Stone Cold Cowboy (7 page)

Except for one little girl he called angel. Kaley changed everything about him. He responded to the little girl and let down his guard. His very fortified guard. Why did he need it?

She didn't know, but it made him less than approachable. So how the hell was she going to make things right with him when she didn't have the money to pay him back for the cattle?

With her mind still cloudy from the pain meds, she pushed her worries aside and undid the gown strings at her back. It hurt like hell to move. Everything ached, but she got the job done and let the gown fall and pool at her feet.

The bandages around her ankles and wrists sent a bolt of fear rushing through her. The sense of being bound and hung by her hands made her skin break out in a fine sheen of sweat. Naked, she stared down at her body and every nick, scrape, puncture, and cut.

“Are you okay in there?”

“I'm fine.” She couldn't hide the quiver in her voice.

“Sadie.” Rory's deep, rich voice held so much concern. For her. The sister of the man who stole from him. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away. She'd held it together so far; she wouldn't break down now. Not with Rory standing right outside the door.

“I'm almost done.”

She pulled the clothes out of the bag and set them on the sink. The panties were pretty. She should wear them more often. For whom? She had nothing but work and debt in her life.

The lace molded to her hips. She slid her hands over the soft material, taking in something soft and good when so much in her life was hard and went from bad to worse. She pulled the bra straps up her arms and adjusted the cups at her breasts, but when it came to trying to fasten it at her back, it hit a particularly nasty cut and stung. She tore the bra off and tossed it back in the bag, opting to put the black tank top on without it. She pulled the black leggings on, thankful Colt hadn't brought her a pair of jeans. The soft cotton was much better on her legs than denim. Because of where the elastic waistband hit around her waist, she pulled it lower to avoid a particularly sore line of gouges at her sides and across her belly. She looked and felt like some abused voodoo doll a witch doctor used to curse her.

She leaned down to pull on her sock, but lost her balance when the movement hurt her sore back and shoulders. She let herself fall to the floor. Bad idea. She put out her hand to catch herself, only to hurt her wrist even more.

She groaned and sucked in a deep breath to stave off the pain.

The door flew open and Rory rushed in, bending down beside her and brushing his hand over her hair. She stared up at him, lost in the depth of concern filling his eyes.

“Are you okay, sweetheart? Did you fall?”

Sweetheart? Did she fall?
Damn if her heart didn't trip, then stutter back to some new beat. Yeah, maybe she was falling for this quiet giant, but it needed to stop. She was tired. Hurt. Looking for something good and decent to hold on to and here he was, but he wasn't for her.

“Sadie.”

“When you say my name . . .” She shook her head and stared down at the floor.

“What?” he asked the top of her head.

If feels like you're calling me home.
She couldn't say that to him. He'd think her mad. Or at least drugged out of her mind. Yes. That was it. Nothing but all the pain meds they'd given her. She'd be thinking straight and clear again tomorrow.

“Nothing. Never mind. I'm fine.”
No you're not. You're losing it if you think Rory would ever be interested in you for anything other than finding your brother and killing him.

“I tried to put on my socks.” What else could she say?

Rory's gaze narrowed on her and focused on her moving her hands back and forth, stretching her wrists. He tucked one arm under her up-drawn knees and the other at her back, his hand dipping under her arm. He picked her right up off the floor like a feather and settled
her against his chest. He carried her into the other room and set her gently on the bed. Without a word, he went back to the bathroom, grabbed the bag, came back, and set it at her feet. He picked up her hairbrush from inside and stepped close next to her and began running the brush over her tangled mess of hair. Everything in her stilled at his soft touch, the rhythmic sensation of the brush sliding through her hair. A tidal wave of memories flashed through her mind.

“My mother used to brush my hair at night.” She'd tell Sadie how pretty she was, how much she loved her. Sadie didn't feel either of those things right now. “I miss her.”

