by HELEN HARDT
“I might be able to. I have to piss like a racehorse.”
Dusty rose from the bed to help him. “That’s probably just irritation from your catheter. The nurse just took it out.”
Zach winced.
Dusty smiled and looked around. “I don’t see any crutches in here. I’ll get some from the nurse, but for now, don’t put too much weight on your leg, sweetheart. You’ll have to lean on me.”
“I like it when you call me that. Sweetheart.” His face was pale and his eyes sunken, but his smile still made her heart leap. Breathtaking.
“Me too. Come on, now. I’ll help you to the bathroom.”
While Zach took care of business, Dusty hurriedly stripped the bed and replaced the soiled linens with the clean ones the nurse had left. When she finished, she knocked on the bathroom door.
“You can come in, darlin’.”
He was sitting on the toilet seat putting toothpaste on a toothbrush.
“Do you want me to help you wash your hair or anything?” she asked.
“I know I must look like hell, but I don’t feel up to it right now. I just want to brush my teeth.”
“Okay.”
When he had finished, she helped him back into bed and lay down next to him. “Go to sleep now, sweetheart.” She kissed his lips lightly. “I’ll wake you when the food gets here.”
She snuggled into his chest, and he was already breathing steadily in slumber.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Chapter Fourteen
A little less than forty-eight hours later, Zach was back in his hotel suite, freshly showered and shaved. Chad was competing in a bull riding competition, and his mother had gone along to watch. Angelina hovered about, begging to help him. He finally sent her out to fill a prescription and hoped she’d take her time about it. He wanted Dusty, but she had left as soon as he got back to his room, and he hadn’t seen her since. He had called her hotel, but she hadn’t been in. If only she had a cell phone. He was pretty sure Sam would be at the rodeo for Chad’s ride.
Dusty was still hiding something from him. She hadn’t said she loved him yet, but he was pretty sure she did. At this point, he didn’t much care if she ever said it. He wanted to be with her and that was that, but they needed to settle a few things. The stock show would be over in two days, and he planned to take Dusty home with him.
Angelina returned with his medication, and he sent her away again for some food. He reached for his cell from the night table and dialed the Holiday Inn again, asking for Dusty’s room.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the clerk said. “The O’Donovans checked out an hour ago.”
“What?”
“They checked out.”
“You must be mistaken. The stock show isn’t over.”
“They canceled their reservation for the rest of their stay. I’m sorry, sir.”
Zach hung up and threw his cell phone on the floor. There had to be some mistake. She wouldn’t leave without telling him. Would she?
He scrambled out of bed, cursing at the pain in his thigh, and pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. He grabbed his crutches and limped down to the parking garage and drove his rented Jag over to the stock showgrounds. He had a hunch…
Yep, she was there. By Diablo’s pen, singing to that damn bull again. Hell, she’d leave without saying goodbye to him, but he knew she wouldn’t be able to resist seeing that goddamned animal one last time.
His eyes burned as he walked toward her. “You checked out of your hotel,” he said, his voice sounding low and primal.
“Zach.” Her brown eyes widened into two saucers. “Y-You shouldn’t be out of bed.”
“You were going to leave. You were going to fucking leave me, weren’t you?”
“I…” She fidgeted with a stray wisp of hair that had come loose from her braid.
He dropped his crutches and stalked closer to her, the heat of his own anger overpowering the pain in his leg. “Answer me, goddamn it!”
“Please. Don’t hurt yourself.”
“Answer me!”
“I’m not worth this, Zach. The last thing I want—”
“The last thing you want?” He gripped her shoulders and she winced. He didn’t care. “Have you given a thought to what I want? In case you haven’t, let me spell it out for you. Y-O-U. You, Dusty. I want you. But you already know that. Why are you leaving me?”
“I-I never should have come here.”
“Well, you did, and I’m not giving you up.”
“You don’t have a choice, Zach.”
