PAULA AWAKENED EARLY Sunday morning realizing she couldn’t stay at her in-laws any longer. She’d had a wonderful time with them. Clay had loved being with his grandparents, but the desire to visit Walker’s cabin and finish her painting was so strong, she found herself packing and ready to leave by nine.
Brent’s folks were understanding about her need to get back home because of work. It wasn’t a lie, exactly. She always had a landscaping project waiting for her. But work wasn’t what was driving her as she loaded up her Toyota and left the sleepy little hamlet for the drive back to Cody.
A series of puffy white clouds had lined up in perfect rows across the blue sky. The smell of freshly cut summer grass made her inhale deeply. She heard the sound of a tractor in the distance and the chirping of birdsong filled the car. It would be hot later, but right now the temperature and soft breeze were so delightful, she didn’t need the AC.
The route took her through Powell with its recent attendant memories of going there with Walker. Within the hour her heart picked up speed as she passed beneath the arch to the Cottonwood Ranch. She took the outer perimeter road that wound up the base of Carter Mountain. Soon she reached the dirt road and began the climb, leaving the storybooklike clusters of immaculate ranch outbuildings behind.
When she’d scaled the final rise and spied his black truck parked outside the cabin, her heart thudded so fast, she could hardly breathe. He was supposed to be in Coulee, wasn’t he? Maybe he’d driven there with someone else and had left his truck here.
“Do you remember this place?” she asked Clay, stopping in front of the spruce tree because one of the squirrels was scurrying around the branches, another precious memory associated with Walker. Her son smiled when he saw it and pointed his hand in its direction.
“Yes, that’s right,” she whispered. “We were here before.” She stood still until the squirrel disappeared in the upper branches, then with Clay in her arms, she crossed the distance to the cabin. In case Walker was inside, she knocked on the door then waited a full minute. Maybe he needed time to answer it. If he was asleep, then she didn’t want to knock again and wake him up.
She tried the handle. To her surprise the door gave. She poked her head inside. Silence greeted her ears.
Her glance darted to the picnic table. The case of pastels she’d given him had been left open. A few of them lay next to his drawing pad. Over on the counter she saw a jar of Tang with a mug next to it and an opened package of peanuts, the kind you bought at a convenience store. His breakfast, or a snack?
She didn’t dare go inside in case she wakened him and triggered a flashback because he thought someone was trespassing. Maybe he’d gone for a morning hike and would be back soon, so that was why he’d left the door unlocked.
The best thing to do was get Clay settled in his swing so she could work on her painting. Maybe she’d see Walker before she left for the apartment.
While she was getting things out of her car, she heard footfalls behind her and turned around. Against the sun’s rays she saw the silhouette of a tall flesh-and-blood man coming toward her carrying a fly rod in one hand and a fish chain with three ten-inch-size trout in the other. “Walker…”
“Good morning.” His deep voice sounded gravelly.
“I decided to take you up on your offer.”
“So I see.” His eyes glowed an intense green. She knew then that she hadn’t done the wrong thing. “If I’d known I was going to have company this morning, I would have caught more.” Clay ran toward him and grabbed his leg in a bear hug.
Walker chuckled. “I’d like to hug you, too, sport, but I’ve been cleaning fish. Come with me.” He more or less dragged Clay along. Her little boy thought it was a game and clung harder, giggling all the way inside the cabin.
He rested his pole against the cabin, then went inside with the fish. While he washed his hands, he looked over at her. “Did you have a nice visit with your in-laws?”
“We had a good time, didn’t we, Clay? His grandparents spoiled him silly, but then that was the whole point. Did you decide not to go to Washington this weekend?”
“No. I was there for two nights of competition and flew back late last night. Would you like breakfast before the artiste gets started outside?”
She couldn’t repress a smile. “I would never turn down a fresh catch of trout.”
His restless gaze wandered over her. She thought maybe he was glad to see her. “I presume everything but the kitchen sink is in your car.”
Paula burst into laughter and nodded.
“I’ll bring it in.” He gathered Clay in his arms. “Come on, little guy. We’ve got work to do.”
As they disappeared out the door, Paula opened the tablet on the table, curious to see what he’d added. The newest page contained an asymmetrical, dark gray blot with a purple dot at the center that took up most of the eight-by-ten paper. The next one was the same gray blot with a larger, dark purple smudge in the center.
Three more pages revealed the same gray blot, but the purple smudge was getting bigger. She wasn’t surprised to see the next page revealed a perfect circle in purple. Another page was scribbled crimson red with an outline of purple. She flipped to the next drawing. Here he’d used what looked like his thumb to smear colors cascading down the page like a waterfall.
On the far left he’d chosen sunny yellow, next to it a pale blue, then a chalky white followed by a bright blue, an azure blue and a dark purple. But across it he’d punctuated the whole thing with a horizontal slash of black. He’d done it with such flourish and violence, it could be his signature.
She quickly shut it and moved the tablet and pastels to the other end of the table. For someone who didn’t know how to get started, he’d expressed a lot of emotion there.
