Cowboy for Keeps (2 page)

Looking at him with the patience of Job, his middle brother, Seth, spoke up. “We aren’t so sure your mind is working. The fun-loving brother we know and enjoy is sitting in this dark house looking like he hasn’t showered in days.”

“Seth—” Wyatt bit the word out but Cole, his youngest brother, butted in.

“We love you, bro, and you know you have to snap out of this. You’re not going to be in that chair for long.”

“Look, you two, go to work and leave me alone. I’m not joking.” He had lost his sense of humor three weeks ago.

Cole held up his hands and gave a lopsided grin that usually made anyone and everyone smile along with him. “We’re goin’,” he said. “No call to get so riled up. That temper’s one of the reasons we’re worried about you.”

Wyatt hiked a brow as a shooting pain ripped through his left hip and tore through his lower spine. He gripped the arm of the wheelchair with his hands and willed his expression to remain pain-free. “I’m only skimming the surface here,” he said, trying not to clench his teeth. “You need to stop worrying about me. I’m an adult.” Who’d made a bad error in judgment.

“Cole, let’s give him some space.” Seth headed toward the door. “But Wyatt, whatever you do, don’t run Amanda Hathaway off. Yes, you want to be alone, but remember you need her. And the agency said she was the perfect person for the job.”

“Yeah, so give her a chance,” Cole drawled. “Don’t forget Mule Hollow is a long way from the nearest rehab center. It wasn’t easy to find a physical therapist willing to come all the way out here to live for three months.”

“
And
you can’t do therapy on your own,” Seth added somberly. “Not this time. Not even you, Wyatt.”

He got that loud and clear.

“As stubborn as you are,” Cole prompted when Wyatt remained silent, “and as driven, there is no doubt in our minds that you’ll be back up globe-trotting in record time. With the right physical therapy program. So stop worrying—and we know you are. You can’t hide it from us. Just like you can’t hide the fact that you’re in a heap of pain right now.”

“I’m fine,” Wyatt snapped as his gut tightened at the denial as the spasm began to ease up a bit. They came and went at their leisure and he’d begun to wonder if this was what a woman felt like when she went into labor…if so, it was a miracle there were children born.

“Look,” he said. “I don’t need you two knuckleheads trying to run my life—”

“
Oh, man,
you did
not
just say that!” Cole hooted, his eyes dancing as he stared at Wyatt in disbelief.

“You, the master of interference—”

“Not that the two of us are complaining,” Seth interjected with a grin. “You found us both our wives and we are eternally grateful. But you aren’t yourself these days, Wyatt. Not since the accident. We’ve got to help you get out of this funk you’re in from being out of control of everything.”

Seth’s somber, determined gaze locked with Wyatt’s. He knew Seth couldn’t be budged when he had that look—it was chock-full of Turner stubbornness. It was true he was in a “funk,” but it was only to be expected. He was letting down his clients and his firm because he’d been careless…and careless was unacceptable in his book.

“I should have gone back to Dallas so y’all wouldn’t worry—”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Seth countered emphatically. “We love you and want what’s best for you. Therapy out here on the land you love is the best way to get you healed up.”

“That’s all we care about,” Cole added, all laughter and teasing gone. That in itself told Wyatt how concerned they were for him. “You just need someone to help you get the full range of movement back into that hip and arm. Then you’ll be your old overachieving self again. If it were either one of us in your position, this is what you’d be doing for us and you know it.”

It was true. He’d have meddled in their lives until he got what was best for them. “I’ll be fine,” he grunted, not liking losing control of his life like he had. It was not a feeling he’d ever experienced before, and he wasn’t dealing well.

“Yeah, you will be after the PT arrives.
Now
we’ll go to work.” Seth walked out the door.

Cole sauntered after him, but stopped in the doorway. “Hang tough, big bro.”

Through the window, Wyatt watched them leave. Their boots thumped loudly as they hurried across the rough wooden porch and down the two steps to the old stone sidewalk that led to where they’d parked the ranch truck earlier. He reminded himself that his little brothers were only looking out for him because they loved him. Still, having the control taken away from him fisted him up inside. Giving control of his life over to anyone wasn’t something he did…but it seemed he had no choice. If he wanted his life back he was going to have to trust this Amanda Hathaway.

Seth and Cole wouldn’t have hired someone who wasn’t capable, he assured himself an hour later as a red SUV pulled over the cattle guard.

