With a shake of his head, he took her arm and helped her back into bed. Handed her the steaming cup of tea waiting on the nightstand.
“You can go now,” Paige told him, after taking a sip from the cup. “I’ll be fine.”
Austin kicked off one boot, then the other.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he informed her.
And then he went around to the other side of the bed and stretched right out on top of the covers as though he meant to stay put.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
AUSTIN SUPPOSED he should have been a mite more grateful than he actually was when Joe Colwin, M.D., stopped by the ranch bright and early the next morning and announced that he’d come to look in on Paige.
“Libby—that’s Paige’s sister—is in there with her right now,” Austin said, stepping back so the doc could come into the house.
“How’s the shoulder?” Colwin asked.
The shoulder, as it happened, was a little on the sore side, since Austin had ditched the bandage and stopped taking his pain meds because they made him feel a bit woozy. “It’s okay,” he said. He gestured toward the table. “If you’re not in a hurry, you might just as well sit down and have a cup of coffee.”
Colwin nodded. “Thanks,” he said, taking a seat on one of the benches. There was an earnest look in the doctor’s eyes as he watched Austin fill the coffee mug and bring it to the table.
“Need anything to put in that coffee?” Austin asked, folding his arms.
Colwin shook his head. “Black’s fine,” he replied.
Austin hauled back the chair at the head of the table and sat down. “You’re not from Texas,” he remarked thoughtfully, and then felt stupid for saying it out loud.
Colwin’s grin was a little wan. “No,” he said. “I’m originally from Indiana.” He took a sip of his coffee and set the cup down with care. He cleared his throat then, and focused the kind of straightforward look on Austin that commanded respect. “You and Paige…?”
Austin sighed. Rested his forearms on the tabletop and interlaced his fingers loosely. “You’re going to have to ask Paige about that,” he said very calmly, though a part of him wanted to warn the man off, grab him by the shirtfront and shake his teeth loose from his gums.
“You probably ought to have some physical therapy for the shoulder,” Colwin said after a short, uncomfortable silence.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Austin answered.
Libby came into the kitchen then, and she smiled when she saw the doctor.
Austin stood, and so did Colwin.
“Hi, Joe,” Libby said warmly. Her gaze scooted to Austin, bounced back to Colwin. “I hope you’re here to see Paige. For a nurse, she’s having a hard time accepting that she can’t just go on as if she didn’t get thrown from that horse.”
Colwin smiled. “Doctors and nurses usually don’t make the best patients,” he replied. “We’re used to taking care of people, not the other way around.”
Austin felt a flick of sorrow at the back of his heart, reminded that Paige and Joe Colwin had a profession in common. Some people would even say a calling.
Libby showed the doctor to Paige’s room, and Austin, needing to be busy, picked up the fireplace poker and took a few jabs at the chunks of wood in the grate, causing sparks to fly.
Shep, never very far away, got up off his blanket pile and put some distance between himself and the blaze, contained though it was.
Libby’s voice startled Austin because he hadn’t heard her come back into the room.
“Cheer up,” his future sister-in-law said gently. “Paige will be all right.”
Austin put the poker back into the rack and shut the glass doors on the fireplace before he answered. Even then, he wasn’t ready to turn around to face her.
“I couldn’t carry her,” he said. “After she was hurt, I mean. I needed Garrett to do that.”
Libby rested a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not wrong to need other people’s help sometimes, Austin,” she said. “Especially your brother’s help.”
He faced her then. Swallowed hard. “If I hadn’t persuaded Paige to go along on that horseback ride—”
“Stop,” Libby interrupted, her eyes kind as she studied his face. “Things like this happen, Austin. Nobody knows why. Maybe there isn’t a reason, even. But I can tell you this much—Paige is already talking about getting back on a horse. She’d climb back in the saddle today, if we let her.”
Austin gave a confounded chuckle. There was so much about Paige that amazed him, and this was just the latest in a long line of small mysteries he wanted to solve.
