Cowboy with a Cause (3 page)

“I was.” Why was he asking her about it? Didn’t he realize the entire subject was painful to her?

He turned from the freezer door and his gaze was dark, sympathetic, as it lingered on her. She hated that. She hated his sympathy.

“But that was then and this is now,” she said with a lift of her chin.

“So what happened?” He closed the freezer door and leaned against it with his back.

“The official diagnosis is drop foot and peripheral neuropathy and a bunch of other doctor jargon. In other words my brain isn’t speaking to my right leg and foot and the nerves have all gone crazy. I’ve been to a dozen neurologists and been tested for everything from multiple sclerosis to diabetes, but none of them were able to find the source of the problem. So it is what it is.” The bitterness was back in her voice.

“Can it be fixed?”

“I’ve been told to learn how to live with it.” “Just shut up about it,” she wanted to tell him, but instead she bit her lower lip.

He seemed to be attempting to look inside her soul, and she broke eye contact with him, not wanting to see any more sympathy in the depths of his eyes. She had enough self-pity. She didn’t need anyone else’s.

“Tough break,” he replied.

“Yes, it was. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m feeling a bit tired. I’m going to lie down for a while.”

With a need to escape whatever further conversation he’d planned to have with her, she scooted out of the room and into her bedroom, where she closed the door as tears stung her eyes.

The phone call from Craig had upset her and she felt too fragile to have any meaningful discussion about her life in a wheelchair. There was nothing to discuss.

She was in a wheelchair and therefore had no life.

She wheeled herself over to the window and stared out at the backyard. She’d spent most of her childhood and teenage years in the yard, practicing leaps, stretching for a perfect arabesque, and dreaming about the big lights and city streets of New York.

She’d had a small group of friends in high school, but none of them had understood her drive to succeed, to leave the small town and make a life doing what she loved. They had talked about getting married and having children, becoming hairdressers or schoolteachers right here in Grady Gulch.

Her mother used to joke that she’d come out of the womb dancing. Dancing wasn’t just something Melanie had done; it had been the sum of her being. And she didn’t know how to
be
without it.

She hadn’t seen any of her old friends since returning to town. Initially she’d been too busy nursing her mother for any kind of social life. Besides, she hadn’t seen the point in renewing old acquaintances since her intention was to bury her mother and head back to New York.

Now she didn’t want to see any of those old friends or anyone else in town. They would all look at her with pity and she couldn’t handle that.

Thankfully she didn’t have to worry about having any more intimate discussions with Adam. After she’d napped, she returned to the kitchen and heard no noise from the upstairs. A glance out the front window let her know Adam’s truck was gone, so he wasn’t home.

It was ridiculous, the kind of tension his very presence wrought inside her. She was far too aware of him as a sexy male, when she needed to look at him objectively like the cash cow that was going to save her house.

Still, it was hard to stay objective when he focused those gorgeous eyes on her, when the clean male scent of him eddied in the air around her and his energy filled the corners of the room.

She was twenty-eight years old, and her reaction to Adam reminded her that although her leg and foot were dead, apparently her hormones were not. Not that it mattered.

She spent the remainder of the evening watching television in the living room and then at nine o’clock once again went into her bedroom to prepare for bed.

As she got into her midnight-blue silk nightgown, she wondered where Adam was and who he might be with.
None of your business,
a little voice whispered in the back of her brain.

He was just a tenant, renting a couple of rooms. He had a life of his own and what he did, where he went had absolutely nothing to do with her. She had to somehow figure out how to rebuild her life without dance, without her mother for support.

As she lay in the dark, her thoughts drifted to her mother. How she missed her. She’d scarcely had time to grieve for her before the fall down the stairs. Now what she’d like more than anything was to hear her mother’s laughter, see her beloved face wreathed with a smile one last time.

How she wished she could hear her mother tell her that everything was going to be all right, that Melanie was strong enough to get through anything.

Olive had been Melanie’s rock, a no-nonsense woman who had, despite her better judgment, bought into Melanie’s dreams of dancing and had believed in her talent. Olive had worked all day at the post office and then had often taken other part-time jobs to make sure Melanie could continue with her dance lessons.

After Melanie had moved to New York, she and her mother had talked on the phone nearly every day. Melanie would get care packages from her mother with baked cookies and fuzzy socks and a little hard-earned cash tucked into an envelope. After several years of working, it was Melanie’s turn to send envelopes with extra cash to her mother.

She wished her mother was here right now, to tell her to suck it up, to quit whining about lemons and get to work making lemonade.

Olive had never been the type to indulge in any kind of self-pity. She was the strongest woman Melanie had ever known. Even when her husband had walked out on them when Melanie was two, Olive had tamped down her sadness and resentment. She had sucked back her tears and had set to work to build the best life she could for herself and her daughter.

