Xtreme Rules (Xtreme Ops Book 9), page 4
Words like “advancing” and “progressing” sent chills of dread knifing through her heart. She didn’t want to think about Grandpa Max becoming a shell of his former self. He was so full of vitality, so good-hearted…
But she could see the storm coming straight for them. It was only a matter of time before he forgot her and the people they loved and sank into the void of his own empty mind.
Tears scalded her eyes, but she refused to release a single one. She gripped her grandfather’s hand, trying not to crush his fingers as the doctor delivered the bad news.
“Are there any new medications he can try?” Hope rang harsh in her voice.
The doctor shook his head. “I’m sorry. This disease doesn’t get any better.”
Everything faded. She no longer saw the posters on the light gray walls or the jars of medical supplies along the counter.
She blinked through her tears and focused on her grandfather’s face. Whether or not he was digesting this news, she didn’t know. His expression gave nothing away.
“He’s together most of the time,” she argued. “He functions fine. It’s just those few other times when I want to make sure he’s not getting into trouble.”
“I understand.” The doctor was giving them their twenty minutes they’d paid for, but nothing she said was going to sway him into telling her what she wanted—needed—to hear.
That Grandpa Max would get over this. That he’d resume his old ways and stop forgetting words and memories and sometimes even her name.
“He always remembers checkers. He plays a mean game, and no one can beat him,” she argued.
The doctor gave her a grave nod. “That’s very good for his brain. The more you can keep him engaged, the better. But I won’t sugarcoat this, Miss Carver. It’s only going to get worse. And dangerous. I don’t recommend leaving him alone. You’ll eventually need to hire around-the-clock home healthcare or find a place for him in a memory care unit.”
She gulped. “I don’t know how I’d ever afford it.” How many clients could she take on in one day? If she started skipping lunch, she could squeeze one more into her schedule. That money could be stashed away and eventually she might have a large enough nest egg to cover these extra expenses. The small savings her grandfather had was nearly down to pennies, since before she realized what he was going through, he’d depleted most of the savings by paying for his medications. She hadn’t taken over a minute too soon.
“Your grandfather is a US veteran, is he not?” The doctor flipped through the screen on his laptop with all her grandpa’s information.
“Yes, he is.”
“You can go through the veteran’s health administration to see what help can be provided. Explore your options.”
She nodded even though she wasn’t feeling any better about the situation.
After the appointment, she helped Grandpa Max to the car and swung around his favorite ice cream joint for a small chocolate cone. No amount of ice cream was going to cheer her up, though.
At home, Cleo made sure he was safely seated in his faded blue armchair with his TV show before she could slip off and have a private moment.
A private freakout, more like. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to have a sibling right now to share this burden with. Her mom had passed when she was little, and she was raised by her father outside of Anchorage. He’d taught her to ski and instilled a love for winter sports in her. But when she turned eighteen, he decided to head south to the lower forty-eight states and start a new life outside of Alaska. Apparently that meant finding a new wife to devote all his time to.
Even if her father were here, he wouldn’t be much help with Grandpa Max, seeing how he was her maternal grandfather.
They really were alone in this. She just had to get a grip on her emotions and brainstorm new ways to earn money and spend more time at home and—
“Cleo!” he called from the other end of the house.
She scrubbed her hands over her face, took a deep breath and then hurried out to the living room to see he had the checkerboard set up on the card table.
She laughed. “I don’t know why you bother challenging me to games, Grandpa. You always win.”
“I’ll let you win this time.” He smiled at her.
“Well, what fun would that be?” She settled at the table with him and passed a couple hours playing several games. She did win one, but she suspected he’d gone easy on her.
Finally, she stood and stretched. “How about some iced tea, Grandpa?”
“That sounds good. Don’t forget the lemon.”
“I won’t.” She patted his shoulder and headed to the kitchen. The space was outdated, still in the 1980s style her grandmother had chosen, painted in shades of blue with oak cabinets. But it was still very serviceable even if it wasn’t modern.
As she poured glasses of tea for them both, someone knocked on the back door. She looked up to see tight gray curls in the glass window. Mrs. Morgan. It couldn’t be time for her to come over yet, could it?
Cleo hurried to let her in and offered her a glass of tea.
“Thanks but I’m fine, honey.” She sliced a look toward the living room where her grandpa sat. “I couldn’t wait to hear what the new doctor had to say.”
All of a sudden, the emotion she’d been holding at bay all afternoon leaped inside her. She slumped against the counter. “It wasn’t good news.”
“Oh dear.”
She nodded. “It’s going to be all right, though. I’m going to keep trying to get more help. I don’t want to burden you more than we already have.”
Mrs. Morgan gave her a comforting smile. “You know it’s no trouble to me. With my Henry gone, I’m rattling around that house all by myself. Plus, I adore you and Max. Now hush up about all that and hand me that tea. I’ll take it in to your grandpa while you get ready for your date.”
