by Eve Gaddy
“I’m so sorry. I wish I had words, but all I can think is how sad, for all of you.” And Lucifer. Her heart broke for him too.
“Now you know why I’m not a horse whisperer. I never was.”
*
“Oh, Sean.” Honey shook her head, looking at him with so much compassion. Far more than he deserved. “Of course you are.”
Honey was serious. What was wrong with her? She’s young, he thought. Naive. She doesn’t get it. He got up and went to the kitchen. “Do you want some water? Or a beer?”
“Water’s good.”
He came back and handed her the water. Took a deep drink of his own. “Did you hear anything I said?”
“I heard everything you said. And everything you didn’t say. How a young boy with an amazing gift had his heart broken.”
“Wrong. How a young boy screwed up, caused a horse’s death, and nearly caused a man’s.”
“It wasn’t your fault. Mr. Anderson told you so himself.”
Frustrated, he shoved a hand through his hair and tried again. “Nothing is one hundred percent sure. Especially not with training animals. I should have known that.”
“At fourteen? For God’s, sake, Sean, you were a child.”
“I’d been doing it for years at that point. I should have known,” he repeated.
“Does your family know what happened? Besides your dad?”
“No. He was the only one who knew. And now you know.” Why had he dredged all that up? Why had he felt compelled to tell Honey the story?
“How long did you stop for?”
“How do you know I stopped?”
“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “Lucky guess.”
She knew him better than he’d thought. “I still rode occasionally. I helped with the horses. Living on a horse ranch, I didn’t have much choice. After about a year, I started riding bareback in the rodeo. But the other—I quit cold turkey. My brothers and Glenna didn’t understand why I’d quit, but they mostly left me alone. Except for Dylan.” At the time, he’d wanted to kill his youngest brother. But damned if Dylan hadn’t been right.
“What did he do?” She pulled her legs up under her and settled in.
“What Dylan always does. He persisted. He found horse after horse that he said needed my help. I refused to see every one of them. I wasn’t going to risk—” He halted abruptly and shrugged.
“Your heart?” she suggested.
“Failure. But Dylan didn’t give up. He brought home the ugliest horse any of us had ever seen. A half-starved gelding named Rodney.”
“How did Dylan manage all this? He couldn’t have been more than six.”
“He was six going on twenty-five. He enlisted Jack, Wyatt and our dad to help him. Mom too, but not often. She was sick by then, though none of us knew it. Glenna was part of it too, even though she wasn’t much older than Dylan.”
“How did Dylan get you to try again?”
“He left it up to Rodney and me. We pastured Rodney. He gained weight and started looking a lot better. But he was still scared to death of people. I started bringing him treats. An apple, a carrot, sugar cubes. He wouldn’t come near me, but he knew I was there, and he knew I had food. One day curiosity and hunger won out over fear. After that, he turned the corner and his progress was like lightning. He turned out to be one of the sweetest horses we ever had. But I never forgot Lucifer. Or the lesson I learned.”
“What was the lesson?”
“You can’t be one hundred percent sure about anything. Not horses, not life. You can do your best to head off the bad things, but they’re going to happen. Not every time, but sometimes.”
“That’s an awfully pessimistic outlook for a doctor.”
“Not pessimism. Doctors are realists, Honey. We have to be.”
“I don’t see why it’s realistic to always think the worst can happen. That’s what you do, isn’t it?”
“No. I hope for the best, but I’m always aware that the worst can happen.” Like Harry Monroe. Who stopped to change a tire for an elderly couple and paid for it with his life.
She didn’t look convinced, but she let it go. “What happened to Rodney? Do you still have him?”
“He died a few years back. Of natural causes. Technically, I gave him to Dylan when I went to college. In reality, he was always Dylan’s horse.”
Pensively, she said, “Why did you decide to become a doctor?”
“My mother died when I was seventeen. Cancer. The three of us, the three oldest, decided to go to medical school and become doctors. Glenna and Dylan were still little. Besides, we all knew they were the real ranchers in the family.”
“Do you ever regret your choice?”
“Choosing medicine? No. I like what I do. I like knowing I can make a difference.” Sometimes, he made a difference. And then there were the times when nothing he did changed the outcome.
“Do you ever think about doing both? Medicine and horses?”
“I do both. When I have time. The morning of the rodeo Dylan had me working with one of his horses. But I have a full-time job. A demanding one. With crappy hours on occasion, even working in Marietta.”
“I get that,” Honey said. “But it seems like—” She broke off. “Never mind.”
“Seems like what?”
She shrugged. “You’ll get mad.”
“Try me.”
“All right.” She looked into his eyes. “It seems like a waste of an incredible gift.”
“First of all, the horse thing isn’t a gift. It’s a knack. Second, I think treating people, helping people, is important.”
“I never said it wasn’t. But so are the horses.”
He didn’t say anything. What could he say?
“I told you you’d get mad. Anyway, it’s none of my business.”
“What’s none of your business?”
“How you spend your time.”
“Do you want it to be your business?” Shit. Why had he asked her that? It wasn’t a question you asked of someone in a casual relationship. But the whole conversation they’d been having wasn’t one he’d normally have with a woman—unless he was serious.
