Her Cowboy's Christmas Wish (Harlequin American Romance) (2 page)

“Did you at least land on soft ground?”

“The arena.”

“Thank goodness.” She lifted his arm. “Tell me when it starts to hurt.”

He said nothing, even when she raised it clear over his head. The clenching of his jaw told another story. She lowered his arm, then raised it again, this time to the side.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but remained stubbornly silent.

Bending his arm at the elbow, she pressed his hand into the small of his back. “What about now?”

“Okay.” He released a long breath and shook off her grasp. “You win. It hurts.”

So he wasn’t invincible.

“You should see your doctor as soon as possible and get an X-ray,” she told him, lightly massaging his shoulder. “You might have torn a ligament or your rotator cuff.”

“I’ll be better by morning.”

He was back to being the tough guy.

“No, you’re going to be worse. Trust me.”

“I’ll take some ibuprofen.”

“Three a day, extra strength. Up to six if your stomach can tolerate it. Ice the shoulder for at least an hour tonight before you go to bed, and again in the morning. When you can’t stand the pain anymore and decide I’m right, see your doctor.”

He chuckled, and the smile she’d been missing earlier appeared, if only a shadow of the one she remembered.

“You have nothing to prove, Ethan.” She laid her palm on his good shoulder. “See a doctor.”

“You’re wrong.” He rose from the chair, either her touch or her words galvanizing him. “I do have something to prove.”

One step on his part and they were standing toe to toe.

Unable to help herself, Caitlin looked up into his face. As his gaze raked over her, lingered on her mouth, the atmosphere surrounding them went from calm to highly charged.

So much for believing the attraction had died.

She retreated on unsteady legs. All these years apart, and he still had the ability to unsettle her.

“How’s your family?” she asked. Breathing came easier with some distance between them. “Clay mentioned your brother’s getting married.”

“This spring. I suppose Clay also mentioned the two of them are partners in a stud and breeding business.”

“No.” By unspoken agreement, she and Ethan made their way to the door. “We really haven’t talked much other than about setting up the first-aid station.”

“Huh. I thought maybe you and he…”

“He and I what?”

“Had kept in touch.” Ethan stepped aside, allowing her to precede him outside.

“We did up until he got married and moved away. I had no idea he was divorced and back in town.”

“Then how did you wind up working for him?”

“He showed up at the school last Wednesday and asked me to run the first-aid station.”

“Have you been at the school long?” They stopped beside her minivan.

“You really don’t know?”

“Should I?”

“I thought maybe someone told you.”

Mustang Village was a horse-friendly residential community, built in and named after Mustang Valley, the land Ethan’s family had once owned, and where they had raised cattle for four generations. Their ranch, what was left of it, lay nestled in the foothills of the McDowell Mountains, and looked down on the village. Caitlin didn’t think much happened that the Powells didn’t know about.

She’d certainly heard about Ethan’s injury, medical discharge and return home.

“I’ve worked at the school since August,” she told him.

“That long?” he said, more to himself than her.

“Clay told me you’re breaking horses for him.”

“Trying to.” Another half smile appeared. “Some of them aren’t embracing the process.”

“If anyone can change their minds, you can.” Again she wondered how he managed such a physically demanding job. “Is your sister still living in San Francisco?”

“For five years now.”

“But she visits, right?”

“Used to. Not much the last couple years.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Sierra being gone so much is hard on Dad. He misses her. Misses Mom, too. Though he’s doing a lot better lately since Cassie came to live with us. He’s crazy about her.”

Caitlin had met Ethan’s twelve-year-old niece at the school. “I don’t imagine recovering from the death of a loved one is ever easy.”

“It’s not.”

The mention of his late mother put a damper on their conversation. It was right after Louise Powell died that Ethan had abruptly enlisted, leaving Caitlin to suffer the loss of not only a dear friend, but the love of her life.

A painful pressure built inside her chest.

Heartache.