Rory didn't say anything for a long moment, just kept brushing her long hair down her back. “My mother used to let me stay up on snowy nights,” he said at last. “She'd put all of us boys to bed, then come back and get me so my little brothers didn't know. She'd take me downstairs to the big window in the family room. She'd sit in the overstuffed chair with me in her lap and we'd drink hot chocolate and watch the snow, the house dark and quiet. Her presence used to fill the quiet. I miss her most when it's quiet.”

“You lost both your parents, right?”

“Avalanche covered their car on a back road through some steep terrain. They froze to death before help arrived.”

Sadie turned to face him. “Oh God, Rory, I'm so sorry. Then you found me out there nearly frozen to death.” She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining what that must have done to him. “I can't imagine what went through your mind.”

“Murder.”

“You thought I was dead? Great. Add that to the list of things I have to make up to you.”

Rory shook his head. “No. I wanted to murder whoever did those heinous things to you.”

“Yeah, well, get in line behind me.”

“You do realize it's only a matter of time before the cops find your brother and put him in jail.”

“That doesn't mean I'm going to be the one who puts him there.” She raised her shaking hand to her head and pressed on her forehead above her eye where the stress headache gathered strength.

Rory took her shaking hand in his and held it. “Are you afraid to go home?”

Yes. No. Yes. “I don't have a choice.” She stood beside the bed, but didn't step away. She couldn't.

Rory held firm to her hand. He didn't hurt her, just gently tugged to get her attention. “He'd be stupid to come after you again, knowing I'm coming after him.”

She met his steady gaze. “Don't you think that's a bit arrogant?”

“It's the truth. I won't let anything happen to you.”

She cocked her head, wondering how he planned to do anything once she was back home, back to her mundane life.

“If you need me, I'm there.”

R
ory stopped the truck outside Sadie's home. Once she got dressed—and put a light blue sweater over the black tank top that hugged her curves and drove him nuts—she dragged her feet getting ready to leave. He hated the way her hands trembled, the lost look in her eyes as they drove, the quiet that grew thick inside the truck, and most especially the unnatural distance she kept between them, her side pressed to the door.

“Do I make you nervous?”

Her head snapped toward him. “No. Why?”

“Do I scare you?”

“That's ridiculous.”

The front door to her house opened, drawing her attention. He reached over to touch her shoulder just to see what she'd do. She jumped, turned, and smacked his hand away. He held his hand up to let her know he didn't mean to harm her. Something died inside him, knowing she really did fear him.

“Rory, I'm sorry. I don't know what's the matter with me.” She raked both hands through her hair and held it at the back of her head, staring out the window
at her home with the sagging steps, weathered white paint, and cracked front window.

“You're scared.”

“I don't have time to be scared.”

“You've got no cause to be scared of me.”

“It's not you. It's me. I can't get what happened out of my head. What he did to me. Why?” She let out a heavy sigh. “I'm just sore and tired and . . .”

“And?”

“I don't know if I have it in me to keep doing this.”

“You do.”

“How do you know that? Up until you found me the other day, the only other time we met is when my brother was stupid enough to take a swing at Colt.”

“Going up against one Kendrick is stupid. Taking on all three of us is suicide.”

She smiled. Not a lot, just enough to tilt her pretty lips up at the corner and put a little spark back in her eyes. Those eyes swept over him.

“I see your point. The three of you together is a whole lot of muscle. I appreciate you letting him go that night.”

“If you hadn't stepped in—”

“And nearly gotten decked myself.”

“We'd have taught your brother a lesson about being stupid.”

“You let him go for me?”

Rory pressed his lips together and nodded. “You've got guts to put yourself in front of your brother and in between us. You've been holding this place and your family together for years. You need some rest, time to let what happened settle, and you'll bounce back.”

“Right. Back to work. See if I can dig myself out of this hole.” Sadie pulled the handle on the truck door and pushed it open.