“You’re not serious,” he said.
Libby grinned, nodded. “Of course I am,” she replied. “My little sister is worried that she’ll be too scared to ride again if she waits too long.”
Austin shook his head, looked past Libby’s shoulder, toward the entrance to the guest apartments. He wished he could be in there with Paige and the doctor, without coming off as some jealous idiot.
It wasn’t as if the two of them would be getting it on or anything like that, but there were much more subtle ways for a man and woman to connect—a look, a touch of the hand, a shared laugh.
“Relax,” Libby said, gripping Austin by the shoulders now.
He sighed, thrust a hand through his hair. “I’m trying,” he said. “Trust me, Lib, I’m doing my best here.”
She smiled. “You look like a man who could use some breakfast,” she said, and moved away to cross the room, open one of the refrigerators, poke around inside for a dozen eggs, green onions and a block of cheese. “Sit down, Austin.”
He sat, feeling more like some old codger than a man who hadn’t even seen thirty yet. Sleeping beside Paige the night before, fully dressed except for his boots, and on top of the covers, too, had left him sore all over and feeling as though he hadn’t rested at all.
“So,” he said, making sure Libby had her back to him before stealing another glance at the doorway to the guest apartment. He frowned, because as far as he was concerned, Joe Colwin had been in there plenty long enough. What was he doing, anyhow? Putting a whole new cast on Paige’s ankle?
“So,” Libby repeated, chopping green onions now.
Austin took a sip of his coffee, left behind on the table, and found it cold. Shoved it away.
“Paige,” he said, “would probably be happy with a doctor.”
Libby turned her head quickly, so that her glossy light-brown hair flew around her shoulders, and a bubbly laugh escaped her. “Austin McKettrick,” she said, “what was that supposed to mean?”
Austin hadn’t meant to say what he had, hadn’t even run the words through his head first to get an idea of how they might sound. He felt heat climb his neck, throb under his jawbones, cinch his throat up tight.
He looked toward the fire because he was too embarrassed to meet Libby’s gaze. “Damned if I know,” he muttered.
Libby laughed again, went right on chopping stuff over there at the counter. But she didn’t pursue the matter, and for that, Austin was profoundly grateful.
By his reckoning, he’d made enough of a fool of himself for one day.
Dr. Colwin finally emerged from Paige’s bedroom while Libby was still sautéing onions for the omelet she had under construction. She invited the doc to stay and join them for the meal, but after a glance at Austin, Colwin shook his head, thanked Libby and said he had to be getting to work.
Maybe next time, he said.
If Austin had his way, there wouldn’t be a next time.
Okay, it was crazy, because he didn’t have any kind of claim on Paige Remington, and even if he had, he wouldn’t have been within his rights to insist that she find herself another doctor.
An old one, maybe. Or a woman.
But for all that, he felt edgy as hell until Colwin had left.
PAIGE POKED AT the channel changer on the remote control for the small TV Tate had set up for her that morning before heading out wi
th Garrett, to ride the range, or whatever it was they did out there.
There was nothing on. Five hundred channels, and nothing to watch. How screwed up was that?
“Hey,” Austin said with a tired grin. He stood in the doorway, holding a plate in each hand. “Lib built an omelet. I brought you some.”
Paige narrowed her eyes. Gave up on television, maybe forever, by hitting the off button and tossing the remote to the foot of the bed. “I’m not hungry,” she said.
“You’ve got to eat,” Austin told her reasonably, moseying over to hand her the plate and three pieces of silverware all wrapped up in a cloth napkin, “if you want to be strong enough to ride Betty and stay in the saddle.”
She looked down at the food for a long time, not wanting Austin to see that there were tears standing in her eyes.
“You’re enjoying this,” she said miserably.
He settled himself in the rocking chair, with its quilts for cushioning. “Nope,” he said. “I don’t like seeing you or anybody else in pain.”
