McKettricks of Texas: Austin (14 page)

“Can we go, too?” Calvin immediately asked.

“All of us?” Ava cried.

“And the dogs?” Audrey added.

Libby and Julie exchanged glances.

“We've got work to do upstairs,” Julie told the children. “Remember? The movers have been unloading boxes all this time, and that means we're behind with the unpacking.”

None of the kids protested.

“We're helping,” Ava explained to Austin. “Otherwise, we'd come out to the barn, too.”

Austin smiled down at her, held the little girl's chin in his hand for a moment. “Lots of time for horse tending,” he said quietly, “now that you'll be living here in the big house.”

“Lots of time,” Ava agreed.

With that, she and Audrey and Calvin headed for the far stairway, and all the dogs except Shep followed them.

Julie and Libby were soon gone, too, so Paige and Austin just stood there, looking at each other.

“You should lie down,” Paige finally said, because they were alone and the silence made her uncomfortable. “There's a bed ready for you in the guest apartment. If anything's changed with Molly, I'll let you know.”

He took a slow step toward her, one eyebrow slightly raised. “The guest apartment?” he said. “Isn't that where
you
sleep?”

Paige's cheeks instantly warmed. “You aren't supposed to climb stairs for a while,” she reminded him, “so I'm giving you my room. I'll sleep where Calvin used to.”

Austin had closed the space between them by then. “We'll see to the horse together,” he told her, “and
then
I'll gladly climb into your bed, Nurse Remington.”

The warmth in Paige's face turned to fire, probably because she didn't find the idea of Austin McKettrick climbing into her bed all that unappealing. And she
should
have, by God. After what he'd done to her—ten years, ten minutes, it didn't matter which—did it?—because once a cheater, always a cheater. She should have found the whole idea of sex with this man downright revolting.

Instead, she wanted him. Ferociously.

She knotted her hands into fists and thrust them deep into the pockets of the hooded jacket she'd helped herself to moments before, realizing only then that the garment belonged to Austin—it carried his unique scent.

“All right, then,” she said, sounding a lot calmer than she was, “let's go see Molly.”

Because of the sling, Austin couldn't put his left arm into the sleeve of a jacket, but he didn't seem to mind the November cold as they headed outside.

Shep stuck with them, probably reluctant to let Austin out of his sight after what must have seemed like a long absence to him.

All the time Austin was confined to the clinic, Shep had spent most of his time curled up on a pile of unwashed jeans and T-shirts on the floor of his master's closet.

Paige had tracked him there, the first morning, and worried when he wouldn't eat or drink.

It had been Calvin who finally persuaded Shep to accept kibbles from the palm of his hand and even to take some water. If Julie hadn't nixed the idea, Calvin would probably have slept in that closet with Shep, just to keep him company.

Paige couldn't help drawing a comparison between that and Austin wanting to spend the night in the barn when Molly was first brought to the ranch.

Two of the cowboys were working in the barn when Paige and Austin got there, one feeding livestock, the other shoveling out stalls. There were probably more long-
term employees on the Silver Spur than on most ranches, but some of the workers were transitory, and this pair fell into that category.

Paige had never seen them before.

Apparently, Austin had.

“Hello, Tom,” he said, addressing the one filling the feeders with grass hay.

Tom nodded. “Austin,” he said in a friendly tone. “Hell of a thing, what happened to you. I was right sorry to hear about it.”

“Thanks,” Austin told him.

The other man, younger than the first, flung a pitchfork full of manure into a waiting wheelbarrow and drew idly on the cigarette between his lips.

“Told you before, Reese,” Austin said easily. “No smoking in the barn.”

Reese's jaw tightened, but then he grinned. He was probably in his early twenties, Paige thought, and except for his acne scars, he was handsome.

“Sorry, boss,” he replied, tossing the butt down in the stall muck and grinding it out with the toe of his boot. “It won't happen again.”

