Harlequin Superromance January 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: A Ranch for His FamilyCowgirl in High HeelsA Man to Believe In

by Hope Navarre

  Weariness crept into her bones. She closed her eyes to rest them. She must have fallen asleep, because she jerked awake sometime later when a hoarse voice whispered, “Where am I?”

  She sat up and brushed the hair out of her eyes. “Hey, cowboy. It’s about time you woke up.”

  “Me? You’re the one snoring.” His voice was weak, but she was so glad to hear it.

  She smiled softly. “How rude of me. Do you know where you are?”

  “A torture chamber?”

  “Close. A hospital in Kansas City. Would you like some water?”

  “Yes,” he croaked.

  She picked up a white Styrofoam cup from the bedside table and held the bent straw to his lips. He sipped slowly. When he turned his face away, she put the cup down. “How do you feel?”

  “Like the bull rode me for the full eight.” His voice was stronger when he answered her. His feeble joke triggered a new flood of relief. His doctors had been worried about possible brain damage.

  “I think you threw him before the whistle,” she answered.

  “Kent,” he said suddenly. “Kent Daley, is he okay? I saw the bull knock him down.”

  “He’s fine,” she assured him. “He was out cold for a few minutes, but that’s all. The outriders managed to keep the bull off of him.”

  Neal relaxed. “That’s good. He’s a decent guy.”

  “He’s been here twice to see you. He’s very grateful for what you did.”

  “He did the same for me.”

  Neal focused on her face for a long moment. She waited until the silence became unbearable. She knew what was coming. “What?”

  “How bad is it?” His voice wasn’t quite steady.

  Robyn bit her lip to stop its trembling. She searched for the courage to tell him the full extent of his injuries. She dreaded the news she was going to deliver. She thought for a second about going out and finding his doctor, but she decided against it. Neal wouldn’t want an outsider with him for this.

  His hand closed over hers, and he squeezed gently. “Come on, Tweety, give it to me straight. I know I can wiggle my toes, but it hurts to breathe, and my head’s on fire.”

  Her heart wrenched at his use of her childhood nickname. They had been friends long before they had become lovers, long before he broke her heart. He would need a friend now.

  In a calm voice, she began. “It’s bad, Neal. You have three broken ribs. One of them punctured your lung. You lost a lot of blood. Your face hurts because you also have a fractured cheekbone, a shattered eye socket and...” Her voice trailed away. She couldn’t do this.

  His grip on her hand tightened. “And?”

  “The bull hooked your face with his horn. The doctors couldn’t save your left eye.”

  “Oh, God, no!” His anguished cry tore at her heart.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  * * *

  NEAL KNEW HIS grip had to be crushing her small hand. It couldn’t be true. He didn’t want to believe her. The pain in his head intensified until he almost screamed.

  Forcing himself to let go of her, he raised a trembling hand to grope at the bandages on his face. His eye was gone. He was half-blind. He wanted to tear the dressings off and prove it wasn’t true.

  “Is that the worst of it?” he managed to ask.

  “Yes. You will have a scar on your face, but you’ll be able to get a prosthesis as soon as it’s healed.”

  “A glass eye, you mean?” Repugnance filled him. This was some kind of cruel joke. It couldn’t be happening.

  No, the real joke was that she was the one to see him like this.

  She leaned close and took his hand. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but your family and friends will be here for you. You will get through this.”

  The pain in his head grew along with his need to lash out. He jerked away from her. “You should leave now. It’s what you do best.”

  “I’m so sorry, Neal.”

  “I don’t want your pity! Leave me alone.”

  “Anger is a very normal reaction to such terrible news.”

  How could she be so calm about the worst moment in his life? It infuriated him. It wasn’t rational to blame her, but he couldn’t help himself. “Don’t tell me what’s normal. Just get out!”

  “Neal, please,” she pleaded.

  “Get out!” he shouted.

  The pain was making him sick. He didn’t want her to see him puke his guts up. He closed his eye and gritted his teeth. Cold beads of sweat broke out across his forehead as his stomach roiled.

  The room grew quiet. Had she gone?

  A feeling of panic swelled in him. He didn’t want her to go. He needed her. He had always needed her; he just didn’t know how much until she was gone.

  A hand touched his face and a cool cloth was laid on his brow. “Breathe through your mouth. Take slow, deep breaths,” she said.

  “I told you—”

  “Shut up. I’m a nurse, and you’ll do as I say. I have a basin here if you need it.”

  Damn her. She knew what he needed almost before he did.

  Did she know he needed to feel her lips against his? That he wanted to hold her in his arms? Did she know that he still lay awake at night missing her warmth next to him?

  No, she couldn’t know, and he’d be damned if he would tell her now. She had left him.

  He heard the door open as someone came into the room, but he couldn’t see who it was. The door was on his blind side.

  His blind side! Just thinking the words made him feel sicker. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a nightmare. Any second he would wake up.

  Robyn moved away and spoke quietly to someone. The door opened and closed again. He wanted to call her back. He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted her by his side. He raised his hand, groping for her.

