by Em Petrova
After break, she treated a diabetic man with a scary cut on his foot and a small child with croup. Then a young man came into her room, looking as if he were about to climb the wall and escape.
Malou offered him a smile to calm him. “What’s the trouble today?”
“I…” He broke off for a long minute.
“Whatever you’re having a problem with, I can assure you that I’ve heard it before. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
He fidgeted on the chair and finally drew a huge breath as if to fortify himself. “I just got married.”
“Oh. Congratulations.” He was on the younger side of the spectrum, perhaps eighteen, but not out of the norm.
“And I can’t… perform. I need the blue pill.”
She gave a nod. “Okay, let’s talk about your health history first.”
He seemed completely in good health, but just to be sure, Malou gave him a paper to take to the lab part of the clinic and have his blood drawn. Underlying disease could be the cause, but this young man was so nerved up, she wondered if it was performance anxiety.
After questioning him more, she again went to her kit. “Once the labs come back, we’ll notify you and have you come in if there’s a problem with your health causing this. In the meantime, I’d like you to try this.”
She had some mixtures of aphrodisiacs. She held up the bottle of shimmering liquid, and a Hopi prayer for a strong marriage came unbidden to her mind. She let the words run their course before speaking to the man.
“Apply a drop of this daily to each foot. The oil’s absorbed more easily there. Come back next week and I’ll give you the results of the labs and you can tell me how you’re doing.”
Long after the day ended, Malou thought about that man and others like him. How they were all willing to take a pill to help them perform when they probably needed something much less invasive.
And Erica’s mother—she hadn’t come seeking help for herself, yet it was clear her wounded soul required some. In Native Americans, they reached out to the elders and medicine men or women first. Malou was equipped to deal with all ailments, as a child of the rez and a woman of modern times.
Her paired knowledge could help more than a few people she encountered. Maybe developing a serious line of oils for use in modern medicine could contribute to the world.
She was so deep in thought about this that she didn’t realize some of the clinic personnel was gathered around a computer screen watching a rodeo clip until she heard West’s name.
“Many are questioning if West Calhoun is washed up. Forfeiting events this past month, his rodeo standings at the bottom, along with his recent troubles with the law, might mean the end for this tie-down roper and reality star.”
Malou stared at the screen from across the room. Images of West leaping off his horse and wrangling the calves flitted by. Her heart did a strange flip-flop.
That’s it. I’m not thinking about him another second.
He was missing events? Something was going on in his life. She worried her lower lip with her teeth.
She said a brief goodbye and threw a wave to her coworkers and then left the clinic. Once on the street, she phoned her sister. “I’m three blocks from your house and I’m coming over. You’re going to lend me something to wear and we’re going out for drinks.”
Maris laughed. “Okay. What’s going on, Malou? This is so unlike you. Have you been body-snatched?”
“I’m just tired of going home to my boring apartment.”
“Yay! There’s a club I’ve been dying to go to. It shouldn’t be as crowded on a weeknight—”
“Perfect. Pick me out something short from your closet.”
“I know just the thing.”
Smiling and feeling freer than she had in weeks, Malou walked the few blocks to her sister’s place. She shared the apartment with two other people but they worked night shifts and slept all day, enclosed in their darkened rooms with their blackout curtains. Malou was quiet coming in so as not to wake them, but once Maris dragged her into her room and closed the door, they started talking at once.
Looking at her sister was like looking into the mirror. Same height, weight and curves. Maris’s eyes were a little more distinct with a true blue color while Malou’s didn’t seem to be one single color. And Maris kept her dark hair short.
Malou flopped down on her sister’s bed, which was covered in a mishmash of printed bedding.
“Long day?”
“No longer than usual.”
“What’s up with this change in you? I don’t buy that you’re just unhappy sitting at home with your books and herbal teas.”
Malou gave her a look. There was no use lying to Maris. They were like twins, picking up vibes from each other like the earth did from tectonic plates. “I have a crush I need to expunge from my system.”
“Expunge? Girl, you’re using big words again.”
“As if you don’t know what that means. Just because you take appointments for a dentist’s office doesn’t mean you stopped using your brain.”
Maris threw herself onto the bed next to her. “Who’s the guy?”
“A womanizer.”
“He cheated on you?”
“Not exactly. We were never together. We just had a couple… moments.”
“In moments… you mean you fucked him. Was he good?”
Malou stared up at the ceiling, which Maris had dotted with little mirrors and glittered stars. Strangely, it reminded her of the sky on the rez.
“Why do you think I need to expunge him from my system?” she asked.
“Good point. Okay, while I pick out your accessories, tell me about him.” She bounced off the bed and went to her dresser, which was piled with costume jewelry, scarves and sunglasses.
Malou wasn’t sure where to start. Describing West was like describing a storm. He was untamed, yet if you listened close, the voice of the wind would sing you a lullaby.
“What’s his name?” Maris asked.
“Why do you need to know it?”
“Toss it into the flames, speak it aloud and it has no power over you.” The old ways of her people rolled off her sister’s tongue as if she was saying the sky’s blue.
