Never Kiss a Cowgirl, page 10
The bull surprised her by twisting savagely, making her momentarily lose her center of balance, but she hung on and tightened her legs. She went with him as he bucked, and bent slightly at the waist to get a groove going. The judges were looking for how well she handled and controlled the ride, and the bull was doing the rest by giving her one of the most energetic rides of her life. He was making that screaming noise again followed by grunts, and despite that, she could swear that she could hear the creak of the rope as it bit into her hand and the rasp of her jeans against his skin.
Eight seconds only lasted a lifetime when you were riding a bull, and it was no different for her this time. The buzzer was the trigger that released the floodgates of the crowd and the yells of the clowns who were ready to jump into action. She got ready to jump clear, and the bull did what she expected and bucked again with enough power to give her whiplash, but it gave her enough momentum to land four feet from him. The crowd seemed to appreciate her ride, and she tipped her hat again.
“Buck, look out,” Wade yelled as he waved his arms frantically.
For the first time in the arena, time seemed to slow so she could appreciate and remember every second. It was like watching a movie a frame at a time as it ticked by at a rate that accentuated every bit of action. The clowns hadn’t been able to lure the bull toward the barrels they used to protect the riders. She’d let her guard down for a moment, and despite that she’d started moving, it was too late to get away clean.
The first blow landed on her ankle, and the sudden pain brought about not only acute pain, but a bout of nausea that she hoped would subside before she embarrassed herself in front of all these people. There had to be broken bones, but she concentrated on making it to the gate. The damn bull had other plans, and his horn caught the back of her thigh and sliced through her pants.
She collapsed right outside the gate, but Wade prevented her from hitting the ground. As she was loaded on the stretcher, she heard, “Ninety-seven!” At least the night wasn’t a total loss. This win with Tyler in the competition moved her into first place, and this might be as far as she’d get this year, depending on what was wrong with her leg.
“You’d better be okay.” She didn’t recognize the voice right off, so she opened her eyes to Tyler. “I want to kick your ass in Vegas and in all the events leading up to that. I don’t want people telling me I won because some bull squashed you like a bug.”
“You should go into motivational speaking, asshole.” They laughed together, and she smiled when he took her hand. “Thanks, and don’t worry, unless they cut the damn thing off, I’ll be there.” She hoped that was more than wishful thinking. She was in pain, and the one thing running through her head was what Reagan would have to say about this.
An I told you so right now would not sit well and it made her almost grateful Reagan wasn’t a part of her life any longer. She took some deep breaths and did her best to will away the pain, but if her boot got any tighter on her foot, she’d have to beg Wade to cut it off.
“Think good thoughts, Buck,” Wade said as he walked along with the stretcher and got in the ambulance with her. He was on the phone, probably talking to Frida.
They started moving, and someone banging on the side stopped them. She lifted her head to Jacqueline at the door. “Head to Baptist on Napoleon Avenue. Dr. Harry Basantes is waiting on her in the emergency room,” Jacqueline said, and the EMT nodded. “I’m right behind you, babe, don’t worry.”
“Thanks.” She let her head drop and closed her eyes with Wade’s hand in hers. If this was her last competition, she’d have to accept it, but she wasn’t quite ready. It had nothing to do with the money she’d leave on the circuit, or the buckles that would go to someone else. She wanted to be remembered as the best at what she did not because she won, but because she competed.
That simple fact made her understand Silas more than even his daughter did.
* * *
Reagan had watched the coverage of the rodeo event at the Dome and cringed when she saw Asher go down. Rationally she knew it was only a severely broken ankle, but she was still…Well, she wasn’t quite sure how to put what she was feeling into thoughts she could understand. Seeing Asher’s face when the bull charged her brought back all the times she’d watched it happen to her father, and it soured her mood. It was two weeks later, and she was still angry.
“Do you want to talk about what bug crawled up your ass today?” Kendra asked as they were going over the schedule. “Because it’s good and wedged in there now.”
She shook her head and couldn’t find the energy to form a smile. “It’s nothing with work, and I’m not going to blow up at any of the patients. I’m more professional than that.”
“Then you admit that there’s something wedged up in there,” Kendra said and winked. “You don’t have to tell me, but I’m here and willing to listen.”
“I’m not ready to talk about it, but it’s all about the past and how history is repeating itself. It’s not really my problem, and yet it still pisses me off.” She took a moment to calm down. “Forget about it for now—let’s concentrate on the schedule.”
“To get you in a better mood, you have your first private client, so smile and act like you’re having a great day.” Kendra handed over a card with an address on it. “I set up an appointment for this afternoon for you to go over the prelims and set the schedule.”
“Is it a secret, or are you going to tell me who it is?” She schooled her features to not show surprise when she saw the address. It was on the same road as Uncle Wade’s, so she had some idea of who her patient was. If Asher was living in the shack on the property, it sure as hell didn’t have an address. Frida had said it burned down, but she had a feeling Asher rebuilt it since she wasn’t living in the big house.
