Acres, Natalie - Bang the Blower [Country Roads 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (3 page)

Chapter Two

The next day

Columbia, Tennessee

Julie dreamt of revving engines. She heard the squealing of tires, the magnificent sounds of a rumbling crowd cheering for their favorite drivers. Her mind’s eye captured clips of a round track, probably a half-mile or so, completely packed with bumper-to-bumper stock cars. A checkered flag was raised high in the air, and then an explosion took her back to the car she knew best—her dragster. A fiery storm replaced what might have been something substantial in terms of a win, a strong finish, or something positive to overshadow the gloom and despair which became her reality.

Her wreck was then in vivid color. She saw the wall, heard the crash, and the fumes were as strong and as suffocating as they’d been on the day she wrecked. Gasping, she came out of the bed, clutching to the sheets and screaming at the top of her lungs.

Her eyes were wide. She saw a huge form coming toward her right before someone shook her.

“Julie!” he shouted. “Julie! Wake up! It’s Hank! You’re having a bad dream!”

When she came out of her sleepy stupor, her face was damp. Her arms were looped around Hank’s neck and her body rocked in one continual tremor. The violent ramifications of a horrific dream wracked her body and threw her into turmoil. She was still spinning around and around. Even though she realized where she was, who was holding her tightly against his chest, she couldn’t leave behind the nightmare she’d lived, the bad dreams that continued to haunt her.

“Shh,” Hank whispered, stroking her back. “I’ve got ’cha, baby. I’ve got ’cha.”

“Hank,” she choked out.

“Yes, it’s me,” he said, swaying back and forth.

A few seconds passed before she pushed him away. “Of course it’s you!” she screamed, unable to stop herself from the anger enveloping her. “Who else would be ballsy enough to pull this stunt?”

Hank jerked. He looked confused, but his expression quickly changed. He rose from the bed, walked over to the door, slammed it, and returned immediately where he took a seat on the mattress. After he crossed his muscular arms and set his stiff jaw, she realized he planned on staying a while.

Reaching for tissues beside her bed, Julie wiped her cheeks and blew her nose. Tossing the damp paper to the wastebasket, she said, “I don’t like company while I’m sleeping.”

“We got that in common,” he muttered, his jade eyes dancing with the memories he apparently wanted her to acknowledge.

She recalled them without much effort. The last time she was in his bed, he’d asked her to leave, told her he needed to get a good night’s sleep, and she’d left him with a promise. He’d never have to worry about her outstaying her welcome again.

If only she’d known then how eventually, no thanks to their current living arrangements, he’d make a liar out of her.

“I remember that about you,” she grumbled, tossing the covers over her head and rolling over to her sore left side. “You never wanted to cuddle in the mornings, and you often skipped foreplay. Man, you made some woman a happy wife, didn’t you?”

“I’m not married yet, and you know this.”

“How would I know anything about you, Hank? We lost touch. We didn’t write or call. If memory serves me correctly, I didn’t get a postcard, never sent an e-mail.” She took a deep breath and decided against picking an extended argument. She thought about reaching for the pill bottle located next to her bed but decidedly preferred a clear head, something she hadn’t desired often since her accident.

The discomfort was often more than she could bear, but managing her pain was easier with distractions. Hank provided an alternative to drugs, although she wasn’t sure if he was the lesser of two evils.

In terms of addictions, she felt confident she could beat a potential pill problem. A Hinman dependence was worse than any substance abuse imaginable. After all this time apart, Julie was certain of one thing—she’d never kick the habit.

“You’ll work with your physical therapist this morning.”

“I just got here yesterday afternoon. I can’t—”

Hank yanked the coverlet away from her head. “I don’t remember asking you if you wanted to work with Don—he’s your PT, by the way—and I don’t think I said please. Get your pretty little ass up and meet him downstairs in thirty minutes. The two of you should be done by noon. I’ll meet you out by the track around then.”

“I’m not racing!” she shouted, slapping her palm against the mattress.

“I see some things never change,” Hank said, glaring at her hand. “I never said you were sliding behind the wheel today. I just said I’ll meet you around twelve.”

She grunted, flipped over, though it was more like a slow roll, and buried her head under the pillow. “Why are you doing this?” she asked, aware her muffled voice made her sound like a helpless child.

“Because you would do the same for me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I wouldn’t, Hank.”

“Yes you would,” he assured her, caressing her back. “And I’d love you for it.”

“Humph, you wouldn’t know love if it looked you square in the eye.”

Hank slowly removed the comforter she used in order to hide. Then, he gently lifted the pillow. She stared into a soft gaze, one rarely found in a Hinman.

“I think I would.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead and left.

About that time, the jingle jangle of spurs alerted her to the man behind a cowboy’s walk. Duke Hinman entered her room seconds later. “Rise and shine, gorgeous,” he sang, raising the window overlooking the barnyard. “We’ve got a surprise for you down at the stables.”

“I don’t like surprises,” she grumbled.

“And I have a hard time with grumpy women.”

“I’m serious.” She should’ve added that she owned her share of issues with domineering, egotistical cowboys.

“Okay, I’ll play along. Best I remember, you loved to be caught off guard. When did that change?”

“You have to ask?” she questioned him, using her hands to move her legs to the side of the bed.

He pointed toward her lower body. “You know you’re pretty damn lucky. Be thankful for what you’ve got and for what you didn’t lose.”

“Why, because a doctor told me I’d never walk again, and I beat the odds?”

“No, because you lived to come here and argue with me. A lot of women would pay to be sitting right there staring at me right now.”

“I worry about you, Duke. You lack confidence, self-esteem, and a cowboy’s cocksure attitude. How do you get by?”

