Rough Road Home (The Circle D series) (4 page)

“Hmm, I’ll bet you can.”

Maybe she didn’t think a truck this size was built for speed. With a custom turbo diesel engine, the ol’ machine cruised great. “Don’t worry about the truck. She’s used to the highway.”

“I’ll bet she is,” Rachel replied, her gaze glued to the highway.

“Look,” he said as the pain increased in his temples. “Making time is the name of this game. If you want to get rid of me fast, try driving like you mean it.”

The rigid smile he was fast growing to hate appeared. She fingered the headset draped around her throat. As she settled the earpieces in place, she glanced at the speedometer, then pushed the control for cruise. Nick looked at the setting and groaned. Seventy-three.

“Cowboy.” She settled back in the seat, her right hand fumbling with the player tucked in her waistbelt. “You don’t want to talk and you don’t want to listen to music. You don’t like the way I sit in the seat, you don’t like the way I drive. Frankly, I’m tired of listening to all your grump. Now, like everyone’s grandmother used to say, ‘if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t talk at all.’”

She clicked a button and lights flashed on the player. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll ‘plug in’ as you so aptly suggested back at the hospital, and enjoy the trip.” She stared straight ahead, the wooden smile fixed in place. “Casper, Wyoming, here we come.”

Nick stared ahead as the hum of the engine filled the cab. She was right. He’d been as ornery as an old bull penned away from the herd. Normally, he could shut out people and situations he didn’t want to acknowledge with relative finesse. He’d walked through masses of fans and not seen a one. He’d even driven cross country with Buster McKnight a time or two and had been able to ignore enough of the cowboy’s self-indulgent boasting to remain friends.

He pulled his hat low and settled against the door. The late afternoon sun filtered through the tinted windows and washed over her face with a glow. Her irksome smile had disappeared leaving her lips soft and full. Rachel Hill was easy on the eyes, as long as it was on the sly. She should have plugged in a long while ago. He glanced at the clock incorporated in the stereo system and slumped. He’d only known her an hour. At this rate, he’d be strung tight as a wire by the time they reached Casper. Good thing he had a week before the rodeo, he’d need the time to gather his wits and get rid of the blasted headache.

He rubbed his forehead, the pressure of his fingers chasing the elusive throb. He hadn’t taken anything stronger than aspirin in years. Right now, he’d give his eye teeth for a dose of whatever it was he’d taken at the hospital. As the tires of the truck hit the gravel on the side of the road, Nick looked up, first at the barren landscape, then at Rachel.

“Why are you stopping?” A pickup whizzed past them dragging Nick’s gaze with it. That guy was making great time.

She pulled the headset off, shifted into neutral and set the brake. “Step out for a second and let’s get some air.”

“I don’t need air.”

She rolled her eyes heavenward and mumbled something under her breath before unfastening her seatbelt and opening her door. “Humor me, please?”

Nick had a few mumbled words of his own to contribute. He unsnapped the seatbelt and slid out of the cab. Rachel waited for him as he stepped out.

She offered her shoulder. “Free crutch service. C’mon, let’s get away from the diesel fumes.”

The highway sat empty except for them. He looped his arm around her shoulders and steadied his balance. The warmth of her body offered an odd kind of comfort--strange sensation considering he hadn’t viewed a woman’s touch as comforting in a long time. He grasped her upper arm with his hand, her flesh firm and toned, yet pliant beneath the soft flannel of her shirt. As she wrapped her arm around his waist and pressed tightly against his tender ribs, he forced a harsh breath through gritted teeth. Women only appeared kind and gentle. Given the opportunity, they’d rip your heart out.

The pain began to pound until his hat felt ten sizes too small. He’d had concussions before, but none of them had ever affected him this way. Shaking his head to clear his vision, he limped along with Rachel until the clatter of the engine echoed in the distance.

“Breathe deep, okay?” She stopped at the edge of a grassy rise with rock croppings. “I don’t want you to sit down, just fill your lungs with oxygen.”

