Straight From The Heart (11 page)

“I’d say it’s definitely Jason’s, as he was the driver,” Stephen pointed out grimly.

“Please, don’t be like that,” Kim begged humbly.

“You were the one who pointed out you’re better off not getting entangled with the Wrights.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Maybe you did, Kim. This whole weekend I’ve been trying to force a romance between us that you haven’t wanted.”

“That’s not true!” she protested.

“Let’s leave it, okay? I’m tired, and I just want time to pass so I can make sure Jason’s all right.” With a snort, he added, “The good news is my drunken ex-wife is there to make things right.”

“Stephen
 . . .
”

Her plea went unheard because he walked outside to the porch. He was still standing there, back turned against her, when Kim finally headed, dejected and sad, off to bed.

It was four o’clock
in the afternoon before the water had receded enough for them to return to Riverside. Kim followed Stephen down the mountain and the outskirts of Portland where he turned off to the hospital while she headed on to Riverside and Bobby.

At the Reeds’, Betsy hugged her so tightly Kim nearly suffocated. “It’s okay,” Kim assured her troubled friend.

“Did Stephen go directly to the hospital?” To Kim’s nod, Betsy added despondently, “Some babysitter I am.”

“Things like this happen. Stop beating yourself up over it. Besides, it could have been so much worse.”

“Jason had barely gotten into the street when this car whipped around the corner and hit him broadside. I was so scared!” Betsy recapped the accident, finishing with, “Matt’s going to be sixteen in a couple of weeks. I am
not
looking forward to it.”

Bobby burst into the room at that moment. At the sight of him, Kim gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth. A bandage was wrapped around his forehead Ninja-style, and there was a huge dark smudge beneath his right eye, the beginning of a major shiner. Spying her expression, he grinned like a pirate. “Cool, huh? Jason’s getting out today. He’s got a cast on his arm. I’m going to sign it ‘B. Harden, Crash-Test Dummy.’ What do you think?”

Betsy looked pained. Kim started chuckling. She couldn’t help herself. While Bobby eagerly awaited her answer, she simply folded him in her arms and squeezed him tight. This was not, however, the reaction he wanted, so he squirmed free and ran from the room, screaming like a banshee with the pure abandonment of a twelve-year-old boy.

“Do you think I should call Stephen?” Betsy fretted.

“Let him call you,” Kim suggested. “He will, as soon as he’s got a minute.”

And will he call you?
her needling mind questioned sharply.

She had no clue.

“. . . should’ve never let
him have a license. He’s always been irresponsible. You should’ve done something before. A long time ago. It’s your fault, Stephen. Your fault, and I never, ever want to talk to you again! I hate you! I hate—”

Click.

Stephen glanced down at his finger on the End button of his cell phone, slightly surprised that it seemed to have exhibited a will of its own. Before the message had gelled in his brain, his finger had cut off Pauleen’s angry ranting. She was furious, but then, after a few drinks, she was always furious. People handled liquor in different ways, and Pauleen’s way was to be as
obnoxious and flat out bitchy as possible.

Jason sat in a chair in the living room, pale but upbeat. His left arm was casted from wrist to shoulder, set in an L-shape that made him look as if he were constantly flexing.

“I swear, that guy was
moving.
One minute the road was clear, the next he was there, and he just smashed me.”

“You’re lucky all you got was a broken arm.”

“When do you think the car’ll be fixed?”

Stephen almost smiled. Oh, to be a teenager and spend all your time worrying about cars. It was a simpler life.

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Can I drive the Jeep?”

With a glance at Jason’s casted arm, Stephen said, “Not in the near future.”

Jason’s expression darkened, but then he flicked on the remote control and lost himself in some evening television show. Without further delay, Stephen placed a call to Betsy, assured her that everything was fine and that he didn’t blame her for a thing, asked about Bobby, then fought the urge to inquire about Kim. Betsy was too distraught to pick up on the vibes, and that left Stephen alone, and lonely, with his thoughts.

