by Lori Wilde
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Don’t thank me,” he said. “It was my fault the little critter got out in the first place.”
“Not your fault. Dart is slippery. He’s always looking for an opening. This is the fourth time he’s run away since I took him in three weeks ago. I’m terrified he’ll get out and I won’t be able to find him. The desert is not a safe place for a kitten on his own.”
“You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
“How’s that?”
“You know what they say.” Ridge’s eyes met hers.
“What?”
“Once a runner, always a runner. Don’t get attached.”
“He’s still young,” she said, feeling strangely defensive of Dart. “I have a feeling he’s going to make a great cat someday, and greatness takes time.”
Ridge’s eyes darkened, and an odd, humorless smile flitted across his mouth. “Then again, some animals just can’t be tamed. Take Majestic for instance.”
“That might be true, but I have hope,” she said, surprised by a sharp tightness creeping through her stomach.
“And that,” Ridge said, “is both your strength and your downfall.”
“Meaning?”
“Sometimes things are hopeless. And nothing can hurt you more than false hope.”
Kaia settled back on her heels, slowly shook her head. “That is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Oftentimes the truth is sad.”
The tension in her stomach spread up to her chest, crawled like a hand to squeeze tight her throat. Was this his way of warning her not to have hope in their relationship?
She opened her mouth, wanting to say something that could change his mind, but before she could pry the words out, he yanked her against his bare chest and kissed her hard.
Instantly, the humming filled her head again. No joke. Not her imagination. If she believed Granny’s legend, for better or worse, Ridge Lockhart was her soul mate.
In the midst of their earthshaking kissing, the phone in the pocket of his swim trunks buzzed. He ignored it.
The phone buzzed again.
And again.
And again.
“Dammit,” he swore, pulling his mouth from hers.
“You turned it back on,” she said.
“In the truck stop,” he explained. “When you told me it was okay to check my messages. Hang on. I’ll switch it off again.”
He took his phone from his back pocket, glanced down at the screen, winced. “Oh no.”
“What is it?” she asked, peering over his arm to see the screen. Saw several texts from Vivi.
Felt a lump of hard jealousy in her throat.
Ridge’s face darkened, and in a controlled monotone he said, “Duke’s had a massive heart attack. They’re careflighting him to El Paso for immediate openheart surgery.”
Chapter 23
Ridge wished it were Kaia sitting in the cockpit beside him instead of Vivi. This was the first time he’d been alone with his ex-girlfriend since she’d become his stepmother, and it was uncomfortable as hell.
Vivi was a wreck. Her hair hung oily and stringy in her eyes, her makeup was smeared, her eyes wide and full of fear.
A pile of wadded-up tissues littered the floor of the plane at her feet. She kept clenching and unclenching her hands in her lap, and then alternately rubbing her palms back and forth over her bare thighs.
She wore Daisy Duke denim shorts, red cowgirl boots, and a white halter-top. When he’d asked her if she wanted to change clothes—she and Duke had been line dancing at Chantilly when he’d collapsed—she yelled at him there was no time.
He knew she was distraught so he let it go. But if this thing stretched out for several days, as it most likely would, she’d need something else to wear. He’d buy her some clothes when the stores opened tomorrow morning. She didn’t seem capable of handling the task for herself.
And he felt …
Angry, hurt by what Vivi and Duke had done behind his back. And he was confused too. He thought he’d buried all that mess, but apparently, he’d just swept it under the rug. He hadn’t forgiven their betrayal. Kaia was right. He’d spent ten years using work to run away from his feelings.
Kaia. He thought of her sweet face, her lush body, her kind heart. Regretted that he was not going to wake up beside her.
Selfish. He was being selfish. His father might not make it through the night and he was thinking about the hot morning sex he was missing.
C’mon, tell the truth. It wasn’t the sex he was missing. It was Kaia.
He and Vivi flew through the night mostly in silence with no sounds save for her occasional sniffles and the hum of the airplane.