It had been a long time since the memory of those unhappy days had caused such a profound physical reaction.

“How’s your brother?” Ethan asked. “Gavin told me about the accident.”

More pressure.

Discussing Justin was always hard for Caitlin. No matter how many obstacles he overcame and how many challenges he conquered, she could never forget that she was responsi
ble for him being a paraplegic and having to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair.

“He’s graduating from Arizona State in December,” she said, focusing on the positive. “With a master’s in education.”

“Good for him.”

“We’re all very proud. Now if he can just land a job.”

“It’s a tough economy.”

“That, too.”

Great strides had been made in the last few decades when it came to equal rights for handicapped employees, but Caitlin still worried about her brother’s chances at finding decent employment.

Ethan distracted her by reaching into the back of her minivan and removing a carton of supplies.

“Hey, what are you doing?” She tried to take the box from him.

He swung it out of her reach. “Helping you unload.”

“Ethan!” She sighed with exasperation. “You’re hurt.”

“My shoulder. Not my hands.” He squeezed past her and carried his load inside.

She hurried after him.

“Where do you want this?”

Because she knew arguing with him was useless, she pointed to the folding table along the wall. “There. And don’t even think about carrying anything else in.”

He not only thought about it, he did it. She gave up and pitched in. Together, they quickly emptied the van.

“You’re going to regret this tomorrow,” she told him when they were done.

“You were never such a worrier before.”

“It comes from being a nurse. So does being bossy.” She leveled a finger at him. “Now get yourself home and take care of that shoulder.”

“Yes, ma’am.” One corner of his mouth lifted in an amused and very compelling grin.

Caitlin’s heart fluttered. No doubt about it, the attraction hadn’t died.

With the van unloaded, there was no reason for him to remain.

“Will I see you later?” she asked.

“Tomorrow, if you’re here.”

The thought shouldn’t have appealed to her as much as it did. Ethan had hurt her. Terribly. She’d be wise to take care where he was concerned.

Even so, a sweet rush of anticipation cascaded through her.

“I’m sure Clay can do without you training his horses for a couple of days.”

“Probably.” Ethan buttoned his denim jacket. “I’m the one who can’t do without the practicing.”

“Practicing for what?”

“The jackpot.”

She stared at him blankly. “You’re not competing.”

“I am. Or I will be if I can last a full eight seconds at least once before then. Clay won’t let me enter otherwise.”

“Is that how you fell tonight? Bull riding?”

“No, saddle bronc.”

“Are you crazy?”

“A little, I suppose,” he said jokingly.

“More than a little.” She started to remind him that he had only one good leg, then stopped herself. “Bronc riding is dangerous. I really wish you’d reconsider.”

“Not a chance.” He turned to go, then paused. “I’m glad you’re home, Caitlin.”

A few minutes ago, such a statement would have elicited a breathy sigh from her, foolish though it may have been.

Not now.

He was saddle bronc riding again. With a prosthetic leg! Why didn’t he just jump off a three-story building? The results would be the same.

Caitlin had cheered Ethan on from the sidelines all those years ago. She’d also encouraged him the same way she’d encouraged her brother. Winning competitions required a certain amount of risk, after all.

She’d learned too late that taking risks came with a steep price. In her case, her brother, Justin, was the one to pay.

It would be no different for Ethan, and she refused to be there when he injured himself.

Except, as the on-site emergency medical personnel for the Duvall Rodeo Arena, she most likely would be the one to treat him.

Ethan hated to admit it, but Caitlin was right. His shoulder hurt like a son of a bitch. It had all night, affecting his sleep, his ability to dress himself and his mood.

What if he really had torn something? Then he wouldn’t be able to enter the jackpot, that was for sure.

The idea of going to the doctor and getting an X-ray wasn’t quite as distasteful to him as it had been the night before. Maybe he could go to the urgent-care clinic. If he was lucky, he might run into Caitlin again.