“We were hired by a service, and Dr. Harry Basantes asked for discretion. Try to remember she’s one of the owners here.” Kendra held her hand out. “If you want to pass because of whatever is on your mind, then tell me and I’ll take the client. I’ll be happy to, so let me know, and if that’s what you want, all you’ll have to do is manage the clinic until I get back.”
“No, I’m not saying I don’t want to do it, but you might still have to go.” She might be mad at Asher for everything that had happened, but she wasn’t arrogant enough to think Asher would welcome her like an old lover she’d been pining for since she’d left.
“Okay, that will need an explanation, and before you say no, think again. I need the entire story with a slide presentation so I can follow along.” Kendra pointed at her like she was daring her to refuse her. “Start talking.”
“I can’t be a hundred percent sure, but I think our new client is Asher Evans. She got her foot crushed a couple of weeks ago at the rodeo, and we grew up together.” She gave Kendra enough to satisfy her curiosity but kept most of the story to herself. “She might turn me down.”
“Only one way to find out. The appointment is for two. Don’t be late.”
She spent the rest of the morning going through the motions of her job and not really enjoying herself. That was one more thing to blame Asher for. If there was one place she’d found escape from everything, it was her job.
Her drive east seemed to take an eternity, and she turned at the road her GPS prompted her to. The address wasn’t at all familiar and she started to doubt it was Asher she was there to see, after all. She stopped at the gate where an arch bore the name Pemberley. The beautifully crafted wrought iron gates were firmly closed, so she pulled up to the intercom.
“I’m here from Riverbend Sports Clinic for the two o’clock appointment,” she said when a man said hello.
“Just follow the black fence to the house. Someone will meet you and tell you where to park.”
The black fences went on for as far as she could see, and the horses on the other side weren’t the breeds she’d seen all her life. Farther away in the distance she thought she could spot the large cows she’d noticed on her way to dinner. Whatever this was, she was confused. And where the hell was the house?
She drove slowly, kicking up a little dust, until the house came into view and she stopped, wanting to appreciate what she was looking at. The house was beautiful and nothing like where she grew up. It resembled an old Acadian-style home, but it had to be new with its wraparound porch and large swing at one corner. If she had a dream home, this would be it. If it was named after Mr. Darcy’s home in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, it completely fit.
“Right over there, miss,” a ranch hand said, pointing to a parking pad in front of the large garage to the left of the house. It was a separate structure that had a covered walkway leading to the back of the house.
She grabbed her purse and headed down that path until she reached the back door, which opened before she could knock, and came face-to-face with Rickie. That was the confirmation she needed of exactly who she was there to see. What she didn’t expect was the slight frown on Rickie’s face when she stood there, barring her from going in.
“Oh, they sent you,” Rickie said as if that was the worst thing that could happen.
“Where is she?” Not that she disliked Rickie, but she didn’t have time for this. “I’m only here as a physical therapist, so if she wants someone else, she can tell me that. It’s not up to you.”
“It’s not my business who she wants—I’m just surprised you’d want to come.” Rickie stepped aside and closed the door behind her. “Right this way.”
Reagan walked slowly, noticing the inside of the house didn’t really fit with who she imaged Asher had become. The old Asher who loved riding and learning things from Reagan’s father and believed in putting in a hard day’s work wasn’t really reflected in the beautiful art and decorating that could easily be found in any magazine. An irrational streak of jealousy ran through her when she thought this might be Jacqueline Blanchard’s influence.
The room Rickie led her to was a combination of a study and library with at least twenty-foot ceilings, the big oak desk that was a replica of the one her father owned, and book-lined shelves that took up two of the walls. It was a large room with equally large windows behind the desk that had a great view of the fields outside. Asher was lying on the leather sofa with a book on her chest and her foot, encased in an Aircast, elevated on some pillows. She was asleep with her mouth slightly open, and her hair was a mess across her forehead.
She wanted to back out and leave Asher alone, not wanting to disturb her. But Rickie shook her awake, and Reagan felt bad when Asher startled even though Rickie had been gentle.
“Your appointment is here,” Rickie said, stepping aside and letting Asher see her.
“Ah,” Asher said, and she couldn’t decipher what that meant. “I’m sure this wasn’t your idea, was it?”
“I’m sorry you got hurt, and if you’d like someone else, my boss said she’d be happy to fill in. If you’ve used the clinic before, the therapist who usually makes house calls is on maternity leave.” She sat without being asked and took out a notebook. “Can you give me the details, or do you want me to contact the doctor?”
“The packet you’ll need is on the desk.” Asher placed what appeared to be a strip of leather in her book and placed it beside her. Reagan almost asked her what she was reading, but the more professional they kept this, the better.
She stood and walked to the other side of the large room and stared at the top of the desk. It wasn’t a replica as she’d originally thought—it was her father’s old desk. Granted it had been refurbished, but Asher hadn’t sanded out the cigar burns on the corner. Her dad had chuckled every time she lectured him on leaving a burning smoke on the edge, telling him he’d burn the house down. There was an ashtray on the surface with a Cohiba snubbed out. Obviously, Asher had picked up a lot more from her father than just bull riding.