To keep his mind occupied, Ridge did what he always did in uncomfortable situations. He thought about work. Sending his mind to China, envisioning the contract negotiations going as planned even though in light of recent developments, he was going to have to call his second in command to trek to Beijing in his place to meet up with Phil and the legal team.
He winced. The company he was dealing with had specific ideas about how business should go, and sending an underling instead of the president of the company could be taken as a sign of disrespect. Navigating a foreign culture could be sketchy. But first things first. El Paso. Duke. Coronary bypass surgery. Then he could deal with business.
It was then that Vivi decided to break the quiet. “Well,” she said halfway into the flight, “are we going to discuss the eight-hundred-pound elephant?”
“Gorilla,” he said.
“What?”
“The phrase is ‘an eight-hundred-pound gorilla.’ Elephants weigh several tons.”
“Oh.” Vivi crinkled her nose, and said with complete sincerity, “Maybe they’re talking about a baby elephant.”
“You’re mixing metaphors.”
“Huh?” Vivi blinked.
“It’s two different sayings,” he explained kindly. “It’s either the eight-hundred-pound gorilla, or the elephant in the room.”
Her brow furrowed. “So which one do I mean?”
Ridge shrugged. “Elephant. Gorilla. Whatever animal you want to call it. We do not have to discuss the situation. In fact, let’s not and say we did.”
“That won’t work.”
He sighed.
“Don’t sigh,” she said. “You always used to do that when I tried to talk to you about serious things. Listen to me, please. I need to get this off my chest. We never got closure because you ran off.”
“What did you expect me to do?”
“Stay, fight for me.”
“Like it’s my fault you tumbled into my bed with my father?”
“I didn’t say it was your fault, but you were always working, and I was lonely.”
“So instead of talking to me about it, you went for my dad?”
“I tried to talk to you about it. You were always too busy to listen.”
“To support your spending habits.”
“Oh don’t put that in my lap. You enjoyed buying me things. You liked showing me off.” She inhaled deeply. “When it suited you.”
“Yes, okay. You’re a gorgeous woman and I liked having you on my arm. And we both know we weren’t in love, but that was no excuse for stabbing me in the back …” He ground his teeth. “With my father.”
“Ridge.” She snorted and stomped her foot against the floorboard. “Will you just give me a chance to explain?”
“All right,” he said. If she needed to unburden herself to feel better, he’d suck it up and hear her out. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was past time to get over this uncomfortable discussion. Get closure. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice but to listen if she started talking. They were trapped in a plane together.
“This has been eating on your father too,” Vivi murmured. “In fact, I bet your homecoming triggered his heart attack.”
Ah, so that was his fault too?
“I’m not blaming you for
the heart attack.” Vivi read his mind, and frankly, her insight surprised him. Generally, in his experience, she was pretty much all about Vivi. “I’m just saying he’s been on edge ever since he heard you were coming back for Archer’s wedding. Drinking too much, eating foods that aren’t good for him.”
“How is any of that my fault?”
“If you’d ever bothered to call or come home, you’d know he wasn’t well,” Vivi said. “But you were too stubborn or too selfish to forgive him.”
“It’s a two-way street, Vivi. He was the one in the wrong. He should have been begging me to forgive him.”
“You know he’s not built that way.”
“Neither am I.”
“So here we are.” She fell silent.
For a moment the only sounds were the plane’s engine. “How come you offered to host the wedding?” he asked.
“Archer is our foreman. It seemed the right thing to do.”
Our foreman. As if the Silver Feather belonged to her too.
It hit him then, a load of emotional bricks dropped onto his head. Legally, he supposed it did. If Duke died without a will, Vivi would inherit the ranch. Did his father have a will? Surely, Duke had a will.
