“Much better than you, apparently,” he grumbled.
Katie shook her head, trying to clear the fuzziness that had collected during sleep.
“How are you feeling, Pa? Are you up for some breakfast?”
She walked over and pulled the meal tray across his bed.
Pa pushed the tray back at her. “If that’s the same crap they tried to pass off as
oatmeal yesterday, then tell them to forget it. I’ll have eggs and bacon, extra crispy.”
Katie didn’t bother commenting. What was the point? They both knew bacon was nowhere
near an option. Instead, she pulled off the plastic lid, and stirred some sort of
coagulated soup. After a moment she checked the printed menu—oatmeal. Huh, who would’ve
thought? She put the spoon down, glad it wasn’t her breakfast. “You need to eat.”
“Says who?” Pa frowned, creasing his forehead.
“Then don’t.” She shrugged. “And stay in the hospital an extra week.”
He grunted, then picked up his spoon and started shoveling the goop in, probably trying
to get it down before the taste could catch up. Katie bent and kissed where his frown
line deepened into a vertical groove.
She settled back into her chair, content to watch her father eat, grumble, and in
general get back to normal.
“You look like hell, sweetheart,” he said, coming up for air.
“Yeah, well, not as bad as you.” She tucked the thin hospital blanket that smelled
of disinfectant and old men around her feet. Had it gotten colder in here, or was
it just her? Maybe when Pa fell back asleep she’d run and get some of the instant
crap they passed off as coffee.
“I had a heart attack. What’s your excuse?” he shot back.
Yep, Pa was going to be just fine. “I was worried the black I’d wear at your funeral
would clash with my eyes.”
He chuckled. “No, honey. Wear red and dance at my funeral. Don’t waste a moment grieving
over this old bag of bones.”
As if.
Katie had lost her mother, and the thought of losing her father terrified her, but
Pa was uncomfortable with such declarations. So instead, she gave him her special
annoyed look. “How about neither. What about laying off the bacon and hanging around
a while?”
He grunted. “Still trying to convert me to vegetarianism. Man’s not supposed to live
on vegetables alone.”
Katie rolled her eyes, but was too tired to rehash old arguments. She was just thankful
Pa was feeling feisty enough to argue. In comfortable silence she watched him sip
his coffee. He was a bit shaky, but still managed. The lump she carried in her throat
since the early morning phone call two days ago relaxed. Pa was weak, but the worst
was over. He’d make it.
Pa’s health scare had made her reprioritize her life. He was the only family she had
left. She couldn’t be halfway across the country in New York. Not that she was dying
to go to vet school. After seeing Sweet Thing, something had stirred within her, and
the passion she remembered years ago resurfaced. There was something about bringing
an abused horse like Sweet Thing back to health. She’d thought vet school was the
best way to learn to rehabilitate horses, but after fixing broken bones and mending
flesh, there were still deeper wounds that medicine couldn’t touch.
The thoughts of clear pastures and training sessions in the round pen drifted through
her mind. Pa’s voice crashed through her dream.
“What?” She sat up with a start, not believing she’d fallen asleep again.
“I said whose ring is on your finger?”
Ring? And for a split second her mind failed her.
Whose? She spread her fingers wide and stared at the gold-and-diamond ring that fit
snuggly on her left finger. And it all came back to her. Last night. Jett’s house.
Cole down on one knee. Her shaky and mortified “Yes.” She placed her palm over her
rolling stomach.
“It better not be that one boy’s ring on your finger,” Pa said, working himself up.
“The one I’ve never met. What’s his name? Toby?”
Oh God, Thomas
. Her head was suddenly pounding, and she pressed hard on her temples. Last night,
Cole had been drinking, and she had been what? Crazy?
“Thomas,” she mumbled.
Pa scowled, his bushy brows forming into one line. “Sounds like a damn train conductor.
Weak name if you ask me. What kind of man proposes to a woman without asking her father
first?”
“Thomas is a perfectly fine name, Pa.” Katie rubbed at the spot between her eyes.
Why was she having this conversation anyway? Duh, arguing about Thomas was easier
than talking about the truth.