By the time Walker returned with Clay, she was setting the table. Having done all this before, they worked in perfect harmony. Before long both of them were replete with the pan-fried rainbows he’d skillfully filleted.
“That was fabulous, Walker. Clay ate his share, too. It was his first taste of trout.”
“Fish puts hair on your chest,” he teased him. After ruffling his blond curls, he pulled her sleepy boy out of his swing. In the process Clay’s cowboy boot caught the hem of Walker’s loose-fitting beige T-shirt, lifting it. For a moment Paula glimpsed the widespread scar tissue on part of his chest and running along his side to his hip beneath his jeans.
Walker intercepted her glance before putting Clay down so he could run around. She felt his defenses go up, but they couldn’t hide the vulnerability in his eyes. Who would have guessed what this strong, spectacular man kept locked up from the world?
Without saying anything, she walked Clay into the bedroom. After changing his diaper, she put him down for a short nap in the playpen. When he curled up with his blanket, she drew the baby oil out of the bag and joined Walker, who was finishing the dishes.
“What have you got there?”
“Come in the living room when you’re through and find out,” she urged him.
That brought him out of the kitchen in a hurry. “What’s going on?”
“I would like to do something nice for you, but it requires you to lie down on the couch on your side with your head at this end.” Unmistakable shock broke out on his face. “Come on. Don’t be shy. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”
The vulnerability in his eyes was suddenly replaced by an expectant light. “I thought I’d experienced everything there was to be experienced, but I must admit this is a first.” His voice penetrated to her insides.
She smiled an almost-invisible smile. “Take off your boots and shirt. You’ll be more comfortable.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He pulled them off in no time and stretched out so his scarred side was accessible to her. It pleased her that the jade was still fastened around his neck. Walker’s hard-muscled body with its smattering of black chest hair had a male beauty she’d rarely seen in any other man. He had to kno
w what she was thinking because his eyes never left her face.
“The doctors who put you back together with these skin grafts did amazing work. I have a younger cousin who was burned in a grass fire and had grafts done on his back. For several years after that my aunt rubbed oil into them. My mom and I took turns helping her when we could. He said it made a big difference in his comfort. Would you trust me to do that for you?”
“What do you think?”
Her brows lifted. “Just checking.” She reached for the baby oil, then knelt down and began to smooth it into his skin the way she’d been taught to do. Paula lost track of time as she gently massaged every part of the scarring that was exposed.
“I smell as sweet as Clay,” he muttered.
“You do.” She laughed gently. “How does it feel? Am I hurting you?”
“If this is pain, then never let it stop. I think I died and woke up in paradise.”
Her throat swelled. “You deserve to experience relief after what you’ve sacrificed.” She rubbed her hands over his strong arm and shoulder, then inched along to his back and neck. With each movement she could feel the tension go out of him. No matter how small, this was one thing she could do for him, wanted to do for him. “When do you get relief?” he asked sometime later when she’d thought he’d drifted off.
“Every time Clay snuggles against me.”
“There’s nothing like a warm, loving body, is there?”
“No,” she whispered. It shocked her to realize she was aching for him to pull her into his strong arms and kiss her.
“Were you very much in love with your husband?”
The question shattered the moment for her. “Yes.”
But with her hands still on Walker’s body, it came to her how far she’d come from eighteen months ago when she couldn’t have imagined a scene like this with another man. It hadn’t been in the realm of possibility.
Paula got to her feet. She needed to wash the oil off her hands. Walker dressed and followed her into the kitchen, his expression inscrutable. When it came to women, it appeared he tended to play his cards very close to the chest. Maybe he’d left someone special behind who still had a hold on him. Paula sighed. Forget doing any painting today.
She turned to him. “I didn’t mean to stay this long and need to get home.”
“I’ll get Clay and help you pack up.”
Within a few minutes he’d put Clay in his car seat and given him a kiss on his forehead. “See you, little guy.” His unreadable gaze swiveled to hers. “Drive safely.”
“I will.” She glanced up at him from the driver’s seat. He stood a short distance from her with his powerful legs slightly apart, looking long, dark and more dangerous than ever. “Where’s your next rodeo?”
“Moab, Utah.”
“Please take care of yourself,” she implored, hating the throb in her voice.
“I always do. Don’t forget that you can always come up here and paint. I’ll leave a key at the base of the fattest blue spruce. If I’m not here, feel free to use the cabin.”
He baffled her.
“Thank you, Walker,” she whispered, touched by his generosity. At the same time she struggled with unassuaged needs he’d aroused. This would definitely be her last visit to the cabin.
Chapter Eight
June 2
Dr. Bader sat back in his swivel chair eyeing Walker speculatively. “I was sorry you didn’t bring Paula to the group session with you last night. Her remarks did more good for Mac than three months of therapy. Thanks to her, he finally opened up to his wife about his flashbacks. They’re working on their problem. Paula’s welcome any time. Didn’t she want to come again?”
Walker avoided his gaze. “I don’t know.”
“Do you think she benefited from it?”
