Sniper Fire (Love in the Crosshairs) (18 page)

The third bad news?

She realized about five o’clock this morning that she was in love with Kyle Fagan.

Farrah grimaced. Bad news? Good news? At this point, she wasn’t really sure where that world-shaking epiphany fit in the grand scheme of things. She’d always imagined that when she found the one person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, it would be a glorious time of celebration. But, Kyle Fagan? Really? Except for yesterday, the man had always held her at arm’s length. Could she really mean something more to him?

Yes, apparently, if she went by that unexpected kiss yesterday. Though whether he still felt the same after her cowardly retreat was anyone’s guess. Her cheeks still flushed when she thought of the way she’d panicked. She wasn’t in the habit of running away from difficult situations. She’d much rather tough it out and get through her problems than put them off until later. Her body had known what was going on. It had just taken the rest of her a few sleepless hours to accept her new state. She was in love.

The realization that her feelings for Kyle were no longer lukewarm, but magma hot, had pumped so much adrenaline into her she’d gone numb. She’d thought she was done with the bad boys of the valley when she broke things off with Joshua years ago. He and Kyle were into violence, she wasn’t. They couldn’t wait to enter the military, and she hated the military for good reason. Her older brother had joined the Army straight out of high school. His death from a sniper’s bullet six months into his stint in Afghanistan had nearly broken her. She’d sworn then that never again would she love someone whose job put them in danger.

Cue her Dear John letter to Joshua while he was in boot camp.

Not that Joshua, or Kyle either, had let her put that much emotional distance between them. She’d known for a long time that she was walking the edge of her vow with those two. She simply couldn’t put them completely out of her life. Not when they’d both been so understanding and supportive after Mark died. As far as she was concerned, Joshua’s platonic friendship after their breakup just proved he wasn’t the one for her. Who would have thought his irreverent, foul-mouthed, hot tempered sidekick would stir things in her that she’d never felt before, not even with Joshua?

Farrah’s hands balled into fists as she turned and marched back into the clinic. She wasn’t the type to stand back and watch someone she cared about ruin his life by doing nothing. It was time to ramp things up. The challenge to shake Kyle Fagan out of his defeatist funk just got personal.

****

Kyle clenched his teeth as he forced his truck to a stop at the bottom of his steep driveway. He’d never thought twice about the sharp incline before, but damn if it wasn’t on the top of his list of things to avoid now. Only problem being he couldn’t avoid it forever. He needed to pick up his mail that had accumulated at the post office while he’d been gone. And, according to his stomach, he needed food—something more immediate in addition to the groceries on his list.

Post office, café, market. He had a plan.

Part of him had the nerve to wonder if he’d see Farrah in town. He hadn’t seen or heard from the aggravating woman since the disastrous kiss three nights ago. Not that he’d expected to. He knew he’d stepped over the line of their friendship.

She’s leaving you alone. Isn’t that what you wanted?

Well, yes, and no. He could do without the constant badgering about the sorry state of his leg, but he didn’t want to do without Farrah’s company. Her lovely face, her smile, the way she tilted her head up when she laughed, sending all those red-gold curls tumbling down her back. Hell, she was so beautiful, just looking at her had a way of lightening his heart. And when she spoke? Damn if it wasn’t like listening to an angel, even when she was badgering him.

And, he was right back where he started, hoping he’d see her in town and knowing it would be better not to. Yeah, the situation sucked.

A growl of sheer frustration filled the cab. Why did life have to be so damn complicated?

There weren’t any cars in the lot when Kyle stopped at the little post office on the edge of town. The flag flying from the pole off to the side snapped in the hot breeze, catching Kyle’s attention as he got out of his truck. He looked up. The gray cast to the clouds scuttling across the sky wasn’t a good sign. Firefighters were still battling the blaze started by the storm early Saturday morning. Unless this one had some heavy rain in it to go with the wind and lightning, it would only make things worse.

Kyle put his head down against the dust kicked up by the stiff breeze and limped inside. He went to the counter and rang the little bell for service.