Cleo blinked. Last night when she got home to relieve Mrs. Morgan, she hadn’t said anything about a date, only that she was meeting some friends at the lodge bar for quiz night.
Thinking hard now, she wondered if it was a date. Rhett had been more engaging than usual, talking less about himself and listening to her more. He’d complimented her on her hair too, and for the first time in Rhett history, it hadn’t come off as creepy. Just genuine.
Still, she couldn’t say that his words inspired the excitement they should if she were truly interested in him romantically. But to her, getting out and challenging herself on quiz night was the equivalent of Grandpa Max with his checkerboard.
Besides, she could always hope to find a new client or two at the lodge bar.
She drifted into the living room after Mrs. Morgan, only to see the older lady had taken up Cleo’s spot at the card table and was deeply involved in a game.
She looked up as Cleo entered. “Go on and get ready.”
“Quiz night doesn’t start until eight,” she told her.
“Then why don’t you go on one of your hikes before it gets dark? Clear your head.”
Cleo thought on it. She definitely could use the fresh air and space to think.
“I might do that,” she told Mrs. Morgan.
She waved her off. “Go on. I’ll feed this old man.”
Grandpa jerked his head up. “Hey. Who you calling old?”
They shared a laugh, and feeling warmed herself, Cleo strode to the front door and slipped on her hiking boots, the ones with the thick soles good for slippery terrain. At this time of year, a person never could predict the weather here in Alaska. She liked being prepared for anything, so she grabbed a thick, insulated coat on her way out the door too.
Outside, she took off through the small back yard and into the woods. The hiking trail wasn’t far off, a half mile or so, and it would branch out into several small paths in varying levels of skill. The red trail was the most difficult, of course, with steep grades and some narrow switchbacks. The yellow a bit simpler and involved less leg power, but it still left the hiker feeling challenged. And the green trail was for basic hikers. She’d seen a lot of kids on that trail. But she usually took the red.
She did so now, pushing herself faster and faster until she reached the sharp incline. The hillside was a bit muddy, with patches of melting snow on the south face. In spots, she lost traction and started to slide, but she didn’t mind getting dirty and continued on.
She’d walked for about a mile when she heard the noise of someone approaching. Whoever it was wanted her to know he was coming because he made unnecessary noise.
She turned to see a familiar navy blue jacket.
Her heart surged at the sight of the man wearing it.
Winston.
The warmth hitting her wasn’t from exercise anymore. Those broad shoulders kept popping into her brain when she least expected it. That wasn’t at all like her. She was too busy to stay caught up on basic life let alone take time for things like dating.
Who said anything about dating Winston? Looking at him is enough.
For now.
As she turned to wait for him to catch up, he shot her a crooked grin.
She gaped at how those bulky thighs ate up the ground between them. He never slipped in the thick, wet mud and looked as surefooted as a mountain goat on the steep slope.
When the smile dropped from his rugged features, she realized she’d been rudely staring instead of returning his smile of greeting.
She threw him a wave, and he loped the last few steps to the top of the hill just as her ability to think returned.
“Hi, Winston.”
She took note of the weighted pack he carried and how he’d still eaten up the distance in no time. He came to a stop next to her, chest barely huffing from the exertion.
“Are you…alone?” She hated to feel this way about Rhett, but she hoped he wasn’t trailing along behind.
“Yup.”
She breathed out a sigh.
“You sound relieved it’s only me.” One brow cocked in amusement.
She ducked her head to hide her expression, more than a little embarrassed to be relieved it was only Winston. She just didn’t have the energy for thwarting Rhett’s flirtations, especially today.
Winston shifted the pack on his broad back. “Where were you headed?”
“Just a short way up the trail. I don’t have time for a long hike to the top today, but I wanted to clear my head a little.”
Concern pinched his dark brows. Beneath them, his deep green eyes mirrored the dark hue of the pines that were rimed with frost and ice. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not.” She let her gaze roam over his face, but only briefly—she didn’t want him to think she was gawking at his scars. But something about the mystery of the story behind them made her want to get him talking.
She arched a brow. “Walk with me?”
There it was again. That warmth in the depths of his eyes. So she hadn’t imagined it last night or earlier on the slope.
“Since I don’t have skis, walking’s all I can manage.”
She chuckled at his small joke, which he delivered with the most serious deadpan expression.
Together they set off on one of the steeper parts of the trail. She could tell he was going easy on her, slowing his pace to match her shorter legs, which gave her a chance to observe his fit body.
He wasn’t breathing hard, and he was nowhere near pushing himself to the limit. She didn’t know what he did for a living, but she couldn’t picture him in an office. Not with that body and endurance.
Strong, wide shoulders tapered into a chiseled torso to a set of muscled hips and long, thick thighs she just knew would be as hard as steel.
Her breath was coming faster, and shockingly, her attraction was the cause.
It was impossible not to notice the masculinity oozing off this man. Women must drop at his feet with a single look. She knew she would…if she were in the market for a relationship.