Austin merely nodded, as if taking the promise at face value, and went on to stand at the door of Molly's stall.

The mare was waiting to greet him; she nickered happily and nuzzled his chest.

Paige, no stranger to confrontation herself, felt vaguely unsettled by the exchange over the no-smoking rule, even though it had been a quiet one.

Still, she saw how Reese's eyes followed Austin as he moved on to greet Molly, clearly considering the matter
resolved. And she didn't like the feeling that settled into the pit of her stomach.

As she walked past the man, to join Austin in front of Molly's stall, tiny prickles moved over Paige's body in a wave, and she instinctively quickened her step.

Shep, always protective of Austin, gave no sign of concern. He was with his master, and that was all that mattered to him.

Reese went back to shoveling, and Tom continued to feed.

Paige told herself she was just jumpy because she hadn't slept well since Austin's shooting. Now that he was home again, her emotions seemed to be cycling from one extreme—joy—to its utter opposite—despair.

She joined Austin inside Molly's stall and immediately felt better.

Because of his sling, Austin couldn't help out much except to stroke Molly's long nose and talk to her while Paige cleaned off the cruel marks left by the old halter with sterile wipes and then gently applied fresh ointment.

Doing all that, Paige forgot about Tom and Reese, forgot everything, actually, except for Austin and the trusting horse and the dog waiting faithfully outside the stall door.

The sense of pure belonging that came over her then was sweet and strange, something to savor and then let go of, because she knew there was no way it could last.

Austin's gaze strayed to her face and she blushed, as she often did when this man looked at her, because it seemed he could see beyond the persona she presented to the world—the competent nurse, Julie and Libby's out-spoken sister, Calvin's devoted aunt.

And as much as Paige cherished her family, as hard as she'd worked to earn her professional credentials, for that one instant she could admit, if only to herself, that those things weren't enough.

She wanted a husband, a lover.

She wanted children.

She wanted a home of her own.

But if there was one thing Paige Remington had learned in her life, it was that wanting something wasn't the same as getting it.

As a small child, she'd wanted her mother to stay—wanted that with an urgent intensity she could still feel, even now, so many years later.

She'd wanted her dad to survive the cancer that had taken his life. She'd wept and prayed, but Will Remington, a brokenhearted husband, a dedicated father, had still died.

And dear God how she had wanted
Austin.

Standing there in Molly's stall, her fingers smeared with antibiotic ointment, Paige blinked back tears. Told herself to get a grip, to be grateful for what she had—two wonderful sisters, a nephew she loved as her own child, a career that caused her soul to thrive within her. Her health was good, and she lived in a free country.

It was just plain wrong to want more.

Wasn't it?

They finished with the horse, and Austin opened the stall door, waiting for Paige to precede him into the breezeway, where Shep was waiting.

They walked in silence, their shoulders almost touching but not quite, and when they stepped outside, Paige was genuinely surprised to realize that nightfall wasn't far off.

High overhead, the first audacious stars were popping out, staking silvery claims to the night sky.

Austin took Paige's hand, and she didn't pull away.

 

S
HE DIDN'T PULL AWAY.
No, Paige allowed him to hold her hand.

Austin counted that as a victory, however small.

The big kitchen was empty.

He hesitated, dropped her hand. “You don't have to give up your room,” he said. “I can make it upstairs with no problem.”

Paige looked mildly surprised, and then obstinate. “Maybe you can, Austin,” she said, “but there's no need to complicate things by ignoring your doctor's instructions, now is there?”

If loving to argue with Paige Remington was wrong, Austin didn't want to be right. “It's a big house,” he said, gesturing with one hand to indicate a wide area, “and there are other bedrooms on this floor. Esperanza's place is empty at the moment, for example, and there are other options besides.” He paused, knowing he was pissing her off, enjoying the fact immensely. “Why
your bed,
Paige?”

Her color flared, but then she recovered her composure. “You are being deliberately obtuse,” she accused him, turning and moving on, leaving him to follow or not. And, of course, he followed.