“Hold it. Let me help you out. You're still recovering.”

She turned back and looked him right in the eye. “You've helped more than I deserve. Thank you, Rory. You don't know what it means to me that you not only saved my life, but stayed with me. I can promise you, I'll try my best to pay you back.”

“Sadie . . .”

She slipped from the car with her bag slung over her shoulder and headed for her father up on the porch. He held his arms out to her and she walked right into them.

“Hey, Dad. How are you?”

“No use fussing over this old man.” He held her softly, not wanting to hurt her, but then stepped back and held on to her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“Right as rain.”

“No use lying to me, girl. That Colt Kendrick came by to tend the horses and told me all about what happened.”

“I'm fine, Dad. Come on, let's go in and get you settled. You must be hungry.”

He looked past her shoulder. “Who's your friend?”

Sadie spun around to face him, her golden hair flying out behind her. “Rory, is there something you need?”

“Yeah, you to stop dismissing me.”

“I . . .”

“Mr. Higgins, I'm Rory Kendrick. Have you seen your son, Connor?”

Her father stepped beside her and hooked his bony arm around her waist, holding her close. “He's not about to show his face here after what he's done.”

“What's that smell?” Sadie raised her face and sniffed the smoke on the breeze. Without a thought to her injuries, she bolted past her father and ran into the house.

Rory followed Mr. Higgins in and found Sadie in the kitchen, flipping the stove handle off. She used the potholder to shove the smoking pot off the burner. She waved the pot holder to clear the smoke in the kitchen, then stepped back and opened the kitchen window. Rory opened the one in the living room, noting the piled-up papers, food wrappers, and remotes on the table next to the recliner.

“Did you burn something?” Mr. Higgins asked, looking genuinely confused.

Sadie stared at her father. The initial fear from the fire faded to concern and sadness. “Why don't you go watch your show, Dad. I'll clean up here and make you something to eat.”

Mr. Higgins coughed from the smoke, but the rattle in his chest and the way his face turned a deep red disturbed Rory. He took a closer look at the man who couldn't be more than fifty-five. His pasty complexion, thinning hair, frail frame, and the dark circles under his eyes made him seem older and like a man who'd been sick a long time.

“Mr. Higgins, are you okay?”

“Fine. Just trying to catch my breath.” Mr. Higgins coughed a couple more times.

Sadie stood beside her father, rubbing her hand over his back.

Her father looked up at her and reached to touch the nasty bruise on her face. Like he didn't see it at all, he said, “You look so much like your mother.”

“Come, Dad, sit in your chair. You need to rest.”

“Your mama used to make the best fried chicken and biscuits. Mmm, mmm, those biscuits melted in your mouth.”

Sadie led her father to his chair. Mr. Higgins shuffled along beside her and literally fell into the seat. Sadie handed him the remote and bent next to him, though it cost her to do so thanks to her many injuries. She squinted her eyes in pain, but didn't let her father know how much she hurt. That hurt ran deeper for her father's deteriorating condition.

“I love you, Dad.”

Her father ran his hand down her head and held a lock of her blond hair in his hand. “Now, what's all this?”

“I had a bad day. I wanted you to know. I love you. I'll take care of you.”

“You always do. You're a good girl.” Mr. Higgins looked around the open room. “Will Connor be home soon?”

“I'm sure he will. Can I get you something to drink while I make dinner?”

Mr. Higgins patted Sadie's hand on his leg. “I'd like that . . . you know the . . .” Mr. Higgins's eyes squinted as he tried to think of the right word. “You know what I like.”

“Sure, Dad. I'll get it.”

Mr. Higgins focused on the TV. His face went soft as he stared. Rory wasn't sure he was actually watching TV or lost inside his muddled mind.

Sadie stood and cocked her head, indicating for him to follow her to the door. She walked out and down the porch steps, standing between the house and his truck.

“Thank you for driving me home. I appreciate all you've done, but I need to take care of things here now.”

