“I’m not sure. The appointment is at nine, and I haven’t mapped it out yet. I thought I’d talk to you about it, figure out what time I need to leave to get there in plenty of time.” She raised an eyebrow in question.
Had she planned this whole thing out? Why was she so interested in having him come along? He couldn’t fathom a good reason and didn’t have the brain power left to think it through at the moment. He focused instead on his experience with the doctor visits. “You should leave here half an hour early, which means you should start heading toward the door at least forty-five minutes early. It’s about fifteen minutes down the road, in Bush, and they’ll have an orderly to help get him inside.”
Bill grunted. “I hate that damn wheelchair.”
“It’s more for their protection than yours,” Tara told him, patting him on the shoulder. “See, if someone bumps into you because they’re in a hurry, and you fall down and get injured, the hospital is liable for your injury. They would rather not have a lawsuit on their hands and pay out millions of dollars.”
He waved a hand in the air, dismissing it in anger. “I got no use for a bunch of money. I’d just like to hold on to what pride I’ve got left.”
“Well, maybe you should think of it as letting the hospital maintain its pride,” Dylan snorted.
Tara laughed, the sound pleasant as it rippled through the air like bells and rolled down his spine. He wanted to make her laugh more often. “That’s a perfect way to look at it, Bill. Now, stop arguing. I told you, now that your blood pressure is doing a lot better, I don’t want you getting all worked up about something so marginal. Save it for a battle you really want to fight.”
Bill’s scowl deepened, making it obvious he didn’t like the advice, but he nodded and took a deep breath, trying to do as he’d been told. Dylan was impressed with the effect she had on the old man. Bill had never been one to back down to anyone, but she could push his buttons without repercussions and steer him without having to jerk the wheel back and forth.
“Well, that’s settled, I suppose,” Dylan said, releasing a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “I guess I’ll be here around eight to make sure I’m not holding you up.”
“Sounds good,” she said with a broad grin. “Are you sure you can afford the time?”
No, he couldn’t. It would eat half his day at the very least, and he’d finally planned to start working with Noah to break that damn stallion. “It’s not a problem at all,” he said, kicking himself the whole time. Why couldn’t he just back off?
“Go home, Dylan,” Bill said, shoving at him with no real force. “You look tired, and it’s making me tired. I’d like to watch some TV while I can hold my eyes open, and you’re distracting me.”
With laughter and a nod, he said goodnight, nodding to Tara as he left with what he hoped came off as a grateful expression. He couldn’t thank her enough for how happy and well-adjusted Bill seemed to be now that she was around.
8
“I thought only southern women and country women could fry chicken,” Dylan said as he helped put leftovers in containers. Tara was busy rinsing dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. She’d insisted he stay for dinner when he came in to tell Bill he’d see them in the morning. He’d looked lonely, tired, and starved, and the caregiver in her couldn’t let him leave like that.
Now, she looked over her shoulder at him to see the taunting grin on his face. Shaking her head, she countered, “And I thought cowboys only ate steak and potatoes.”
He snorted. “That’s when we have to fend for ourselves.”
She hid a smile. “Fair enough. My mother grew up in Texas and Louisiana. I learned how to cook a lot of southern and country dishes.” This was probably one of the more revealing conversations they’d had, and she tried to tread lightly, not wanting to do anything to damage the apparent trust they’d somehow managed to build that allowed them to open up to each other. “Were your parents always ranchers? I mean, how far back does the trade go?”
He hesitated, and she stopped what she was doing, turning to watch several emotions play across his face. What was that about? Did he not like talking about his parents? Finally, he said, “My mother’s family goes back several generations in farming and ranching. She grew up in New Mexico on a ranch her great-grandfather built. My father was a salesman from Albuquerque who met her at a stock show and fell in love. He learned the trade for her, and my grandfather liked my dad so much he loaned them the money to build a house and put up the money for the land I own as their wedding present. So, I’ve got family going back both directions.”
