“If I have to.”
Karen saw the icy glint in his eyes and knew he would do just that if she didn’t get out of his way. The woman in her was ready for a fight, but the healer knew he was in no fit shape to be out of bed.
“You win,” she said softly as she rose. “This time.”
His scowl was a masterpiece of lethal masculine beauty. And a facade. A carefully constructed, desperate barrier between hurt and the scared, guilt-ridden little boy who’d made a terrible mistake and didn’t know how to make it better. The man that boy had become still bore the scars, still longed for the love that should had been his by right. And somehow, she would make him accept that love.
But all that would come later. After she figured out how to help him without driving him further into hiding. “I love you, Cassidy,” she said, meeting those stony eyes calmly. “And it’s because I love you that I won’t give up.”
“You’re wasting your time,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I’m a lost cause.”
She smiled as she shook her head. “You’re wrong. You’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever known.”
Before he could guess her intention, she framed his cold, wounded face between gentle hands and leaned down to kiss his hard, angry, vulnerable mouth “I’m leaving now, Cassidy,” she said as she released him. She bent, picked up the jeans he’d torn off of her, then met his eyes with a quiet challenge. “I’m taking Vicki with me so you can get some rest. But hear me and hear me good. You might have given up on yourself, but I haven’t.”
“Then you’re a fool.”
“Stop it. You know better than that.” She smiled. “I love you and I want to be your wife. To live here and fight with you and make love with you and have more babies. But I’ve gotten greedy since we’ve been apart. I want it all—your smile and your laughter and your love. It doesn’t have to come all at once, but I have to know you’re willing to try.”
He ached to hold her.
“Go home, Karen. Leave me alone.” He knew she had to hear the defeat in his voice. The weariness he could no longer hide.
“I am home, Cassidy. But I will go back to Mother’s. I’ll lie in bed at night and wish you were there. And I’ll wait for you to come for me.”
“I won’t.”
Her smile was so sad he nearly reached for her. “Then we’ll both lose.”
* * *
Cassidy waited until she woke Vicki. Waited while Vicki got dressed and gathered her things. Waited until he heard her drive away. Only then did he leave his bed and stagger naked to the kitchen.
His hand shook and his head pounded as he reached into the uppermost shelf of one of the cupboards for the Scotch he kept there. With one violent wrench, he had the cap off and the bottle tipped to his lips. But he couldn’t make himself tip it that extra fraction of an inch that would send the blessed relief pouring into him.
Something was wrong. Something that nagged at him through all the layers of blind rage and seething frustration and yearning hunger that were his constant companions these days.
She’d been shocked and upset and a bit of a bully. She’d chided him and lectured him and pushed him right to the edge of violence. But what she hadn’t done was give up on him. And she’d kissed him, as though she really meant it, then left him to pull himself together in privacy.
God help him, she’d said she loved him, he thought in a blaze of disbelief and dawning hope. Even knowing the worst of it, she’d stood right there with a militant fire in her beautiful, intelligent eyes and said it right out loud like she really meant it.
Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his arm and set the bottle on the counter where the sun caught fire in the amber depths. He stood there a long time, feeling the warmth of a new day seep through the windowpanes into his skin.
He’d fought against feeling too much for a long time. Maybe too long, but somehow Karen had slipped under his guard and into that unprotected place where he still nourished a belief in himself and his worthiness to be loved.
She had the ability to heal him. She had the ability to hurt him so badly he might never be able to crawl back. He couldn’t have one without the other.
A pressure built inside him, growing stronger, filling him. Lifting a callused hand, he rubbed at the worst of it, tucked up under his breastbone. Maybe the risk was too great. Or maybe he didn’t have what it takes to change. Maybe he was reading her all wrong. Hell, a man with a concussion was bound to be a lousy judge.
Could he actually remake himself into a man she’d be proud to know? For a long time now he’d been so sure he’d protected himself too well, run from the pain too long, to change. And yet maybe with Kari he might find a way.