“At least Cole had the decency to ask me to marry you,” Pa grumbled into his coffee.
Katie’s head snapped up. Her father was delusional; there was no way. She’d been at
Pa’s bedside every waking moment. “What? When?”
“Ah, this was years ago.” Pa finished his coffee and placed the Styrofoam cup on the
bedside tray. “Back when you were eighteen, or was it nineteen? I don’t remember,
but before you went away to college.”
He pressed the button on the hospital-bed remote and reclined.
In her head she heard Pa’s words, but her heart refused to believe it. Cole had asked
to marry her? She stood and began pacing the width of the cramped room. Her head spun
as she tried to realign all her perceptions over the last three years.
“Eighteen,” she whispered. “I left home and went to college at eighteen.”
Pa yawned and closed his eyes. He snuggled deeper into the pillow. “Yeah, that must’ve
been it.”
She whipped her head around to pin him with a stare. Was he really going to take a
nap? She walked over and pounded on the foot of his bed. Only the rationalization
that he’d almost died kept her from shaking him. “Then what?”
“Then what, honey?” Pa didn’t even open his eyes, his voice a bit garbled.
“Then what did you say, Pa?” Heart attack or not, she couldn’t believe he’d kept this
from her all these years.
“I told him no, of course. Your mom and I had long decided you needed to go off to
college. Doesn’t matter now. You seem happy with your . . . what’s his name? Train
conductor boy.”
“Thomas!” She probably shouldn’t be yelling in a hospital, but realizing Cole had
told the truth made her . . .
Couldn’t breathe.
She pulled on the collar of her shirt.
Fresh air.
She walked over to the window, but was met by sealed double-paned glass.
“Yeah, yeah him. Can you get the light on your way out, sweetheart? I’m exhausted.”
Katie had to physically rein herself in, catch her breath. A few moments passed before
she could speak. “Of course, Pa,” she said, softly.
She reached over and turned off the light, then returned to the small cut-out window.
In the darkened room, the blue sky contrasted brightly. She leaned against the wall,
her arms clasped around her middle, and watched the clouds drift by. At the age of
eight she’d stared at this same sky, confident in the way her life would turn out.
And wasn’t it funny how the days of your life could bleed into years, horizons disappear
into skies, and lies turn back into truths.
Jett was sprawled out on his couch watching the ceiling fan throw shadows on the wall
as it spun round and round. ESPN was on, running the same episode of
SportsCenter
for the third time. He’d muted it an hour ago.
He should get up. Take a shower, a pain pill, and go back to bed. He should get the
stain remover and scrub out the blood spot on his white couch. The thought made him
grimace, but he quickly relaxed. His nose hurt too much.
Screw it. He’d leave the stain. It would serve as a reminder of how much he hated
that pecker Cole anyway. Remind him that this time he was really done with the Logans.
But Cole wasn’t the Logan who was occupying his mind.
It was Nikki. Specifically, Nikki when she’d been lying in his bed, her cocoa skin
beautiful against his white sheets. When she had said he could do one more thing.
When she said yes, he knew right then and there that she was his. He knew that there
was no turning back after what he’d planned to do to her.
He hadn’t even worked his way into it—so afraid she’d come to her senses and tell
him to go to hell in typical Nikki fashion. No, he went straight down on her, parted
her thighs, and kissed her right on her very moist center. He could still remember
her shout of surprise, which of course, was nothing compared to her screaming his
name later.
He’d played dirty. He knew that. Wasn’t proud, but she’d been naked in his bed and
anything outside the touch of her skin, the scent of her arousal, the moan of his
name on her lips was dead to him.
And he had waited a very long time to get Nikki into his bed.
He hadn’t even stopped to ask, too afraid of the answer, just found his way inside
her—and then f—ing lost it.
The recollection of the feeling of her wrapped around him, joined in the most intimate
way, had him groaning for a whole different reason than his broken nose. He took a
moment. He, who was always in control, always a bit detached, had to take a moment
to breathe and remember sleeping with Nikki didn’t mean a damn thing.