Who was he kidding? He hadn’t had that conversation with any woman. He hadn’t talked about Lucifer with his family, yet he’d blurted out the whole story to Honey.
That meant something. Sean had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what it meant.
Damn it, he was falling for her.
Chapter Fifteen
Get over it, you fool, Sean lectured himself. They were having fun. It was simple, uncomplicated, incredible sex. They enjoyed each other. Why complicate things? Besides, the whole thing with Theresa had left a bad taste in his mouth. He wasn’t ready to fall for any woman. Not even Honey.
Especially not Honey. She’d been very clear about what she wanted, and he didn’t think she’d changed her mind. He wasn’t in love with her. He appreciated the mind-blowing sex. That was all. What man wouldn’t?
“Do I want how you spend your time to be my business?” she repeated. “Meaning—what? I don’t know how to answer that.”
“Never mind. It was a stupid question.”
She looked doubtful, but before she could say any more he kissed her lips, tested her mouth, tasted her sweetness. He tightened his hold on her and started walking her backward toward the bedroom.
Honey tore her mouth away and put her good hand on his chest. “Wait. I thought you had an early day?”
Covering her hand, he squeezed it gently. “I might have exaggerated slightly.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How slightly?”
He winced. “My call starts at noon.”
“So you lied.”
“I exaggerated,” he corrected.
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t want to talk about horse whispering, and it was damn clear that you were going to talk about it come hell or high water.”
“But I didn’t. You told me without me hassling you about it.�
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“Yes, I did. And now that we’ve talked about heavy stuff, we can do other things.” He started toward the bedroom again.
“Oh? And what would that be?”
Her head fell back as he kissed the pulse at the base of her neck. “You’re a smart woman. I bet you’ve figured it out.”
Her breath hitched. “Maybe. But I might be… confused.”
“What can I do to make things more clear?” He cupped her breast. He’d noticed earlier, when she took off her sling, that she wasn’t wearing a bra. His fingers circled her nipple through the fabric of her shirt, and he felt it tighten to a peak. Bending his head, he captured her nipple and sucked on it through the fabric. She groaned and her back arched, pushing her nipple further into his mouth.
Sean picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, placing her carefully on the bed. He pulled her shirt off over her head, taking care not to catch it on her splint. She started to help him, but he brushed her hands aside. “Let me do it.”
He undressed her slowly, kissing each strip of her flesh as he bared it. Lingering over her until she writhed. He pushed one finger inside her, then two, his thumb playing with her as he did. She tightened around his fingers, cried out when he shot her to orgasm.
Honey opened her eyes and looked at him. “Why are you still dressed?” Her voice was husky, a little breathless.
“I was busy watching you come.”
She flushed, and he laughed softly. He stood and unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it on the floor. His jeans and boxers came next, then he was naked. And hard. And so ready for her. She lay spread out on his bed, naked, except for the splint on her arm. Her hair a dark cloud streaming across the pillows, flowing over one shoulder and breast. He knew he’d never seen anyone as beautiful as Honey. “You look amazingly sexy.”
He made love to her slowly, thoroughly, holding himself back until he wanted to be inside her more than he wanted his next breath. He rolled aside, covered himself, then entered her, inch by inch, until he was seated deep inside her. Her back arched, her hips rose, and she took him even deeper, meeting him thrust for thrust. He kept his eyes on her, feeling her pulse around him at the same time her eyes went blind and she cried out. Seeing her like that, watching her orgasm overtake her, sent him crashing over the edge. He drove into her, over and over, until they were both breathless and on the verge. One last time he lunged into her and came, spilling himself inside her, feeling her nails digging into his back, her legs wrapped tightly around his hips, her body squeezing him, taking him deeper with every thrust.
Aware he was crushing her into the mattress, he rolled aside and wrapped her in his arms, then left her long enough to get rid of the condom and get back in bed. Her back to his front, he snuggled her against him, kissed the top of her head, and fell asleep.
*
The following night, Sean stayed with her at her apartment. Honey couldn’t sleep. She was restless, sick and tired of not being able to do the things she wanted to do. The things she needed to do, like get the hell out of Marietta. She spent almost every night with Sean, in her bed or his. She was afraid he was getting serious. Hell, she was afraid she was. She couldn’t get what had happened the night before out of her mind. When he’d asked her if she wanted what he did with his time to be her business, she had known what he meant. But she’d pretended not to because that was a conversation they did not need to have.
She couldn’t afford to be serious. Not about Sean. He was as tied to Marietta as she was. His family was here, his practice was here. He’d lived other places and now he was back in Marietta to stay. And while she couldn’t leave, she couldn’t stay either. She was caught in a no-man’s land between what she wanted and reality.
Realizing sleep was hopeless, she got up and went into her living room. Her purse supplies, most of them, anyway, were still on the dining table. She flexed her fingers in the splint. Stiff but not terribly painful. She should be able to work on a purse.
Right before she got hurt, she’d had an idea for a new bag. A tote that she’d started on but stopped because she couldn’t find the particular set of blue costume jewelry she thought would work perfectly. She dug through the compartmented toolboxes for at least the fifth time, knowing she wouldn’t find them there.