It wouldn’t be easy. He knew himself well enough to have a damned good notion of the hell he could put her through while he struggled to put the past behind him. To learn how to trust again. To give her the love she claimed she wanted.
If she still loved him. If it wasn’t too late.
An icy fear jolted through him, and he felt a clammy sweat bead on his flesh. No, he thought with a savage scowl. He could handle anything but that.
Teeth gritted, he upended the bottle and watched the numbing whiskey gurgle into the sink and down the drain. The bottle went into the trash.
First he would see if he could shave without cutting his own throat, and then he would make a beginning on the long climb back.
Chapter Seventeen
Karen loved the small, old-fashioned solarium tucked into the western end of the hospital’s fourth floor, especially when the sun was cascading through the tall windows to make neat squares on the linoleum. Whenever possible, she stole a few minutes there alone to rest and quiet her nerves.
Since leaving the ranch—and Cassidy—two weeks ago, she’d come to the solarium often. So often that her co-workers always looked for her there first when they didn’t want to bother phoning or texting her. Which was why she wasn’t surprised to see Lindy show up late Friday afternoon, with briefcase in hand and a TGIF look in her rich brown eyes.
“Storing up energy for the big day?” Lindy asked as she slid onto the bench next to her.
Karen smiled. “I still can’t believe my baby is turning nine tomorrow.”
“Is she excited?”
“To the point that she’s got my unflappable mother wearing a perpetually dazed expression and my stepfather-to-be swearing under his breath.”
Lindy laughed. “You, of course, are impervious to all the fuss.”
“Of course,” Karen assured her solemnly as she brushed dust from the split-leaf philodendron in the nearby corner. “That’s why I’ve spent the last two mornings making piñatas in the shape of horses and dogs. And one extremely fierce-looking bull of which I’m extremely proud, if I do say so myself.”
“I’ll be sure to look for it tomorrow.”
Karen nodded, then drew in a deep breath and shifted her gaze to the mountains outlined above the city sprawling beneath them. “Billy called this morning before I left for work.”
She could feel Lindy’s attention sharpen. “How’s he doing?” They both knew she meant Cassidy.
“The good news is he’s not drinking. The bad news is that he loses his temper on an average of once an hour, and Billy’s had to promise the men hefty bonuses to ride it out.” She turned her head in time to see Lindy’s sympathetic nod.
“Have you talked with him?”
“Once. He called Monday to tell me he’d be tied up with USDA inspectors most of the week and that it would be better if Vicki didn’t come on Wednesday.”
“And you immediately decided he wasn’t telling the truth?”
“No, Cassidy never lies.” She bit her lip and listened to a replay of the conversation in her mind, savoring each word as if they were rare gems. She smiled as she recalled the laugh she’d won from him when she recounted some of Vicki’s more exalted plans for her birthday celebration—including a whole list of extravagant presents.
“Maybe I’m investin
g too much importance in a laugh,” she said, as if her thoughts were clearly audible.
Lindy received that with her usual aplomb. “Scared?”
“Terrified.” She took a shaky breath. “I know the next step has to be his. But I’m so afraid he won’t be able to take it.”
“He’s had years to build up those walls. He’s not going to tear them down overnight.”
“No, but I’m only asking for him to move the first brick.” Karen looked down at the toes of her sneakers. “How long can that take?”
“It takes as long as it takes,” Lindy said, rising. “I know that’s not the answer you wanted.”
Karen took one last look toward the long stretch of purpling sky and wondered how long she could hold out. “Maybe a little gentle prodding is in order.”
“Uh-oh.”
Karen grinned, her mind made up. “I think I’ll see if I can fit in a quick trip to the mall before Vicki and I drive out to the ranch tomorrow morning.”
“What’s at the mall?” Lindy asked as they walked toward the elevator.
Karen waited until the orderly pushing a patient in a wheelchair passed out of earshot before turning to say, “French lingerie.”
Lindy lifted one delicate eyebrow. “Isn’t that playing dirty?”