  She moved back into his line of sight and his feeling of panic began to lessen. He heard the door again, and a woman’s voice said, “This will help.”

  A cold sensation snaked up his arm from the IV in the back of his hand. After a few minutes, the pain and nausea began to recede.

  Robyn held his other hand. “The nurse has given you something for the pain. Is that better?”

  “Yes,” he admitted weakly. He grew strangely weightless. The pain slipped away, leaving him weary. There was so much he wanted to say to Robyn, only he had no idea where to start.

  Her fingers caressed his face. “Sleep now. Your mother will be back soon.”

  “Don’t go.” He wanted her to stay. Foolish as he knew that wish was, he didn’t want her to go.

  “You’re going to be okay, Neal.”

  “I’m sorry I yelled at you.” He tried to hold on to the feeling of her hand touching his face, to the scent like spring flowers she always wore, but everything began to fade. He couldn’t sleep. He fought against the drug. “Tell me why,” he begged.

  “Why, what?”

  “Why you left me.”

  “Because you didn’t love me.”

  She was wrong, so wrong, but he couldn’t form the words to tell her as the darkness closed over him.

  The drugged sleep brought him no peace. Instead, it carried him into a world of foggy, half-formed nightmares where an enormous bull with bloody horns pursued him relentlessly. He awoke in near darkness with pain pounding in his head again and the taste of fear in his mouth.

  He turned to search for Robyn, craving the gentleness of her touch. His hopes soared for an instant until he recognized his mother asleep in the chair beside him.

  Robyn was gone. The pain he felt then had nothing to do with his injury. It was an old, familiar pain. One he knew he deserved.

  Raising his hand slowly, he touched the gauze bandage on
his face. He hadn’t dreamed this. His eye was gone. He would be scarred for life.

  Why him? What kind of life would he have as a one-eyed freak? A sudden thought sent a new chill of fear through him.

  What if he couldn’t ride again? What would he do? He couldn’t lose that. Not that.

  He was Neal Bryant, soon to be a world-champion bull rider. Not a runner-up. Not a loser. He’d given up everything to make it this far. Everything, including Robyn.

  His hands clenched into fists on the sheets. He would ride again. He had to.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “MOM, ARE YOU sure you want to go through with this?” Robyn sat behind the wheel of her battered green Ford pickup and struggled not to cry as she gazed at her mother’s face. Martha O’Connor was pale but composed as she buttoned the top button of her blue cotton blouse.

  She took a deep breath and nodded once. “I don’t want to do it, but I have to. I have no other choice. The ranch is too much for me to handle now that your dad is gone. There are too many decisions to make, too much work that needs doing. This is the only way.”

  “I could help more,” Robyn offered one last time. It didn’t seem right to sell the ranch that had been in their family for generations. Who would love it as much as her family had? Her great-great-grandparents had come from Ireland and settled in the green treeless hills so unlike their native land. They were hearty people. They had survived in spite of drought, prairie fires and floods and built a ranch to be proud of. She would make them proud by keeping her head up.

  Her mother said, “You can’t help more. You work five and six days a week as it is. If we move into town, you’ll be able to spend more time with Chance. You won’t be driving thirty miles twice a day to get to work and back. I should have put the place up for sale two years ago when we started losing money, but I thought— Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. This drought has finished us.”

  She turned pleading eyes toward Robyn. “You can make a decent living as a nurse. You don’t need to worry about outguessing the weather or gambling everything on the cattle market. You don’t need to watch your dreams wither and dry into dust. I want a stable, secure life for you and my grandson. Can you understand that?”

  “Are you doing this because you think Chance won’t be able to run the ranch?”

  “I’m doing this because I can’t run the ranch. This is my decision. You know it hasn’t been an easy one. To tell the truth, if we don’t sell now, we’ll lose the place anyway. I’ve borrowed as much as I can against it. If we spruce the place up and get top dollar for it, we can pay off the mortgage and afford the special schooling Chance will need.”

  “That will take a lot of sprucing, Mom.”

  “We’ll have to hire some help, but it can be done. I know how much you want to become a nurse practitioner. This might make that possible, or at least not as difficult. If the place brings what it is worth, you can go to school and I can have a comfortable retirement.”

  Robyn reached to grip her mother’s hand. “You deserve that. I understand, honest I do. Only, can’t I feel a little sad that my childhood home is going up for sale?”

  “Yes, of course you can. Just don’t start crying. If you do, I’ll never be able to go through with it.”

  “I won’t cry in front of you. I promise.”

  Her mother squeezed Robyn’s hand. “Good. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?”

  Martha stepped out of the truck. “I need to do this alone. I only hope your father would understand.”

  “Dad always put the family first, Mom. He’d understand. I’m sure of it. He would say it’s just a big piece of dirt. The people we love are what’s important.”

  “You’re right—bless you for that.” Martha closed the truck door, smoothed the front of her navy blue skirt and squared her shoulders. Then she crossed the street and walked into the Flint Hills Real Estate office with her head up.

