Ask Me Why

by Marie Force

  One arm went around her as they tumbled to the packed dirt outside the chute. Lizzie lay very still on her stomach, slowly breathing in the air she had thought she’d never live to take.

  When she looked at the man crumbled beside her, she smiled. “Hi, cousin.”

  “Are you all right?” Rick stood slowly as if testing for broken bones. “You almost frightened me to death. I saw you running from the pickup, but I couldn’t catch you. When you disappeared into that chute, I knew there was going to be trouble the minute the men started herding stock in behind you.”

  She took his offered help and stood. “Thanks for the hand up,” she said, guessing they both knew Rick had just saved her life.

  He dusted off. “Anytime. The world would be a much darker place without you around.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  Rick put his arm around her. “Come on, Lizzie, the sheriff wants to talk to you.”

  “You told her about the shooting?”

  “Not me. Everybody knows Alex has radio waves instead of brain waves. She knows everything going on in this town.”

  They stepped into the now-empty arena before McCall caught up to them. He’d been in the barn and heard the cattle being moved but never dreamed Lizzie was in danger. She tried to explain everything to him, and then she had to explain it all to Alex. Everyone started asking questions at once. Did she hear anything before the gate opened? Did she see anyone?

  When McCall circled her waist to offer comfort and felt blood coming from her side, he ordered everyone to stop talking. He lifted her and carried her to his pickup.

  “If you all have any more questions, you can find us at the hospital,” McCall said simply.

  No one argued.

  While he drove, Lizzie pressed close to him. After he shifted gears, he put his hand across her legs. “We’re going to the hospital, Elizabeth, and this time I won’t listen to any argument.”

  She didn’t care. She was hurting all over. “I’m sorry about your bag. I had to toss it over. I’m sorry about your shirt. I’ll try to get the blood out when . . .”

  “I don’t care about the bag or the shirt,” he snapped. “All I care about is you.”

  Tears cleaned two streaks down her face.

  She didn’t want him to say anything more. If he did, she’d lose what little control she had left. Later when she was cleaned up and patched up and more in control, she’d ask him to say the words again. All I care about is you. No one had ever said those words to her.

  In only minutes, he lifted her out of the pickup and carried her into the hospital. Emergency room staff came running to help. Apparently the sheriff had called in to alert them.

  When he stepped back a few feet to give them room to work, McCall announced he wasn’t leaving. No one bothered to argue with the vet. They just walked around the tree of a man like he’d been planted there all his life.

  Lizzie drifted off. The pain dulled, and it almost felt as if someone kept tickling her side, trying to keep her awake. The air around her smelled of cleaning materials, and the lights above her kept growing too bright, then too dim.

  When she awoke, she felt no pain, and the sheriff had replaced the doc at the foot of her bed. “Where’s McCall?” Lizzie whispered.

  “He’s gone to clean up. He told me not to leave your side until he got back.” Alex smiled and brushed her service weapon. “I don’t think he would have left you in my care if I weren’t armed.”

  “I’m all right.” Lizzie tried to make her voice stronger. “I just pulled a few of the butterfly stitches loose.”

  The sheriff stepped closer. “Lizzie, I don’t know if you’re clear enough to understand, but the fall did do some damage to that injured side, only that’s not why I’m here. You’ll heal, but you’re not out of danger. We think the gate being opened and the bulls being driven in after you was not an accident. We believe it was an attempt on your life, just like the shot was Sunday night.”

  Lizzie started to ask why anyone would want to kill her. She didn’t matter to anyone. But that wasn’t true.

  She mattered to McCall.

  Closing her eyes, she tried to make sense of what the sheriff was trying to tell her, but sleep claimed her before her brain could clear enough to think. When she woke some time later, McCall was standing at the foot of the bed.

  “I want to go back to your place,” she whispered with a smile. “We’re missing the Western.”

