Texas Strong (22 page)

Scars. What had this man endured when only a boy?

He revolved his upper body and changed his swing, and she caught a look at his face.

Such torment. So much grief.

She stepped closer, wanting to soothe him. The motion snagged his eye.

He went still, catching the bag with one hand. “What are you doing here?” A monotone with an undertone of menace.

She decided on honesty. “I came to yell at you.”

His brows rose in honest surprise as his chest heaved for breath. From the front he was an even more beautiful specimen. How had she ever thought she preferred her men lean and wiry?

He looked like a mountain. A giant of a man who could move one.

“You should go.”

“What’s wrong?” She moved toward him. “Did something else bad happen?”

He held out one battered hand. “No. Don’t get any closer. I’m all sweaty.”

“I can see that.” But still she approached.

“Chrissy, stop. Please.”

Reluctantly she complied, everything in her telling her that stopping was the worst thing she could do. She had to break through his formidable barriers. “Are you afraid of me, Tank?”

“For God’s sake—” He yanked away his gaze, then brought it back. “Do you not have one lick of sense in that busy head of yours?” He gestured to himself. “Can you not see I could crush you like a gnat?”

“Of course I can. But I also know you won’t.”

“How?” he roared. “How can you possibly know that when I don’t? You make me—you and those kids of yours with their bright eyes and their smiles—do you think I can be trusted with them?” He threw out his arms wide. “Do you? Because you shouldn’t. I have him inside me.” He pointed outside toward the bigger house. “I am his seed, and it’s a bad one, I’m telling you. I’ve warned you, Chrissy, but you won’t let me be. You just keep pecking at me and pecking at me, smiling and pushing and kissing and you won’t leave me the hell alone—” His voice rose with every word, but she stood her ground. “And look at you—you don’t even have the sense to be afraid!”

She didn’t budge, letting the roar of his frustration sweep over her.

Praying she wasn’t an idiot.

His voice hardened. “I want you to go. I want you to leave me alone.” Then he said the one word she couldn’t turn aside. “Please. If you care about me at all, stop tormenting me.”

She didn’t know what to do. Stay or go? If she walked away, she had the feeling he would never let her close again. But if she didn’t…

His pain was wrenching. She was no expert—in anything. She was a screw-up, had been all her life.

She would go, but not before she reminded him. “You promised Thad and Becky you would show them your ranch. You don’t have to want me, but I won’t let you hurt them. I warned you about that.”

“I’ll hurt them anyway. It’s who I am.”

She heard the despair. Her throat filled with tears she was determined not to shed. Instead she firmed her jaw and looked right into his eyes. “You could learn how to be happy, Tank. I would help you.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head slowly. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Don’t care about you? Too late, I already do. Don’t try to help you? Pretty sure I already failed at that, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. I just…I like you, Tank.” She was very much afraid she could love him. As though she’d learned nothing from her earlier mistakes with men. She shrugged. “I’ll tell the kids something, but if you see them around, please don’t snub them, okay? They’ll learn to live with the rest.”

“It’s better if they learn now that I’m a bastard.”

She stared at him again, this time letting the tears fall. “But that’s the problem, don’t you see? You’re not. If you were, you wouldn’t be trying so hard to protect me. We could have something, Tank, can’t you feel it?”

When he only stared at her, she summoned her dignity and turned to go. “I won’t bother you anymore. And I’m sorry.” She fought to hold her head high as she left, her heart breaking for him.

And for herself.

Tank watched her go, feeling all the light leave his world.

He heard her car start, and he hit the door of the barn at a dead run.

But she’d already started down the road to go.

He gripped the wood until splinters dug in.

And stood there until the sweat dried on his skin.

Chapter Ten

J
ake stormed from the doctors’ locker room and made his way to the ER.

Stella was standing at the desk and frowned. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Work.” He scanned the quiet room, then picked up a random chart and started reading.

One caramel hand slapped on top of the words. “I repeat—what do you think you’re doing here? You’ve put in overtime and then some. Go home to your wife.”

“I would if I had one,” he snarled.

Stella’s glance was razor-keen. “Uh-oh.” She snagged his arm. “Come with me.”

He shook her off. “I’m busy.”

“Uh-huh. I can see that.” She nodded at the paperwork. “You’re such a fan of reading closed charts on their way to be filed.” She tugged again. “You following me or do I have to get rough?”

“Buzz off, Stel.” He glowered at her.

But Stella hadn’t reigned over the ER for twenty-one years for nothing. “If you got some notion you’re scaring me,
Doctor
—” her tone was witheringly formal “—you are one crazy white man.” She sighed. “Not that you aren’t already managing a dead-on imitation of a fool.”

Jake closed his eyes. Exhaled. “Look, I know you mean well—”

She grabbed him by the ear, and he yelped. Up to this point, they’d been whispering, however harshly, but now the entire staff had come to attention.

It wasn’t every day you saw a five-foot-three woman tow a six foot-four-man by his ear as though he were in grade school and on the way to the principal’s office.

“All right, blast it.” Jake glared at her with the full force of his doctor-as-god authority. Wheeled and marched toward the hall between ER and the surgical suites.

If he’d hoped to intimidate her, he was doomed to be disappointed. Stella strolled along, her chin in the air, her manner unrepentant.

He slouched against the wall like a surly teenager.