“The hell I don’t.” He dropped one hand to her wrist and dragged her toward his rented hay barn next to Diablo’s stall, ignoring the piercing sparks in his leg.
“Stop this. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“Don’t righteously give a damn at the moment.”
“I do, Zach. I give a damn. About you. About your leg. Your health.”
“Darlin’, if you gave a damn about me you wouldn’t be leaving me.” He dragged her into the barn and pushed her against the wall. “What kind of a game have you been playing with me?”
Her cherry lips trembled. “No game. I swear it.”
“Bullshit, darlin’. I love you. I want to be with you. I could have sworn you felt the same. But you were going to leave me. Now explain yourself.”
“There’s nothing to explain. I…don’t want you.”
He didn’t believe her for a minute. “That’s crap.” He jerked her face upward, forcing his gaze upon hers.
“No—”
He clamped his lips onto hers and thrust his tongue into her mouth. He wasn’t in the mood to be gentle. He took from her, the ache between his legs unbearable in its heat. It overrode the pain in his thigh, the rational part of his brain. At this moment, his body wanted her body, and nothing else mattered.
He pushed her into the rough wood of the barn wall. She sagged against him, sinking into his body, fitting him in all the right places. When she wrapped her arms around him, her fingers tunneling in his hair, stroking his face, he knew she had surrendered. He broke his mouth away and trailed feathery kisses across her cheek, to her ear.
“Tell me you don’t want me, darlin’. Tell me, and I’ll stop.”
She panted against him. Her pulse hammered against his lips, racing in synchrony with his.
“Tell me, Dusty. Say you don’t want this. You don’t want me.”
“I—I—” Her voice cracked, her body shuddered.
“You have to say it.”
“I… I can’t.”
She grabbed his face in her hands and pulled him to her mouth again. The kisses were pressing, demanding, a tangle of teeth and tongues. He reached for her braid, pulled the band out, and fingered her hair into those luscious waves he loved.
He tore his mouth from hers. “Don’t braid your hair anymore,” he said roughly. “I like it down.”
She nodded, and he heard her gulp for air before she slammed her lips against his again. He fumbled with her shirt as they kissed, finally swearing under his breath as he ripped it apart and sent buttons scattering. Sweet God, her bra had a front clasp. The first one she had worn like that. He snapped it open, released her delectable breasts, bent his head, and sucked a cherry nipple into his mouth. She clamped her hands around his head, holding him to her as he suckled. Her breathy, sexy noises increased the pressure inside him until he was so hard he thought he would burst.
He pulled his lips from her nipple and cupped her cheeks, staring into her big brown eyes alight with fire.
“What do you want, Dusty?” he rasped. “Tell me what you want.”
“You. Now.” Her nimble fingers made short work of his belt buckle and yanked his zipper down. He hissed as his arousal escaped through the opening in his boxers.
“Take off your pants,” he ordered.
Her arms and hands shook visibly as she removed her boots, unbuckled her belt, and unzipped her jeans. She jerked them and her underwear down her l
egs in one swoop. As she stepped out of them, he thrust his hand between her legs. Oh yeah, she was ready.
He tore off his boxers and lifted her, immune to the pain in his thigh as her legs wrapped around him. He backed up and the splintery wood scratched his back as he used the wall for support to hold his weight and Dusty’s on his right leg. She reached down for his cock, but he shoved her hand aside and plunged himself into her.
“Zach!” she cried out, wrapping her hands around him, grabbing his bare ass, trying to pull him closer to her. Her gorgeous breasts pushed into his chest as he pumped into her. Her breath came in hoarse sobs as she buried her face in his shoulder.
His heart thumped unsteadily in his chest. He was close, so close, but damn it, he wanted his woman to come.
“Touch yourself,” he commanded.
She made a breathy sound. “What?”
“I want you to come. I can’t do it for you. All my weight’s on one leg and it won’t hold me if I move my arms. Touch yourself.”
