ve seen it before. Happens to Calhouns all the time.”
“What—this connection thing?”
She put the truck on cruise control and gave him a long look. “Yeah. Buck and Channing couldn’t break things off because of that connection. Ryder and Joy hid their relationship from her daddy because he didn’t approve and they couldn’t stay away from each other. And Ridge and Kash—”
“I get it.”
“Is it like that for you and…” She fished for a name.
“I’m not telling you anything about this woman. And I don’t know, to answer your question. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Ooh, look, a Starbucks at the next exit. I could use some coffee. Could you?”
“None of that frilly, frothy shit you call coffee. I’ll take it black.”
“Like your soul, West.”
He wasn’t going to argue with her. He was feeling pretty black at the moment. He’d fucked up everything with the only woman he didn’t want to fuck out of his system. No, he wanted to take his slow, sweet time with her.
Chapter Four
Working the clinic in the poorest part of Oklahoma City was one of Malou’s most rewarding jobs. Providing healthcare to those who couldn’t afford it otherwise struck a chord with her. Growing up on the reservation, she didn’t often see people who didn’t need help. There were exceptions, of course, but her grandfather had also used the clinic for his primary care.
When she walked into the patient waiting area to speak to a man about a prescription she’d ordered for him, a woman approached.
“Doctor, could we bother you for a minute of your time?”
Malou smiled at the woman and a young girl, who was in her early teens. “Not bothering me at all. What can I do for you?”
On clinic day the people took a number unless they came in with signs of a health crisis, such as heart attack. Both of these females appeared to be in decent health. A little downtrodden by life, though.
An eager light in the young girl’s eyes had Malou leading them to a room, where she pointed to the plastic chairs. “Who’s the patient today?”
“Oh, neither of us, Doctor. This is my daughter, Erica. She has dreams of becoming a doctor, but she says there’s no point in trying because she can never reach it. I tell her that every dream can be reached if you use your wits.”
Malou leaned against the patient bed and smiled at them. “Your mother’s right, Erica. What kind of doctor do you think you want to be?”
She looked away shyly and then said, “Maybe one like you, who helps the poor.”
“That’s great. Do you know the reason I enjoy this job and work here instead of in a big hospital that pays me more?”
Two large eyes locked on her. Erica shook her head.
Malou went on, “Because I grew up going to the clinic like you, and it was important to me that we had good doctors when we needed them. I think everyone deserves that, don’t you?”
She nodded enthusiastically.
“Now I’ll tell you a story about an underprivileged girl raised by her grandfather and how she made it to medical school. Do you want to hear it?”
“Oh yes.” The eagerness in this young girl was exactly what the world needed. She could have said she wanted to be a doctor in order to buy big houses, cars and clothes. Instead, she wanted to help her fellow humans. Her altruism was beautiful.
“First, I got very good grades in school.”
“I get very good grades,” Erica said.
Her mother chimed in, “The top in her class. The principal’s list every time.”
“Good—very good. With those grades, you will show people you’re a hard worker and you’re serious about your education. And in time you will be awarded scholarships and grants by people who believe in you. Next time you come in, I’ll have a list of places for you to look for help achieving your dreams. Okay?”
“Thank you, Doctor!” She got up, and shyness gone, hugged Malou. She embraced her back, feeling a kindred spirit. Over Erica’s shoulder, Malou offered her mother a wink.
When they broke the embrace, Malou turned to her chest of oils. “Let me give your mother something.” She plucked out a small plastic bottle of peppermint, ylang-ylang, lavender and milk. “Put this into your bath every night for a week. It will help you find the calm I think you need.”
The mother’s eyes filled with tears, and she took the bottle. “Thank you.”
“Good luck to you, young Erica. And remember to keep those grades up. When you’re a little older, you can come to the clinic and do a job shadow with me.”
“Can I? That would be awesome!”
Malou would look up a handful of programs for young, underprivileged kids and have them ready for her when she next came into the clinic. Her own dreams had been fulfilled, and she tried to help many do the same. It was part of her upbringing—give back to the universe what it had given her. Plus, Malou liked seeing people walk away happy after a conversation with her.
The pair took their leave, and the next patient was rushed in. The line was long, and there was rarely time to think or take a deep breath between them. But Malou’s mind lingered over Erica’s mother for a long time. There was such a thing as a broken spirit and that woman bore all the signs—the hollows under her eyes, the sallow skin, drooped shoulders and a flatness in her voice despite her excitement for her daughter. Back on the rez, the other females would insist she lie in a bed piled with pillows and blankets for seven days and seven nights to let her mind rest. Sleep and dreams would be the best medicine, but Malou realized the woman didn’t have much time for either. The least she could do was take a few minutes for herself in a calming bath.
If her guess was right, the mother was beaten down by responsibilities, and more than likely a crappy relationship or two along the way. There was a haunted look in her eyes that Malou couldn’t shake.
Hopefully her healing oils would help center her. Next time she came in, Malou would have a bigger bottle for her. Sometimes the emotional pain was evident on the surface, and Malou treated the entire body. She loved the times she could meld her two worlds.
By the time she got a break to grab a bite to eat, she’d seen dozens of patients. From gout to strep throat and high cholesterol, she did her best to treat them. Of course, there were the tougher cases of abuse, and those broke Malou’s heart.
Several doctors sat around the break table eating, a few magazines scattered between them. Malou kept her gaze away from them, because the past month had been nothing but headlines about West’s arrest.
She only knew what the media reported, but it seemed poor Jay had broken some ribs in that fight with West and been in rough shape for a few days afterward. Malou knew it was a bad outcome for West, who’d meant to protect her. She felt horribly guilty and had sent Jay flowers.
Propping her chin on her jaw, she picked at her apple cranberry walnut salad. Thinking of West always made her appetite flee—at least for food. No matter how much time passed, she couldn’t purge him from her mind. Why? If there was a healing oil for that, she’d eagerly dunk her entire body in it.