“What's wrong with your dad?”

She stared off into the distance and sighed so heavily her breath blew harder than the wind ruffling her hair. “He's dying.” She whispered the words like she couldn't bear to speak them out loud.

“Of what?” he asked gently, wanting to comfort, but not really knowing how.

Sadie wrapped her arms around her middle and stared up at the darkening sky. “I don't know. Not for sure. At my prodding, he saw a couple of doctors, but would never tell me exactly what they said. Just a bunch of ‘They're doing tests. Everything is fine.' I can't say when he went last. He's trying to protect me, but all he does is make me worry more.

“He's lost about thirty pounds in the last three months. He smoked for nearly forty years of his life. He up and quit about two years ago, but his cough just keeps getting worse. Now his memory fades. Sometimes he's so confused he doesn't know where he is or what he's doing.”

“Like forgetting he left a pot of chili on the stove.”

“A couple of times he wandered off in the middle of the night. When I found him walking down the road, he said he was going courting my mother.” She gave a soft chuckle that held little amusement. “His mind takes him back to her. Always her.”

“He must have loved her a lot.”

Again, another soft smile that didn't really hold any happiness. “They were great together. Always smiling and laughing. They'd share these looks . . . Like they had a secret.”

“My mother would look at my dad sometimes when he'd come in from working all day. They said so much with that look.”

“I guess if you love someone that much, words aren't needed. That feeling is just there between you and it's enough to fill up the silence.” Sadie shook off the cold and her thoughts with a shiver. “Sorry. Lost myself in romantic fancy there for a minute. Must be the pretty sunset and the waning pain meds.”

“That's how it should be between a man and a woman.” Rory didn't know what else to say, because he didn't want to dismiss what she'd said.

Her gaze met his. She didn't say anything but must have read in him his understanding of how she felt.

She sucked in a bolstering breath. “Anyway, I suspect my father is suffering from lung cancer and it's spread to his brain. Probably his whole body by now. Whatever the doctors told him, he's decided to live out his remaining days here.”

“You think he's only got days?” Rory stared back at the house, hoping she was wrong. For her sake. He hated the sadness in her eyes. He knew what it was like to lose a parent and although she'd already lost her mother, he didn't want to see her lose her father. Not now. Not this way. “You and Dane are friends. Bell's his wife. Call them. She'll come by and check on your dad. Maybe there's something she can do.”

“I don't think anything or anyone can help him now. I want to believe that what I see plain as day in front of me isn't the truth. I want him to live a good long time and see these hard times turn into good ones.”

Yes, she wanted her father to see Connor turn his life around. Maybe see his daughter get married and
have a family of her own. His grandfather nagged Rory daily for a great-grandbaby before he died. If Mr. Higgins truly was dying this young, he'd never see his own grandchild, let alone his daughter happily married.

Rory's gut tied in knots thinking of her with some other guy. Like he wanted to be with her. He did, but it didn't seem possible. Rory wanted to get to know her better. He'd like to see her smile. But with this business with her brother and what she had to deal with here at home with her dad, the timing sucked. Not to mention the fact he hadn't dated a woman properly in years. His skills hadn't just grown rusty, they'd turned to dust.

“I'm sorry, Sadie. I wish there was something I could do for you.”

“You've done so much already.” She eyed him strangely, made some decision he couldn't guess at, then rushed to him and threw her arms around his middle, locking his arms at his sides.

Stunned by her show of affection, he stood there stone still and took in her sweet scent, the softness of her body against his, the way her head lay against his chest, tucked under his chin.

“Thank you for saving me.” She hugged him tight, then let him loose all at once and rushed up the steps and into her house, leaving him standing there dumbfounded.

What did that hug mean? Certainly not what he wanted it to mean if she ran away from him.

He stared back at the house and the closed door and wondered. They'd shared some personal things over the last day or so, but he wanted more. Did she?