by D. L. Roan
Bright sunshine flooded the country kitchen from the wall of windows that dominated the far side of the room. The panoramic view of the jagged mountains in the distance wasn’t what had her frozen in place in the doorway, unable to breathe.
Directly across from her sat one of the biggest icons in country music, one of her biggest weaknesses, one half of her teenage crush that she now knew for sure had never ended. And judging by the look in his eyes, he’d not only been expecting her, he was clearly unhappy with her arrival.
“Afternoon, Breezy.”
She swallowed what felt like a desert full of sand and cursed those damn jittery butterflies in her stomach. She was trapped in his gaze. A decade of fantasies and secret wishes slow-danced with all her dreams and nightmares, creating a tangled web of words she’d waited a lifetime to say, but the sight of him drained her of the courage to say them.
The only thing that saved her from fainting was her perfected professional facade. She anchored herself in efficiency and experience, stiffening her spine and clearing her throat as the mask that hid all her secrets fell into place before she greeted the man across the room with a cool, tempered tone.
“Hello, Carson.”
Chapter Eleven
“Breezy Youngblood?”
She had only a second to recognize Connor McLendon before he blew into the kitchen and swept her off her feet, twirling her around in a gripping hug. “My God, girl! I can’t believe it’s you!”
Neither could she. Her head spun as she was lowered to the floor, her heart pounding inside her chest like it had when she was fourteen. Connor McLendon is hugging me!
“Where have you been? How have you been?” Connor rattled off a series of exuberant questions that started her head spinning again.
“Give the poor girl a minute to catch her breath,” Hazel said. “She only just got here. I’m sure she’s winded from her trip.”
“She doesn’t look a bit winded to me,” Connor said with a flirty wink. “She looks all grown up and then some!” His sexy lips twisted into a long-winded whistle of appreciation, sending Breezy’s blood racing through her veins and blooming hot in her cheeks once more. “Doesn’t she, Car? I barely recognized her.”
An uneasy glance at Carson told her he wasn’t impressed.
“And then some,” was Carson’s stoic reply as he stared at her from his seat at the table. “Are you ready to go?” His gaze traveled to Connor with the question, ignoring her presence in the room altogether. “Grey won’t be too happy if we’re late for dinner. Mom’s been cooking all afternoon.”
She caught the edge of an antagonistic glare between the two before Connor pulled her into another hug. “I’m so glad you’re back,” he said as she fought for balance, both anatomically and emotionally. She wasn’t back. She wasn’t staying. “We’ll have to do lunch tomorrow and catch up.”
Hazel swatted Connor away and took her by the hand. “Stop mauling the girl,” she admonished. “She’s had a long day and she hasn’t even seen Joe yet.”
“We’ll let her get to work then,” Carson said as he rose from his chair. His heated gaze never left hers as he sauntered across the room. “Bye Gran,” he said before bending down to give Hazel a peck on the cheek. “Breezy.” He gave her a curt nod before turning to leave the room, each clunk of his boots along the hardwood floor feeling like a stomp to her already delicate heart.
“Tomorrow,” Connor said with an excited smile, followed by a quick kiss on Hazel’s cheek. He turned and sprinted down the hall before she had the chance to decline his invitation. Was it an invitation? Probably not. Connor was only being nice. Wasn’t he? God, she didn’t know!
“Don’t you pay them one bit of mind, honey,” Hazel said in an exasperated huff as she ushered her from the kitchen. “No matter what you see in the tabloids, those boys are nothing but harmless flirts.”
She doubted that. She’d seen Carson flirt. Either he had lost his touch or he couldn’t stand the sight of her. She highly doubted the former. And Connor’s flirtatious greeting was anything but harmless. Her heartrate might never recover.
Connor and Carson were more gorgeous in person than they ever were on any billboard. Seeing them on television or in music videos was nothing like standing in the same room with them. For one thing, they were so much taller than she remembered. Carson’s hair was longer, too; pulled back into a ponytail at the base of his neck.