He no sooner had the thought than he dismissed it. More likely than not she was married or in a committed relationship. Of course, finding out wouldn’t be all that hard.

And if she was single, then what?

He doubted she’d go out with him, not after the way he’d dumped her with hardly a word. Then there was the matter of his leg—or lack of it. Beautiful, desirable women like Caitlin Carmichael didn’t date men with missing limbs.

Gritting his teeth, he shoved his arms through the sleeves of his undershirt and tried to pull it over his head. He didn’t get far. The pain immobilized him.

The next instant a knock sounded.

“What?” he hollered, his breathing labored.

The front door opened and his brother came in. “Good
morning to you, too.” He stopped midstep and eyed Ethan curiously. “Having a problem?”

Ethan muttered to himself, not pleased at having an audience.

“What did you say?”

“I hurt my shoulder last night.”

“Breaking one of Clay’s horses?”

“A bronc trying to break me.”

“Ah.” Gavin wandered toward the newly remodeled kitchen. “Any coffee?”

“There’s instant in the cupboard.”

“Instant?” He grimaced.

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

Ethan didn’t particularly like instant, either. But he’d discovered since living alone the last few weeks that brewing a pot of coffee was a waste when he drank only one cup.

He and Gavin and their dad had resided comfortably in the main house for over a year. When Gavin’s daughter, Cassie, moved in with them this past summer, they’d continued to get along. Soon, however, Gavin’s fiancée, Sage, and her young daughter, Isa, would be joining the family permanently, and that was a little too much closeness for Ethan.

The old bunkhouse had seemed a good solution. Converting it into an apartment was taking time, though, and living amid the chaos of construction did get tedious. But Ethan didn’t mind.

After a lifetime of cohabitating with others, including a barracks full of marines, he quite liked his solitude. No snoring, music or loud TV disturbing his sleep. No having to wait for someone to finish in the bathroom. No arguing about whose turn it was to wash the dishes or vacuum.

No one watching him put on his prosthetic leg, then turning away when he caught him staring.

“Want some?” Undeterred by the prospect of instant coffee, Gavin removed a mug from the cupboard.

“Naw. I already had my quota today.” Readying himself, Ethan raised his arms, only to hesitate.

What was wrong with him? He’d endured far worse discomfort than this. The months following his accident—a nice, gentle euphemism for losing the bottom half of his leg in an explosion—had been a daily practice in pushing the boundaries of his endurance.

It hadn’t stopped there. The first thing Ethan had done when he returned home was reveal his intentions to start training horses again, his job before enlisting. His family had tried to dissuade him, but eventually came to understand his reasons and the need that drove him.

Since no respectable cowboy wore athletic shoes when he rode, Ethan had used some of the money he’d saved during his enlistment to purchase two pairs of custom-made boots that fit his prosthesis. Within a few weeks, he was riding, and suffering a whole new kind of torturous pain. With determination, practice and continual exercise, he found the pain eventually lessened, though he still had his days.

He didn’t start breaking horses until a chance meeting with Clay Duvall. Over beers at the local bar, his old friend had listened while Ethan outlined his ambitions. Then he’d offered him a job. In addition to the arena, Clay owned and operated a rodeo stock business that specialized in bucking horses.

The idea of competing again hadn’t occurred to Ethan until he’d watched the cowboys practicing at Clay’s arena. What started as a vague longing quickly grew into a burning desire. Ethan was tired of people looking at him differently. Tired of their sympathetic smiles.

Once he started competing again, all that would change.

Ignoring the pain, he pulled on his undershirt, then
walked through the partially framed living room to the freshly painted bathroom, where he removed a bottle of ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet.

“You need a day off to rest up?” Gavin hollered from the kitchen.

“Hell, no.”

Both Ethan and his father worked alongside Gavin. With only thirty of the family’s original six hundred acres remaining in their possession, they’d turned their ranch into a public riding stable. Many Mustang Village residents boarded their horses, took riding lessons or went on guided trail rides at Powell Ranch.

