No Better Man (14 page)

A
very popped some ibuprofen and checked the mirror that hung over the antique log dresser. The white bandage square in the center of her forehead might as well have been a neon sign news-flashing her clumsiness to the world.

She sighed and pulled her long hair into a single braid at the back. Not a pretty sight, but it couldn’t be helped. She couldn’t erase the bruise on her forehead or conceal the stiches that gathered her skin at the edges of that bandage. At least Bryce hadn’t seemed too repulsed by her. When he’d first seen her lying in the hospital bed he’d winced, but he’d looked more empathetic than disgusted, and since then he’d been nothing but sweet. Well, mostly.

Ah, Bryce. She had a vague memory of him whispering something over her when he carried her down the mountain.
You made me feel something I haven’t felt in a long time.
Or had she imagined that? She’d always excelled at wishful thinking. Irrational optimism, her father called it, but it served her well. It made her think differently, in terms of possibilities instead of concrete ideas.

And when it came to Bryce, there were so many possibilities. So many wonderful, amazing, beautiful possibilities. Her skin flushed with a lazy warmth that made her feel the slightest bit tipsy.

But no, she couldn’t be tipsy. Not right now. Not with her father in town, figuratively breathing down her neck. After this was over, though…after she’d convinced Bryce he needed to sell and get a fresh start somewhere else, who knew what could happen? The whole horse riding accident had brought out another side of him, a side she wouldn’t mind getting to know better, and if he walked away from the ranch, maybe he’d be ready to walk into something new. With someone new…

Unable to confine a smile, she reached for her ball cap and gingerly plunked it on her head, tugging it down as far as she could to keep the bandage in the shadow beneath the cap’s bill.
There.
That helped a little. After slinging her backpack on one shoulder, she opened the door.

“Whoa.” Bryce stood right in front of her, hand raised as if he’d been about to knock.

“Hi!” Her voice went all high and breathy like it always did when he caught her off guard. Somehow he managed to catch her off guard every time she saw him, though, even just wearing gray sweats and a dark t-shirt. It was probably because he stood a full head taller than she, and her eyes happened to be at the same level as his impressive chest, those sturdy shoulders…

“Hey,” he said in that deep lullaby tone. “Just wanted to check on you.”

Awww. Seriously?
She glanced up. She’d get trapped in those mesmerizing green eyes of his if she wasn’t careful…

“Still up for the game?” he asked.

“Of course.” She slipped out the door and stood close enough to feel the heat emanating from his body. Or maybe that was her body, smoldering from the memory of being crushed against him, those lips on hers…

“You okay?” he asked slowly, sounding concerned.

Nothing to be concerned about. She was just checking him out again. Couldn’t tell him that, though. So she simply smiled. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

His lips quirked with amusement and he leaned one shoulder against the wall. “No reason.” He pointed at her backpack. “What’s in there?”

“My glove.”

“Your glove?”

Embarrassment prickled across her skin. “Yes. I picked one up earlier this week,” she muttered. “You know, just in case.” In case she got to play again. She couldn’t help herself. A few days ago, she’d been walking around town and happened to saunter past the local sports shop. In the window she’d spotted this amazing Minuzo Classic—throwback leather, rugged and rich—pre-oiled, even!

She swore it had glowed in a ray of light cast straight from heaven. It was probably the same feeling other women had when they saw a pair of designer shoes—helpless, stuck under some kind of spell. Then, before you know what’s happened, you’re handing over your credit card and in a distant reality hearing the cashier say, “That’ll be two hundred dollars, please.”

The dark look on Bryce’s face only proved he wouldn’t understand. He stood upright and posted his hands on his hips, the muscles in his arms tensing. “You do realize you’re not playing today, right?”

Suddenly, she felt like a little girl about to receive a stern lecture from her father. She should know. She’d endured plenty of them. Only, Bryce was not her father. “Of course I’m playing.”

He lowered his head so they were eyes to eyes, nose to nose. “You have a concussion. You have to take it easy.”