  He grinned. “They’re keeping you here tonight, partner. Mind if I spend the night with you?” He nodded toward a recliner beside her bed. “When I refused to leave while you were sleeping, one of the staff brought that in.”

  “The sheriff said”—she couldn’t finish. Maybe it wasn’t true. Maybe she’d dreamed that the sheriff thought someone was trying to kill her.

  “I know what the sheriff said.” He moved his hand gently along her arm. “Rick filled me in.”

  “If it’s true, you’d be safer if you left.”

  McCall shook his head. “I’m not leaving this hospital until you’re with me.”

  Some men might have said more, but for Lizzie, he’d said enough.

  EIGHT

  RICK AND TRACE stood just outside Lizzie’s hospital room, listening to Lizzie and her vet talking quietly.

  Rick felt like he’d run a marathon. First, trying to find his cousin in the tunnel of boards she’d disappeared into at the rodeo arena. And then flying down the road to the hospital behind an old pickup he couldn’t seem to catch up to, even in his sports car. Trace had been right beside him all the way, telling him to hurry. Telling him how to drive.

  He tried to relax now that all was quiet. His cousin was safe. They all were safe. He glanced in at the big vet standing close to his cousin’s bed. “I think those two may be falling in love,” Rick whispered to himself.

  “Sounds sappy.” Trace folded her arms when Rick offered to hold her hand. “Don’t get all mushy on me, Matheson.”

  Rick raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you believe in love?”

  She shook her head. “Lust maybe, but not love.”

  “You think that’s all it is between us? Lust? Animal attraction? Nothing more?”

  “Probably.” She rolled against the wall and bumped her shoulder with his. “Sparks fly. That’s all. That’s enough. What else do people like us need?”

  Rick thought about telling her that he felt used, but if he did, she might stop. Either way he figured he was heading for a heart attack. “It’s not that way with me, Trace. It’s more. It’s deeper. I need you around, not just your body. I need you.”

  She looked like she didn’t believe him. “So you’d still be attracted to me if we didn’t have sex?”

  “Of course.” Why else was he thinking of her every waking hour? Why else would he hope every phone call was Trace? Hell, sometimes he half-wished trouble would come back to Harmony just so she would drop in to check on him.

  The elevator door opened, and the deputy assigned to Lizzie’s room for the night walked out. He had a stack of newspapers, a cup of coffee, and a folding chair. “I’m here, folks. You can go home now.” When they both frowned, he added, “I won’t leave this door, I swear.”

  Rick and Trace walked to the elevator in silence. She stepped in and pushed the button for the first floor. They stood inches apart as the door closed, then she turned toward him. “I say you’re wrong, Matheson. If we’re not all about sex, then prove it. Let’s go back to your place and sleep, just sleep. No touching, no playing around.”

  He smiled. “You know you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

  “I can. You’ll be the one to break, proving my point. I’m betting you crack before midnight.”

  As they walked to the car he glanced at the tower clock. “One hour, I can make that.” All day they’d had the attempt on Lizzie’s life to talk about, but now she was safe. “All right, I’ll take your bet, but no teasing. No d
irty talk. No touching me in foreplay.”

  “Foreplay. I didn’t think you knew what that was, counselor.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “All right, I agree. No talking sex, no foreplay, no touching.” She waited until they climbed in his car before adding, “So what do we do?”

  “We talk.”

  “About what? My work? Your work? I don’t have a family, and I’ve already met more of yours than I want to know.”

  “We talk about stuff. Like hobbies and dreams and our childhood.” Rick tried to think of something, anything.

  “I don’t have hobbies, and my dreams are usually about you and involve sex, and that subject is off the table.” She stretched.

  He forced his eyes on the road. All Trace had to do was breathe and he was turned on. If he didn’t concentrate, he’d never make the hour. “Okay, tell me about your childhood, Marshal.” When she was silent, he started talking about every dumb, crazy, wild thing he did from kindergarten to sixth grade. If he went any older, they’d be talking about his adolescent dreams and every stupid thing he said to a girl.

