McKettricks of Texas: Austin (9 page)

“Calvin,” Paige interceded softly, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder.

He was so excited, he was practically vibrating.

“Could I pet her?” he implored, tilting his head back to gaze up at Paige's face, then Austin's. “Please?”

Paige felt a jolt worthy of a stun gun when her gaze connected with Austin's. Again she had that odd sense that he was a stranger, that he'd never been the Austin she'd loved so much when they were both teenagers.

“If it's okay with your aunt,” Austin drawled, looking at her instead of Calvin, “then sure.”

Paige hesitated, then nodded her permission.

Austin unlatched the stall door and stepped slowly inside, holding Calvin by the hand.

“I can't reach,” Calvin said.

Paige took a step toward the boy, intending to lift him up again, but Austin beat her to it. He paled slightly, beneath the bristle of his beard, holding Calvin in the curve of one arm.

“Austin,” Paige said, reaching out to take the child from him.

He hesitated before he let Calvin go.

Calvin, for his part, was too busy petting Molly's nose to care who was holding him. He hooked an arm around Paige's neck, though, and she felt a rush of such love for her sister's child that it made her light-headed.

After a few more moments, she carried Calvin out of Molly's stall and set him back on his feet. She was aware of Austin moving behind her, shutting and latching the door.

“Can I sleep out here in the barn, with Austin and Shep?” Calvin asked, his upturned face earnest with hope.

“Not tonight,” Paige told him gently.

Conveniently, Shep wriggled out from under the cot, wagging his tail, and Calvin, distracted from the camping prospect, squatted to ruffle the dog's ears.

Looking up at Austin through her eyelashes, Paige was both gratified and shaken to find him watching her.

His color was coming back, but she couldn't help wondering if he'd hurt himself, lifting Calvin up to pet Molly the way he had.

The grin came suddenly, nearly setting Paige back on her heels, dazzled.

“You know,” he drawled, leaning in close and keeping his voice low, “I'm starting to think I might need a nurse after all.”

O
NCE HE WAS FAIRLY SURE
Molly's visiting hours were over for the night, Austin took a couple of muscle relaxants, throwing them back with tepid tap water from the tack room sink, shut off the barn lights and eased himself down to sit on the shaky cot he'd set up earlier. He began the tricky task of taking off his boots.

With some sighing and some shifting around, Shep settled himself underneath the makeshift bed.

“Don't snore,” Austin said. So far, that was the only drawback to having Shep for a dog.

Austin smiled and rubbed his chin with one hand, hoping it wouldn't start itching before morning, when he could reasonably shave.

Just sitting there, thinking his own thoughts and mostly at peace, the way he generally was around dogs and horses, he almost missed the movement in the doorway of the barn, would have disregarded it as an illusion if Shep hadn't growled once and low-crawled out from under the cot to stand guard.

“Best show yourself,” Austin advised the unknown visitor mildly, rising to his feet with a lot less ease than he would have liked. “It'll save us all some grief—you, me
and
the dog.”

No answer.

He rubbed the back of his neck and waited. How long
would it be until the pills kicked in, anyhow? Austin wasn't exactly hurting, but he was stiff as hell, and in all the wrong places, too.

The shadow in the darkened doorway resolved itself into a small and enticing shape.

“It's me,” Paige said. From the tone of her voice, she was a little surprised to find herself in that barn, after nightfall, with all the lights shut off. Maybe even more surprised than Austin was to see her there.

He felt the right corner of his mouth kick up in a grin, as his heart staggered like a drunk and slammed against his rib cage before righting itself.

A shaft of moonlight found its way in through a high window way up there in the hayloft and Paige passed through it, a goddess in blue jeans and a pullover sweater, moving slowly toward him.

Shep had long since given up growling by then, and taken to wagging his tail instead.

Paige bent to muss the dog's ears, then straightened and looked up into Austin's face. “Did you hurt yourself?”

He couldn't stop grinning. Good thing it was dark in that barn—mostly. There
was
that liquid-silver moonlight spilling in, but things were cast in angled shadows.

“Hurt myself? How would I have done that?”

She might have been flustered; there was no telling, since he couldn't really see her face and her tone of voice wasn't giving away much of anything. “Earlier, when you lifted Calvin so he could pet the horse?”

“Oh, that,” Austin said. He splayed the fingers of his right hand and pushed them through his hair, just to be doing something other than grabbing Paige Remington by the shoulders and kissing her until her knees buckled. Right then, that was about
all
he wanted to do.

She saved him from temptation by stepping away to stand in front of Molly's stall door. There was enough light to see that the mare was on her feet, crunching away on the scoop of sweet feed Austin had given her just before cutting the lights.