Dangerous. Having his lips so close was downright dangerous. “I will take it easy,” she said, forcing herself to stay put even though she wanted to step back and inch some safe distance between them. “I can play the outfield.” Lord knew not many people around here could hit it all the way to the grass, but at least she’d be out there. At least she’d be part of the team.

His frown softened into amusement. “Avery.”

Her joints melted at the affectionate way he said her name. Oh, heaven help her. He’d used his Moose voice.

His eyes took on a gentle sheen as he gazed down at her. “I’m sorry. I can’t let you play.”

But… She felt the weight of the new glove in her backpack. She had to use it. She had to put it on and test it out. “I feel great.” She danced a quick version of the electric slide to prove it. “See? Nothing hurts. No pain at all.”

Bryce’s lips folded like he was trying not to laugh. “You can come and watch. But you’re not playing. Got it?”

“I hate watching,” she whined.

He took her shoulders in those powerful hands and tugged her closer until their eyes connected. The amusement that had lifted his facial features only seconds before fell flat. “I can’t let anything happen to you. You can’t risk it with a head injury.”

His tone was too weighted for her to argue. It sounded too much like fear. Real, deep fear.

“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll watch, then.”

“You can take stats for me,” he offered with a consoling smile.

“Great. That’s way more fun than being out on the field.” But the little sparkles dancing in her chest made it hard to sound grumpy. He was worried about her. Which meant he cared, right? At least he wasn’t benching her because he didn’t want her around this time.

Still feigning a good pout, she scooted down the hall. Bryce hovered one step behind her, all tense and protective, like he was afraid she might fall over backward. She bunched her lips to ward off a smile. Maybe she should—
accidentally
tip over and land right in his arms.

Except, judging from his uptight attitude about head injuries, he would miss the humor, yet again.

They crossed the foyer. He slipped in front of her, opened the front door, and lightly touched his hand to the small of her back. The warmth from his palm radiated through her and heightened her senses. He smelled like freedom, like the freshness of the woods outside.

“Take it easy. These steps are loose.” His hand pressed into her back and started the palpitations again.
Hmmm.
She could easily stumble and land right on him again…

But his hands supported her as he guided her down the porch steps and over to the truck.

“
Mmmmwufff.
” Moose vaulted out of the forest and galloped toward them in his enthusiastic
you’re-my-two-favorite-people-in-the-entire-universe!!!!
way.

Bryce secured an arm around her like he was preparing for impact.

Wow. She could stay like that forever, pressed up against him,
feeling
those solid muscles instead of gawking at them.

Sure enough, Moose’s head collided with their legs, but the impact didn’t faze her. Not at all.

Laughing, Bryce kept her upright. “Sorry about that. Not much I can do. He likes you.”

“I like him, too.” She lowered her hand, fluffed Moose’s ears, and was rewarded with a big ol’ lick all the way up her forearm.

“All right, boy.” Nudging Moose out of their way, Bryce led her around to the passenger side of the truck. He opened the door for her, took her hand in a tight grip, and helped her climb in.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yes.” She laughed. “Good God. You must really think I’m a klutz.”

His head tilted and his eyes met hers in a meaningful gaze. “I think a lot of things when I see you. But that’s not one of them.”

She resisted the urge to fan herself. Whew. Hot flash. Someone roll down a window…

Bryce slammed the door shut, leaving her to sit there and simmer while he got Moose settled in the back.

Finally, he climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “What d’you like to listen to?” He flicked on the radio, but she was too shocked to answer. He was acting like a boyfriend, and it all felt so intimate. The way he was watching out for her, helping her, caring about her…

He looked over, waiting.

“Whatever you like,” was all she could get out. She’d never been picky about music, although the way Bryce was making her feel, she could’ve easily gone for something in the Barry White genre.

With a shrug, he flicked on the country music station he’d had on the other night. She didn’t recognize the song, but it felt right, sitting next to this man with tousled, carefree hair in his big, bad truck listening to a woman twang about her lost love.