“Yes, but a girl can only wait so long for the man she loves to realize he loves her back. After that, it’s time to use a little gentle persuasion.”
Lindy shook her head as they reached the bank of elevators. “Sounds more like guerrilla warfare to me,” she said, pushing the down button.
“All’s fair,” Karen said with a confidence she was far from feeling.
“Something tells me Cassidy Sloane doesn’t have a chance,” Lindy muttered as the elevator stopped at their floor and the doors slid open. As they stepped into the car, Karen could only pray that her friend was right.
* * *
It was setting up to be a perfect day for Vicki’s birthday bash, Cassidy decided as he gazed at the puffy white clouds drifting lazily over the pasture where he’d been riding fence since sunup. He only hoped he didn’t miss it on account of the black devil in horsehide limping along behind him.
Both horse and man were covered with red Colorado dust, and after a few miles of breathing the stuff, his mouth was bone-dry. He figured he’d walked a good year’s worth of sole off his favorite boots, with the better part of a mile still stretching between him and home.
After sidestepping another gopher hole, he shifted his gaze to the clutch of low rock and timber buildings in the distance. By even the most optimistic reckoning he was a half hour from home. More if he wanted to make sure Lucifer wouldn’t suffer any more than absolutely necessary.
Not that the cantankerous beast deserved special consideration, he grumbled to himself. In fact, he had half a mind to whack the ugly animal between his ears.
As if reading his thoughts, Lucifer snorted and tried to shake free of the bit. Without bothering to look behind him, Cassidy answered with a sharp jerk on the reins.
“Patience, you stubborn jackass.” The contrary animal kept trying to bolt for the barn and his ration of hay. Not that Cassidy could blame the beast. He, himself, was hungry enough to chew his saddle cinch. Though it galled him to admit it, even to himself, he was also feeling profoundly guilty. Lucifer was hurting and it was his fault
The gelding had been ground-tied near a stream Cassidy had been inspecting when a jackrabbit broke cover a few feet away, spooking the high-strung horse into bolting. By the time Cassidy had tracked him down, Lucifer had been lathered and lame, and Cassidy had been footsore and ready to kill.
Behind him, the black beast snorted another protest, causing Cassidy to glance over one dusty shoulder. “I have enough sins of my own to battle, so don’t even think about blaming me for yours, you mangy bastard,” he muttered with a disgusted scowl even as his attention was snagged by a distant streak of white arrowing along the access road.
“Damn,” he muttered as he drew close enough to recognize Karen’s Rover rocketing down the lane toward the ranch house.
Fear, icy and far too familiar, shot through him before he battled it down. Didn’t she know how fast accidents could happen? Or how fragile a life really was? Dammit, he knew exactly what kind of sickening damage a car could wreak on a human body.
He quickened his step, then checked to see if Lucifer could handle the faster speed. Satisfied that his horse was up to the pace, he returned his attention to the speeding streak of maroon metal.
He hadn’t stopped thinking about her. At night, when he paced or worked or read instead of reaching for a bottle. At dawn, when he woke with his body engorged and his mind filled with images of her lush body and welcoming eyes. At times when swearing and sweating weren’t enough to drive away the acid taste of guilt.
He ached for her. Burned to hold her, even when he’d been talking himself out of going to her. When he was astride one of his horses, he longed to have her riding next to him, her head thrown back and her cheeks pink from the wind and her own inner joy. When he was in town on an errand, he scanned every female face looking for hers. He’d even parked outside her mother’s house late one night and stared at her bedroom window, as heartsick as a tongue-tied teenager.
What he didn’t do, couldn’t do, was go to her and say the words he knew she was waiting to hear. Not until he was absolutely certain he meant them. The memory of the last time he’d spoken them was too raw, too vivid in his mind.
But God, he missed her.
* * *
Vicki saw her father first, walking toward them with an easy, loose-jointed stride that carried a quiet air of command. He was leading the devil’s spawn that had nearly killed him. Though the gash in his temple had healed, the vivid red scar gave testimony to his narrow escape.