He’d brought her close, every time just on the brink until she was sobbing, past all
sense. Then even when he knew he had her, he did it again. Brought her close to climaxing,
then stopped just to be a prick, just to show her he could. Just because she’d made
him wait all those years. And this time he wanted her to wait for him, even if it
was just for a moment.
His emotions had surprised him—shocked him really. He was never aggressive in bed,
wasn’t his thing. Except with Nikki. He had wanted her to know it was him pounding
into her. Him that had brought her to the best climax of her life.
The funny part was she knew, all right, but just didn’t seem to care. And that’s what
Jett didn’t get. What the hell had happened? He was a good-looking guy. Had enough
money to pay for dinner, always treated his dates well, and the first time he’d ever
declared his love to a woman, she went the color of the stomach flu.
Sure, the night hadn’t been ideal. He was usually way smoother than what he’d pulled
last night. But this was Nikki. She knew him. All that sweet-talking and charming
would’ve had her laughing in his face.
Then Cole had come and all hell had broken loose. He’d been lying there looking at
the hurt in his best friend’s eyes, and he knew he had to tell Cole the truth. Had
to tell Nikki the truth. He loved her. Always had.
The biggest problem with the Logans (and there were many) was that they didn’t know
a good thing even if it knocked their feet out from under them and dragged them kicking
and screaming into happiness.
Jett shook his head. It just didn’t make sense. Any woman in this town, married or
not, would’ve been screaming her head off over him telling her he loved her. Lord
knows, enough had tried to corner him into saying it.
Screw it.
No, screw Nikki. Oh yeah, he had. Good. Everyone deserved at least one good one-night
stand in their life. She couldn’t say he’d never given her anything.
It was better this way. His mother wouldn’t have been happy if he’d brought a Logan
home for dinner. There was a certain type of woman he was expected to marry: blond,
rich, and politically connected. Nikki was none of those. Not that he would’ve married
her. Hell no, it would take a hell of a lot better man than he to pull her out of
her downward spiral.
He got up, changed out his ice pack, and made his way back toward bed. Some days were
better if he just started over—some nights also. He pulled back his covers, ready
to crawl in fully clothed.
Maybe it was the tequila still humming in his brain. Or maybe the punch to the head
had caused a slight concussion, but regardless, it took a long time for Jett to process
what his eyes were telling him. There on the thousand count sheets was a smattering
of red. Blood. And not his blood; he hadn’t been anywhere near his bedroom since Cole
had come knocking.
Which left Nikki.
And with a sinking feeling in his heart he realized that when Cole had broken his
nose, he had let him off way too easy.
Chapter 21
Katie tilted her head, her face taking the brunt of the spray from the shower. She
sighed, letting the warmth of the water smooth away the grittiness behind her closed
lids.
She’d left Pa sleeping at the hospital. But the nurse said he would probably be discharged
in a day or so. For now, it was enough that she was clean, warm, and out of the hospital
that smelled of plastic and sickness.
Pa’s words circled in her head.
I told him no, of course.
How could Pa have kept this from her? But then again, this was her father. His craftiness
wasn’t limited to business only; it extended to the ones he loved. She turned the
knob farther to the left, cranking up the heat.
So cold.
A chill that had nothing to do with temperature nestled in her bones. It was an age-old
coldness she’d carried since childhood, the fear of loneliness.
All this time. All these years and now the truth.
Cole had wanted to marry her.
She couldn’t believe it; a part of her didn’t want to. Katie turned and let the hot
water pound against the pressure forming at the back of her skull.
But
he
was the one who’d pushed her away. She’d gone to him with hope and—her stomach clenched
at the memory of being a young girl who still believed in fairy tales.
No, Pa had to be wrong.
But the nagging in her gut spoke a different truth. The evidence was wet and shiny
on her finger, a perfect fit.
No. She shook her head. How could she forget the years of recriminations, of embarrassing
memories that haunted the quiet moments before sleep? Her bold admissions of love
that left footprints of shame through her dreams.
But who was she kidding? She stood with Cole’s ring on her finger, willing to rush
headlong into the fire again.
And what about Thomas? Guilt rushed up on her like gravity during a fall. She splayed
her palm against the cool tile, and bent over, trying to keep her pain small.