Except it wasn’t right. She’d started to care about him.
Really
care about him. She wanted to spend time with him, to let him know her, to know him—but what about him? She peered over at Bryce. He watched the road intently, took the curves slower than he had the last time she’d ridden with him, like he was afraid to jostle her.

Suddenly, her shoulders felt heavy.

The truck slowed and Bryce looked over. “Everything okay?”

“I’m not sure.” Because she didn’t know how to do this, how to let him touch her and be sweet to her and protect her without letting herself fall for him. She was teetering on the edge, held back by the knowledge of his unresolved pain, but also inching forward to think about the possibility of a future. And if she were to let go, what if the landing hurt too much?

Her stomach fluttered. Just her luck that the nerves always hit there first. But she had to know. She had to ask him before this momentum between them pushed her off the cliff. “Bryce,” she said quietly enough to get his full attention.

“Yeah?” He bounced his gaze between her and the road. “What is it? Are you in pain?”

She shook her head, her hands gripping her knees. Forcing herself to look at him, she inhaled and held her breath until she felt strong enough to ask. “Are you still in love with Yvonne?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. A familiar expression of guilt tightened his lips. He stared straight out the windshield, hands gripping the wheel tightly, steering to follow the curve of the road.

She turned away from him and gazed out the window, but the trees and the lovely Victorian houses that lined the highway all blurred together. “I shouldn’t have asked you that. I’m sorry,” she said. And she was. Sorry for both of them.

He’d shut down again, and that was the only answer she needed.

Bryce eased off the gas and let the truck crawl across the parking lot, but that still didn’t give him enough time to figure out how to answer Avery’s question.

Why’d she have to ask?

He silently cursed himself. He knew good and well why she had to ask. Because for the last half hour, he’d been treating her like they were on a date. He couldn’t help himself, not when it came to her.

She did things to him. Things no one else had ever done, not even Yvonne. There. He’d said it. Guilt rose up in that familiar way, tightening his chest, making it hard to breathe.

He looked over at Avery and got a perfect view of the back of her head. Like the scenery in the parking lot was really fascinating.
Damn it.
What did she want him to say? He didn’t know. That was the truth. He just didn’t know. For as long as he could remember, it had been Yvonne. She was his best friend, his first love, so much a part of him that he still hardly recognized himself without her.

How could he say he wasn’t in love with her?

He pulled into a parking spot at the edge of the lot, but let the truck run.

Avery didn’t look at him. “I’ll see you down there,” she said like she was talking to one of her colleagues. Then she scooted out of the truck and slammed the door.

He cut the engine, but instead of getting out he sat and watched her walk away. He wanted to say yes. God, he wanted to say yes. She was worth a yes…

Outside his door, Moose barked and turned in circles. The dog couldn’t wait to tear down to the field to greet everyone, but Moose would never go without him. Guess that meant he’d have to get down there and face Avery.

He took his time unpacking the bat bags and extra water bottles for the yahoos who’d inevitably forgotten theirs, then schlepped it all down the hill. Avery already had a crowd of his best friends gathered around her. As he neared the bench, he caught snippets of their conversation.

“O.M.G., Avery!” Paige exclaimed. “What happened to your face? It looks horrible!”

He shook his head. Paige was always so subtle.
“Horseback riding accident,” Avery said and waved it off like it was nothing.

His fist clenched around the handle of the bag he was carrying. How could she be so flippant? Didn’t she understand the potential dangers of a head injury?

“That sucks.” Paige slumped on the bench next to her.

Avery wouldn’t look at him, but that was fine. Someone had to watch out for her. What if she got beaned in the head? Or what if she collided with someone again? He dug out his glove and snatched a ball, then trotted to the outfield to warm up.

“You acted like you knew nothing about her.” Shooter’s coarse voice trailed behind him.

He stopped and turned around, faking ignorance. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb, Walker. You expect me to believe you don’t know her that well? You were out riding with her this morning.”

Instead of answering, he jogged backward and tossed the ball at Shooter. “We should warm up.”