Do it fast. She was so tight and she hugged him so completely, so thoroughly, he knew he’d blow in a matter of seconds.
As soon as she pressed on her swollen nub, her spasms hugged him. He thrust so far inside her he nudged the edge of her womb, and he came with a savage intensity he had never known.
“Mine,” he said, his voice husky with smoke, his cock still throbbing. “You’re mine.” He rested his cheek on the top of her head, the soft red-gold tresses like a satin pillow. “You’re coming home with me.”
She panted against his shoulder.
“I need to put you down, darlin’. My leg…”
She jerked away from him. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”
“Why? I’m not.”
“Your leg. What was I thinking?”
He reached in his pocket and pulled out his bandana. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “For…you know.”
She cleaned up and pulled on her panties and jeans. She clasped her bra and started to button up her shirt, but several buttons were missing.
“Sorry about that,” Zach said.
“It’s okay.”
He scrambled into his boxers and jeans, sat down on a bale of hay, and pulled her into his lap, wincing at the pain in his thigh as he brushed his lips lightly over hers. He had been rough with her. Now he wanted to be gentle. To hold her and love her.
“Your leg, Zach.”
“It’s all right.”
“No.” She squirmed, trying to escape. “I don’t want to hurt you. It’s the last thing I ever wanted.”
“Then don’t leave me, darlin’. Please don’t leave me.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, tears trickling down her cheeks. She bounded up, and before he could react, she had grabbed her boots and run out of the barn.
He couldn’t run, so he couldn’t follow her. The pain in his thigh lanced through him like a gash from a sword.
But it was nothing compared to the agony in his heart.
Chapter Fifteen
Dallas McCray had a gnawing pain in his stomach that wouldn’t go away. For a few days after the family returned to McCray Landing, he tried dousing it with Pepto-Bismol and Zantac, to no avail. Then, as he watched his brother mope around the ranch, working himself harder than he should while recovering from a gore injury, Dallas figured out the problem.
Guilt.
He had been wrong about Dusty O’Donovan. She hadn’t been after Zach’s money. Had she been, she would be here now. Zach had made no secret of the fact he’d wanted to bring Dusty back to McCray Landing with him, but she and Sam had gone back to Montana.
Dallas tried to understand what Zach must be feeling. Love. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt it, at least not the way Zach did for Dusty. His marriage to Chelsea had grown stale. They never talked, and they never spent time laughing or playing. They hardly ever made love anymore. Had he ever felt for Chelsea what Zach appeared to feel for Dusty? Would he be devastated, as Zach was, if Chelsea left him?
He sighed. He didn’t know the answer to that question.
He needed to figure out his own marriage, but that would take more time than he had at the moment. In the meantime, he’d do what he could for Zach. He had a lot to make up for. Grabbing his cell phone out of his pocket, he called Chad.
“What’s up, Dallas?” Chad’s voice was always so full of life.
“Hey, Chad. I have a favor to ask.”
“Sure. What can I do for you?”
“You know that PI you used a couple years ago when your van was stolen?”
“Larry? Yeah.”
“I need his number.”
“I don’t have it on me. Can I call you later?”
“Yeah. Er, no.” Dallas fidgeted with a few coins in his pocket. Was he about to overstep a boundary? “Maybe you could call him, if you don’t mind. Since you and he go way back. Wasn’t he in your class?”
“Yep.”
“I want to hire him.”
“Is Chelsea running on you?”
“No, no. Nothing like that.” Dallas hadn’t even considered that possibility. He wasn’t sure he gave a damn. “I want to check out Dusty O’Donovan. There’s got to be some reason why she ran away from Zach.”
“I had thought the same thing. The girl’s in love with him. I’d bank on it.”
“Then let’s see what we can find out, okay?”
“Sure. I’ll call Larry as soon as I get back home. He ain’t cheap, though.”
“Who cares?”
“Not me.” Chad laughed. “I’ll get in touch with you tomorrow after I talk to him.”