Ridge had no clue—zero, zilch, zip—what he was going to do if the old man didn’t pull through, hadn’t left a will and he and his brothers were left to battle Vivi over the future of the ranch that had been in his family for six generations. It surprised him. This territorial feeling. The fact that he cared. He’d had nothing to do with the Silver Feather in over a decade, and yet now the thought of losing it twisted him inside out.
Why?
Vivi was busy shredding a tissue into tiny pieces of white fluff. “You might not believe this, but if anything happens I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
Ridge grunted. He did not believe her. But he hoped for Duke’s sake she was telling the truth.
“How was Archer’s wedding?” asked Kaia’s boss, Dr. Cheri Gunther DVM, bright and early Monday morning as they meet in the scrub room to prepare for surgery. Dr. Cheri was in her early thirties, round of body and face. She possessed an easygoing temperament, a down-to-earth bedside manner, and a new husband who worked at McDonald Observatory with Ranger Lockhart.
“Sweet,” Kaia said. “Romantic. Adorable. I’m glad it’s over.”
“That taxing?” Dr. Cheri chuckled, joining Kaia at the scrub sink, where she picked up a scrub brush and turned the water on with her elbow. “I barely remember my wedding. It was such a hubbub.”
“It was a nonstop blur, so much going on and so many out-of-town guests. I’ve barely slept in three days.” Kaia suppressed a yawn.
She didn’t mention that Ridge was the main reason why she hadn’t slept. He’d texted her when he arrived in El Paso, saying Duke’s condition was touch and go, and they were taking him into surgery. She hadn’t heard another word since. She thought about calling or texting, but didn’t want to pester. No news was good news, right?
“Are you good to go?” the vet asked, the safety of the animals her top concern.
It was Kaia’s top concern, as well. “I’ve rallied. Two cups of coffee and I’ve got my second wind.”
“If you want to leave after we finish the surgery,” Dr. Cheri said, “just let me know. I can get Brenda to fill in.”
“Maybe.” As a part-time employee, Kaia didn’t accrue comp time or benefits. “I’ll see how busy the office is when we get done. Right now, I’m happy to be here.”
“You might change your mind when you see what we’ve got on the docket this morning. A mastiff just came in through emergency with a bellyache, and the X-rays show the poor thing has three tennis balls in his intestines.”
Thirty minutes later, over the dog on the surgery table, the satellite radio tuned to Cheri’s favored rock station. Sense Field was playing “Save Yourself.”
“So,” Dr. Cheri asked as she meticulously made the midline incision on the anesthetized mastiff. “How was he?”
“How was who?”
“Ridge Lockhart.”
Kaia peeked at Cheri. The doctor was focused on her work, but Kaia didn’t miss the telltale flush spreading up the top of her mask to her temples and forehead. “Dr. Cheri, are you blushing?”
“What? Me? No. It’s hot in here.” Cheri’s voice sounded funny, as if she had something caught in her windpipe and was trying to talk around it.
“Want me to move the light back?” Kaia reached for the handle on the big surgical light directly over their heads that generated a lot of heat.
“No worries. I’ll be all right. I need the light close to see.”
“I could ask Finny to turn down the temperature,” she said, referring to the office manager.
“No really. It’s okay.”
They were silent for a while as they worked, and then Cheri said, “We were in the same grade in high school.”
“You and Ridge?”
“Yes.”
“You had a crush on him.”
“Oh, didn’t everyone?”
Yes. It was a sharp reminder that her infatuation with Ridge was nothing special.
“We dated a few times, and I’m a happily married woman now, and I am crazy for my Mason. But there’s just something about your first crush that never quite leaves you. Know what I mean?”
She did indeed. Ridge was her first crush. Her last, come to think of it.
“Retractor.” Cheri put out her gloved hand.
Kaia slapped the retractor into the doctor’s palm. One day, she would be the one asking for the retractor, but right now, that day seemed very far away.
“Is Ridge still single?” Dr. Cheri asked nonchalantly.
“He is.”
“I wonder if he’ll ever slow down long enough to let any woman catch him,” she mused. “Is he still sexy as sin?”