  He kept the conversation going until they were inside his apartment. With great care he managed to keep several feet between them. He offered her one of his old football jerseys to sleep in and tried not to fixate on how great she looked in it. She took a shower while he made sandwiches, and she cleaned up while he showered. He offered her his bed and he unrolled the sleeping bag in his empty living room. He set up tables between him and where she was sitting on a huge pillow.

  Trace couldn’t be still. Finally she stood and paced in front of the windows. He wasn’t surprised that she went over every detail, every fact of Lizzie’s case. Rick could follow the way her mind worked and knew that was the secret of her success in solving crimes.

  When she disappeared with a crisp “Good-night,” he stared out the window. Eleven forty-five. He’d almost made it. He wasn’t even sure he’d made sense while they were talking, but he’d kept his hands off her. He’d proved that there was more to them than just sex. Lying back on his bedroll, he thought over every clue she’d lined up. Somewhere they’d missed something. He could feel it and she’d felt it, too. Tomorrow they’d both be up early, tracking down every detail, talking to Lizzie, walking the rodeo grounds, talking to anyone who might have seen anything they’d missed.

  But tonight he needed sleep if he was ever going to stay awake tomorrow. Only sleep didn’t come easy with Trace a room away in his bed.

  Smiling, he realized he’d managed to learn a few facts about her while they talked. She loved to read and admitted she’d like to write mysteries someday. She’d also told him she loved rainy nights and sunrises.

  For a while he watched the clock with every cell in his body wanting to run to her. He had no idea how it had happened, but he knew he loved her, and if not touching her was the only way to prove it, he would torture them both.

  Finally the tower clock began to strike midnight. One, two, three.

  “I love you, Trace,” he whispered, forcing the words out. Maybe he didn’t know her favorite color or where she went on vacation as a child, but he knew her down deep to her soul. He knew what mattered to her and what drove her. He knew the good in her, and the fairness and the need she had to set things right. “I love you,” he whispered again a little louder.

  The clock chimed. Four, five, six.

  “I know,” she answered.

  He turned and saw her in the doorway. For a moment he just stared, letting her beauty wash over him.

  Seven, eight, nine.

  Slowly, he lifted the blanket. “Come to bed,” he said as calmly as if they’d slept together for years.

  Ten, eleven, twelve. He’d made it to midnight.

  Her face was in shadows, but he saw her hands were balled and her body turned soldier-straight.

  “Time won’t change a thing, Trace. Whether I touch you or make love to you or stay a room away forever, I’ll still love you. I love the you who worries about people. I love the way you don’t buy into any of my bull. I love the way you smile at me when you think I’m not looking. I love all of you—the soft curves, the hard edges. I love you.”

  She jerked a quick nod and ran to him across the empty room.

  When she crawled in beside him, a cry slipped from her. Pulling her close, he cupped her face and felt the tears, though he hadn’t heard her crying. He kissed her gently and whispered, “Say the words.”

  To his surprise, his Trace answered simply, “I love you, too.”

  As the midnight hour passed, their loving grew far deeper than either of them ever dreamed it could be. A silent promise of forever blended with passion and need.

  When the night grew silent, he held her as she slept and he whispered, “Now we’ve got the loving part settled, we’ll talk about the marrying part tomorrow.”

  NINE

  COTTON-CANDY-PINK LIGHT SPREAD across her hospital room as the sun rose, waking Lizzie. Every part of her body ached from the fall she’d taken, but surprisingly her side no longer hurt. It felt as if someone were tickling her again where she’d been shot, which made her smile. A wound shouldn’t tickle, must be the pain medicine.

  McCall looked sound asleep in the recliner next to her bed. A nurse had covered him with a blanket during the night, but his worn boots were still on his feet and sticking out as if blocking anyone trying to get close to her. The low rumble of his snoring whispered through the silent room.