“Great.”
“No problem.”
Dallas breathed in and swallowed a gulp of air. “Hey…Chad?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you and Zach really hate me growing up?”
“Dallas, what the hell are you talking about?”
It was now or never for Dallas. He wanted to end his estrangement with his brothers. Chelsea had always been against him being close to his family. Yeah, that was reason enough to repair the bridge. He sighed into the phone. “You and he are so close, and I’m the odd man out all the time. I know I’m five years older than Zach and eight years older than you, but…”
“Brother, I’m gonna need a drink if we’re trekking down memory lane.”
“You want to meet me somewhere?”
“Whoa. You really want to talk, don’t you?”
Dallas nodded, though he knew Chad couldn’t see him. “Yeah. I think I do.”
“You want me to call Zach?”
“Nah. He’s got enough on his mind. I’ll grab a bottle of Macallan out of the cabinet and meet you at your place. Will that work?”
“Sure enough. I’m on my way there now. You eaten?”
“Nope.”
“I’ll pick up a bucket of chicken. See you there in about half an hour.”
“Sounds good.” He hung up, deposited the phone in his pocket, and turned to see his wife. When had she come in?
“Who were you talking to, Dallas?”
“Chad. I’m meeting him over at his place for dinner and a drink.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize you had made plans.”
“Just made them two minutes ago. Did you need me here for anything?”
“Well”—she fidgeted—“I was sort of hoping we could have dinner together.”
“We haven’t had dinner together in months, Chelsea, except when we were in Denver.”
“If we’re going to start a family, Dallas,” Chelsea said, her voice a petulant whine, “we should act like one.”
Dallas raked his fingers through his black hair. “If we’re going to start a family, Chelsea, we need to have sex more than once a month.”
“Exactly what do you mean by that?”
“What the hell do you think I mean by that? Jesus Christ. How do you expect to get pregnant when you put me off all the time? I’m a man. I have needs.”
Chelsea tapped her foo
t indignantly and tugged on her lower lip with her teeth. “Are you cheating on me?”
“Hell, no.” Dallas’s pulse raced at the accusation. “A cowboy wouldn’t do that. But I’m gettin’ damn tired of Rosie and her four friends.”
“That’s disgusting.” Chelsea grimaced.
“That’s a fact of life,” Dallas said. “Ninety-five percent of all men do it, and the other five percent lie about it.”
“Ha-ha.”
“Nothing funny about it from where I’m standing.”
Chelsea reddened. The color crept up her neck, into her cheeks. Her blue eyes flashed. She was a beauty, his wife, but her sparkly perfection paled in comparison to the fresh country prettiness of Dusty O’Donovan. For the first time, Dallas envied one of his brothers. He wanted Zach to be happy. Dusty had left for a reason, and Dallas meant to find out what it was.
“Don’t wait up for me,” he said, heading for the door.
“What do you need to see Chad for?”
“He’s my brother, and I want to spend some time with him.”
“I’m your wife!”
“And you haven’t indicated any interest in spending time with me until now. Sorry, I’ve already made plans.”
“Don’t you dare walk out that door, Dallas McCray.”
“Is that a threat?”
Chelsea eased back a little. “I just want to know why you’re going.”
Dallas cleared his throat. “If you must know, Chad and I are going to find out why Dusty O’Donovan left Zach.”
“Dusty O’Donovan? You’re kidding. Angelina will take care of Zach. Dusty was nothing more than a fling.”
“Angelina has backed off. She and Zach are over. And Zach is thirty years old. If this had been a fling, he’d be over it. He’s in love with her, and I want him to be happy.”
“With that piece of trailer trash?” Chelsea stomped her toe.
Dallas shook his head, disgusted. “You’re something else, Chelsea. I’m outta here. Like I said, don’t wait up.”
He closed the door on his wife’s fuming expression.
* * *
Dusty’s stomach churned with nausea. And dread.