Thomas, who wore cotton-blended pants with perfectly centered creases. Thomas, who
ironed his T-shirts and counted carbs with mathematical precision. Who’d mapped out
her classes and bought her four-dollar lattes every morning. Who’d picked her up and
helped her when she’d been a shattered, lonely girl. Who was someone she could make
laugh.
Thomas, who’d been willing to wait until marriage.
How could I do this? How could I betray a man who cared so much for me?
Her eyes closed against the image of Cole going down on one knee, his eyes scared
and hopeful at the same time, voice breaking on her whispered name.
How could I not?
Katie washed her hair, scrubbed her body as if doing penance, and then shaved her
legs smooth. She stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. She peered
in the bathroom mirror, frightened by the washed-out face reflecting back.
Her eyes, wide and brown, and ringed with leftover mascara, spoke her heart.
As if there’d ever been a question.
And tonight was the night she’d fantasized about, dreamt about, begged God for. Her
world was going up in flames and she welcomed the heat. Because regardless,
tonight
would be her wedding night.
A smile quivered at her lips. She sighed and let it break through.
Thank you, God, I’ve married Cole.
Katie shoved her hands in the pockets of her wool coat, glad for the warmth. Even
though the winters in Texas were mild, her outfit was anything but. Impractical, rash,
daring, her dress said it all. The plunging low-cut summer dress swished around high
mid-thigh, which made the most of her best asset, her legs. Of course, finding her
fire-red cowboy boots hadn’t hurt either.
The night sang the unique lullaby she’d never heard in the city, crickets chirping,
horses neighing, and the low whistle as the wind played through the bare branches
of the trees.
Katie closed her eyes and filled her lungs with the scent of hay and grass, jasmine
and horses—the scent of home.
She knew Cole would’ve come and picked her up, was probably expecting her to call
at any time, but she wanted to walk over to his house. So many times she’d run, headlong,
heart racing, hope bursting. This time she wanted to take it slow. She wanted to savor
the moment, taste the night on her tongue, breathe in the scent of where her memories
lived. Give Sweet Thing an apple.
And Katie smiled. She knew a grin split her face, but a piece of her had been found,
a contentment she’d never known before settled on her.
She made herself avoid the stables, instead passing by the holding area where Sweet
Thing was kept. The pasture was huge, and in the dark it seemed empty. Katie leaned
against the fence post, snuggled deeper in her coat, and whistled her low, smooth
call. Then waited.
There was a time when her low call would bring the beautiful roan running, nose in
the air, cautious and alert, but still greedy enough to want her treat.
This time, there was no sound of clopping hooves or rustling grass, but still Katie
waited.
One more time then.
Katie moistened her lips and blew out the familiar whistle.
No answer.
“That’s okay, girl.” Katie crouched down and took the apple out of her pocket. She
rolled it under the fence and watched it disappear into the blackness like an offering
to the night. Katie followed it with a blown kiss. “There’s always tomorrow, and I’m
not going anywhere.”
With her heart filled with hope and possibilities, Katie nearly bounced her way toward
Cole’s house. The porch light shown bright as if calling her home, but she didn’t
need it. Nothing could dim the brightness she had within her.
Katie walked to where the grass met the gravel drive. In the shadows of the porch
was Cole, black Stetson, dark jeans, his back toward her. She quieted her steps, wanting
to catch him by surprise, a game they used to play when she was younger.
A bit closer. Breath held a moment longer. Then her boots stilled.
The head under the Stetson was bent over something . . . or rather
someone
. A woman.
Red static fuzzed her peripheral vision. A muffled roar as if the whole world had
been plunged underwater.
And then another sound, a severing—a tear of fabric being rent in two, except inside
her, down deep, as if vital organs were being torn asunder.
Then flashes of the past were transposed over reality and she was a young girl again
watching the parade of Cole’s lovers as they walked down his front porch steps. The
years of longing for a single smile. The long nights she spent burning for his touch.
And a hurt that had never healed tore open.
Stupid. Fool. All over again.
She would kill him with her bare hands.