by Gina Wilkins
And was still, she mused. Kyle was a long way from coming to grips with the loss of his friend.
But this wasn’t a counseling session. She drew her hand from his arm and asked lightly, “So, tell me the truth, Kyle. Were you as lucky with the ladies as your friend?”
He snorted. “Hardly. I never had Tom’s knack for flirting. Put me in a social situation and my tongue glues itself to the top of my mouth. Maybe you remember that I’ve always been like that.”
“Mmm. Some women are drawn to the silent, brooding type,” she teased lightlyshe teased lightly—and thought that it apparently applied to herself. Especially when it came to Kyle.
Looking mildly embarrassed, he growled, “Time to change the subject again.”
“So I take it you didn’t fall off your horse?”
“No. I remembered just enough of what your father told me to stay in the saddle.”
“Do you think you could still rope a calf if you tried?” He grunted. “Only if the calf walked up and offered to put his feet in the lasso for me.”
She giggled.
With a shrug, Kyle said, “It was painfully obvious when I lived on the ranch that I had no real talent as a cowhand.”
“So you went into the military.”
He nodded. “Your dad told me about his stint in the navy. It sounded like a good deal, so I went to sign up, though I chose the Marines rather than the navy.”
“Did you like it?”
He gave her a look that made her feel foolish for asking, but he replied evenly, “It suited me at the time.”
Embarrassed about asking such a blatantly insensitive question—even though it was partially his fault for being so hard to converse with—she moved on. “You said you were considering several options for your future. What do you think you’ll do next?”
He shrugged and turned his attention back to his driving. “Maybe I’ll take Mack up on his offer to go into property management with him. I’m not too good at the dealing-with-people part, but I’ve always been pretty good at making repairs.”
She wondered if that was what he really wanted to do, or if he felt obligated to step into the place Tommy would have taken had he survived. Jewel and Mack had obviously accepted him as a surrogate son, trying to fill the hole their own son’s death had left in their lives, and Kyle was probably grateful for the assistance they had given him since he’d been injured.
She was trying to think of a relatively tactful way to ask that question when Kyle turned the tables on her. “I think it’s my turn to ask you questions.”
Though she was a bit surprised, she replied, “Sure. Go ahead.”
“Doesn’t it cramp your social life to live with your parents at your age?”
Social life? She almost laughed. The closest she had come to a social life in the past year had been the family barbecues the Walkers threw every chance they got. “Since I’m not seeing anyone in particular right now, it isn’t really an issue.”
“And that’s okay with you?”
“For now it is. I told you I’m planning to find a place of my own as soon as a teaching position opens up at one of the elementary schools within a thirty-mile radius of the ranch.”
“I’m sure there are teaching positions in the bigger cities. Dallas. Houston. San Antonio. Austin.”
Of the cities he had named, Dallas was the closest to the ranch. Yet at the time she had earned her degree, even an hour had seemed too far away. She had been so glad to be back among her family, safe in the close and loving circles in which she had been raised.
She had justified her return by telling herself they needed her there, but she’d known even then that she had needed them more. “I guess I’m just a homebody. Like Shane, I’ve seen no need to live far from the ranch.”
“Are you going to imitate your brother and build a house on the other side of your parents?”
She was making an effort not to get defensive. Kyle was just taking a little revenge on her, pelting her with personal questions in retaliation for her doing the same to him. “I don’t think that’s a very practical option. But I’m sure I can find something in the vicinity.”
“When you grow up,” he murmured.
“Now you’re just being a jerk,” she informed him with a toss of her head.
He laughed. The deep, rich sound sent a rush of heat through every inch of her body. It was a good thing, she thought rather dazedly, that he didn’t do that very often, or she would be a quivering puddle on the floorboard by the time they reached the ranch.
Molly didn’t suggest stopping in Little Rock to visit her aunt and uncle. Though Lindsey would be annoyed, Molly doubted that Kyle was in the mood for a sociable visit with her relatives. He was ready to get her safely delivered to the ranch so he could quickly get back home, she assumed.
They made it as far as Hope, Arkansas—almost halfway between Memphis and Dallas—before something went wrong with the car.
“Are you kidding me?” Kyle exploded in frustration when the engine made a funny popping sound, then died. He tugged frantically at the steering wheel, guiding the rapidly slowing vehicle safely to the side of the freeway, avoiding being hit from behind.
“What’s wrong?”
“Damn engine just quit.” He turned the key, resulting in nothing but further frustration.
“You can’t start it again?”
“Do you hear it running?” He reached beneath the dash to release the hood lock, glanced in his side-view mirror to check traffic, then opened the driver’s door and got out of the car.
Molly watched through the windshield as he opened the hood, obscuring himself from her view for a few minutes. She knew absolutely nothing about car engines, but maybe Kyle knew enough to fix whatever had gone wrong. Could be a loose wire or something, she thought optimistically. Maybe all he would have to do would be to jiggle something or tap on something or…
He dropped back into the driver’s seat with a disgusted expression that put an end to that hope. “I can’t fix it.”