“Is this Daddy’s desk?” She closed her eyes at Asher’s sigh.
“He left it to me, and when the house was done, Uncle Wade had it delivered. If you’re upset about it, I’ll have it brought to your new place.” Asher sounded so resigned but also somewhat angry. “There are a few things he gave me, but I’m not willing to part with all of them.”
“I don’t want it, Asher. It was a simple question.” No sense in admitting that it wasn’t simple at all. This was a minefield of problems all tied to the past, and their feelings now would prevent them from even thinking of the good times. Too much had happened to both of them to even consider there’d ever be a reconciliation they’d both be happy with. “I’m glad it found a good home. It looks good in here.”
She glanced to the right, and the wall was covered in belt buckles, little plaques with the date and place they were won. All of them preceded Asher’s time riding, so they were her dad’s. His accomplishments were something celebrated here no matter her feelings on the subject.
It took effort to move her head and concentrate on why she was there. She was new to town, but she was familiar with Dr. Basantes and her work. The file contained pictures of what Dr. Basantes had done, along with instructions for postoperative care. She’d performed an ankle fracture open reduction and internal fixation, which simply meant she’d used a plate and five screws to repair the broken fibula. This would stabilize the ankle, and once Asher healed, she’d be fine.
“You can’t put any weight on it for four weeks. Sitting around for that long is going to be a pain, I know, but let’s keep you from needing more reconstructive surgery.” She made some notes in the file and spoke with her back to Asher. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“I was trying to get out of the way of a big animal, and he stepped on my foot. Nothing more than that.” Asher sounded almost detached, and Reagan wanted to blame the pain meds she must still be on. “I have an appointment tomorrow to have my stitches taken out of my foot and thigh and to change the cast again. If you want, you can wait until I can start to weight-bear to come back.”
“That’s not how it works,” she said, turning around. “What time is your appointment? And what works best for you, mornings or afternoons? We can always adjust, but we’ll be together for a minimum of eight to twelve weeks, so let’s try to make the best of it.”
“My appointment is at eleven, and I can work around your schedule. The only pressing things I have is reading a few books, so I can do that anytime.” Asher moved and grimaced. The throbbing wouldn’t quit, day or night. “And my offer is still good if you want to skip this altogether. You can tell your boss it’s me who made the decision.”
“Will it make you uncomfortable to work with me?” That was maybe the question she should’ve led off with.
“Not to be blunt, but I was never the one with the problem. I take that back—you were the one who thought I was brain dead for choosing this life, so I’m positive being around my Neanderthal ass isn’t on your list of good times. It wasn’t then, and I doubt you’ve had a change of heart about that.” Asher was perhaps too blunt because her teeth clicked together so harshly that it sounded like it should’ve hurt. “Sorry, I’m in pain but that’s no excuse to be rude. You’re here to do a job.”
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll get through this and get you better.” She finished her notes in the chair close to Asher. “Do you have any questions for me?”
“How have you been?” Asher asked, and she seemed interested in her answer.
“Busy, but good. I went riding with Uncle Wade last week.” The new cows and horses suddenly had an explanation. “May I ask you something?”
“Sure,” Asher said, sounding anything but.
“The big cows, and the other ones with the white stripe down the middles, that’s your doing?” Asher’s face never really changed, so it was hard to decipher if she was happy, sad, or mad. It was the same blank expression she’d witnessed in television interviews she’d seen in the years they’d been apart. Asher was a private person who only showed her true self to very few people.
She’d never had that expression aimed at her, not until now, and it was irrational that it hurt as much as it did, but it did. She wasn’t used to Asher hiding her feelings from her because she never had. Even in the letters she’d written her in college when she could only hear Asher’s voice in her head, she could sense the emotion and feeling in them. Asher had been the most honest and open person she’d ever met much less been with, and all that was lost to her now.
“The new breeds were brought in after extensive research as to the best beef cattle on the market. Those are the big cows you mentioned, but the other ones are some of the best dairy cows on the planet. I’m diversifying because I’m interested in putting the best products on the market.” Asher tapped her fingers together, but her expression never changed. “I formed a partnership with an organic dairy company to cover the costs of the new barn, and we should break ground soon.”
“Uncle Wade was okay with all that?” The conversation she’d had with Wade made no sense now. If he wanted to slow down and thin the operation, everything Asher had said was the complete opposite of that.
“Why wouldn’t he be?” Finally, Asher showed something other than disinterest. Confusion wasn’t what she was going for, but that’s what she’d gotten.
“He was talking about slowing down when I talked to him.”
Asher nodded as if understanding what she meant. “Moon Touch belongs to you and Wade, but Pemberley is mine. Your dad and Uncle Wade took care of my interest until I was of age, at least the age my father thought was good for me to take over here. I moved here when I turned twenty and have been building my operations ever since. Wade’s a good sounding board, but he has no say here.”
“You’re not helping him?” One of these days she was going to have to learn to curb her accusatory personality until she had all the facts.