“Hold your horses, I’ll be right there,” a voice called from the back. The older woman who appeared a few seconds later was as familiar to Kyle as his own reflection. Kay Downing had long, silvery gray hair she wore loose and flowing. A hold-over from her hippy days, she joked. She had sharp blue eyes that met you straight on, just as clear and canny as when she taught him in Sunday school years ago. Her pink-painted lips spread into a warm smile when she saw him.

“Kyle! There you are. I’d heard you were back.” She held up a finger. “Give me just a minute. I knew you’d probably be in soon, so I’ve got your mail right here.” She marched over to a line of cabinets along a wall, high heels clip-clopping on the linoleum. She opened a door and hauled out a canvas bag that had US MAIL stenciled on it. Even from where he stood, Kyle could see the thing looked heavy. He immediately felt guilty.

“Here, Ms. Downing. Let me in and I’ll get that.”

“That’s all right, I got it.” She wrapped the ends of the cords holding the bag closed around her hand and started dragging the accumulation of several months of hunting, fishing, and sports magazines across the floor. “Why do you think I put everything in this bag instead of a box? Easier for both of us to handle this way.”

He met her at the locked door to the office.

“Here,” she said, putting the cords in his hand. She flipped her long hair back over her shoulder with a practiced move. “You can drag it right out to your truck. It won’t hurt it none.”

Kyle wrapped the top of the bag around his hand, picked it up, and flipped it over his shoulder. The weight pulled him slightly off balance, but he compensated quickly. Mrs. Downing stared at him a second.

“Figures,” she said, shaking her head a little.

Kyle grinned down at her. “Thanks Ms. Downing. I’ll bring the bag back later in the week.”

She waved a hand at him in a shooing motion. “You don’t worry about that. I got more than one. Just get it back to me before you go gallivanting off again with that Colby boy.”

And just like that, Kyle’s good mood soured. “Yes, ma’am.” He kept the smile pasted on his face as he left. No sense trying to explain to the kind woman that he wouldn’t be going anywhere with Joshua any time soon. If ever.

He plopped the bag on the floor of the truck on the passenger side, cranked up, and headed for the café. He really didn’t feel like eating anymore, but knew he had to. Besides, Marlee and Seth Borden served omelets ’til eleven, and it was just now ten. He hadn’t had one of Seth’s mouth-watering omelets in ages.

Kyle lucked out and found a parking spot on the street right in front of the café. As soon as he stepped inside the little restaurant, voices called out in greeting. He acknowledged them with a wave, his trained senses causing him to read each face, even though he didn’t want to. The pity was easier to decipher on some faces than others. Pity, and curiosity. The two emotions seemed to be the driving force behind the friendly smiles. Word had gotten around that he was hurt, but not why or how.

Paybacks, he thought, hiding his grim smile behind a swipe of his hand across his mouth. Leaving them wondering about the cause of his injury was petty, but he’d take his satisfaction where he could get it.

Marlee Borden hurried around the counter, her gaze jumping from his leg to his face. Kyle did his own share of looking—at her rounded belly. She laughed, hardly any shadows at all hiding in her soft brown eyes. “Kyle, it’s so good to see you.” She wrapped him in a hug. Kyle carefully hugged her back. Marlee’s husband, Seth, stuck his head out of the kitchen and waved a spatula in greeting. Kyle shot him a thumbs up. Seth grinned, gave a short bow with an exaggerated flourish of the spatula, and ducked back into the kitchen. Kyle had known the couple all his life, though they were a few years his senior. They’d always wanted a child.

“Congratulations, Marlee. You look like you’re ready to pop,” he said as he and Marlee both straightened.

She patted her curved stomach and sighed heavily. “Thanks. I wish that was the case. I’ve got three more weeks according to the doctor. Seth wants me to quit working, but I read somewhere that walking sometimes brings on early labor. At this point, I’ll do anything to get this part over with.” She touched his arm, some of the happiness warming her gaze replaced by concern. “How about you? Are you going to be okay?”

Sweet woman. She understood he wasn’t okay now, but wanted to make sure he would be in the future. Damn if he didn’t like that about her. He shrugged a shoulder. “They tell me it’s like having a baby. You just have to learn to live with the consequences of all that fun you had getting there.”

Marlee smiled slightly. She looked like she wanted to say more, but just nodded. “Come on,” she said, stepping back. “Your favorite table is open. You sit down and I’ll bring you a coffee. You want pancakes or an omelet this morning?”