Her flannel shirt molded her torso as she inhaled an exaggerated breath. Nick looked away and fixed his sight on the next hill. The last thing he needed was to be caught ogling. He inhaled as she’d suggested, surprised to detect a potent pine scent this late in the season. Thoughts of the Circle D floated through his mind. Pine trees grew thick throughout the spread. He remembered sitting out on the deck of his house just enjoying the sights and smells of creation. His headache faded as his breathing became regular.

“You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?”

The anxiety in her voice became clear as he looked at her worried face. He saw no sign of the infuriating smile, only golden rimmed green eyes scrutinizing him.

“I think the air cleared my brain.” He tilted his head to test motion. As her gaze remained fixed on him, the little lines around the corners of her eyes disappeared giving way to soft-lidded speculation. He tried to look away, but couldn’t. Whether she knew it or not, Rachel wore her emotions boldly, front and center for all the world to see. “What made you pull over?”

“The nurse told me to watch for signs. When I saw you rubbing your forehead, I knew we’d better stop for a bit and see if there’s a problem.” She patted the pockets of her jeans. “I have a prescription for painkillers we need to fill. In the meantime, I need to dig out the bottle the hospital sent home with you.”

She stepped closer until the scent of strawberries cleared out any thoughts of pine. Reaching out, she placed her small hand against his wind chilled cheek.

Nick swallowed as her palm slid across his jaw and curved behind his neck. “You feel warm.” Her breath tickled the hairs at the base of his throat.

Warm? He turned his head and stretched away from her hand. Given a moment longer, he feared he might lean into that hand and accept all the comfort it offered sending his better judgment out the roof.

“Cowboy, look at me,” she said as she gripped his shoulder.

No way, lady.

“Nick?”

Her voice held the same throaty quality he’d detected in the hospital. He couldn’t resist her plea. As he returned her gaze, he noticed the stubborn set of her jaw. Rachel got her way this time. The swollen lids of his left eye barely budged as he tried to stare back.

“Like what you see?” he asked, anything to divert the intensity of her perusal.

A shadow of doubt flitted over her face before the hated wooden smile snapped into place. “Not really.”

CHAPTER FOUR

He frowned. Not really? What was that supposed to mean? Maybe she didn’t like his bristled whiskers? Or maybe, she didn’t care for the way he towered over her when they stood side by side.

Or maybe, she just didn’t like him. That thought struck home and he quickly brushed it aside.

She searched his face a heartbeat longer. “Hmm, I think we’re okay. You’re a little dilated, but the rest of you appears stable.”

“Thanks.” Nick relaxed, unsure of the offhanded comment.

Rachel squeezed his shoulder, her touch sending an unaccustomed warmth through him. “Sit down and make yourself comfortable while I go back and grab your medication.” Releasing him, she turned and jogged off toward the truck.

Before he could argue about no time for a break, the world began to spin. Nick knelt until his palm flattened on the gravel and then eased his body the rest of the way down. The doctors said he’d be dizzy. His vision cleared with a slow shake. He’d be fine in a week. He had to be. Riding in the National Finals Rodeo depended on it.

In the distance, the truck engine chugged to keep the diesel flowing. The slam of the heavy door vibrated across the quiet of the open land. Rachel reappeared with jackets in one hand and a cooler in the other. Nick looked up and down the desolate highway then settled his gaze on the prairie ahead of him. What a place for a picnic.

She stopped and held out his jacket. “Here, put this on.”

“I’m not cold.” He folded his arms across his chest. He didn’t need a nursemaid–-if it got much colder, he’d just go back to the truck.

As if she hadn’t heard him, she opened his jacket and wrapped it around his shoulders. The denim with sheepskin lining instantly cut the chill from the wind. He blew a breath as he shrugged the collar into place. Fool woman, if she wasn’t going to listen to him, why had she even asked?

“It’s the end of October. . .we’re in South Dakota...and a cold front is blowing through,” she listed as if she’d heard his thoughts. She pulled on her own jacket styled surprisingly similar to his own. “Like I’ve always said, bull riders have mush for brains.”