Something in his voice made her look up, forgetting that she’d wanted to hide her tears. This whole crying-for-no-reason thing was really getting out of hand. “That isn’t what I meant,” she said truthfully, but in a barely audible voice. “I was hired to be your nurse. And here you are, bringing me food, keeping me company even though I’m beyond crabby—”
Austin chuckled, but there was something broken in the sound. “It’s called being a friend, Nurse Remington.”
She took a bite of Libby’s omelet and realized she was hungry, after all. “I hate this,” she said.
“The omelet?” Austin asked, raising one eyebrow. He knew damn well she wasn’t talking about the food—she could see the knowledge in his eyes.
“Being an invalid,” she said, perhaps a little more snappishly than she might have intended to sound.
“Amen,” Austin said. “Been there, done that. It sucks.”
Paige looked at him more carefully then, remembering, and really registering, that he spoke from experience. It wasn’t just the most recent problems, the back spasms and the bullet wound; he’d been in the hospital and then in rehab for many weeks after that bull-riding accident at the rodeo.
“It certainly doesn’t seem to be doing much for my disposition,” she admitted, feeling sheepish and bored and weepy and sorry for herself all at once.
“No,” Austin agreed, smiling, “I wouldn’t say it is.” He paused, and the light of that smile lingered in his eyes, even though his mouth had turned solemn. “Libby tells me you want to get back in the saddle right away.”
She nodded. “You know what they say. If you get thrown from a horse, you’ve got to get right back on.”
His mouth crooked up at the corner. “Yeah,” he agreed after chewing and swallowing a bite of his omelet, “I know the saying, Paige. It’s generally meant for people who didn’t break any bones when they landed.”
She studied him, recalling what Libby and Julie had told her, about how Austin couldn’t stand it until he proved—not to the rodeo world, but to himself—that he wasn’t afraid to ride the very bull that had nearly killed him.
“Were you scared?” she asked.
Austin frowned slightly, set his plate aside. He looked comfortable, sitting there in that old rocking chair, as though it had been built to fit his particular frame. “When?”
“When you rode that bull again—what’s his name?”
“Buzzsaw,” Austin said. And then he really did surprise her. “Yeah,” he admitted forthrightly. “I was scared sh— I was plenty scared.”
“Really?”
Austin chuckled, amused and puzzled, both at once. “Really,” he said.
“Then why did you do it?”
“For the same reason you want to ride Betty, I guess,” he answered. “I didn’t give a damn what anybody else thought about my being afraid to take on that particular bull again, but I sure as hell cared what I thought. And I knew if I didn’t at least try to ride him, I wouldn’t have much use for myself from then on.”
“It’s hardly the same thing,” Paige pointed out, secretly fascinated by this unexpected glimpse into the workings of Austin McKettrick’s mind. “Betty is an ordinary saddle horse. Buzzsaw is a rodeo bull, specially bred to throw any cowboy, anywhere, anytime.”
Again, that crooked grin, the serious expression in those blue, blue eyes. “When you get right down to cases, Paige,” he said, “it is the same thing. You’d rather deal head-on with what you’re scared of than carry that fear around inside you for the rest of your life, and I respect that. I respect it a lot.”
Paige put her plate and silverware on the bedside table and slumped back against the many pillows Libby had fluffed out for her, trying to process all the new emotions Austin’s words had aroused in her.
“You do?”
He got up out of the rocking chair, crossed to the bed and bent down to kiss the top of her head. “Yeah,” he said. “I do.”
With that, he picked up both their breakfast dishes and, without another word, left the room.
Paige wriggled until she was lying prone and surveyed her enormous, casted foot, resting prominently on a stack of pillows provided by Libby. According to Dr. Colwin—Joe—she’d be up and around in a few days, albeit on crutches.
At that point, a few days seemed more like forever.
She was glad to see Shep when he came stumping into the room, grinning happily, as dogs will, and panting. He approached the bedside, laid his muzzle on her arm and rolled his eyes toward her. His meaning was so clear that he might as well have spoken aloud. “How ya doin’?”
