Road to Glory (17 page)

With a shake of his head, he opened the cabinet next to the sink to locate the pain relievers. Pushing the top off the container, he measured two into the palm of his hand. Tucking the ice under his arm, he picked up the glass of water and the pills, then headed up the stairs. When he’d checked on her a few minutes earlier, she’d told him her room was off the bath on the right. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and placed on the nightstand the things he carried.

To his surprise, the room lacked the frilly ornaments he’d expected to find, considering she’d lived in this house all her life. No white furniture, no teddy bears. Instead, Glory was quite functional. Pine double bed with a blue-and-yellow quilt. A large desk with her computer, on one wall, and on the opposite wall a bookshelf with trophies won at 4-H competitions. How similar their childhoods had been.

Hands on his hips, Travis brought his glance back to the pictures clustered above her bed. One of her taken several years ago, at a fair, holding the lead to a bull that seemed to tower over her while her father stood back beaming. The next, a picture of her as an infant. From the photograph, he could see where she got her looks. Glory was the spit image of her mother. With the same blonde hair and radiant smile, she sat in a chair holding a tiny infant whose face was nearly swallowed by a huge French bonnet.

“That was one of the few times I’ve ever worn a dress.”

Travis turned in surprise. Glory stood in the doorway, her damp hair curling at the ends. She resembled more of a mermaid than a cowgirl. “Pretty dress,” he remarked, looking back at the photo.

“It was my mother’s christening dress. I wore it, and now I have it packed away, in case,” she said.

He looked back to her expectant face and made his way to her side. Lifting his hand, Travis brushed back a strand of damp hair from her forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she murmured.

He caught her gazing into his eyes. Those blue pools held a secret desire. He looked closer, hoping to see what it might be. Taking a deep breath, like a man preparing to leap off a tall cliff, he held it. The air between them seemed charged with a different type of electricity. Anticipation curled up his spine. She was so beautiful. Standing there in her oversized pajama top and shorts, she looked better than any of those models he’d seen strutting underwear on the TV. His body thought so, too, for his libido seemed to roar to life.

One arm reached out and encircled her shoulders. He felt her lean into him and place an open palm on his chest, against his wildly beating heart. Without a word, he lifted her off the ground and into his arms. Concentrating on her face, he moved toward the bed. One knee on the mattress and the springs murmured, welcoming his weight. He stopped, wondering what she might think, but the gentle curl of her lips put his mind at ease.

Glory’s arms didn’t move as he placed her down on the bed. He stared at her. A soft blush of want covered her cheeks, and her eyes focused on his lips. This was the moment of commitment. If he had any doubts, he should say so and not further disappoint her. But the words didn’t come. Spellbound, he stared at her open expression of desire. The gap in the vee of her T-shirt gave him ample view of the rise and fall of her breasts, and he realized she felt as he did.

“Make love to me, Travis.”

“Glory…”

Her fingers found his lips. “I’m a big girl. I know what I’m asking.”

The light on the nightstand danced across her face. “Do you?”

With a light touch of her fingers, Glory caressed his cheeks. “You’re a handsome man, Travis Hargrove, and I’m a woman who is attracted to you.” She leaned forward and brushed a feathery kiss across his lips. “We don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but you can’t deny that there is something between us. Something we have to explore.”

He started to shake his head but stopped. They were two consenting adults. It wasn’t like he didn’t carry protection. She sensed his momentary hesitation and put her hands on each side of his face, pulling it down to kiss him.

Raw, urgent need swept through him like a Texas wildfire. Travis braced his arms on either side of her body as she swirled her tongue across the line of his lips. From the back of his throat a deep sigh reverberated, and, for half a second, he was tempted. Deep down, he knew it was wrong. She was way too vulnerable. He lifted his head and gave her a soft smile that spoke of regret. “No, Glory, not tonight.”

“Travis?” Her glance searched his face, trying to understand.

He gave a slight shake of his head. “Not because I don’t want to, but it’s been one hell of a day, Glory Beebe, and when we do come together, I want us both to remember it with full enjoyment.”