And then, it hit her. She’d put them aside where they wouldn’t get lost or used until she made the perfect bag for them. There were three places they might be. In the top of her hall closet, the top of her kitchen pantry or the top of her bedroom closet. Since Sean was asleep, she left the bedroom closet for last.
Pantry first, she decided. Dragging out the step stool, she climbed up on it and peered at the top shelf. Needing a flashlight, she climbed down and found one. After climbing back up, she shined the light into the cabinet. Kitchen utensils she never used and had forgotten she had. But no box full of costume jewelry.
She repeated the process in her hall closet. It was a tiny closet that she used for coats and storage. It held a mishmash of stuff, everything from picture albums, to board games, to sports equipment she rarely used, like a baseball bat. And toward the very top of a pile of boxes, she saw the one she wanted. If she stood on her toes and stretched, she might be able to reach it. It crossed her mind to ask Sean to help, since she knew he could easily reach it, but she hated to wake him up in the middle of the night. There was only one thing worth waking up for in the middle of the night and helping her get a box down was definitely not it.
She managed to get her fingers on it and start inching it out. It took forever to work it to the edge. Forgetting her bum hand, she tried to grab the tower of boxes with both hands, lost her balance and fell off the stool, with the entire contents of the closet shelf raining down on her with a loud crash.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit, that hurt. Honey rolled around amidst the mess, clutching her bad arm and cursing herself for being an idiot, hoping she hadn’t re-broken her stupid wrist.
“What the hell?” Sean knelt down beside her. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
Busy trying not to cry, she couldn’t answer him.
He sat, pulling her into his lap. “Is it your wrist?”
She nodded miserably, gritting her teeth against the pain.
“Did you fall on it?”
“I don’t know. It hurts.” Understatement. “I’m okay. Help me stand up.”
Ignoring her, he stood up with her in his arms and took her to the couch. Then he sat beside her and asked, “Can I look at your wrist?”
Still clutching her arm, she didn’t want to let go. Reluctantly, she let him gently remove the splint and look at her wrist.
“Well, you didn’t do anything obvious to it, but we need an x-ray.”
And then they’d tell her it was broken again and the shit would hit the fan, and she’d have to have an operation and then she couldn’t ride for—
Sean interrupted her slightly hysterical thoughts. “It’s probably nothing, but we should check it out. Stay there,” he said, getting up. “I’ll be back with some clothes.”
“Are we going to the ER?”
“No. I’m calling Wyatt.”
“Don’t do that. I feel stupid enough already,” she said, but he’d already gone into the bedroom.
When he came out a few minutes later, he was dressed and had gathered some clothes for her. Sweatpants and a zip-up top. “I need my bra.”
“Why?”
“I’m not going to the hospital without a bra.”
“We’re going to Wyatt’s office, not the hospital.”
“I want my—Never mind, I’ll go get it.” She stood up, took one step, and almost fell to the floor. “Shit!”
Sean was at her side immediately, supporting her. “You must have twisted your ankle when you fell. Sit back down. I’ll get you a bra.”
Her wrist and her ankle. The way her luck was running, she’d probably broken the damn thing.
Half an hour later, she sat in an exam room in Wyatt’s office waiting for him to use
the portable x-ray machine. “I really appreciate this,” she told him. “I told Sean I was fine but he wouldn’t listen. I’m so sorry he called you. We could have at least waited until tomorrow.”
Although it was Sean’s fault, she felt more than a little guilty, dragging Wyatt there in the middle of the night. Wyatt didn’t look like her orthopedist right now. He wore jeans and a T-shirt, and he hadn’t combed his hair. Stubble looked good on him. But hell, he was a Gallagher. All of them looked good. Thinking about her conversation with Carol Bingley, she almost giggled. Sure, they were all hot, but Sean was the man for her.
Oh, crap. I have to stop thinking this way.
“It’s not a problem, Honey. I don’t mind. Besides,” he looked at her with a grin, “Sean wasn’t about to wait until morning. Now let’s have a look at my handiwork.”
He took off the splint and examined her wrist, having her move it around and asking if various movements hurt. “I don’t think you’ve done any major harm to it, but I want an x-ray. It’s almost time for your next one anyway. Let’s go to the x-ray room.”
Honey looked down at the floor doubtfully.
“That’s right. Sean said you hurt your ankle as well. Are you able to walk?”
“I twisted it. It’s fine, really.” Walking was optimistic, but she could limp with help.
“Let me look at it and see if I think you need an x-ray.”
Her ankle was swollen and hurt nearly as much as her arm, but she didn’t think it was broken. Wyatt examined it, and she could tell by his expression what he would say. “It’s most likely a sprain but since you’re here, I want to get an x-ray just to be certain there’s nothing else going on.”
He opened the door and called to Sean. “Can you help Honey into the x-ray room?”
Sean came in but instead of helping her down, he simply picked her up off the exam table and carried her into the next room.
“I can walk, you know.”
“You can hobble. This is easier.” He set her on the x-ray table and started to leave. Wyatt was busy getting ready, pulling out film plates and doing something with the machine.