“Omelet, please. Seth knows how I like it.”

She grinned, already backing toward the kitchen. “Right. Everything under the sun and heavy on the jalapenos. I’ll get him right on it.”

Kyle made his way to the back booth. He sat with his back to the wall, giving him a good view of the entire café. The few patrons had gone back to their food and conversations for the most part. No doubt he was now a star topic.

“Here’s your coffee.” She set the steaming cup in front of him. “Food’ll be up in a minute.”

“Thanks Marlee.” He glanced up before she turned completely away. Something about her smile, the way her eyes darted away from him, caught his attention. He watched her a moment, the tight muscles of her shoulders screaming a tension that hadn’t been there before. She was nervous, he decided, but trying hard not to show it. Kyle continued to watch her retreat from the corner of his eye. Damn if she didn’t glance back at him twice before she ducked into the kitchen. Definitely nervous. Maybe she was like the rest, wanting to ask him more about his injury, but afraid to. Yeah, that was probably it.

Kyle reached over to pull a packet of sugar from the little container on the table. He could drink black coffee, but enjoyed it more with a touch of sweet. He plucked up a white packet, his gaze automatically cataloguing the rest of the items sitting in a cluster: salt and pepper shakers, bottle of catsup, bottle of hot sauce—he’d need that shortly. Combination napkin and menu holder…

His gaze caught the word
knee
on the cover of the menu and stuck. He looked closer. No, not on the menu cover. There was something else tucked into the front of the holder. He jerked the folded paper free. What the hell?

Bold words on the front read: SAFE, EFFECTIVE KNEE REPLACEMENT

Beneath them were the words, Pain Free Walking Guaranteed.

The doctor’s name and location was printed at the bottom, but Kyle didn’t bother reading anymore. He ripped the pamphlet in two and tossed it on the table.

When Marlee arrived with his meal, her expression was wary. She glanced at the torn pieces on the table, but didn’t say anything, just nibbled on her bottom lip. When she came back to top off his coffee, she still didn’t mention the pamphlet. Kyle let it go. He already knew who was responsible, so grilling Marlee wouldn’t do anything but upset the pregnant woman. She might be hoping for early labor, but he wasn’t about to be the cause of it by distressing her.

He took another bite of the delicious omelet. Some of the juices from the chopped vegetables tucked inside escaped, trickling down his chin. Instead of going for the thin little paper napkins in the holder, he reached for the neatly folded cloth one Marlee had brought along with his plate. Kyle snapped open the pristine white napkin and mentally cursed as another pamphlet dropped onto the table. This piece of medical propaganda was different, touting the expertise of a Dr. Simon Gather, who had performed hundreds of successful popliteal artery bypass surgeries.

Restores blood flow. Strengthens starving muscles
…

Shit! Kyle muttered a few more choice words as he treated this pamphlet with the same care as he had the first one. He thought seriously about getting up and walking out without finishing his meal. But, no, that would only hurt Marlee’s feelings. It was obvious, now, why she was so nervous. Farrah had somehow talked the sweet-natured Marlee into pestering him with the pamphlets. Damn stubborn woman!

Irritation had him bolting down the rest of his food. After draining his coffee cup, he left enough money on the table to cover the meal plus his usual big tip, and headed for the door. He made sure to smile and wave at Marlee on his way out. The woman waved back, still looking as stressed as a rabbit in a room full of wolves.

Kyle pushed all thoughts of Farrah and pamphlets and surgeries to the back of his mind as he shopped the little market down the street for a bachelor’s necessary food stuffs. The chore didn’t require much concentration. Frozen pizza, frozen dinners, chips, dip, and beer. Yeah, good, reliable staples. He grabbed a bag of baking potatoes, the makings for a salad, and a couple of steaks and chops for those days he craved something a little more substantial, and headed for the checkout stand.

Getting past the register seemed to take forever. The girl sliding his items past the scanner kept asking him questions about the military. Not a good subject for him right now. Soon enough, though, he paid his tab and claimed his purchases from the kid who’d bagged them up. When the skinny teenager offered to help Kyle carry the bags to his truck, Kyle let him, just because the offer came out sounding like a broken record, something the boy said to everyone.