“I'm not inviting you to sleep with me,” she went on, when they stood in the modestly furnished living room of the guest quarters. Light spilled from the lamps, and dark was at the windows. “No matter how determined you may be to misinterpret everything I say.”

Austin looked around, taking in the space. It was part
of the original house, the one Clay and his wife had built together, early in the last century.

“This would have been the parlor,” he said, thinking aloud.

Paige looked at him curiously. She wasn't quite so prickly as before, but she still generated plenty of electricity. “The parlor?”

“Yes,” Austin said, moving to stand in front of the cold fireplace, tracing the design carved into the mantel's edge with his working hand. The wood was dark and heavy, scarred in places, but built to last. The clock Clay had given his bride as a wedding gift was still there, too, and still ticking away, the sound strong and true. “Once upon a time, this was pretty much the whole house—this apartment and Esperanza's, anyway. There was a loft, but no upstairs.”

She watched him, arms folded, but loosely, and not like she was guarding herself from him, her head tilted to one side. He loved the way she looked when she listened. “You McKettricks have quite a family history,” she said.

He nodded, offered up a lopsided grin. “Yep,” he agreed. His place upstairs seemed far away, hard to get to and way too lonely. Paige's bed, even without her in it, was looking better and better.

“Come on,” she said, putting out a hand. “You'd better rest.”

“I'm going to need some help with my—boots,” he said, looking down at his clothes and that sling and figuring he was going to need help with a lot more than his boots. Taking pity on her, he added, “I could call Garrett or Tate.”

“Don't be silly,” she said, surprising him again. “I'm an RN, Austin. I've undressed a lot of men in my time.”

Austin's mouth twitched with the impulse to comment, but he restrained himself. From the look on her face, Paige was under a lot of strain, and he didn't plan on adding to it.

“Okay,” he said.

In the bedroom, Austin lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed. It was a four-poster, intricately carved like the mantelpiece out in the living room, and from the same era.

A lot of McKettricks had been conceived and eventually born in that old bed, and not a few had died there. It made Austin feel connected, in a strangely comforting way, to all those who had gone before.

He was not a whimsical man, nor was he particularly interested in climbing the branches of his family tree. This odd nostalgia was probably nothing more than a side effect of all the drugs he'd been given lately, and it would pass.

He'd be his old rascally self again before he knew it.

Paige bent, got him by one foot, and pulled. Vigorously.

Nothing happened.

She pulled again.

Again, nothing.

“It works better,” Austin drawled, wondering how long it had been since he'd had this much fun with his clothes on, “if you turn around. That way, I can push with my other foot.”

Crimson patches bloomed on her cheeks, and her eyes glittered. “Are you suggesting…?” She paused, swallowed, visibly regrouped. “
Are you suggesting
that I let you put your
foot
on my—backside—and
push?
”

“Yeah,” he said, and then bit the inside of his lower
lip so he wouldn't laugh right out loud. “That's how it's done, Paige.”

Shep, content to lie under the window and watch the proceedings, pricked up both ears and then relaxed again, resting his muzzle on his forelegs and rolling his brown eyes from Austin to Paige and then back again.

Paige didn't move.

Austin put a lot of drama into a sigh of resignation, then leaned to grab hold of his right boot, with his one working hand. He gave a mighty pull—that was real—but the gasp of pain, not so much.

Paige called him an idiot—he was beginning to read that as a term of affection—and took over the boot pulling. As instructed, she turned her back to him, held his booted foot between her knees and yanked.

Unable to resist, Austin carefully centered his left boot across her shapely, blue-jeaned buttocks and pushed.

She gave a little cry, one of indignation rather than pain, and stumbled a few steps when the boot came off.

The look she gave him over her shoulder could have been used to brand cowhide.

It wasn't as if he'd laughed or anything. He'd wanted to, though. He had
really
wanted to.