“It’s West Calhoun.”
Maris lowered the scarf she was holding and stared at her. “As in reality show rodeo star West Calhoun?”
“Yes.”
She dropped the scarf and dived onto the bed. Malou bounced under the force. “Oh my God. I always wondered if you actually met the Calhouns when you doctor at the rodeo, but I never expected you to sleep with one!”
Malou’s stomach cramped. “I know. Totally not their type.”
“Apparently you are! And you say he’s good in bed?”
“I… don’t want to talk about that. Let’s just say that he’s hard to shake once you’ve been around him. And I definitely need to move on. It’s like beating a dead horse.”
“Or humping one.” Maris waggled her brows.
* * * * *
West hefted a new fencepost out of the back of the truck and balanced it on his shoulder.
“Hurry the fuck up. I’ve got somewhere to be,” Ridge said, standing by the old rotten post they’d just removed.
“Kashley can wait.”
Ridge rubbed his gloved fingers over his jaw, leaving a smear of dirt. West reached the hole and set the post in. His brother started shoveling.
“Whoa, you’re shoveling like you’re burying an enemy. What’s the rush?” West steadied the post while Ridge filled in dirt around it.
He glanced up at West. “Actually, Kashley can’t wait. We’ve only got a few hours.”
“For what?”
Ridge looked as if he’d rather chew nails than tell him. But after a few more shovelfuls, he mumbled, “She’s ovulating.”
West screwed up his brows. “What was that?”
“Ovulating,” Ridge yelled.
Rocking back, West rubbed a hand over hi
s own face to try to wipe away his surprise. “Okay. It’s personal. Sorry I asked.”
“Yeah.” He shoveled a few more times before he started talking, biting off words between the physical labor. “She wants a baby. And it’s not working. She’s tracking her fertile days and taking her temperature. She woke up this morning and told me her peak time is this afternoon.”
West reached for the shovel. “You’re not just doing this for your wife. You want a kid too, right?”
“Sure. I mean, I want her happy first, but I’ve always figured I’d have a coupla rugrats terrorizing the ranch. Now it doesn’t look so hopeful.”
“You haven’t been married that long. Sometimes it takes years for couples.”
“No, they found something during her last exam. Endometriosis. For now, it’s mild but they said if you want kids, have them soon.”
West put his hand over his brother’s on the shovel handle. “Let me do this. You’re needed elsewhere.”
Ridge met his gaze and nodded. “Thanks, bro.”
“Go have fun. Don’t make it a chore.” He flicked a few grains of dirt off the shovel blade at Ridge. The dry dirt hit his brother’s thighs and rolled down to his boots. Ridge gave him the finger before mounting his horse and heading home.
As West finished the post and moved to the next, he dragged in deep breaths of the ranch air. Sweet with grasses, alive with birdsong and the occasional lowing of cattle up the valley.
After his mess with the assault charges and several conferences with his lawyer, he hadn’t felt like being in the public eye, even to do what he loved, which was rodeo. At one time, all he’d wanted was that prize. Lately, he’d watched his family head to the next venue while he stayed back and worked hard on the ranch.
But all this time off had afforded him too many opportunities to think. He was giving a lot of thought to the role the show wanted him to play and that spinoff promised him. He didn’t care for the fame, but the money would come in mighty handy. He had a little stashed for a rainy day, but not enough to build a house and start a family.
Which brought him to the second weight on his mind.
He hadn’t given a thought to those things until he’d met Malou. And he’d fucked that up for good. One night with her had changed him forever. To erase her from his memory, he’d ended up with the Doublemint Twins. And when that hadn’t worked, he’d gone back to the woman he wanted in the first place.
They’d had good conversation, a great dinner and then he’d shown her what a fuck-up he was by getting himself arrested.
By the time he’d finished the few fence posts, he was ready to stop the train of his thoughts too. He put the shovel into the back of his truck and jumped in.
Bouncing through the fields, he wondered what Malou would think of this life. She had grown up very differently, and she was a professional who probably didn’t get her hands dirty.
That was okay. He could get dirty enough for the two of them.
He pulled up in front of the main house and shook his head to clear it. When he stepped onto the porch, one of the older barn cats swirled around his ankles. He reached down to ruffle its ears and then went inside. His mother was coming down the stairs with a heaping basket of dirty towels.
West rushed forward to take it from her. “Let me have it.”
“Thank you, sweet boy. I must have raised you right.”
He snorted. “Or maybe not. I’d be doing this laundry if that were the case.”
She laughed and hurried ahead of him to the laundry area. It too had been revived with new floors and a square oak table to fold on. Their money from the show was improving more than the ranch house too. Their old farm equipment was slowly being replaced with upgrades that didn’t constantly break down, which made their resident mechanic, Ridge, very happy. And they had purchased more cattle at auction just a month ago.
What would West’s spinoff provide for, not only himself but the entire family? If Kashley and Ridge needed fertility treatments, he could help.
He set the basket on the floor in front of the washing machine, and his mother started loading the towels. He stared at her bowed head for a moment.