She’d been too surprised and nervous to take in any of their other finer attributes, but even without those details there was an arresting sense of awe that dominated the space they inhabited. She certainly couldn’t feel that through a television screen.
Again, Breezy wondered what had made her think she could waltz back home like nothing had changed. It had all changed, and yet, so much was the same. Her reaction to Connor and Carson was exactly the same as it had always been. Her insides melted, her heart raced, sweat laced her palms and her confidence took a nose dive. Still evident above all else, however? She was a Youngblood, and they were McLendons. No amount of time would ever change that.
“We moved our room to the main floor since Joe can’t climb the stairs yet.” Hazel’s voice disrupted the trainwreck of depressing thoughts and brought Breezy’s focus back to the real reason she was there. “He took a nap this afternoon, but he should be awake now. Joe, you’ve got company.”
Hazel pushed the bedroom door open and stepped inside. “About damn time,” Joe said from his seat near the window. “I was about to think you weren’t coming at all.”
She took notice of Joe’s speech patterns. He still had a small slur to some of his words but, if his rapid improvement was any indication of how quickly the rest of his body was recuperating, she wouldn’t be surprised if he made a complete recovery in record time.
“Sorry.” She smiled and took a seat on the side of the bed, her comfort level increasing by miles despite the terse greeting. This she could handle. The emotions Con and Car incited to riot? Not so much. “I live in Billings, Mr. McLendon, so I had to put some things in order before I could make the trip up to Grassland; have my mail stopped, things like that.”
“Call me Joe,” he insisted.
“Okay, Joe.”
“Where are you staying while you’re here?” he asked, pinning her with a probing stare.
“I’ve made reservations at McEwin’s Bed and Breakfast in town,” she told him, not feeling the least bit intimidated. Physical therapy was never easy, but she’d managed to hold her own with many an ornery patient. “I was running late so I haven’t checked in yet, but I was assured that a late arrival wouldn’t be a problem.”
“Nonsense!” Joe groused. “You’ll stay here. We have plenty of room.”
“Oh, no...I couldn’t,” Breezy argued.
“Joe, you can’t order her to stay,” Hazel said in an admonishing tone. “Although, he’s right,” she continued. “We have plenty of room should you change your mind.”
Breezy held up a staying hand. “I couldn’t impose like that. Besides, I’ve already paid a week’s deposit.”
“There’s no imposing to it, honey,” Hazel assured her. “And Ethel McEwin wouldn’t mind one bit refunding your money. She’s got more patrons than she knows what to do with since that blasted McLendon Twins museum opened up.”
“You mean circus,” Joe snorted.
Breezy’s thoughts exactly.
“Just say you’ll think about it,” Hazel insisted. “You said yourself you didn’t know how long Joe’s recovery would take, and there’s no sense in cuttin’ so deep into your paycheck if you don’t have to. Save you a lot of time traveling back and forth, too.”
Hazel did have a point, but even if it saved her a truckload of money, she didn’t think she could survive a single night knowing Connor and Carson were sleeping a few acres away. “I’ll think about it,” she offered in appreciation. “In the meantime, how’s the patient?”
“I’ll go heat up the lamb stew I planned for din
ner and let the two of you work,” Hazel said and turned for the door.
“I hate your lamb stew,” Joe blurted out.
“Joe McLendon!” Hazel gasped.
“Aw, damn, Haze!” Joe groaned, a contrite and frustrated scowl twisting his expression. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
Hazel’s hand dropped from her mouth. She studied her husband a moment, her wide, shocked eyes closing into mutinous slits. “You’re gonna eat that lamb stew, Josiah McLendon, and you’re not gonna say another word.” Hazel stormed from the room. “It’d serve you right if I burned it! Lying to me all these years,” she could be heard saying as she disappeared down the hall.
“Shit.” Joe blew out an exasperated breath. “Got any magic powers to go with all that other healing stuff you do? I think I’m gonna need it.”
“Nope.” Breezy chuckled. “Just good ole-fashioned hard work, I’m afraid.”
“Well, when do we start?” Joe asked. “The quicker I can get my tongue to stop waggin’ out every damn thought inside my head, the better.”