Drumming his fingers on the receiver, he considered calling her. She’d been upset, and she’d tried to apologize, but he’d been too raw and bullheaded to listen. Her accusations had hurt, like the ones she’d thrown at him on the courtroom steps. Maybe she was right. Maybe they were star-crossed, destined to only hurt each other.

A moment later Stephen snorted in disgust. Was he nuts? When had he ever buckled under to superstition and nonsense? What was it about this woman that got to him so much?

“I’ll be back in a while,” he told Jason in sudden decision. Then he stepped outside to an inky night sky and the chance to secure his future.

Cradling a glass of wine,
Kimberly curled her feet beneath her on her couch, conscious once more of her painted toenails. She’d remembered the name of the color: Pink Passion. It bugged the heck out of her.

Her fireplace was the gas kind; it could be ignited with the flick of a switch. The air was still warm and thick and full of the heat of summer, but, feeling like a complete imbecile, she’d switched on the fire.

She’d called Alan and told him about Bobby’s trip to the emergency room. He’d chastised her for letting Bobby drive around with some “stupid teenage driver,” and Kim had let him rave on rather than explain the circumstances. Alan wouldn’t have listened to that part anyway; he was too good at painting his own scenarios.

Now, she just felt like taking a deep breath and putting some perspective in her life. Bobby was safe, Jason would be fine, and Betsy would eventually get over her case of the guilts. As for Stephen Wright
 . . .
she shuddered when she remembered what she’d said to him. She owed him one whopping apology.

B-br-brring
 . . .
B-br-brring.

Kim frowned at the sound of her doorbell. Who?

Stephen!
her heart cried out, and she rushed to the door, amazed that it was indeed the man she loved.

The man she loved
 . . .

“Stephen, I’m so glad you came. I owe you an apology,” she rushed to explain as soon as the door was cracked open. “I was so selfish and worried. I guess I’ve become an overprotective mother ever since—” She broke off in a gasp as Stephen took both of her hands, pulled her close, and kissed her hard on the mouth.

“This is the start of a relationship,” he said after several heady moments of kissing. “A serious relationship that could very well end in marriage. Now don’t say ‘I can’t’ again, because each time you do, I’ll have to kiss you until you stop.”

Kimberly closed the door behind them, leaning against it for a moment. Was she dreaming? It couldn’t be this good. Her lips curved upward and she said teasingly, “I can’t.”

His mouth swooped down to capture hers. When he pulled back, he arched one brow, waiting.

“You’re awfully cocky for a mere slave,” she complained.

“This slave wants an answer: Are we going to start a serious relationship, or not?”

“The master doesn’t want to be rushed.”

“Tough,” he said, grinning. He kissed her again.

“Hey, I didn’t say, ‘I can’t.’”

That earned her another kiss that had her giggling and laughing in his arms.

Footsteps pounded on the stairs, and Kim and Stephen broke apart like guilty teenagers. Bobby stopped dead, halfway down.

“Mom! Are you dating Mr. Wright?”

“Yes,” Stephen answered, to which Bobby started whooping and screaming in delight.

“You shouldn’t have told him that,” Kim scolded. “You know he’s on his way to call Jason.”

“Was I supposed to hide it? Kim, before long, the whole town’s going to know it. I am personally going to tell everyone I see.”

“Maybe we should start with Betsy,” Kim suggested.

“But first
 . . .
” He tugged on her hand and drew her to the couch, cradling her in his arms and burying his face in the sweet-scented lushness of her blond mane. “I’m falling in love with you,” he admitted.

“Oh, Stephen, I’ve been falling in love with you forever,” Kim declared in pure happiness. “I can’t believe this!”

“Believe it,” he whispered, kissing her softly and tenderly.

By the time they got around to calling Betsy, Kim believed with all her heart that she possessed Stephen’s love completely, just as he’d always possessed hers. No more questions or worries or misunderstandings. Their two lives were destined to be one.

“He ain’t comin’ back, Dorry. It don’t take goin’ on two years to ride to Wyomin’, buy cattle, and drive ’em home. And you can’t stay here alone if I hafta leave. A hungry beast is a dangerous one, and old man Cleary’s starvin’ for you and this place. I think I covered my trail good, but there’s no tellin’ what’ll happen when spring thaw comes. I hafta stay ready to ride like lightnin’ if the law tracks me down. If I go, you hafta go, too, or Cleary will trap you.”