“I’m sorry about the headlines lately. You and Dad did raise me better.”
She stopped mid-task, her eyes a slightly more faded color of his own. Her hair hung in loose waves to her shoulders, still as thick as it had been in her youth, though a little more streaked with white.
“You said you thought you were protecting that woman.”
“Yeah. And the sex tape…” He barely got the dirty S word out in front of his mother and held his breath, expecting a slap. “I never thought those girls would go that far.”
“Fame does things to people, even if it’s not the person being famous. You’re still a good boy, West.”
His throat clogged. He gave a dip of his head and left her alone in the laundry room. In the kitchen, he poured himself some sweet tea and stood sipping it, letting the sweat dry on his skin when Lane stomped in.
Lane nudged him aside to get to the glasses. “Why are you standing around?”
“Getting a drink, same as you.”
“You’ve been weird for months. Haven’t even been rodeo’ing. There’s a truck pull tonight. Come along. You’ve been moping a lot for a guy who gets laid as much as you do.”
West’s chest ached as thoughts of Malou hit again.
He set his glass in the fridge to stay cool for later, gave Lane the finger and left the house. He barely registered the cameras recording this. Ridge had flipped him off earlier, but all they’d get on film was West’s obscene gesture. They really were trying to catch him at his worst, and he was getting irritated.
As he passed the foyer table, he noticed someone had brought in the mail. A thick stack of magazines and celebrity newspapers sat there. More than one had his face on it.
Rope ‘n Arrest?
Will This Country Music Star Dump Her Reality Star BF?
I’m not her boyfriend, he thought.
With a growl, he swiped aside the bills, gathered the magazines and took the entire heap outside. The screen banged shut behind him.
He strode to the middle of the yard and dumped the armload. Then he dug some matches from his front pocket—an outdoorsman was always prepared—and struck one on his front teeth.
When he held the flame to the pile of paper, several cameramen came running. He ignored them as he nurtured the flame on the glossy pages that didn’t want to burn. After a few seconds of perseverance, he had a nice little fire started.
Wynonna came running down the porch steps and across the yard. “What are you doing?”
“Burning the trash.”
She clapped her hands. “I’ll get the marshmallows!” She ran back in.
He watched the pages curl and his photos burn to ash. Dammit, he hoped he hadn’t ruined his career along with his chances to have a good woman in his life. Namely a sweet little doctor whose strange ways intrigued the hell outta him.
Wynonna returned with long toasting forks and a bag of marshmallows. She held the items out to him and he took them wordlessly. They stood shoulder to shoulder turning the spits as the treats charred.
“You know what you’ve gotta do, right, bro?” she asked, biting into her perfect golden treat.
His marshmallow caught fire. A few laughs from the camera crew sounded as he brought the blazing ball of sugar toward his face and blew it out. “What’s that?”
Her eyes slanted at the corners like a cat’s, a trait that Lane shared with her but no one else besides a few distant cousins in Colorado.
“You’ve gotta go back to the rodeo, West. For two reasons.”
“To compete because I love it,” he said.
“Uh-huh. And you know the other.” She glanced pointedly around them at the nosy crew intending to capture their every secret.
Suddenly, West was filled with affection for his little sis. He wrapped his arm around her and squeezed. “Maybe yo
u’re not such a pain in the ass, after all.”
She smiled at him sweetly and stuck her sticky, half-eaten marshmallow to the side of his face.
* * * * *
The crowd in the San Antonio Stock Show and Rodeo was louder than most. Maybe because they had a clear view of the famous Calhoun circle on the Jumbo-Tron.
Malou stared up at the screen with thousands of other fans, enraptured by the beauty of the family. Each man as chiseled and handsome as the last, all decked out in their rodeo shirts and vests with patches, chaps of various styles, hats and boots. And the women equally as interesting to look at. All that honey-colored hair. Even some of the kids had it. And of course, Wynonna stood out like a jewel with her fiery hair and cowgirl attire.
As Malou looked on, they clustered together. Buck said a few words, which sounded around the arena via the huge speaker system. They took off their hats and held them over their hearts. “For Dad,” Buck said.
“For Dad,” they echoed.
The camera panned around the group, and Malou’s lungs burned as she caught sight of West.
To her, he was the most striking of all the Calhouns. Dark hair mussed, as thick and shaggy as she’d remembered it. She squeezed her hands into fists as the urge to sink her fingers into his warm, soft hair struck.
He wore a simple denim shirt, his leather vest sporting all the patches of his backers. And a big one that had his family’s ranch brand. His chaps were dark brown with conches down the sides. They hung perfectly from his hips, and she knew his ass would be a glorious thing to behold.
The Calhouns shoved their hats back on their heads, wives and babies were kissed, and they dispersed to the screams of the crowd. Malou wanted to make her legs work, to get out of there before one of them saw her. They’d have to file past her.
Damn. And here she’d thought her night of dancing and drinking with Maris had done her some good. Turned out it had been just a light brushing of concealer over a red, raw wound.