“Look, Mommy! Daddy’s been riding Lucifer,” Vicki exclaimed as she unsnapped her seat belt and reached for the door handle. As she did, Rags came streaking from the back of the house, barking furiously.
“After you say hello to Daddy, carry the box with the favors into the dining room, then come back and help me with the cake.” Karen was amazed that she could speak so calmly when her heart was galloping so hard in her chest.
Cassidy had reached the paddock gate, close enough for Karen to see the dark scowl on his face as he called something to Billy, who was standing in the open doorway, a too-thin boy with sandy hair next to him.
Dora’s nephew, Ryan, Karen registered after a puzzled moment. Billy had mentioned the boy during one of their frequent conversations. Ryan had taken to Cassidy immediately. But then, everyone did, although she doubted he noticed.
Vicki darted an impatient glance in the direction of her father as Rags raced halfway to the paddock before making a wide circle that brought him back to Vicki. Tongue lolling, he leaned against her sturdy legs, waiting, while mother and daughter watched Cassidy lead the limping gelding toward the barn.
The conversation was predictably brief, punctuated on Billy’s part by a terse nod now and then, on Cassidy’s by a clearly evident impatience. Business concluded, Cassidy ruffled the boy’s hair, slapped the horse on the rump and only then turned to walk toward her.
As he drew nearer, she heard the jangle of his spurs over the rustle of the wind in the aspens lining the driveway. His beat-up chaps were caked with almost as much dust as his boots, and his hat had become even more battered than she remembered.
He, himself, looked harried and worn, a man with too much on his mind. As he drew closer, she saw that his jeans were looser than usual. He’d lost weight, a good ten or so pounds by her estimate.
“Hi, Daddy!” Vicki called as she ran toward him, her arms outstretched to fling herself at him. He caught her easily and swung her around as she babbled a mile a minute.
“Happy birthday, peanut,” he said when she finally wound down.
“We’re early ’cause Mommy wanted to make sure everything was ready before people start showing up.”
“Guess four hours early should do it, all right.” He held her aloft in a bear hug for a long moment before setting her on her feet. Only then did his gaze find Karen’s. The impact was immediate and powerful. “Hello, Karen,” he said quietly, but she thought she detected a rough burr of nervousness in his deep voice.
“Hi,” she said, without bothering to conceal her pleasure at seeing him.
He took off his hat and brushed an arm over his grimy face, then ironed the flatness out of his unruly hair with impatient fingers. She realized she was staring, and cleared her throat. “Isn’t it a beautiful day for a party?”
“Beautiful.” His voice came out scratchy and much too harsh. Vicki, on the other hand, looked from one parent to the other with a puzzled look. “Mommy and me went to the mall before we came and I got my very own bottle of perfume.”
He shifted his gaze and lifted one eyebrow. “I hope you remembered what I told you about the bra.”
Vicki gave him a disgusted look before her face brightened again. “Mommy bought herself a birthday present, too. Since she’s the one who had me.”
“She did, huh?” His gaze came back to hers, a little amused, a little tense. “Yeah, only it’s not a surprise ’cause she had to buy it for herself.”
He took a step closer, and she felt a hot shiver of anticipation shoot down her spine. “That doesn’t seem right.”
Karen had trouble breathing. He was intimidating and virile and earthy, his authority sitting easily on those big shoulders. “Uh, Vicki, why don’t you take the favors inside now while Daddy and I discuss a few details,” she said when she found her voice again.
“Okay, and then can I take Domi her carrot?”
“Yes, but try not to get straw in your hair, okay?”
Vicki grimaced as she spun toward the back of the SUV with Rags at her heels.
“She’s growing up,” Karen said as they watched their daughter walk toward the back door, the bulky cardboard box filled with gaily wrapped party favors balanced carefully in front of her.
“Too fast,” Cassidy said, a rueful look imprinted on his weather-battered features.
The Parent Plan Page 23