“She said a few questions got answered.” Since Paula had dropped by the cabin on Sunday, he’d been so conflicted he hardly knew which foot to put in front of the other.
“Something’s wrong. Want to talk about it?”
His head reared. “I feel like her husband is always with us. She’s still in love with him.”
“You mean with his memory, but he has passed on. You’re alive to make new memories with her. This will take time, of course.”
“The last time I was with her, I—” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“What happened?”
When Walker told him, he said, “You honestly think she was confusing you with her husband when she gave you a massage?”
“No,” he ground out. “I just don’t need her doing me any favors because of my ‘sacrifice.’”
“Then what do you want from her?”
His temper flared. “A hell of a lot more than she’s capable of giving.”
“She’s never responded to your physical overtures?”
“I haven’t made any.” Giving her comfort after the other therapy session didn’t count.
“So you’re angry she hasn’t made the right kind of overture to you.” Walker squirmed. “I’d say the fact that she made one at all is rather amazing. Has it occurred to you she’s afraid you’re just using her as a crutch—you know, the first available woman kind of thing—until you get back to normal and move on with someone you really want?”
He lurched forward. “She couldn’t think that.”
“Weren’t you listening to anything she said the other night? Let me refresh your memory.” He turned on the tape player. Suddenly Walker was hearing Paula’s voice.
If you’ll allow her to get inside your psyche, she’ll feel more a part of your experience. My husband robbed me of that. I’m afraid I lost a lot of confidence.
The doctor switched off the machine. “Perhaps if Paula knew more of what was going on in your psyche, you’d get the sign you’re looking for, but that would mean taking a risk.”
Dr. Bader knew him too well.
“Let’s move on.” He reached for Walker’s drawing pad and studied the latest pictures. “Which family member is the purple one?”
Walker took a steadying breath. “My father.”
“He’s in every picture. What was your problem with him before you joined the military?”
Good grief. Dr. Bader was so good it was shocking. “I resented him for telling me how to live my life when his isn’t perfect.”
“Not perfect, as in…”
“He cheated on my mother.”
“Only one man on this earth was perfect unless I’ve miscounted and you’re the second one.” Walker stirred in the chair. “Your mother forgave him?”
“I guess. They’re still together.”
“How long ago did it happen?”
“Early in the marriage. My mother confirmed it a few weeks ago.”
“Do the others in your family know about the affair?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Does your father know that you know?”
“Maybe mother told him.”
“Has he been good to her?”
“Yes.”
“And to you?”
He eyed the other man solemnly. “Yes.”
“You know what I think, Walker? Your war experiences don’t come close to the pain you’ve suffered because of a mistake he made.”
Walker groaned inwardly at the man’s perception.
“By joining the military you stayed away from a sport that once upon a time brought you a great deal of enjoyment and fame. Because of what your father did, you denied yourself the camaraderie of your parents and siblings for a long time. I’m going to tell you something else about yourself. Until you can let go of your anger at him for something that happened so long ago, you’ll always be conflicted.”
He shut the drawing pad and pushed it toward him. “While the summer rodeo season is on, I don’t expect I’ll see you before next Wednesday. Keep up your physical regimen. Try to make a group session when you can. In comparison to a month ago, you’re looking splendid.”
PA
ULA HADN’T BEEN TO Zapata’s for quite a while. Matt had asked her to meet him at the Mexican restaurant on Wednesday evening. He wanted to thank her on behalf of the board for the wonderful work she’d done on the landscaping project for their company and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Against her better judgment, she’d agreed.
After asking Katy to babysit Clay, she arranged to meet him at six, making it clear she could only give him an hour of her time. As she feared, near the end of their meal he got around to asking her to go golfing with him at the Olive Glenn Country Club on Saturday. She’d been expecting him to ask her out socially and was ready for him.
“That sounds lovely, Matt, and I’m very flattered, but I can’t go out with you because I’ve become involved with someone else.”
His face fell. “It’s serious, then?”
“Yes.” Paula had no guarantees she’d ever see Walker again, but yes, it was serious for her until he was out of her blood. “I’m sorry. I hope you’ll excuse me now. I need to get home to Clay.”
He nodded. “Whoever he is, he’s a lucky man. I’ll walk you out.” He left some bills on the table. “Shall we go?”
Paula knew she’d hurt his pride, but it was better Matt knew the truth tonight.
After they stood up, he ushered her to the entrance. Another group of people were headed there at the same time. That’s when she saw a dark head, taller than the rest. A pair of green eyes blazing between black lashes collided with hers, stopping her in her tracks. He couldn’t have missed noticing that Matt had cupped her elbow to ease her on through.
“Walker Cody,” Matt said with surprise in his voice. “Champion steer wrestler extraordinaire! I didn’t know you were back from overseas.”
“I’ve been home for a while. How are you, Matt?” The two men shook hands. Paula was stunned they knew each other.
“Terrific. Let me introduce you to this beautiful lady, Paula Olsen.”
No, no, Matt… Why did he say that?
Walker: The Rodeo Legend Page 12