Since her mother’s death and with the onslaught of her medical condition, Melanie had never felt so alone. She told herself again and again that she didn’t want anyone in her life. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, and she didn’t want to need anyone, because she was certain there would never be anyone there for her.

Still, when she heard the front door open and then close just after ten and the sound of Adam’s footsteps heading up the stairs, a strange sense of security filled her. She realized that at least for the rest of the night she was no longer alone.

* * *

He stood beneath the big maple tree in her front yard. Around him the darkness was complete; even the stars and the moon were hidden beneath a thick veil of clouds. At one in the morning even the dogs and cats of Grady Gulch didn’t stir.

It was his favorite time to stand and look at the house and think of
her.

Melanie.

Her name was a pressure tight inside his chest, half choking his breath from his body. It rang in his ears with a discordant chime that hurt his head.

She didn’t belong here.

He clenched his fists tightly as a surge of anger threatened to drive all reasonable thoughts from his head. What he wanted to do right now was break through her front door, take her from her bed and punish her.

It wasn’t enough that fate had already chastised her for her ambition by putting her in the wheelchair. She deserved more punishment...so much more.

It would be so easy to gaslight her, make her think she was losing her mind. He clapped a hand over his mouth to halt a burst of laughter that threatened to escape at the very thought.

He could drive her a little crazy, make her doubt her own sanity and then take her and punish her for all her sins for good.

He should have taken her last night or the night before. He’d had no idea that somebody would appear to rent part of her house. That complicated things.

Still, he was a patient man, and he knew that if he watched and waited long enough, the perfect opportunity would present itself.

He slowly uncurled his fists and drew a deep breath of the cool night air. As he moved away from the house, he was reminded that autumn was the time of death. He wouldn’t be satisfied until Melanie Brooks was as dead as the leaves that crunched beneath his feet.

Chapter 3

A
shrill scream pulled Melanie from her bed the next morning. In a panic she jumped into the wheelchair and left her bedroom, only to see Tilly racing down the stairway wielding a feather duster as a weapon, followed by a dripping wet Adam with just a towel wrapped around his waist.

“It’s okay, I live here!” Adam exclaimed as he chased the frightened woman down the staircase. He spied Melanie and halted, obvious relief on his face. “Tell her,” he said to Melanie. “Tell her I’m not some crazy serial killer hiding out in a shower stall.”

“Adam is renting the upstairs,” Melanie replied, surprised to feel her mouth threatening to stretch into a grin.

Tilly sprawled on a nearby chair with a hand to her heart, her wrinkled face still holding the remnants of horror. “I went up to dust the rooms and he stepped out of the bathroom and I thought for sure he was going to kill me.”

“What did you think he was going to do? Flip you to death with the end of his towel?” A giggle escaped Melanie as Adam’s cheeks flooded with color.

“I’ll just go back upstairs and get dressed.” He backed up the stairs, as if afraid by turning around, his bare tush might show.

Melanie had no doubt it was a fine tush, and for the first time since she’d returned to Grady Gulch, she released a full belly laugh. It felt good. It felt so darned good after so many months of having nothing to laugh about.

Tilly looked at her in surprise and then straightened up on the chair. “Well, I’m certainly glad you find it funny. You might have warned me that Adam Benson had moved in here.”

“He just moved in yesterday, so I haven’t had a chance.” Melanie tried to erase the vision she’d just had of Adam, but it was proving difficult.

His broad chest was fully muscled and his abdomen above the towel was a perfect six-pack. His long legs were sturdy and masculine in shape and for a moment the sight of him had halted Melanie’s ability to breathe.

“Are you sure renting the rooms to him is something you want to do?” Tilly asked, worry darkening her hazel eyes.

“It’s something I have to do,” she replied. “Tilly, you know my situation. Mom’s estate left me nothing except the house and I was living paycheck to paycheck in New York. I need some extra cash coming in and Adam was the only person who came to see the rooms. I’ve had that For Rent sign in the window for months.”

Tilly glanced up the stairs, where he’d disappeared. “Talk around town is that he’s cleaned up his act, but if he gives you any trouble, you just say the word and I’ll kick him to the curb for you.” To demonstrate her intentions, she stood and kicked out one skinny leg, which might move a gnat but certainly not a man as big, as built as Adam.

“Oh, Tilly, I don’t know what I’d do without you!” Melanie exclaimed in a burst of gratitude.

Tilly walked over to her and planted a kiss on top of her head. “You’d do fine without me. You’re brave and strong, but in any case I like doing things for you. Your mother was my very best friend in the world and she’d roll over in her grave if I didn’t do what I could to help you.”