“I don’t understand. I never have trouble with my car. I have the oil changed every three thousand miles, I use good quality gasoline, I watch all the dials and gauges. I know it has sort of high mileage, but the only thing broken is the radio.”
“A broken radio doesn’t keep it from running.” Biting her lip, she studied him as he stared out the windshield, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Do you think it’s really bad?”
“I don’t know. It looks like we’re going to have to call a tow truck and have it taken to someone who can answer that.”
She reached up to rub her temples, feeling dazed by this latest misadventure. It was almost as if someone didn’t want her to get back to the ranch. “Kyle, I’m—”
He cut her off with a slash of his hand. “We’ll handle it,” he said.
She sighed and dug in her purse for her cell phone.
They wouldn’t be reaching the ranch that evening. They wouldn’t even see the Texas state line. It took more than an hour to have the car towed to a garage that was open on a Sunday afternoon, and then nearly another hour of boredom in a grubby waiting room to find out that the situation was as bad as Kyle had feared.
The timing chain on Molly’s aging little import had broken, and the garage didn’t have a replacement on hand. It would be late the next day before they could get on the road again.
Her expression stricken, Molly straightened the stack of year-old magazines she had been reading to pass the time while Kyle paced and stared impatiently out the single, wavy-paned window. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Everything keeps going wrong.”
“It isn’t your fault,” Kyle admitted a bit grudgingly. As much as he might have wanted to place blame for the mishaps of the past few days, he had to concede that Molly hadn’t intentionally hurt her leg, nor had she been able to predict the car trouble. It wasn’t fair of him to take his frustration out on her. “You’d better call your brother and tell him we’ve bee
n delayed again.”
He couldn’t help thinking of how the five-hour drive remaining to the ranch seemed so very far at the moment. Had he been the superstitious type, he’d have wondered if the fates were conspiring to keep them from getting there—after doing everything possible to get him started on this journey he’d had no intention of taking.
Without moving, Molly sat looking at her cell phone for so long that he finally asked, “What’s the problem?”
She sighed. “I’m giving myself a mental pep talk before calling Shane.”
“Why is that necessary?”
Wrinkling her nose, she explained, “He’s going to chew me out again, and I’m bracing myself for it.” “Why would he chew you out? This is no more your fault than spraining your ankle was. Your car has been well maintained, but there’s no way to prevent an occasional mechanical problem. It’s just bad luck that it happened near a small town on a Sunday afternoon.”
Though she looked grateful for his reassurance, she seemed no more eager to call her brother. “Shane will point out—rightfully so—that I never should have been on the road today in the first place. Had I gracefully accepted your answers about the party and resisted the impulse to drive to Tennessee to nag you, I wouldn’t have sprained my ankle and I wouldn’t have put you to all this trouble and expense. And don’t even think about paying one penny of these car repairs or our motel rooms for tonight. These charges go on my credit card.”
“I’ll pay my own motel bill. As for everything else, it’s really none of your brother’s business, is it?”
She made a rueful face. “You really don’t remember Shane very well at all, do you?”
“I take it you and he don’t get along very well.” Her eyes widened almost comically. “Shane and I get along great! He’s always been my best friend in the world, in addition to being my big brother.”
Never having had a sibling, Kyle was confused. “But you said he yells at you all the time and that he bosses you around.”
“Well, yeah. But that’s just Shane. And he doesn’t really yell at me. He just worries too much sometimes. He was fifteen when I was born, you know. He’s kind of overprotective. Almost like a second father.”
“He still thinks of you as a little girl who needs his advice and protection.”
“Yes,” she conceded with a sigh. “I’ve been trying to change that, but it’s taking time. He says when he’s seventy-five and I’m sixty, he’ll still think of me as his baby sister.”
“Mr. Reeves?” A barrel-chested mechanic in grease-stained work clothes stood in the doorway of the waiting room. “Your loaner car is here. I’m sure you and your wife will be more comfortable in one of the local motels than here in this room.”
Kyle didn’t bother to correct the guy about his marital status. “Thanks. Maybe you can give me directions to the nearest decent motel?”
“There are a couple of chains just off the freeway. And several restaurants and fast-food places nearby. You shouldn’t have any trouble getting around. I’ll call the cell number you gave me as soon as your car’s ready tomorrow.”
Kyle nodded. “The earlier you can get to it, the better. We have a long drive still ahead of us.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Thanks, Bill.” Kyle handed Molly her crutches, then slung the straps of her overnight bag and his own over his shoulders. He couldn’t help wondering what Bill-the-mechanic was thinking as he watched Molly hobbling across the room with Kyle limping along behind her. Probably that they made an odd pair—and he would be right about that.
As Bill had assured them, they found a motel without any problem. Once again, Kyle rented two rooms, putting one on Molly’s credit card, as she demanded.
He didn’t think another cozy dinner in her room was a good idea—especially since he was still aching from the kiss they had shared. Instead, he gave her time to call her brother and prop her foot up with an ice bag for a while. He tried to talk her into taking something for pain, since he could tell she was uncomfortable, but she refused to take anything more than an over-the-counter anti-inflammatory. He supposed that would have to do—and he couldn’t blame her, since he hated pain pills himself.