Feeling suffocated inside, he’d moved his wheelchair out onto the porch. He waited as a woman got out of the vehicle. She was young, about twenty. No, she’d have to be around twenty-four or-five to have a degree in physical therapy
and
have any kind of experience at all. They’d said she was good at her job…hard to believe if she was as young as he suspected.

She seemed ill at ease as she tucked a strand of fine brown hair behind her ear and looked his way. Being ill at ease didn’t give him any more confidence in her than her young age.

Wyatt’s eyes narrowed as she walked up the path. Surely this wasn’t the woman he was supposed to put his confidence in? If he was going to have someone living on the premises for the next two or three months, invading his privacy and telling him what to do, he expected someone who looked as if they could do the job they were hired to do. His ire escalated with each step she took toward him.

She was medium height with a slight build—no way could she help him get in and out of the wheelchair. She came to a halt at the foot of the steps. Up close it was worse. She had the fresh face of a kid, made more so by the splash of freckles and large doe eyes that looked up at him with what he could only call fear.
Seth and Cole were dead meat!

“Who are you?” he demanded before she had time to say anything.

“I—well, I’m Amanda. Amanda Hathaway.”

This was a joke. It had to be. He was notorious for pulling jokes on his brothers. This would be just like the two of them to get him back for stunts he’d pulled. But he knew it wasn’t true. Even they wouldn’t pull a stunt like this now.

Nope. This was the woman he was supposed to give control over to—the woman he was supposed to trust with his future.

He didn’t think so.

Despite what his little brothers thought, he could still make decisions on his own and that started with telling Amanda Hathaway she wasn’t staying.

W
yatt Turner didn’t look right in the wheelchair.

It was the first thought that had hit Amanda when she’d spotted him sitting on the porch. Her confidence had faltered as she’d driven the three hours to Mule Hollow—not surprising since she hadn’t been feeling like herself. Seeing Mr. Turner did nothing to help matters.

He was an extremely physically fit man with a broad chest and the lean build of someone used to working out. A man who took care of himself—though she’d already assumed that about him. Joyce had said he was a high achiever, driven to be the best. If that was true, keeping physically fit would fit the profile.

He was handsome—or would be if he didn’t look so angry. He had black, wavy hair and bold features including a strong jaw, which at the moment was dark with a five o’clock shadow. It wasn’t, however, his look and build that had her smoothing her hand across her flyaway brown hair in a display of nerves. No, it was his eyes. Hard, intense cobalt-blue, they narrowed and grew cold as they studied her. These were the all-seeing eyes of a man who read people for a living.

He probably hid his thoughts well. He looked as if he only let a person, or a jury, see what he chose to let them see.

Amanda stilled her nerves. She didn’t have to look close to see he was not happy to be in a wheelchair. He was probably not used to needing someone else.

Despite her resolve that she could handle this job, Amanda’s heart fluttered with worry and she wondered if she’d made a mistake in coming.

No mistake.

This man’s intensity might serve to be her saving grace. If he was as demanding as she assumed he would be, that meant all her time would be consumed.

And all-consuming was exactly what she needed right now.

“I’m sorry I’m running a bit late. I’d hoped to be here before lunch but traffic on I-35 was killer.”

“How old are you?”

His question caught her off guard, halting her rambling. “I’m twenty-four.”

“How long have you been a physical therapist?”

Okay, so he had a right to know these things. But still, he hadn’t even said hello. “Two years. I graduated high school early and started college two years early. I have experience, Mr. Turner, if that’s what you’re worried about.” The realization that he might not have wanted her here hit her.

“You graduated two years early?”

She heard the astonishment in his voice.

“How did that happen?”

“I had an accident and almost died when I was fourteen. I wasn’t able to attend class.” It shouldn’t have been any big deal, but the fact that he had yet to be cordial at all set everything on end. She assumed he was going to make her stand in the sun until he was satisfied with her answers. She lifted her chin, shifted her weight to her good leg and smiled. “I was hit by a drunk driver. I was training to be a cross-country runner on the freshman cross-country team and was out running near our house. I… Like I said, I nearly died. My parents homeschooled me after that. It was work-at-my-own-pace. I decided I liked to move quickly.”

She saw the flicker of surprise in his dark eyes—good, she’d meant to get a reaction out of him. He knew about nearly dying and surely would relate to that. It was easy to see he was spoiling for a fight. Anger wasn’t uncommon in his situation. She suspected he was probably stunned to find out that he wasn’t invincible. Overachievers often thought they were untouchable. That they had everything under control and nothing could go wrong. She had news for him—it happened to the best of them. Including herself.