In addition, they’d started the stud and breeding business last month, after capturing Prince, a wild mustang roaming the McDowell Mountains.

“Maybe you should take it easy today,” Gavin suggested, when Ethan returned to the kitchen.

“Don’t worry about me.” He glowered at his brother. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Prince is off his feed. I’d like you to take a look at him before I call the vet.”

“I will. Later.”

“I was hoping you could do it first thing.”

Ethan thought his brother babied the wild mustang too much. Then again, the future of their family business relied heavily on Prince and his ability to breed. While he’d successfully mated with several mares since his capture last month, it was still far too early to determine if any pregnancies had taken, much less what kind of foals he would produce.

Gavin studied him as Ethan downed the painkiller with a glass of water. “Have you considered seeing a doctor?”

“Caitlin told me the same thing.”

That got his brother’s attention. Instead of leaving, which
was Ethan’s hope, Gavin pulled out a chair at the dining table, removed his hat and made himself at home.

Great.

“You saw her?” he asked.

“Last night. She’s working for Clay, running his first-aid station.”

“Interesting.”

Gavin’s expression reminded Ethan of their father and, he supposed, himself. The Powell men all looked enough alike that most people immediately recognized them as family.

“That’s what I thought, too,” Ethan said, recalling the shock he’d felt when he first saw Caitlin. “She also works mornings at the middle school and afternoons at the urgent-care clinic.”

“Uh-huh.”

His brother was sure taking the news in stride. Then it hit him. “You knew she was back, didn’t you?”

“We met when Cassie sprained her ankle in gym class, and the school called me to come pick her up.”

“That was weeks ago. And you’re only now telling me?”

“Figured it wasn’t my place.”

Another thought occurred to Ethan. “Caitlin ask you not to tell me?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“Did my name even come up?”

“We really didn’t have time to talk. She was busy, and Cassie was complaining about her ankle.”

Ethan started pacing the kitchen. Caitlin had known he’d returned to Mustang Valley and hadn’t bothered to look him up.

Did he really expect her to, after the way he’d treated her?

Probably not. Change that to hell, no.

“Look,” Gavin continued, “it just slipped my mind. I had
a lot going on at the time. Capturing Prince. Starting the stud and breeding business. Sage and I getting engaged.”

“Right,” Ethan answered testily. He’d bet the entire contents of his wallet that running into Caitlin hadn’t slipped his brother’s mind. “I’m a big boy, bro. You don’t have to watch out for me.”

“Sorry. Old habits are hard to break.”

Not exactly an admission, but close.

“Answer me this,” Gavin said. “What would you have done if I told you she was back in town?”

“Apologize, for one.” Which, now that he thought about it, wasn’t something he’d done last night. “And make amends…if possible.” He owed her that much.

“You going to ask her out?”

“Are you kidding?”

“Why not?”

“Even if I did, she’d turn me down flat. Besides, she’s probably married by now.”

“She isn’t.”

Ethan stopped pacing. “How do you know?”

“The subject came up.”

“I thought you said you didn’t have much time to talk to her.”

“Doesn’t take long to say, ‘Hey, you ever get married?’”

Ethan groaned.

“What are you so mad about, anyway?”

Before he could reply, another knock sounded at the door.

“What now?” He stormed over and yanked the door open.

Clay stood on the other side. “You’re in a fine mood.” Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped inside. “I just came from Prince’s paddock. He hasn’t touched his food.”

“We’re heading there now,” Ethan grumbled, snatching his jacket off the back of the couch where he’d left it.

“Any more of that coffee left?”

“It’s instant,” Gavin complained from his seat at the table.

Clay drew back in surprise. “Don’t you have a coffeemaker?”

Ethan glared at him. “Don’t you?”

Clay glared back. “What’s bugging you?”

“He’s mad that I didn’t tell him Caitlin was working at the school.” Gavin rose from the table.