She cupped Melanie’s face with her hands. “You’re the daughter I never had. Olive shared you with me.” She straightened. “And now I’m going into the kitchen to make you a big breakfast. If that man wants to eat, then I’ll make enough for all of us.”

“I imagine he’ll want to eat,” Melanie called after her as the skinny Tilly walked purposely toward the kitchen.

When she was gone, Melanie thought of that moment of laughter that had spilled out of her. It had felt good. She used to laugh a lot, but the laughter had been stolen from her at the same time that dance had been taken.

She couldn’t get her dance back, but maybe it was time she tried to get a little bit of laughter and fun back in her life.

She suddenly realized that she’d shot out of bed so quickly at the sound of Tilly’s scream that she was still clad in the silk nightgown that clung to her naked curves.

Hopefully Adam had been too concerned about his own half nakedness to have noticed hers. By the time she changed into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and returned to the living room, the scent of fried bacon filled the house.

As if pulled by the savory scent alone, Adam came down the stairs, this time fully dressed in jeans and a gray T-shirt.

He cast her a sheepish grin. “I’m a little more presentable now, but I’ve got to admit she scared me as much as I frightened her. I didn’t realize Tilly was a friend of yours. She used to help out at our ranch with some occasional cleaning. Thank God those are big bath towels.”

A new giggle escaped Melanie’s lips and she slapped her hand across her mouth to stifle it.

“Don’t,” he said, his eyes lighting up with humor. “Don’t stifle that laugh. I’ve been waiting since last night just to see a smile on you.”

The humor died as she pulled her hand from her mouth. “I haven’t had much to smile about over the last few months.”

She watched as he walked over to the wall of pictures. They had been her mother’s trophies, her motherly pride displayed in black and white.

“These are all of you,” he said, his voice holding a hint of surprise.

She nodded. “Whenever I got a new gig dancing, I’d send my mom a photo of me in my costume,” she explained. “I always had them done in black and white because mom said the color took away from the beauty of my pose.” She didn’t like to look at the photos now. They were simply painful reminders of what, of who she was no longer.

“They’re beautiful,” he said as he moved from photo to photo. “You loved it, didn’t you?” He turned back to look at her and she nodded. “It shows. It’s in every line of your body, shining from your eyes.”

“And now it’s all gone,” she replied flatly.

“It’s tough when good things disappear.” He sat in the chair Tilly had recently vacated. “Have you decided what you’re going to do now?”

“I guess I’m going to sit in this chair for the rest of my life.” The bitterness was back, and even though she tried to bite it back, she knew he heard it ringing in her voice.

“Surely you had other dreams when you were young,” he said gently.

“None that I can remember,” she said sharply. He was treading into private territory. He was a tenant, not a friend, and she barely knew him at that.

“I happened to run into one of your friends last night.” It was obvious by his change in topic that he’d realized he’d veered too close for comfort.

“One of my friends?”

“Once a week I drive into Evanston to attend an AA meeting and that’s where I went last night and I just happened to run into Craig Jenkins.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Craig was at an AA meeting?”

“No, he was working late in his realty office. I just stopped by and let him know I was staying here with you now and reminded him that you weren’t interested in selling and that it was out of line for him to keep bothering you.”

“Did you say it just like that?” she asked.

The corner of his mouth turned up in a sexy grin. “I might have used a few more forceful words. You were just so upset when you were talking to him on the phone yesterday. Did I overstep my boundaries?” he asked worriedly.

“No...and thank you.” A wave of gratefulness swept over her. He had to have gone out of his way to confront Craig and she knew he’d done it solely for her peace of mind.

“Breakfast is ready,” Tilly called from the kitchen.

“You want to join me?” Melanie asked.

He flashed her a smile of pleasure. “I’d intended to go to the Cowboy Café for breakfast, but your offer is much nicer.”

He stood and she was acutely conscious of him behind her as she wheeled herself into the kitchen and into the spot at the table that was absent a chair.

“We’ve got eggs and bacon and pancakes,” Tilly said as she bustled to get the food to the table.

Adam sank down in the chair opposite Melanie. “Sorry I scared you, Tilly,” he said.

“So you two know each other?” Melanie asked. “Adam told me you used to do a little housekeeping for his family.”

“I was a good friend of Adam’s mother, God rest her soul, and after her death Sam occasionally had me come in and do a little cleaning.” She pointed a spatula at Adam. “And you were always the messiest of the bunch.”

Adam grinned and as usual Melanie found his smile warm and inviting. “I promise I’ve grown up since then, Tilly. My dirty socks always manage to find their way into the clothes hamper these days.”

Tilly snorted, set a plate before each of them and then looked at Melanie. “I’m going to dust upstairs now that I know there aren’t any half-naked men lurking around. I’ll be back down shortly.”