Life was not controllable. At least not completely.

“Look, I’m sorry, but this isn’t going to work.”

“What do you mean this isn’t going to work?” Surely he didn’t mean what she thought he meant.

His face hardened more—if that were even possible—and his jaw jutted. “Just what I said, Ms. Hathaway. My brothers and your employers all knew I expected a fully capable, highly trained physical therapist for this job. I’m sorry you’ve been brought all the way out here, but I don’t have the luxury of time and can’t waste what I do have.”

“Mr. Turner, I might be young, but I’m capable of doing this job. I wouldn’t have come if I hadn’t been. You’ve read my résumé, I’m sure.”

“Actually, no. My brothers handled these arrangements.”

“Well, then, you also should know that the majority of my work has been done with children and teens. But that doesn’t discredit me from being qualified to handle your case.” Nor did her lack of a leg, but obviously his brothers had chosen not to tell him that, and they must have had their reasons, so she didn’t say anything.

“That doesn’t change anything.” His expression was blank. “I’ll make sure you’re paid for your time coming out here. This is not going to work.”

Amanda watched in shock as he pressed the forward button on his wheelchair with the fingers of the arm not in a sling and guided it toward the open doorway.

“The agency I work for doesn’t have another therapist open for this job.” She hoped something would change his mind; obviously it wouldn’t be anything about herself that would do it. “Being all the way out here is going to cause a big problem when it comes to finding a good therapist. I’m good. Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?” She hadn’t expected that she’d get turned away.

He halted at the door and shot her a glare—that look took her faltering thoughts from stunned disbelief to complete peevishness!
The man is really being unreasonable.
Of course she had no clue what was going on in his head, she reminded herself. For all she knew, he might be like this all the time. Boy, would that be an unpleasant way to go through life. However, looking at him, something told her he wasn’t. Something told her he was struggling. And she saw pain in his eyes right then, even as she watched him. He winced slightly, favoring his left side where she knew his hip and lower back injury needed her attention.

“I’m sure,” he said, his words almost a grunt, but he held on and almost covered up the fact that he was having a spasm.

Even in pain he was stubborn, though Amanda had no doubt about his sincerity. She could see that changing his mind wasn’t something he did. She knew from his profile that he was probably also used to getting his own way, doing things his way and more than likely able to buy anything he needed in order to make it happen. This could very well be doomed from the start—begging him to keep her on was not an option that would work for either of them, no matter how much she wanted to stay.

“Then I guess that does it.” Disheartened in so many ways, she fought to think rationally—something she’d been having a bit of a problem with lately. Her stomach decided to step in and help her out by letting out a long, drawn-out roar. It broke the uncomfortable silence that stretched between her and Wyatt. That was one way to end their meeting: food. It might help her refocus. She’d been stuck in traffic and running late, so she hadn’t taken time to stop for lunch. “Is there somewhere in town I can get a bite to eat?” she asked, fighting to keep her tone neutral.

He’d entered the house and turned the chair—probably so that he could slam the door in her face! His brows locked in consternation as he stared at her through the screen. For a minute she wondered if he’d expected her to beg him for the job. She needed this job to take her mind off her own troubles, but she would never beg. He had to realize he needed her. Surely he knew how badly his injuries needed attention before they began to worsen. That would start to happen while he looked for someone to replace her. Time was of the essence, she wanted to say—but he was a smart man and he knew this.

“Sam’s is the only diner in town. You can’t miss it.”

She held his gaze and almost challenged him…any other time she might have, but not today. “Thanks,” she said, turning to go. She’d eat and then she’d call Joyce. If anyone was going to fix this it would be up to her boss. With her back held straight she retraced her steps to her vehicle. In her heart of hearts she hoped Wyatt would reconsider and stop her before she drove away…but she knew he wouldn’t.

Wyatt Turner was not a man who changed his mind. He also wasn’t the only person who was good at reading people. It was a trait she’d learned after the accident, watching nurses and doctors and her parents when they gave her hard information. It had come in handy in her profession as she evaluated her clients’ needs and signs of pain.

It was a shame that it did her absolutely no good now…then again, maybe she wasn’t as good at it as she’d thought she was. She’d read Jonathan about as wrong as possible.

Or maybe she really hadn’t. Maybe she’d only imagined in their relationship what she’d wanted to see there.