She halted in front of him, and he braced for the kind of lecture she gave so freely. Instead she surprised him when her eyes went soft and worried. “Talk to me, Jake.” She touched his forearm and squeezed. “Laura?” Her voice was pure sympathy.

He found himself absurdly near tears and looked away until he’d mastered them. His shoulders sagged. “She’s gone.”

“What do you mean gone?”

“Packed up. Disappeared. Took my dog.”

“Uh-oh.”

“I don’t know whether to be angry as hell or frantic. What if something—” He couldn’t say it.

“She’s okay.”

His glance was swift. “You can’t be sure.”

“We’re here and she’s not. That’s a good sign.”

“But she could be—” He choked.
Anywhere. Hurt. Lonely
.

“Yes, she might be injured or in trouble, but it’s probably her heart that’s hurt, not her body.”

“I screwed up, okay? It’s a special date—the most special date, all right? But you don’t just leave someone because they make a one-time mistake. Not when you love each other the way we do.”

“Have you told her?”

“Of course I have. I tell her all the time.” But then he tried to recall when he’d last said it to her in person.
Love, Jake
on a note acknowledging a mistake—did that count?

“Jake—” Another squeeze of his arm. “Have you studied the schedule lately? Noticed how often you’re here instead of at home?”

“It’s a busy ER. I can’t just—”

“Stay home?” she asked. “Of course you can. What, you imagine you’re indispensable?” Another pat. “You’re good, Jake, really good. We do need you around here, but we managed before you got here, and this place will rock along without any one of us after we’re gone. It gets in your blood, trauma does, the rush of fighting back death, of caring for people at the worst moment of their lives. But you know the body can’t live on adrenaline indefinitely. You wreck your health, and you’re no good to anyone, not your patients and certainly not the loved ones who never see you anymore.”

Jake swallowed hard. Was that him?

Hadn’t Laura been saying that, only not so bluntly?

And when had he last held her? Made love to her? Shared a simple conversation, lolling in the porch swing or lying in bed, talking about their dreams?

“So what now, Stel? If that’s true, how do I fix it?”

Stella chuckled. “You been living with a woman how many years and you don’t have some notion of how to sweeten her up?” Her smile faded. “This might be beyond a quick fix, but my advice would be to track her down and do something unexpected. Something romantic. You remember how, or you want lessons?”

He wasn’t sure. Romance, once such a part of them, had been in short supply for a while now. How long?

Have you studied the schedule lately?

He hadn’t. All he could handle was making it from day to day, struggling to stay strong, to keep his focus sharp.

He was tired. Exhausted, really. Everyone on the ER staff was younger, many by fifteen or twenty years.

“Let a friend give you some advice?” Stella asked.

Wearily he nodded.

“I got no problems calling in favors to cover you for at least a week. Let me do this for you. For Laura, who is a woman I respect.” She paused. “Not the least for her ability to live with a surgeon for so many years and not murder him in his sleep.”

He saw her eyes dancing. “We’ve had a terrific marriage.”

“Then make sure you keep it. But do all of us a favor first—get horizontal for about eight hours before you make any decisions.”

“But what if she’s—”

“My bet is that she’s fine, just doesn’t want to be located just now. You talked to her sister yet?”

“Yeah.” Even through his fatigue, he’d heard the odd note in Chrissy’s voice, he realized now. “You’re right. She knows something.”

“Chrissy will pay attention. And much as she loves her sister, she’ll contact you first if something worries her. Let all of this go for a few hours, then cook up your plans.”

“Don’t suppose you’d like to clue me in on some ideas?”

“Doc…” Her expression was withering. “I just smack some sense into you. Your courtin’, well…you’re on your own.” She winked. “You musta been good at it once.” She waved and walked off.

“Thanks, Stel. I mean it.”

A nod, and she slipped back into the ER.

Was he still capable of wooing his wife?

She’d been starry-eyed and romantic the first time. This vanishing act told him she wouldn’t be a soft touch now.

He shuffled down the hall like the old man he felt more often these days, his mind slogging through molasses.

Sleep first. And decent food.

The thought that she’d left him food cheered him. There had to be hope.

Hadn’t there?

“Are you sure you’re ready, Henry? I’ll unlock the doors in five minutes.”

“I can handle the grill, Jeanette.”

She glanced over at the young man who’d begun as a busboy. “We have to do this right. Without Ruby or Scarlett here, the cafe has to run smooth as silk, or they’ll both worry.”

“He can do this, Jeanette,” said Spike. “I finally wrested the biscuit recipe from Ruby, and as you can see, they’re rising nicely. Henry’s a good cook, and I’ve put in my own time on the grill, so…we’re good. Everyone wants Ruby to be able to be with Scarlett for a while and not worry about the cafe.”

Ruby would worry, anyway, Jeanette knew. It was a miracle she wasn’t already over here this morning. If not for her determination, Sweetgrass Springs would have dried up and blown away long before. Ian had grown up to become the town’s go-to guy. Between the two of them, they’d shepherded this place until help had arrived in the form of Scarlett, Mackey, Jackson, Bridger and others.

Sweetgrass was growing. Changing from the tiny hamlet where Jeanette had grown up.

There was love in this town, and a powerful sense of community. She knew they were lucky, that lots of people would give much to have a warm and welcoming environment like this in which to live.