“Sexier,” Kaia admitted.
Cheri looked up and met Kaia’s eyes over her mask. “You had a crush on him too?”
Kaia lifted one shoulder.
“Huh. Imagine that.”
“Imagine what?”
“I always thought you two were like brother and sister.”
“We were raised that way,” Kaia said, fighting against a sudden tightness pressing against her chest.
“But you have unsisterly feelings for him?”
“You’ve got a bleeder there.” Kaia pointed and reached for the suction.
Cheri swung into action, cauterizing the bleeding vessel, and thankfully shutting up about Ridge. At least until three slimy tennis balls later when they’d finished the surgery and were closing up the mastiff.
“How long is Ridge going to be in Cupid? I’d love to invite him to dinner. Mason grills a mean sirloin,” Cheri asked, after the mastiff had been transferred to the recovery area and they were stripping off their scrub gowns and gloves.
“He was planning on leaving this morning,” Kaia said vaguely, leaving it at that. It wasn’t her place to tell the vet about Duke’s heart attack. Soon enough the gossip would make the rounds, but she wouldn’t be the start of it.
“So soon?” Dr. Cheri sounded disappointed.
“He’s headed to China for six months, where his company is introducing the drilling technique he pioneered. According to Archer, it’s going to revolutionize silver mining.”
Dr. Cheri sighed dreamily. “Ridge was always an overachiever.”
“So is Mason,” Kaia said.
“Don’t worry.” Dr. Cheri laughed. “I’m not about to throw my husband over for a guy who is allergic to commitment. Ridge Lockhart might be hot as blazes, but he’s certainly no one’s idea of husband material.”
Duke had made it through a five-hour openheart surgery, but he was in ICU on the ventilator and hadn’t regained consciousness.
Right now, it was just Ridge, Ranger, and Vivi in the waiting area. Rhett was on a plane home from Montana, where he’d been on the PBR circuit, and Remington was catching the next transport flig
ht from the Middle East.
Ranger had had the presence of mind to drop by the mansion and pack an overnight bag for Vivi, saving Ridge from having to go clothes shopping for her. On the downside, he now had no excuse to leave the hospital.
He was stuck.
Ridge had gotten on the smartphone and played catch-up calls, texts, and emails. Because of the thirteen-hour time difference, he would have to wait until the evening to let Beijing know he would not be arriving as planned, but his second in command was on the way in his place.
God, he hated waiting. Hated hospitals too. And this was just the start of it.
He paced the length of the waiting room until a visitor glared at him, and he finally sat down. He crossed his legs, flipped through a magazine, uncrossed them again, and stared at the clock that seemed to be broken.
At four p.m. the ICU opened for visiting hours.
“Two at a time,” a stern-faced nurse chided.
“Ranger and I will go in first,” Vivi said to Ridge. “And then you can go.”
Ridge nodded, understanding why it was easier for her to go see Duke with his brother at her side instead of him.
Ten minutes later, Ranger and Vivi came back out and it was his turn. He walked into the small private room punctuated by the whooshing sound of the ventilator breathing for Duke.
Seeing his larger-than-life father crumpled up in that bed, eyes closed, tubes snaking into his body, shook him. This was serious business.
Duke could die. This could be it.
They had a complicated relationship, but when push came to shove, Ridge loved the old son of a bitch.
Emotion flooded his system. His throat felt raw, and his stomach roiled. And he wished like hell that Kaia and her optimistic hope were with him.
Here lies Duke Augustus Lockhart caged by a machine that breathed for him. Unconscious. Unable to speak. A victim of a life of excess, lying in the darkened room that smelled of antiseptic and disease.
Dying by inches.
Was his father full of regret? Did he wish he could live his life over, make different choices?
What about his own regrets? What would he do differently if he had the chance?
Ridge swallowed, realizing he’d made just as many mistakes as his father.
“Visitation is over,” said the nurse from the doorway.