After they’d both rested and freshened up, he took her to a casual steak house he had spotted on the way to the motel. Molly ordered fried shrimp and French fries, while Kyle selected a thick-cut steak with a baked potato. They were both hungry after the long drive and a very light lunch, so they ate without speaking for a while.
Kyle kept expecting Molly to get the conversation going again, but when she didn’t, he finally asked, “How did your talk with Shane go? Was it as bad as you feared?”
She dipped a fry into a puddle of ketchup, stirring it around without enthusiasm. “No, it was okay. He was sort of resigned this time, I guess. He told me to be careful and to call him tomorrow when we get underway again.”
Kyle studied her face, trying to read her expression. She sounded kind of down, but she wouldn’t look at him, so he couldn’t see her eyes. Maybe she was just tired. Or still sore from her injury. Or maybe her brother had been less understanding than she had let on.
It really ticked him off to think of Shane yelling at her—for any reason, justified or not. Kyle was guiltily aware that he had snapped at her a few times when he shouldn’t have, but he thought he might just take a swing at anyone else who treated her with anything less than respect. Even her brother.
The inappropriately possessive and protective nature of that thought made his scowl deepen.
“What’s wrong?”
He smoothed his expression and met her eyes.
“How would you like to go to a movie or something after dinner?”
“A movie?”
It had been an impulsive offer, but now that he thought about it, it sounded like a pretty good plan. Sitting in a movie theater wouldn’t be too taxing for her, yet it would be much safer than spending too much time alone together at a motel. “Sure. Why not? It isn’t as if we have anything better to do.”
Actually, he could think of several more interesting ways to pass the time, but the movie definitely sounded like the wisest option. “I’m sure there’s a theater around here somewhere. I’ll ask the hostess on our way out.”
“Yeah, okay.” Molly seemed intrigued enough to smile again—which made him feel absurdly smug. “It’s a date.”
No, he almost refuted immediately, frowning again. It wasn’t a date. That word implied an end to the evening that wasn’t even a possibility. Seeing a movie together was just something to do to kill a couple of hours before going to bed—in their separate rooms, of course. It was definitely not a date.
He decided to let her statement go unanswered before he steered them onto a conversational path that was much too precarious.
Chapter Eight
It wasn’t a date, Molly reminded herself more than once during the evening. Even though it sort of felt like a date, sitting in a darkened theater next to Kyle, sharing a bucket of popcorn, their hands colliding occasionally, knees almost touching.
The movie they had selected was hardly a romantic “date flick.” Instead, they saw a noisy, frenetic action film, complete with bullets flying, bad guys and heroes, fast cars and faster women. Just her type of movie.
She had needed this diversion. For two hours, she was able to forget about her leg, her car, the big party that was coming up entirely too soon, the fact that her brother was exasperated with her and that Kyle was probably thoroughly sick of her. She didn’t think of the kiss they had shared more than two or three times during that two-hour interlude—which was much less frequently than she had replayed it during the rest of the day.
Unfortunately, it all returned to her when the lights came back up at the end of the film and Kyle extended a hand to help her out of her seat.
His palm was rough against hers. His skin so very warm. She felt the strength in his arm when he boosted her upward, and she realized that he was much more
muscular than his slenderness indicated. She had seen the exercise equipment in his home. He must put it to good use.
It was a new experience for her to be so primally aware of a man’s strength. Of the way his hand felt at the small of her back. To be so focused on the sound of his breathing, and the scent of his soap and shaving cream.
She’d had a few crushes in her teens, a couple of boyfriends in college, but she had never spent as much time reliving every touch or obsessing over a single kiss as she had today. She couldn’t remember ever aching quite this deeply for more.
Kyle parked the loaner car in the motel lot, then helped her to her room, even though she assured him she was okay on her own. Once again, their rooms had a connecting door, so he entered with her to ask if she needed anything else before they turned in.
She gave him a weary-feeling smile. “I’m okay. But thank you for taking such good care of me.”
Pushing his hands into his jeans pockets, he shrugged. “It was my negligence that caused you to be hurt.”
“Stop saying that,” she ordered, tossing her crutches aside. “A board broke. I fell. You’ve more than made up for it by everything you’ve had to endure since.”
“It hasn’t been that bad. A couple of days in a car. Even the breakdown today was hardly a disaster. Waiting around most of the afternoon was sort of boring, but the steak I had for dinner was good. And that’s the first movie I’ve seen in a theater in longer than I can remember. It was a nice evening.”
He was trying to make her feel better, she realized, touched by his effort. He must have sensed her guilt that he had been so inconvenienced on her behalf. Maybe he’d picked up on her mounting tension all day, though she devoutly hoped he didn’t suspect that it was her strong attraction to him that was causing her to be so nervous.
“I had a nice time, too,” she told him quietly.
He stood there looking at her for a moment, and then he cleared his throat and nodded curtly. “Okay. Let me know if you need anything during the night.”