Melanie and Adam exchanged amused glances as Tilly left the room.

“She been working for you long?” he asked as he poured a liberal amount of syrup over his pancakes.

“She doesn’t exactly work for me. She was best friends with my mother, and I think before my mother died, she asked Tilly to see after me. Of course, at that time neither my mother nor Tilly had any idea that I’d be in a wheelchair within a week.” Melanie reached for a slice of toast that was on a small plate in the center of the table.

“I’m not sure what I would have done without Tilly in the first months when I couldn’t walk. She drove me to Oklahoma City for doctors’ appointments, made sure I had food to eat and held me whenever I couldn’t hold back my tears. She’s been a godsend, although I’m learning each day to be more independent. I don’t want to be a burden on anyone, and even though I’ve tried to tell her I don’t need her coming over here three or four times a week, she insists.”

“She loves you,” Adam observed.

“Love shouldn’t be so much work for one person,” she replied dryly. She cast her gaze out the window. “Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day,” she said in an effort to change the topic to something more neutral.

“The last couple of days have been gorgeous. Autumn is one of my favorite times of year. The air outside smells different than it does at any other time...with a hint of woodsmoke and apples. If the weather stays this nice the trick-or-treaters will be out in full force at the end of the month.”

Melanie found herself relaxing as the conversation turned to Halloweens past. Adam told her about one year when his brother and sister decided to put together a haunted farm for people to visit.

“It was a disaster,” he admitted with a grin. “We cut a maze through an old cornfield but forgot to cut an exit out of it. Cherry was supposed to play a dead victim, but every time a cute boy came in, she’d jump up to flirt with him.” Adam laughed and shook his head. “I think we scared ourselves while we were setting it up more than we scared anyone who eventually came through it.”

In turn Melanie told him about fall in New York City, how the colors in Central Park could take your breath away and the street vendors added apple cider and cinnamon and caramel apples to their wares. She’d loved Central Park in the fall.

Normal. For the first time in seven months she felt normal, enjoying an easy conversation with a handsome man while eating breakfast.

She heard the sound of Tilly turning on the vacuum in her bedroom, the sound background noise as Adam continued to regale her with stories from his past.

It was only when the meal was finished and he stood and grabbed her plate to clear the table that tension surged up inside her and the reality of the situation hit home.

“I can clear my own dishes,” she said with more force than necessary.

“Sorry. Just trying to help,” he replied as he pulled his hand back and instead grabbed his own plate.

“I don’t need any help.” She heard the sharpness of her voice but seemed unable to rein it in. By his simple action of attempting to help her, he’d shattered the momentary feeling of normalcy. He’d reminded her that she was inadequate, that she was in a wheelchair.

She sat still, hating herself, as Adam cleared his plate and silverware. When he’d finished, he turned and looked at her, his eyes dark and hooded. “I’m heading out for a while. I’ll be back later.”

He didn’t wait for her response but rather turned on his heels and headed for the front door. Melanie winced as she heard the door open and then close behind him, leaving her alone in the kitchen.

Alone.

As she was meant to be. Alone, as she always would be. If her disability didn’t chase people out of her life, then certainly her attitude would. She couldn’t do anything about being in a wheelchair, but she was growing sick of her own attitude. Maybe it was time to change, to somehow look forward and discover something new she could do, instead of dwelling on all the things she could no longer accomplish.

It was a new mind-set for her and just a little bit frightening. For the past seven months she’d clung to her anger and bitterness at life and without it she wasn’t sure who she would be, but she knew for a fact she didn’t want to be the way some of the people in town had characterized her.

Somehow, someway, she had to figure out how to put her anger aside and find acceptance, but the one thing she was determined to do was not fall for the cowboy who now lived under her roof. That would just be asking for heartache.

* * *

“She’s definitely a prickly sort,” Adam said to his brother Nick as the two sat at his kitchen table. Garrett sat in his high chair, eating the last of a bowl of mac and cheese, and Courtney was at the sink, putting the remaining lunch dishes into the dishwasher.

Adam had been living in the Brooks house for three days, and since their shared breakfast, Melanie had been particularly aloof. They’d eaten at different times, and she’d spent most of her days and nights in her bedroom, as if actively avoiding his company.

Tilly had told him she had a computer in her room and spent a lot of time surfing the Internet, ordering items she needed and doodling on a sketch pad. For a woman as beautiful as her, her self-isolation felt like a new tragedy.

“I feel bad for her. It must be tough to have so much taken away from you, especially at such a young age.” Courtney, Nick’s wife, moved to the table with three glasses of iced tea. She cast a glance at Nick. “I know how hard it is to let go of bitterness.”