“How does now sound?” she asked, reaching into her purse. She pulled out a bag of marbles and a flat plastic tray.
“Now?” Joe asked, eying what she had in her hand.
“Like you said,” Breezy quipped, “the sooner we get started, the harder you work, the faster we can get that filter working again.” She knelt at his feet and removed his house slippers, dumping the marbles onto the carpet by his right foot and placing the plastic tray in front of the other.
“I didn’t lose all my marbles, girl, and even if I did, I’m pretty sure that’s not where they go.”
“It’s an exercise.” She laughed. “After I get through massaging your leg muscles, I want you to use your right toes to pick up the marbles, one by one, and place them into the tray,” she instructed. “Then, when you have them all transferred, we’ll do it again with your left foot.”
“But there’s nothing wrong with my left foot.” Joe argued. “And how is that supposed to help me with my big mouth?”
“Well,” She sighed. “It doesn’t, actually.” She pushed to her feet and moved back to the edge of the bed, resting her elbows on her knees as she continued. “Over time, as the swelling continues to diminish and your brain begins to compensate for weaknesses created by the stroke, you should start seeing some improvements in that area. You need to give it time.”
“The doctors said the damage is permanent,” Joe grumped. Breezy noticed the frustration in his voice, but it was the glint of fear in his eyes that gripped her heart. Of course he was scared. His body was no longer his own. Part of her job was to give that confidence back to him. She owed him and the McLendon family everything she could give to help him, but he had to do the work.
“The brain is like a muscle,” she explained. “The more you use it, the stronger it gets. Eventually, if you do the exercises I give you, the healthy parts of your brain will take over for the ones that were damaged.”
Joe gave her a hesitant nod, glancing down at the marbles on the floor. “So, I could make a full recovery?” he asked, sliding his right foot toward the stack of marbles she’d laid on the floor.
“I believe you will,” she assured him with confidence. “Your speech is better. You’re already able to move your leg a good bit better on your own. That’s a huge improvement from three weeks ago.” She slid to the floor in front of him and began massaging his calf muscle. “You do what I tell ya, and I’ll have you running sprints in no time.”
Hazel snorted behind her. “Honey, he hasn’t sprinted anywhere since our boys stirred up a bees nest out in the barn when they were six. His naked ass flashed every cow for three miles.”
Breezy laughed aloud and gave Joe an incredulous glance. “You were naked in the barn?”
“No.” Joe snorted. “I was naked in the haystack outside the barn, making love to my wife,” he said, his lips quirking up into a cocky grin, his gaze catching Hazel’s across the room. She could see the decades of love and memories swirling in his eyes as he continued. “Those boys were always stirrin’ up more trouble than you could shake a stick at.”
Hazel crossed the room and took Joe’s weathered hand. “That was a good day,” she said, leaning down to give Joe a loving kiss.
Their shared intimacy was so genuine, Breezy had to look away. Someplace deep inside her ached for a connection like theirs, to be bound to someone with whom she could create and savor such loving memories.
“It was good for you,” Joe harrumphed, giving Hazel’s hand a squeeze. “My ass looked like a strawberry for weeks!” Breezy stifled another laugh, but Hazel wasn’t so polite. When her giggle subsided, Joe glanced up at his wife. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings about the stew, Haze.”
“I know, Papa Joe.” Hazel patted his hand and gave him a saucy wink.
“Are we still having lamb stew?” he asked, his eyes squeezing shut as if even asking the question caused him physical pain.
“Sure are,” Hazel answered. “If you can eat it for fifty years without complaint, you’ll survive one more meal.”
“Damn,” Joe cursed under his breath.
“Breezy, honey, you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner if you’d like,” Hazel said as she walked to the bedroom door. “I’d love to hear what you’ve been up to all these years.”
“Oh, I...” She shook her head. The first leg of her trip down memory lane had been exhausting enough. She wasn’t sure she could handle more. She craved a hot bath and a soft bed and, after her encounter with Connor and Carson, the thought of digesting food of any kind made her queasy. “I really should get checked into the B&B soon. But thank you. We’re almost done so don’t let me hold you up.”