Finding that interesting, she asked, “Did you ever consider being something else? I mean, there are kids who have doctors for parents and grow up wanting to be doctors, but others want to be anything but a doctor.”
He shrugged. “I never really thought about it. I’ve been working on the ranch since I was eight and nine. It’s just a lifestyle, and I don’t know if I’m cut out for anything else. Can you picture me sitting in an office, or working at a bank teller window?”
She giggled. “No, I really can’t. That’s just … not you.” He sat at the table, and without thinking, she crept over and joined him. “So are your parents retired from the ranch life? Do they still live around here?” She wondered if his parents were no longer living. It seemed clear that they weren’t a part of his daily life, for whatever reason.
He took a deep breath and she feared she had pried too much, but he continued without looking away. “They died when I was seventeen. Car crash.”
Tara started to reach forward to take his hand and thought better of it. “I’m so sorry,” she said simply.
He shrugged. “Bill is the reason I was able to stay on the land and take care of it myself without having to go live with someone, since I was technically still a minor. He agreed to be my guardian.”
She nodded, understanding now the true bond that connected Dylan and Bill. “That sounds like the Bill I’ve come to know.”
“What about your parents? Were they an inspiration for you?” he asked.
“Not really,” she admitted ruefully but with a smile. She always talked about her family in an objective way, like an outsider looking in, to keep from getting too emotional. “My parents weren’t the greatest example. My father wasn’t around a whole lot. He went from job to job, couldn’t keep one longer than a year or so. And when he made money, he mostly drank it up, so my mother worked more than one job at a time, working her fingers to the bones. And since she was working so much, she wasn’t around much either. I kind of had to fend for myself most of the time. I stayed with friends a lot or neighbors until I was old enough to be by myself.” She paused and laughed to herself, her eyes unfocused. “Actually, it’s surprising I didn’t turn out to really be a troublemaker. I could have pretty much done anything I wanted with no adult supervision. Somehow, that just made me super responsible instead. I was a whole family of three all in one person: kid, mom, and dad.” She looked up, just then remembering she was telling this story to Dylan.
“Anyway, both of them got sick at a young age, my dad because of liver failure, my mom of cancer. They were sick pretty much around the same time and had to go to hospice for care. I had just graduated from high school and had started college on a ton of grants and loans when they went to the hospice center. I thought I wanted to be an engineer, but then I watched the nurses there and wanted to do what they did, helping people through the last of their fatal diseases in a positive way. But I wanted to do it better, so I dropped out of college and went to nursing school. That was despite my parents and because of my parents, who inadvertently made me realize that it could happen to anyone. Anyone could need specialized care, and everyone deserved the best healthcare, regardless of whether or not they are good people.”
She sounded incredibly altruistic, far beyond her actual disposition on the topic, and it made her snort. “Okay, I’m making it sound like I put myself up there like some martyr on
the level with saints. I don’t. I’m just passionate about my beliefs.”
His gaze out from under his hat was piercing, but it was also warm and adoring in some way Tara couldn’t pinpoint. “Being altruistic isn’t such a bad thing, you know,” he said in a low tone.
His eyes were warm and kind, and there was something in them she couldn’t quite place. Still, she knew she wouldn’t mind having someone look at her like that every day for the rest of her life. It set her blood boiling as it coursed through her body, and she had to shake it off. “Thank you,” she said, not knowing how else to respond. She broke the spell by looking away and took a moment to breathe rhythmically. The situation suddenly seemed very intimate, and that put her in an awkward place. She was getting too emotional about this particular job, something she’d sworn against. She’d managed to stick to her guns on it up until now, but she really liked Bill, and Dylan added an element to the situation that made it impossible to not be personally involved.