She got into her car, pulled the strap of the seat belt securely about her and stole a glance toward the house. He was watching her…and he was rubbing his hip since he thought she wasn’t looking. So be it. She started the SUV and drove away. She watched the house disappear in her rearview mirror and felt more lost than she had in ages. What was she going to do?

The feelings she’d been able to set aside as she’d headed toward this job crowded back in around her.

In the early days, working with kids gave her something to focus on other than herself. Now she didn’t even have that comfort any longer. God had a plan for her life. She clung to that belief, but right now it was giving her little comfort.

Turning onto the blacktop, her thoughts turned to Wyatt Turner and she found herself wondering if that was how he felt. If so, he had her sympathy. Even if he had just fired her.

Wyatt needed out of this wheelchair.

He needed out before he went crazy. It had to happen and it had to happen sooner rather than later.

It
would
happen—he’d make it happen as quick as possible. Something about Amanda Hathaway bothered him. She would only have slowed down his progress.

Letting her go had been his only option. Still, he hadn’t liked doing what he’d done.

She wasn’t up for the job, it was obvious. It niggled at him that he’d judged her by her appearance, but he didn’t have time to go soft. He hadn’t gotten where he was in life by going soft. The facts were that she wasn’t strong enough—she was small and young. There was no way she’d be able to handle strenuous training like he expected and needed. And she’d worked with children! Of all things. What had Cole and Seth been thinking?

They’d wanted to remind him about how important his physical therapy was and yet they’d gone and pulled a sorry stunt like this.

His doctors had assured him he could make a full recovery, but only with hard, diligent work. There wasn’t an ounce of quit in him—never had been, but this physical disablement had thrown his world upside down. Every time his hip and back seized up he felt weak…if he let his guard down. If he didn’t work absolutely as hard as he was supposed to there was a chance he would always have a limp and lower back pain.

He’d admit that deep inside he was scared. If he let up, if he messed up in the least little bit he wouldn’t come out of this as strong and healthy as he’d been before he’d botched things up with his stupid error in judgment when he’d decided to fly his plane in unsafe conditions.

That was the scariest thing—how weak he felt. As if to show him who was boss, pain shot through his left hip once more and attacked his lower back with a vengeance. This time it was so strong he groaned before he could stop it. Perspiration beaded across his forehead as he grimaced against the pain. He closed his eyes, he counted to ten, willing his muscles to relax. Tensing up made the spasm worse—not a good thing.

Sucking in a heavy breath, he tried to relax and let the pain pass.
What if I can’t make it back to the way I was?
The question sliced through him like a knife to a wound.

It had been three endless weeks since he’d crash-landed his twin engine plane in a pasture during a storm. It had happened not long after he’d left Mule Hollow and was headed back to Dallas. He’d taken time he didn’t have to fly home to congratulate Cole on his wedding engagement. Since he was responsible for matching up Cole and Susan, he’d wanted to make the quick day trip and share in the joy of the moment. If he’d listened to his gut—which was usually right—and stayed the night, taken time to really enjoy the moment with them, he’d have been all right. But enjoying the moment wasn’t something he did. Instead he’d rushed off in the middle of dangerous winds and a severe thunderstorm. He’d been arrogant enough to believe he could handle the storm. What an inane bit of stupidity.

When had he decided he could control everything?

He hadn’t closed the door after watching Amanda drive away and now he stared across the land that had been in his family for over a hundred and fifty years. It was in this place his roots ran deep and was from his ancestors’ example that he’d become the man he was.

Being used to control was a good thing, he reminded himself. It had driven him to where he was in his career as an attorney. It would get him through this. Taking another deep breath, he began to relax as his mind cleared and the pain began to recede.

Good blood ran through his veins. Hardworking, upstanding—well, upstanding except for his good ole great-great-great-great-great-grandpa Oakley—him being upstanding was questionable. By and large the Turner men and women were tough. Generations past had stared across this land that stagecoaches had crossed on their way to this old stagecoach stop. Like this house, his ancestors had stood the test of time and so would he.

His brothers had been right in bringing him home.

This place had always been good for his soul.

Two months. He would get better and he’d get to work. He would not let himself get waylaid by debilitating, unproductive thoughts again. He hadn’t been feeling like doing anything except sitting in this chair and feeling sorry for himself. It wasn’t something he understood or wanted, but that was what had been happening. He wasn’t sleeping and his attitude stank. But lately he hadn’t been able to do anything about it. Cole and Seth had known and they’d taken action when he wouldn’t. Their action had helped him—jolted him enough to fight…and fight was what he needed.