“Are you sure? I can give you some to take with you.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” she insisted, pushing to her feet. “That’s very kind of you to offer.”
“Okay, honey. I’ll have Nate walk you to your car when you’re ready.”
She nodded again as she reached for her purse. “Thank you.”
The moment Hazel was out the door, Joe let out a chuckle. “Don’t like lamb stew either, huh?”
She scrunched her nose and gave her head a shake. Though she was sure Mrs. McLendon was an amazing cook, she couldn’t even stand the smell of lamb. “Shhh, it’s our secret.”
Joe laughed, his smile infectious. “I think we’re going to get along just fine.”
Now it was her turn to laugh. “We’ll see if you still feel that way after tomorrow,” she said, reaching into her purse for the pamphlet of exercises and instructions she’d brought for him to study. “Some homework for you,” she said and laid it on the nightstand beside the bed. “Don’t try any of these exercises tonight. I only want you to familiarize yourself with some of the things we’ll be doing and why. Dress comfortably tomorrow and have a nutritious breakfast.”
“I know-I know,” Joe grumbled. “No more bacon or sausage.”
“A little is good,” she capitulated. “But some fruit and yogurt wouldn’t hurt either.” She laughed when Joe’s lips curled into a snarl. “It can’t be worse than lamb,” she challenged.
Joe nodded. “Good point.”
“Do you like chess or checkers?” she asked on her way to the door.
“Chess,” Joe said. “Why?”
Breezy gave him a nod of approval. Aside from being a good mental stimulant, moving the game pieces would help him focus on his fine motor skills. And she liked a man who wasn’t afraid of a challenge. “I think you’re right,” she said with a wink. “We’re going to get along fine. Now, go eat some of that lamb and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter Twelve
Carson reached up and wiped the sweat from his brow, cursing the blasted heatwave that was scorching through Montana like a fire-breathing dragon. Even with the air conditioner running full bore, it still felt like a hundred degrees inside the truck. Stage lights weren’t this damn hot.
His stomach
rumbled, reminding him of how long he’d been sitting outside the B&B waiting on Miss Breezy Youngblood to get her pretty little ass up and out of bed. If it weren’t for the blood-sucking paparazzi that he was sure was hiding behind a corner somewhere, he’d have already banged down her door and put an end to her impromptu visit.
Aside from the fact that he wasn’t ready to deal with that blast from the past, the last thing he needed was a picture of them anywhere near a hotel, their faces splashed across every tabloid along with the caption, ‘Country Music Playboy Beds Hometown Trailer Park Princess’, not that he cared that much what those lying bastards printed about him.
The fact that Breezy no longer looked the part wouldn’t make a difference to the news hounds that stalked his every move. And damn, did she ever look different.
The scruffy country kid was long gone and in her place stood a tall, slender woman with a long, dark mane the color of a prize chestnut mare. Her tomboy clothes had been traded for a stylish pants suit and sexy pumps. Her wide, doe eyes and pouty lips made him think of tangled sheets and dirty fantasies, things he had no business thinking about in conjunction with her.
He squeezed his eyes shut and shook off the distracting images. How sexy she was or wasn’t had nothing to do with anything. She was a Grunion. Well, close enough to one anyway. He had to hand it to her, though. She’d shed the Grunion stink and cleaned up pretty well.
A reluctant sense of pride welled up inside him when he’d heard that she’d done more with her life than most would have in her position. A nurse was a respectable profession; better than being a drunken bigot like her father.
His twisted mind conjured up an image of her in a naughty nurse’s uniform and he groaned, shifting restlessly in his seat as he pictured the white outfit so tight her full breasts strained against the buttons, with thigh-high stockings encasing her long, toned legs.
Dammit! She’d grown a set of tits that made his mouth water. He could almost see them spilling out of her shirt as he peeled it from her body. The suit pants she’d worn the day before had showcased her firm ass to perfection and set his hand to twitching with a need to touch it, knead it hard as he flexed his hips and pushed balls deep inside...