“I guess I’ll head home now,” he said, and a wave of disappointment crashed over her. “I’ll be here by eight, and we’ll get on down the road.” But he didn’t move toward the door, and his expression changed. “What’s the best we can hope to hear tomorrow?” he asked in a hushed tone, glancing toward the couch where Bill was dozing to make sure he didn’t hear.
She sighed. She had to be realistic here, but she didn’t want to ruin the happy evening they had all enjoyed. “From the files I saw, we aren’t looking for a miracle. But it’s entirely possible the doctor could find that none of the cancer has spread or grown, which would be excellent. It’s not going into remission, but it means the cancer is less progressive, and the timeline gets extended by weeks or even a year, maybe.”
Dylan glanced toward Bill again and then back at her. “He’s been doing so much better since you got here. Is that really just about diet and rest?”
She didn’t answer right away. Then, she told him, “Mostly. But I also try to encourage all my patients to do what they can for themselves. It gives them pride and a sense of purpose, which comes back to reason to live. Plus, it’s been proven that happy people are healthier people. I’m charged with the physical care of my patients, but I do everything I can to address the mental and emotional aspects as well.”
Before she knew what was happening, he reached out and took her hand in his, squeezing it and rubbing his thumb in a caress over the back. She gazed up at him in shock, her lips slightly parted at his nearness and the warmth of his tender touch, and he told her with a vehement sincerity, “Thank you. For everything you’re doing. I don’t care if you’re giving him back massages every day, making him grow his own garden, or pouring meds down his throat. I haven’t seen him this happy or adjusted since he got sick, and whether he tells you how much he appreciates it or not, it’s not lost on me.”
Tara had accepted a lot of gratitude in the past. Families didn’t always like having to turn over the care of their relatives to someone else, but they were usually too busy to take it on themselves. In this case, though, Dylan wasn’t even family, and he was still doing so much she wasn’t sure she deserved the praise. But she welcomed it, basked in it, and wished for more. It was wrong and disturbing, but she didn’t care. She was a woman, and there were times when her body reacted in a way that reminded her of it.
She took a small step toward him, the distance between them almost nothing, and held her breath, knowing what she was asking without saying a word and hoping she wasn’t reading the situation wrong. She didn’t want to overstep her bounds, but she couldn’t resist the gravitational pull of his sudden emotion and intensity.
He lowered his head, and she tipped her face up toward him, eager to taste his lips. She wished he would stop hesitating and just close the distance, and she pushed up on her toes to urge him along.
A loud, long wheeze made Tara jump, and she pulled away as Dylan instantly dropped her hand and jerked his head around to see what was happening. Bill had tilted from his sitting position, and he didn’t seem to be getting a deep enough breath. She rushed to him, rolling him back so he was leaned against the back of the couch in an upright position once again.
He hadn’t woken up, and that was good, but she still checked his vitals while Dylan propped pillows around him to keep him from falling again. Her heart racing between the interrupted kiss and an unexpected incident with Bill, she was a bit overwhelmed. She knew that if Dylan hadn’t been here, she might not have been surprised by Bill’s issue. But all she could think was that she was glad she wasn’t alone.
“Does that happen very often?” Dylan asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
She shook her head. “No, but we have started propping him up more in bed so that his air passages stay open better. I can’t believe I didn’t get the pillows around him like I should have.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, shaking his head and looking at her like she was being hard on herself for no reason. She didn’t make mistakes, though, and she’d let herself get distracted for too long, which had led to something that could have been serious. He added, “You’ve been going nonstop since you got here. Aren’t you supposed to get some time off or something?”
She was, but she didn’t treat her job like that. It became a lifestyle for her, so that she could take a few moments here and there to read a book or soak in the tub. She didn’t like leaving her patients unattended for long periods of time, and this moment was a case in point as to why she felt that way. She countered, “Aren’t you supposed to take time off now and then?”
He gave her a long-suffering look. “There’s a difference.”