“John’s my husband, Luke; I have to wait until I’m told for certain he’s dead. Besides, I have nowhere else to go since John’s parents moved back east after we left Colorado. This area is so secluded that outlaws haven’t troubled me. The Indians are no threat since they were brought under control in seventy-six, so I’m as safe here in North Dakota as any other place. I doubt the Arizona law will search for you this far away, and with your help, William Cleary will never get his greedy paws on me or my land. You will stay until John returns or news of his death arrives, won’t you?”

“And let him call me out for
 . . .
livin’ with his wife for three months? Watch him step in and claim the only woman I love and want?”

Dorry Sims blushed as she caught his meaning. “You know I love you, Luke, but a future together is impossible unless things change for both of us; we’ve known and accepted that dark reality from the beginning. I vowed to be John’s wife ‘until death do us part,’ and I have no proof he’s dead. I don’t know how long I should or will wait for news, but eighteen months isn’t enough. And you, you might have to flee for your life at any moment. I wish we could marry and make this ranch ours, have children, have a wonderful life together.”

“I didn’t mean to put them tears in your eyes, woman. They’re as pretty and blue as Texas flowers. I just can’t abide knowin’ somethin’ could happen to me, and you’d be left alone to fight Cleary and who knows what other dangers.”

“I’ve survived plenty in the past, my love. I sometimes think someone watches over me. When my family was killed by those Indians, I was with John’s folks in town. I’ve outlasted blizzards, hunger, injuries, and more since I’ve been here alone. I know how to shoot, ride, ranch, farm, and do whatever’s needed to survive here. But my survival won’t mean anything unless I have someone to inherit my family’s legacy, my book. I want that person to be our child, Luke. Maybe that’s wrong and wicked of me, but I can’t help but feel that way. My grandma gave each of her children a copy of the book and a chest to keep it in, and it’s been part of our family ever since. When I hold the book, it gives me strength, courage, hope, and joy. It isn’t just a legend, a made-up story, Luke; it’s true; I know it’s true; Mama said so.”

“A book can’t protect you from guns and bullets and knives and greed. If I’m killed or captured, I can’t neither. But Cleary ain’t gonna give up on gettin’ you and this land till he’s lyin’ face down in dirt. You ain’t forgettin’ he came over at Christmas and tried to buy you out if you wouldn’t marry him. He’s been makin’ cow eyes at you ever since John left. He told you months ago he’d get news about John, but he won’t tell you nothin’ till it suits his needs. You can bet he ain’t pleased you plan to hire a helper come spring; he’ll do his darnedest to make sure you don’t get none. If I kill him to protect you, I’m in worse trouble. I’m bettin’ he knows John’s dead, ‘cause he did the shootin’, or had it done. He’d kill me, too, if he knowed I was here.” Luke wished he hadn’t made that last remark, though it was true. “You got good grass, a lotta trees, and plenty of water—mighty temptin’ to any man, ’specially with you comin’ along with ’em.”

Dorry gazed into dark brown eyes that were filled with bittersweet emotion. She noticed how black hair fell over his forehead whenever he lowered his square chin. Luke James was tall and strong, over six feet of hard muscles. He was rugged and handsome, and he’d stolen her heart and wits within days of meeting him. She had trusted him from the start and hired him to help her battle her land-grabbing neighbor. But her missing husband stood between them, as well as a crime Luke swore he hadn’t committed.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about so long and deep?”

“How we met and why you came here. Are you sure there’s nothing we can do to clear your name? If John’s dead, we could—”

“Don’t go dreamin’, Dorry. My neck still itches from that rope’s tickle. One more minute, and I’da been ready for a dirt blanket to cover me. That posse woulda stolen my last breath if that knot hadna been tied wrong. The minute it came loose and my boots hit the ground, I was in them woods and hidin’. Plenty of times they almost caught up with me to finish the job.”