“Can we not discuss this?” Ethan headed for the door.

“You going to invite her out?”

He ignored Clay’s question.

“I already asked him that.” Gavin went to the sink and deposited his mug. “He says no.”

Annoyed, Ethan shoved an arm into the sleeve of his jacket, then swore loudly when his entire left side seized with fresh pain.

“How’s the shoulder?” Clay asked.

“Fine.” Ethan opened the door and stepped out onto the porch.

Clay came up behind him. “You don’t act like it’s fine.”

“I’ll be all right.”

“What did Caitlin say last night?”

“Ice the shoulder and take ibuprofen. I’ve done both.”

“Did she tell you to see a doctor?”

“I don’t need to see a doctor.”

“Don’t believe him.” Gavin joined them on the porch, shutting the door behind him. “He’s hurting.”

Ethan anchored his hat to his head as a strong gust of wind swept past them on its way down the mountain to the valley.

“See a doctor,” Clay ordered. “Until you do, and until you’re cleared, no bronc riding.”

Ethan swung around. “Dammit, Clay!”

“Sorry. That’s the rule. Same for you as everyone else.”

“The jackpot is a week and a half away. I need to practice.”

“Then I guess you’d better haul your butt to the doctor today.”

A
T THE BOTTOM OF THE LONG
driveway leading from Powell Ranch to the main road, Ethan turned left. Three minutes later he reached the entrance to Mustang Village, with its large monument sign flanked by a life-size bronze statue of a rearing horse.

As he drove at a reduced speed through the equine-friendly community, he tried to remember what it had been like when there were no houses or buildings or people, only wide-open spaces and Powell cattle roaming them. He’d missed out on the construction of the community, having been in the service at the time. How hard it must have been for his father and brother to watch their family’s hundred-year-old history disappear acre by acre, replaced with roads, houses, condos and commercial buildings.

He generally avoided Mustang Village. The reminder of all they had lost was too hard on his heart.

If not for his mother’s failing health, they wouldn’t have borrowed the money from Clay’s father and used their land as collateral. If Clay’s dad had honored the agreement and not sold the land out from under them, Mustang Village would never have been built. If not for the residents of Mustang Village, Ethan’s family would be raising cattle rather than operating a riding stable.

A lot of ifs, and that wasn’t even counting the most recent one—if he hadn’t been standing where he was at the exact moment the car bomb exploded, he wouldn’t have lost his leg.

Ethan turned his thoughts away from the past when Mustang Village’s one and only retail strip center came into view.

It always struck him as odd to see hitching rails and bridle
paths in a residential community. On any given weekend, there were almost as many equestrians riding about as there were pedestrians walking. Not so much during the week. Mustang Village resembled most other communities then, with school buses making runs, mothers pushing strollers, cyclists zipping along and dog lovers walking their pets.

Today, a work crew was busy stringing Christmas lights along the storefronts and hanging wreaths on lampposts. Already? Thanksgiving was still more than a week away.

A buzzer announced Ethan’s arrival at the urgent-care clinic. This was his first visit. He always drove to the VA hospital in Phoenix for his few medical needs.

Inside the crowded clinic, a receptionist greeted him with a friendly “May I help you?” and handed him a clipboard. When he was done filling out the forms, she processed his co-pay and said, “Have a seat.”

Ethan considered inquiring if Caitlin was working. But then the phone rang, followed immediately by a second line ringing. He left the receptionist to answer her calls, and sat in a chair next to a mother and her sniffling child.

He couldn’t help thinking that if the bronc hadn’t thrown him last night, he wouldn’t be here now, anxiously waiting to see his former girlfriend again. Yet another if in a long, long list of them.

Except Ethan really wouldn’t describe Caitlin as a girlfriend. She’d been much more than that to him, and he to her. Had his mother not died and he not enlisted, chances were good they’d have gotten married.

He really had to stop thinking about what might have been, or else he’d drive himself crazy.