  The doctor from the emergency room the night before walked in. “Morning, Lizzie. How did you sleep?” Dr. Turner looked exhausted. Her white coat was wrinkled and tiny brown curls had escaped from her tight bun.

  “I’m fine, but you look tired.”

  “All I need is sleep. You’re my last stop before heading home.” The very proper doctor looked at the big man sleeping in the recliner. “This yours? You do know we don’t allow bears in the hospital.”

  Lizzie laughed. “He’s not mine, but last night I dreamed I was hibernating in a cave, all cuddled up with one of the bears. It was delightful.”

  Both women giggled as Dr. Turner moved to Lizzie’s side and began examining her stitches. When she turned on the light the snoring stopped, but the bear of a man looked to be still asleep.

  “If he wakes, he’ll have to leave,” she said.

  Lizzie shook her head. “He says he’s staying. Besides, he’s already seen my stitches.” When she looked over at McCall, his sleepy brown eyes were staring back at her, but he didn’t move. She saw something she’d never seen in a man’s eyes before, caring.

  “You’re fine. No sign of infection.” Dr. Turner closed the chart. “But this time go home and take it easy for a few days. No running with the bulls. Stay in bed or on the couch and have one of your cousins deliver meals.”

  Lizzie nodded. “I promise. Aunt Fat has already called and plans to bring over a few meals if the road to my house isn’t too muddy.”

  Dr. Turner turned out the overhead light. “Try to get some sleep. It’ll be another two hours before they get around to checking you out of here.”

  Lizzie waited for her to leave, then tiptoed over to the recliner. On the way, she noticed the vet’s old sweater and put it on to cover the gap in her hospital gown. It felt grand and almost went to her knees. “McCall.” She poked his shoulder. “I want to sleep in the cave with my bear. Would you mind?”

  He opened his arms and she slowly moved into the chair with him. To her surprise, he kissed the top of her head. “I shouldn’t have taken you with me yesterday. I shouldn’t have believed you when you said all was fine. I shouldn’t have . . .”

  She rubbed the rough line of his jaw, wondering why all the single women in town didn’t see how handsome he was. “If you ask me, you did everything right yesterday. You made me laugh all day, and you worried about me the minute you thought I was hurt.”

  When he would have argued, she touched his lips, surprised at how soft they were next to his
whiskers. “Shhhh, bear. I just want to sleep inside my perfect dream for a while.”

  He held her a bit tighter and didn’t say another word.

  Two hours later when they left the hospital, he still wasn’t talking, but his gentle touch never left her. He loaded her in his old pickup and drove to the clinic, then carried her through the mud to her house. The rain of the night before had left her dirt road a river. After she changed into clean pajamas and put his old sweater back on as her robe, she found him in her kitchen cooking breakfast.

  “I thought you’d be gone. I know you’ve got a full day of work waiting.” She’d seen his calendar yesterday and knew he was already late for his first call.

  “You want me to go?” he asked without looking up.

  “No.” The one word was the most honest thing she’d ever said.

  He glanced at her then and smiled. “You planning to give me back that sweater?”

  “I’m thinking no.”

  “I’m thinking I like looking at you wearing it.”

  She moved a foot closer. “It makes me feel like you’re hugging me, even when you’re not around.”

  “Then that’s a reason to keep it, partner. If you’re up for it, I think we’d better talk. I got some things I have to say, and I might as well say them before you change your mind and push me out the door.” His words sounded rehearsed, as if he’d been waiting for a chance to say them.

  Lizzie sat at the little kitchen table and waited. He put a plate of burned eggs and bacon on the table, folded into the extra chair, then stood up to get the toast. He sat down again, bounced up to get the jelly. Before he finished spreading jelly, he started to jump up again.

  She put her hand on his shoulder. “Stop.”

  “But I forgot the napkins.” He looked like a man solving world peace, not setting the table.