From what she could see, Winston’s only fault was the way he let his gaze skitter away from hers, never letting her see too deep into him before he broke contact.
What was his story? Those scars were new. Fresh. Once raw. She could only imagine the pain he’d endured. She threw him another glance from the corner of her eye. Though his coat collar stood up and concealed most of his neck, she could see the scar running down his cheek and jaw to disappear behind the fabric.
Funny, but she didn’t feel even a bit of pity for him. Something about his quiet strength told her that he didn’t require—or want—anybody to feel sorry for him. After all, he was healthy and strong.
They continued uphill for a long distance. They didn’t speak, but the silence was companionable and not at all uncomfortable. In fact, it was nice to just be with someone and not need to constantly search for something to say.
At the ridge up ahead, she knew there was a view. Winston had obviously been here before too, because he headed straight to the opening between trees so they could look out on the white world.
She gulped in lungfuls of cold air. Yes, this was exactly what she needed today.
He stood next to her, and she noticed how he always positioned himself so she could only see his good side.
Her breath plumed out in the chilled air and mingled with his. From down the hill came the crunch of an animal walking on crusty snow.
“It’s beautiful up here. Like another world. I need that sometimes,” she said quietly.
“I know what you mean.”
Their gazes clung. She didn’t want to break contact. Looking at this man filled her with an odd sense of calm, same as looking at the frosty view spanning the world in front of them.
Not surprisingly, he looked away first, turning his face aside so she couldn’t catch his gaze again.
Just as well. The only time she had was for interviewing prospective caretakers or talking to someone from the veterans’ administration.
Winston seemed content to just stand there next to her. She took a cue from him and did the same, letting the peace work into her blood until she felt the tension clear from her shoulders.
After several minutes, she turned to face him again. “Thank you for that.”
His eyes narrowed on hers, probing deep. So deep that she almost gasped.
“I-I’d better head back.”
He smiled. When he did, his lips didn’t tilt the same on his scarred side as on the uninjured one. But the smile still sent a little skip through her heart.
“Me too,” he rumbled in a deep tone that affected her as much as his direct stare.
Together they turned back down the hill. After only a few dozen yards, she was focused again on the fresh air and the warmth in her muscles. She sped up, loving the challenge of the slope and the mud and the crisp—
Suddenly, Winston threw an arm across her. She plowed into the muscled barrier, but it stopped her in her tracks. She let out a gasp, and he held up a finger to silence her just as a moose stepped across their path about ten feet away.
Her stomach quivered. Moose were some of the most dangerous and territorial animals in Alaska. One couldn’t trust them, even in winter when they didn’t have babies.
Winston’s muscled arm barred her way, and he braced his legs wide in a protective stance. Then he slipped a hand along his spine as if reaching for something.
A weapon? She stopped breathing.
The moose crossed the path in two steps, making a ruckus as it disappeared into the thick underbrush.
Winston’s green gaze centered on Cleo once again, but her heart was still trying to slam its way out of her chest.
“You all right?”
She nodded. “I didn’t hear or see it.”
“I know. You were pretty lost in your own thoughts.”
Most people would probe her, ask how they could help, if they could listen or offer advice. Winston didn’t. He just let her be right this minute, and she liked him all the more for it.
They continued down the path until the incline flattened and they were able to zigzag to the bottom.
She stopped at the intersection of paths. “This is where I get off,” she told him.
He gave her a smile, but it was really the blaze of his green eyes that revealed the most breathtaking sight she’d seen today.
Him? Happy?
“I’m glad I bumped into you, Cleo. See you at quiz night.”
Cleo launched herself off the ski lift and onto the powder. As soon as the fresh gust of air hit her face, she breathed in deep.
Clearing her head on the trail had only left her feeling more confused. Not about her new life situation or grandpa or finding caregivers.
She needed time to think about how she was reacting to Winston.
Her skis whooshed over the snow. Muscles tingled to life, and she embraced the sensation. Working out her body grounded her. Being in the fresh air, more so.
Except when she bumped into the hot mystery man she’d hiked with today. Then her mind was far from grounded. In fact, spending time with him had left her feeling on unfamiliar, shaky ground.
She didn’t know how to handle her own life right now. Besides, she was still reeling from hearing Grandpa Max’s prognosis. She needed to focus on him right now, not herself.
But Mrs. Morgan had insisted when she came home that they were fine and Cleo was free for the rest of the afternoon and evening. That got her itching to hit the slope and make a few good runs before she met up with the guys.
The prospect of seeing Winston again had her on edge. She’d even stuck lipstick in her bag to touch up her makeup before they met at the lodge bar. None of this behavior was like her at all.
She whizzed down the slope, past moms and dads holding the hands of little children. Past teens joking and laughing about one of their group falling in the snow. Approached…
She damn near bit powder.
Skidding to slow her trajectory, she nailed her gaze to the back of the navy blue jacket up ahead of her.
There was no way that Winston had the same thought she did—to come out here after their hike and before they hit the bar.