“I ask myself that very question every single day.”

“I’m sure,” she said, reaching for her cane.

Duke grabbed the wooden crutch before her hand landed on the curve hook shaping the top. “You don’t need that.”

“Yes I do.”

“Not today,” he said, tossing the stick away. He held out his arm. “I’ll help you.”

“I don’t want your help.”

“You may not, but you have my assistance anyway.”

She teetered around, grabbing for the nightstand in an effort to keep from falling. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m here for Frank. I’m trying this because if I didn’t, Frank would somehow feel like he let me down. He carried a lot of guilt and blame after the accident. I’m not here for you or your brother. I’m here because Frank is like a father to me and he asked me to come, expected it really.”

“Frank isn’t to blame. Hank and I accept that responsibility.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. I chose to leave here.” A beat later, she added, “And even though you tossed me over your back and acted like Rambo, I still made the choice to come home with you. I can leave whenever I want. I’ll walk out of here in the middle of the night if I have to.”

“Don’t you mean hobble?”

“Fuck you, Duke.”

“You might,” he said, his eyes flickering with a hint of lust. “On second thought, that’s probably a given.”

She grated back bad words then and thought of all sorts of nasty names she wanted to call him. Duke sat on the chair next to the bed, shifting his hips back and forth until he was obviously comfortable. He kicked up his dusty boots and studied them as he crossed his ankles, observing his spurs as if they were the most interesting accessory he’d ever purchased.

“You can’t just come in my room and make yourself right at home.”

“I am at home so yeah, I can pretty much do anything I want whenever I take the notion.” After a good stare down, he added, “And about leaving here in the middle of the night? I’ll talk with Hank and see if we can’t do something about these sleeping arrangements as soon as possible. I’d hate for you to get it in your blasted head that you want out of here.”

“I’m not sleeping with either of you.”

He shrugged. “It’s a precautionary measure really.” He looked at his fingernails and picked at the cuticles. “It’s a dangerous world out there.” He studied the pill bottles on her nightstand and finally added, “Besides, what if you have a reaction to your medication and find yourself wandering around outside without any direction? We can’t have that. I couldn’t live with myself if you got lost in the middle of the night. What if you couldn’t find your way home?”

“I can live without the sarcasm.”

“It’s true. Hank and I went out of our way to get you back. We’ll have to do our best to protect you while you’re here.”

“From myself?”

“If need be,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips.

She sat again. “Duke, why are you doing this?”

He shifted and his boots rocked, a clump of mud falling to the floor. She grunted when she saw the mess he’d left on a new pale pink rug. “I’m not able to clean up after you anymore.”

“I’d never ask you. Besides, in case you haven’t heard, we’re rich enough for housekeeping services now. We’ve got a maid who’ll be at your beck and call, twenty-four-seven, while you’re staying with us.”

“That’s fine,” she said. “Real fine.” A beat later she looked closer at the glob of mud and decided it was manure. She wrinkled her nose. “I’d still appreciate it if you didn’t track up my room.”

He shrugged. “I’ll work on my bad habits if you’ll try to overcome yours.”

“I don’t have any.”

“Oh yes you do,” he said, a singsong quality to his voice. “You’ve become the grumpiest woman this side of the Mississippi, and I don’t like it.”

“Well damn,” she drawled. “Imagine how disappointed I am to find out you’re displeased with me.”

“I’m sure that’s true,” he said. “I seem to remember a woman whose sole purpose in life was pleasing the men in her bed.”

“That was a long time ago,” she snapped.

“It was last week,” he assured her.

“Maybe to you. To me, it was two lifetimes ago.” She looked around the room and her gaze held at the far window. A beat-up pickup truck dragging along a fancy horse trailer drove through the main gates. “I asked you a question.”

“Yep, you did.”

“Well? What about it? Why are you hell-bent on helping me?”

“Some say a man in love will do anything and everything for the woman who belongs to him. You’re mine, Julie. You always have been. Time and distance separated us. Almost losing you forever brought us back together again. You might as well get used to the fact. Now that you’re back where you’ve always belonged, Hank and I will never let you go.”

Chapter Three

She looked like a beauty queen who might have won the swimsuit competition if only she’d worn the string bikini flashing bare skin. Then again, if she’d sported much more, Hank wouldn’t have been able to remain a gentleman.

Her long red locks clung to slender shoulders while spirals of curls dipped toward the open scoop revealing the small of her back. Scars marked her pale skin. Deeply embedded, those wounds would most likely never heal. Fire had seared her flesh, and the scorching reminders perhaps forever earned their place in her memory as much as anywhere else. The third-degree burns would indeed heal, but Hank worried if Julie ever would.

The bad dreams Hank watched her survive told a tale he wouldn’t soon forget. Julie was troubled, truly tortured by what she witnessed in those nightmares. As much as Hank wanted to enter those dreams and protect her from what she saw, he couldn’t go there. She had to walk down Memory Lane alone.

Hank clutched the bright orange towel as he strolled toward the ladder. Offering his hand, he hoisted her into his arms where he immediately wrapped her small frame against his much larger one, draping the beach towel over her shivering form.

He kissed the top of her head and she immediately jerked. “Why’d you do that?”

“I don’t need a reason, do I?”

“Yes,” she snapped, turning to her physical therapist. “We’re done here, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Don responded, collecting some of the floating devices they’d used for stretching exercises.

Julie squirmed. “You can put me down if you like.”

“And if I don’t?”

She narrowed her gaze on his lips and he noticed the way her tongue ran over the texture of her moist mouth. He wanted to steal away with the moment and kiss away her pain, the evidence of hurt and heartache lingering in her beautiful brown eyes.