“And how many bull riders have you known?”

“Enough to know what I’m talking about.” Plopping down next to him, Rachel opened the cooler and grabbed a bottled water. She held out a tinted pharmacy bottle. “Here, I rummaged this out of the pocket of your bag. You look like you need one. . .or two.”

Nick took the water and medication. Turning the bottle in his hand, he read the prescription and whistled low. “This isn’t your everyday extra-strength aspirin.”

“Yeah, pretty strong stuff.”

The hesitancy in her normal take-charge voice stopped his comeback answer. Even with his scrambled brains, Nick sensed she had more than a casual knowledge of the drug. He shook out a couple pills and washed them down with the water. “You take this?”

Rolling her shoulders, Rachel turned her collar up to the wind. “No, my Dad did.”

The wind at her back ruffled her brunette hair across her cheek. She didn’t seem to notice as she stared out across the field. Nick wasn’t sure if he liked this side of her. Tough he could deal with, pensive was a different matter. When the silence dragged, he weighed his choices and opted for info. “What does he need them for?”

“Pain, off and on. Usually more on than off,” she added as she picked at the cuff of her jacket.

He waited, unsure whether to ask or not. “This is pretty strong to be on for long. Does he still take them?”

A slow, sad smile crept across her face. “No, the pain went away. He doesn’t need them anymore.”

“That’s good.”

Rachel nodded as she opened a bottle of water for herself. She pulled her jacket closed and gazed out over the open prairie. “Listen to that quiet. Isn’t it awesome?”

He could take a hint and uttered a silent sigh of relief at the change of subject. He didn’t need deep right now. Actually, if he came out of this little jaunt down the road without knowing more than the basics about Rachel Hill, he’d consider himself lucky. Unfortunately, he didn’t think luck was with him.

Wind whistled through scrub oak and prairie grass as the honking of geese flying south echoed faintly in the distance. Yes, sir, peaceful and serene; two elements Nick avoided at all costs. He preferred the roar of the crowd; the “atta boys” of his fellow riders; the whoops of the bull fighters. Less talk, more action, sound words to live by.

“I’m surprised you appreciate quiet.” The lighted screen of the MP3 shone in her pocket as if the thing ran on an eternal battery charge. “Seems like tunes are your life.”

The natural curve to her lips flattened. She folded her arms atop her knees and hugged her thighs close forming a protective ball. Tension radiated around her like the wire of an electric fence.

“It’s a variety of programs, some talk, some music, some just sounds.” She bit her bottom lip. “Uncle Mitch suggested it.”

That made perfect sense. Mitch Cauldwell tried to fix everyone’s problems and he seemed to have adopted Nick as a special cause. Mitch believed things would work out and urged Nick to pray about it. Nick simply had to believe.

Believe. Yeah, right. Prayer hadn’t helped him four years ago when he’d needed it most. Faith, hope, and trust had no place in his life anymore.

No sense dwelling on the past. He needed a diversion like listening to Rachel talk. When her hackles weren’t up, her voice shimmered with life. “Just sounds?” he urged.

She shook her head, the ends of her hair sweeping her shoulders carelessly. “A whole spiritual program, of sorts.”

“Spiritual program?” Sounded like revival stuff to him. Funny, she didn’t strike him as flaky. “I’ve heard stressed out, executive types turn to spiritual when they can’t handle life. But, what’s it do for you?”

* * *

The muscles in her jaw tightened as she jammed the cap back on the bottle, all the while counting her way to ten--twice. Know-it-all bull riders and their stupid assumptions. “It helps me stay sane while forced into the company of bull-headed bull riders.”

“Oh really?” He smirked, seeming to take the cut in stride. “Give me a shot, tell me about your difficult life.”

Life, she could handle. Cowboys were a different matter. Not a one of them thought femininity and brains went together. Drawing on weeks of scripture study, she mentally fired off bullets of prayer toward heaven. She tried to plaster her fortress smile in place, silently disparaging her lack of control. This cowboy got under her skin way too easily. She needed to get to Casper. . .fast.