Paige smiled and ruffled his ears. “Well,” she replied, as though the dog had actually asked the question, “the truth is, I’ve been wallowing in self-pity and now I’m just going to snap the heck out of it and start acting like a grown-up.”
Shep rolled his eyes away, rolled them back.
“After all, you’ve got a hitch in your get-along, and you’re not complaining.”
Shep gave an enormous sigh and moved away from the bed. He curled up on the hooked rug in front of the bureau and yawned.
It was infectious. Paige yawned, too.
Shep went to sleep.
And so did Paige.
When she woke up, Libby was standing next to her bed with a tray and a sisterly smile. “Lunchtime,” she said.
“Already?” Paige pushed up onto the pillows behind her. Looked for her crutches.
“Hold on a second,” Libby protested good-naturedly, when, with the aid of the crutches, Paige started to get up. “Let me help you—”
“You’re not helping me go to the bathroom, Lib. You are absolutely not doing that.” She was on her feet. The tops of the crutches dug into her armpits. “There is such a thing as personal dignity, you know. I have to draw the line somewhere.”
Libby set the tray down on the bedside table. “But what if you fall?”
“If you hear a crash,” Paige said, “feel free to barge right in.”
Libby sighed and folded her arms, clearly not amused, but she didn’t follow Paige out of the room.
In fact, when she returned, Libby was sitting patiently on the edge of the bed. Seeing Paige, she jumped up and flung back the covers.
Lunch, Paige discovered, once she’d settled back into bed and let Libby put the tray in her lap, was a tuna salad sandwich, chips and a glass of unsweetened iced tea.
Libby sat in the rocking chair, watching her.
“Is there going to be an early wedding?” she asked. First off, she really wanted to know and, second, she wanted to distract her big sister from worrying too much.
“We haven’t decided,” Libby said, rocking. A sweet little smile settled on her mouth, and she laid one hand on her abdomen, as though she could already feel the baby moving around inside her. “We go back and forth. One moment, we’re thinking we ought to go ahead and get ourselves married. The next, we’re reminding each other that it’s o
nly six weeks until the big day and what’s the use of doing it twice?” In four weeks, Paige reflected, munching on her sandwich, she would be out of her cast. Just in time, it would seem, to put on the ugly pink dress and stroll down the aisle ahead of her sisters, the team brides. She chuckled and shook her head. There was, evidently, no escaping bridesmaids’ hell.
“Anyway,” Libby went on with a sigh, slowing the rocking chair a little. “Tate has plenty to worry about right now besides gossip.”
The instant Libby had uttered those words, she looked as though she would have given a lot to take them back.
“Meaning…?” Paige prompted, raising one eyebrow.
“You know,” Libby said, throwing out her hands. The chair had come to a complete stop now. “The rustling, Austin getting shot—”
“The rustling is still going on, then?”
Libby swallowed, nodded. She glanced toward the doorway and, seeing no one there, lowered her voice just the same. “If anything, it’s worse,” she said. “More cattle have been slaughtered.” Pain filled her face, and a moment or so passed before she could go on. “Tate and Garrett don’t want Austin to find out,” she finished.
“They’re keeping secrets from him?” Paige asked. “Now there’s a recipe for trouble if I’ve ever heard one.”
“Austin was shot,” Libby reminded Paige, as though she, his erstwhile nurse, needed reminding. “He has a herniated disc. If he knew about the rustling and the—the rest of it, there would be no stopping him from putting his life in danger all over again!”
Paige sighed. “Lib,” she reasoned. “I don’t want to see Austin—or Tate or Garrett or anyone else, for that matter—taking any unnecessary chances with their lives. I’m just saying, Austin is going to be seriously pissed off when he finds out—he’ll figure he has as much right to know as either of his brothers, and it would be hard to argue with that logic. He’s a grown man, after all.”
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