  Robyn watched with a sinking heart as her mother entered the building. She had hoped the ranch would pass into the hands of her children one day. So much for another girlhood dream. They seemed to have all fallen by the wayside.

  She pushed her short dark curls off her forehead as a trickle of sweat slipped down her temple in the rising, late-June heat. The trouble with letting go of the dreams she’d once cherished was finding something to replace them.

  A white sedan pulled up to the curb two spaces down from her truck in front of the drugstore. She recognized Ellie Bryant’s car and watched Neal swing his long legs out of the passenger side. Fighting down the compulsion to rush over and help him, she studied him closely.

  Weeks had passed since the accident, but he still moved stiffly. His mother came around beside him. He pointedly ignored her offered hand. Robyn was glad she hadn’t jumped out to help.

  As he stood beside the car, she saw he was still pale beneath his tan, but his color was better than the last time she’d seen him. The bandages were gone, and she got her first look at the scar he would bear for the rest of his life. A crooked red line ran up from the center of his left cheek and disappeared beneath the black eye patch he wore.

  She wanted to feel pity, but she couldn’t deny the truth. It wasn’t pity that sent her pulse racing. It was the sweet rush of desire he always triggered in her.

  As the familiar longing swept over her, she closed her eyes to fight it. She wouldn’t fall for him again. She had more pride than that. He didn’t love her. He’d proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt five years ago.

  When she had a grip on her emotions, she opened her eyes and saw a pair of teenage girls walking past the front of her truck. Their gazes were pinned on Neal and looks of admiration sprang onto their young faces. Their walks slowed and turned into prowling saunters.

  He tipped his hat as they strolled past him, but something struck Robyn as odd about his move. She’d seen him do that a thousand times. What was different this time?

  Then she knew. He’d used his left hand to touch the brim of his hat. Was he trying to cover the scarred side of his face?

  A quick pang of compassion pushed a lump into her throat. His appearance had been drastically altered. It would be hard for anyone, but it had to be especially hard for someone as proud as Neal was.

  He had always been a handsome man. Women had flocked around him. He was above-average height and lean, with a cowboy’s natural swagger. He wore his brown hair slightly long, and it curled at his shirt collar. She’d always thought his hazel eyes were his best feature, but it was his impish sense of humor she had adored.

  She watched the two girls glance back at him before they turned the corner. Neal might not realize it, but the eye patch made him look dangerous and exotic. He would be the object of some teenage fantasies for many nights to come judging by the girls’ reactions. Who could blame them? He was a sexy hunk.

  He started to step up on the curb, but he didn’t step high enough and stumbled. He regained his balance quickly, but he pressed his arm to his side. Had he hurt himself?

  His mother rushed around the car to help as he leaned against the hood, but he shook her off. Robyn found herself out of the truck and standing beside him before she realized what she was doing. “Are you okay?”

  His head snapped up at the sound of her voice, and his lips pressed into a tight line. “Sure. One too many beers, I guess.”

  She frowned as she studied his face. “Don’t be a smart aleck. You’re having trouble judging distance because of your altered depth perception.”

  “They tell me I’ll get used to it.”

  “Did you hurt your ribs?” his mother asked.

  “I jarred them, that’s all. I’m fine. Go and do your shopping, Mom. I don’t need a babysitter.”

  Surprised by the sharp sa
rcasm in his voice, Robyn glanced at his mother. A look of hurt flashed across Ellie’s face, but it disappeared quickly as she pasted a smile on. She stepped away from him and let her arms fall to her sides.

  “Okay. I won’t be long.” Turning away, she hurried into the drugstore. The bell over the door clanged as it closed behind her.

  “I see your manners haven’t improved,” Robyn snapped.

  He frowned at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Your mother is only trying to help.”

  “I see you haven’t changed, either,” he drawled, leaning against the car hood.

  She refused to rise to his bait and kept her mouth shut. She’d said too much already.

  He looked her up and down. “You still butt into other people’s business. I didn’t like you trying to tell me what to do years ago, and I don’t like it now.”

  What on earth had possessed her to think he needed her help? Robyn didn’t know if she was more furious with him or with herself. “Someone needs to tell you what to do, you slow-witted stubborn oaf. You were plain mean to your mother.”

  He scowled at her but didn’t reply.

  Maybe it was none of her business, but he was going to get an earful. His mother didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. “Your mother watched helplessly as they loaded you on a chopper and then drove for two hundred miles, praying you would still be alive when she got to the hospital. While they were putting you back together, Humpty Dumpty, she paced the waiting room for hours, worried sick with fear. When she finally heard you would live, they told her you might have brain damage. I could barely get her to leave your bedside. She didn’t sleep for two nights straight.”

  Robyn poked a finger into the top button of his shirt. “So cut her a little slack if she’s overprotective, and be kind to her. She’s been through a lot.”

  Robyn wouldn’t tell him all those fears and sleepless nights were hers, as well. He wouldn’t care.

  His face could have been carved from granite. “Are you finished?”

  She folded her arms across her chest and clamped her jaw closed on all the other things she wanted to shout at him. “Yes.”