Molly wanted for some fattening up, and a few alfalfa pellets now and again would probably do the trick.

Austin didn't move from where he stood. This was one of those pivotal moments, he figured, where one wrong move could change the whole course of his life—and Paige's, too.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked. His voice was as rough as if he'd taken sandpaper to his vocal cords. “Right now, I mean. In the barn. This late and everything.”

Her laugh was quiet, brittle. “I'm not sure,” she admitted.

Some of the muscles in Austin's lower back tightened ominously. Taking care not to make any wimpy sounds, he lowered himself to sit on the cot again and then questioned the wisdom of the move. What if he needed to get back up all of a sudden, and couldn't?

Damn, that would be a new low.

Once again, Paige surprised him. She sat right down beside him, on top of his flannel-lined sleeping bag, close enough that their thighs touched.

He'd felt a similar sensation once before, helping a ranch crew install electric fence lines, when he'd forgotten and closed his fingers around a live wire.

She was the one who broke the silence; Austin wasn't about to. “Molly's doing okay, then?” she asked.

“So far, so good,” Austin managed, and then wished
he'd cleared his throat first, because his answer came out sounding rusty.

It soon became apparent that Paige had exhausted whatever reserves of diplomacy she might have had on hand. “But you figure you ought to sleep out here? In a barn? With a herniated disc?” She was really building up a head of steam now, and it was fascinating to watch. “It's
November,
Austin.”

Fools rush in, he thought ruefully, where angels fear to tread. If discretion was the better part of valor, he was just plain screwed in the valor department.

He put his hands on either side of Paige's face and he kissed her, tentatively at first. She stiffened, and Austin was prepared to back off, but then, in the next instant, the next heartbeat, she softened against him, and he deepened the kiss.

He used his tongue and
goddamn
it was good. But then it happened.

She shoved him away, hard.

And then pushed both hands into her hair and paced back and forth in front of him, muttering to herself.

Austin stood because she had, and the move was too sudden. His back seized up so ferociously that he groaned and doubled over.

And then he couldn't straighten back up.

Paige caught her breath, stopped the pacing, hurried along the breezeway and flipped the first light switch she came to, causing the overheads to flare to life. Austin stayed where he was, flat-out
incapable
of doing anything else.

Shep sat at his feet, the picture of canine goodwill, whisking his tail back and forth in the sawdust.

Austin was still bent in the middle, like an old-fashioned hairpin.

Paige returned, all professional now. Reaching Austin, she took his arm in a gentle hold. “Can you walk?” she asked.

“Hell,
no,
” Austin responded, in pain and mortified that he was helpless in front of the last person in the world he wanted to think of him as weak. “Do I look to you like a man who can walk?”

She started to giggle, nervously at first, still holding on to his arm. “Well, can you at least stand up straight?”

“
No, I freakin' cannot
stand up straight!”

“Take it easy,” Paige urged, rubbing his back with one small hand. “It's probably just a spasm, like a charley horse. You'll be all right in a minute.”

“Do you have any idea how much this
hurts?
And you stand there
laughing—
”

Paige's giggle turned to a chuckle, followed by a half-swallowed guffaw. Out of the corner of his eye, Austin saw her slap her free hand over her mouth. “I'm—really—sorry—” Another peal of mirth escaped her. “It's just that this whole situation—it's so—”

Bracing his hands on his thighs, he glared at her, sidelong.
“Funny?”
he supplied.

She laughed again. “I must be hysterical,” she said, dashing away tears with the back of her hand. “Austin, I'm
sorry.
Really. I don't mean—”

The ache seemed to be slacking off a little, but he was a long way from okay. Plus, he felt like a damn fool, standing there, bent like a twist in the road.

“Will you just—go back in the house or something?” he said.

She blinked, shook her head. “And leave you like this?”

“I hate to say it,” Austin ground out, “but you're not really helping all that much by sticking around.”

“Don't be such a big baby,” Paige said. Her mouth was twitching, and she still had that twinkle in her eyes. “You're not the first person whose back ever went out, you know.”

He managed to hitch up a little more, but he felt as though his spine were about to split like a piece of cord-wood under the blade of an ax. “I
know
that,” he said, catching his breath after another twinge of pure agony rocked his world.

“Maybe I
should
get Garrett, though,” Paige speculated, looking genuinely concerned now. It was about time she showed some sympathy, by Austin's reckoning, but he didn't care for the direction her thoughts were headed.

Austin spoke through his teeth.
“Don't you
dare
bring Garrett out here.”

“Take it easy,” Paige told him. Her voice was gentler now, and she was rubbing his back again. “I just thought you might need his help, that's all.”