“No, there isn’t,” she insisted. He wasn’t going to get away with this, dismissing her oversight because she worked all the time and then claiming she should take a break when he refused to take one. “The only time you aren’t out there, sweating your ass off is when you’re in here, chumming it up with Bill or helping me with a job that at least I’m getting paid to do. That’s unhealthy. At least I steal a few minutes every day, just to sit and smell the air outside.” She’d never appreciated the smell of nature before, mostly because all you got in the city was the odor of traffic and construction, blended with a lack of sanitation.
“What makes you think I don’t relax when I go home at night?” he challenged, but she could read the deception in his eye and voice.
Putting her hands on her hips, she argued, “You leave so late you probably crash as soon as you get there. And I know you’re up before the ass crack of dawn in the morning because I’ve heard you say it. Since you’re always here by lunch, I know you aren’t reclining with a cup of coffee all morning.” She stepped close to him again, truly concerned at the weariness in his expression. “You’re running yourself into the ground, Dylan, and you’ve got to slow down before you work yourself into an early grave.”
He crossed his arms, no longer playful. “Are you ready to play nurse with me now?”
“That’s the last thing I want to do,” she told him, though if roleplaying was what it took to get him into bed, she wasn’t sure she would decline. She was more attracted to him than ever in this moment, with the discussion heated and his body tense as he went on the defensive. “But you need someone to look after your health if you won’t.”
He smirked, but there was a certain amount of fire in those mossy eyes of his. “And what do you recommend I do? I can’t exactly shirk all the responsibilities I’ve taken on and go sit on some tropical beach in the Caribbean.”
“Stay here tonight.” The words were out of her mouth before she thought about how it sounded, and she blushed instantly, especially as she noticed the change in his countenance. The air was tense and heavy, and even though she hadn’t meant it the way it sounded, she couldn’t help getting a little aroused as she considered the possibility. Trying to correct the misunderstanding before anyone spoke it aloud, she told him, “Listen, you’ll just end up going home and either working or passing out,
and you’re coming back first thing in the morning. Give yourself a real break. Let’s watch a movie, and then you can get to bed early here. You’ll get to sleep in a little, and you’ve got stuff here still that you can use to clean up and dress in the morning.”
It all sounded perfectly reasonable, and she couldn’t find any holes for him to slip through. But that didn’t keep him from thinking about it. Finally, though, she watched his fight die, and she held her breath to keep from celebrating out loud with her victory. “If you’re sure it’s not an inconvenience, I guess I could stay.”
“How would it be an inconvenience?” she chuckled. “It’s not like I have to take care of you like some small child or anything. Besides, I’ll feel like I have a good excuse to take it a little easy on myself tonight. I have company here, and even if you’re not here to visit me, I can always pretend.”
She started to turn around and go finish up the kitchen so she could relax, but he stepped in front of her, blocking her bodily. She gazed up at him again, her chest clenching as she wondered what he was doing, but the dimple in his cheek and the twinkle in his eyes eased her concern. “I can talk to Bill anytime, and he happens to be asleep right now. If I’m not staying for you, maybe I should just go.” He quirked a brow, as if asking her to dispute his statement.
Feeling a tingle start at the tip of her nose, crawl over her head, and spread through her body, she nodded. “Okay, Dylan. I would really like it if you would stay with me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said in a politely taunting voice that made his eyes nearly glow with their own light beneath the deep shadow the brim of his hat cast over his face. He took her hand again, this time bringing it to his mouth and kissing her knuckles. It was such an intimate gesture, and now, she could tell he was trying to get a rise out of her. And he was succeeding.
She didn’t know what was worse, the almost kiss or the slow torture he was using to torment her now that he knew she was attracted to him. She slowly extracted her hand from his fingers and tipped her head down, getting shy. “I’m going to finish up with the dishes. Why don’t you see what’s on TV that might be good to watch, and we’ll sit down together in a minute.”
Cowboy Casanova (Wild At Heart Cowboys Book 3) Page 5