It was almost worth all that suffering, having her rub his back like that.

Almost, but not quite.

Slowly, by increments, Austin cranked himself upright.

“Just so you know,” Paige informed him, linking her arm through his, “you're not sleeping in this barn. Let's get you into the house.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Austin told her. He flung a hand in Molly's direction. “This horse—”

She raised her eyebrows, spoke in a deliberate
and moderate tone. “Yes, you
are
going somewhere, McKettrick. Molly will be fine without you playing mother hen. Besides, you can't stay out here alone, not in the shape you're in, and I'm not sharing that sleeping bag with you. It's too damn cold for that.”

“You'd do it otherwise?” he asked hoarsely, amazed. “Share the sleeping bag with me? If it wasn't cold, I mean?”

Paige blushed.

All around them, sleepy horses looked over stall gates, probably wondering what all the fuss was about.

“I was speaking—advisedly,” Paige said.

“Advisedly?” Austin repeated, amused. Carefully, he folded his arms. “Here's the thing, Paige,” he went on. “If we were both stuffed into the same sleeping bag, we'd be sharing each other's body heat, so it's unlikely we'd be cold.”

Her face burned even brighter.

He'd forgotten how sexy she was when she was mad as hell.

“We're going
inside,
bucko,” she told him, jabbing at his chest with the tip of one index finger. “You can either come along under your own power, behaving yourself in the process, or I can fetch Garrett. Maybe call Tate, too, just in case persuading you turns out to be a two-man job. The choice is yours.”

“‘Bucko'?”
he teased.

“Just a figure of speech,” Paige said, folding her arms, jutting out her chin and looking up at him with challenge sparking in her eyes. “And don't think I haven't figured out that you're stalling, Austin McKettrick. Either you come inside right now, or I'll get Garrett.”

“I can handle Garrett,” Austin said, starting to feel testy again. “Tate, too, come to that.”

“Fine.” Paige huffed, and turned on one heel, about to march off. “We'll just see, then, won't we?”

Austin blew out a sigh, caught her by the back of the waistband on her jeans.

She spun around to face him, small fists clenched.

Shep gave a halfhearted growl.

Austin flashed back to the summer night Paige had caught him messing around with her archenemy, Kimberly Johnson, in a parked car.

He hadn't meant for Paige to actually catch them in the act, but he had wanted her to find out through the Blue River grapevine that he was fooling around with someone else. It was the only way he knew to derail Paige's fantasies about marriage. She seemed to think she could study nursing and he could ride bulls and all the while they'd make babies and live happily ever after, and she just didn't hear him when he tried to tell her he couldn't commit to anything right then but following his rodeo dream.

Tipped off by one of Kimberly's malicious girlfriends, Paige had driven out to Lovers' Lane to prove it was all a lie and seen the truth with her own eyes. Austin hadn't meant to hurt her that bad—it wasn't 'til he looked into her face, contorted by pain, that he realized just how lame his plan had been.

The next day, he'd worked up the courage to knock on her door, meaning to explain, but Paige had come shooting out of her father's house like a human cannonball. She'd grabbed up the garden hose, he recalled, and turned on the spigot, clearly intending to douse him good.

Unfortunately, the scene had struck Austin as hilarious.
He'd laughed and vaulted over the Remingtons' picket fence to stand on the sidewalk.

“Paige, listen to me,” he'd begun, hardly knowing what he was saying. “Kimberly and I are really—well—we're just friends—”

Paige had dropped the hose, but only because she couldn't stretch it any farther and it was useless as a weapon. She jerked open the creaky-hinged gate and bolted through it.

The next-door neighbor's shiny new golf cart sat at the base of his driveway, and Austin, backing away from Paige, bumped into the back fender and then skirted the vehicle. Even then, he'd known he ought to quit laughing, because it sure as hell wasn't helping matters, but they were both caught in a vicious cycle: the more he laughed, the madder Paige got. And the madder she got, the more he laughed.

Paige, her eyes shooting fire, had jumped behind the wheel of the golf cart, turned the key left dangling from the ignition and shifted gears.

She chased him down to the corner, then right out onto Main Street.

Clem Chambers, the neighbor, ran behind Paige, yelling for her to stop, but she paid him no mind.

Austin, now running backward, now running forward, right down the center line, was enjoying the spectacle way too much to put a stop to it.

Given that the “incident of record,” as Bill Motts, then chief of police, termed it later, took place in Blue River, Texas, under a heavy canopy of blue-skied July heat, there was no traffic to speak of. Hell, even the dogs that usually roamed the community all day were curled up under porches, avoiding the glare of the sun.