Her eyes widened, and she nodded in agreement.

Leaning back down, he kissed her. “That day is coming, don’t you forget.”

“I won’t.”

“How long since you’ve eaten?”

She gave a shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t know. I remember breakfast.”

“I saw some soup in the cabinet. How about I make us a bowl of soup and a sandwich. You can’t take those pills on an empty stomach.”

Glory struggled to bring her shoulders off the bed. “I can help.”

“No.” Travis placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You rest. I think I can handle this.”

Glory smiled. “Just don't mess up every pot in Alma’s kitchen, or she’ll have your hide.”

Travis chuckled. “No, can’t have that.”

Pushing off the bed, he reached over and picked up the remote. “Here, you find a good movie.”

“Right.” Glory nodded and flicked the TV on. “Any particular preference?”

Travis paused at the door. “Nope, just nothing too mushy.” He heard her mutter “Darn” as he left the room. Thirty minutes later, with only one pan messed up, he carefully carried the bed tray up the stairway. Halfway up, he could hear the sounds of explosions.

“What did you find?” he asked as he walked through the open doorway.

“An old black-and-white war movie.”

Travis glanced over at the flickering figures.

“I think one is John Wayne, and the other looks like Ward Bond. Scoot over.” He nodded toward the other side of the bed. Glory took her time and eased over.

“Here, hold this.” Travis said, giving her the tray.

Glory steadied it and glanced over at him. “What are you going to do?”

“Fluff your pillow. Lean forward.”

Glory sat a bit straighter, with her hands on either side of the tray to balance it. “Careful.”

“Right.” Travis turned the pillow long ways and leaned it against the headboard. “Better?”

“Yes.”

When she settled back, Travis eased his body beside her and took a bowl of the soup in his hand. “Now eat.”

“You sound like Alma,” she huffed.

Travis narrowed his eyes and glanced in her direction. “If that means you’ll listen to me, I’ll consider it a compliment.”

Glory smiled, and he watched her pick up her spoon and stir the contents of her bowl.

“You do like chicken soup, don’t you?”

“I do.” She stared at the bowl before giving him a wounded look. “Travis, you think I’m foolish to work with the bulls, don't you.”

This time, he was the one concentrating on the liquid in the bowl. “I have to be honest.”

“Yes.”

“When I saw the fence go down on top of Mickey, my heart was in my throat. All I could think about was I might have lost him, or worse, lost you.”

Glory took a spoonful of her soup. “I was scared too.”

“Then you’re a wise woman, Glory Beebe.”

She nodded and began to eat. Travis reached for the remote and turned the sound up a notch. Settling in, they ate in silence except for the TV.

****

Her stomach full, Glory snuggled down against the feather pillow behind her as Travis lifted the tray from her lap.

“I’ll place this on your desk until after the movie is over.”

Glory nodded, and a second later, Travis returned to the bed and slipped in beside her. She felt the rise of the pillow as he slipped his arm beneath and drew her close.

As the movie came to a conclusion, Glory thought, This is how life should be: warm and safe, with not a care in the world, being held by the man she admired.

“You need to take the Tylenol.”

She didn’t want to move. Still, when he leaned over and handed her the two white pills, Glory took them without a fuss and washed them down with a sip of water. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem.”

She snuggled next to him and curled against his chest. “Stay here with me tonight. Don’t leave.”

“No, darlin’, I won’t.” He pressed his lips to her hair.

She let him tuck the blanket around her and cut off the overhead, leaving only the flicker of the TV as their light. Turning, she heard the slosh of water from the plastic bag. “I guess the ice melted.”

“Yep. Want me to pour it out?”

Glory shook her head. Pouring it out would mean he would leave her side, and the magic they shared would be gone. “No, later.” She heard the sound of a boot hitting the floor, then a second. The bed creaked as he brought both legs onto the coverlet beside her.

“Sleep, Glory. I’ll be right here.”

She closed her eyes as his hand made a slow trail up and down her arm. The hypnotic motion pulled her closer and closer to sleep. When her eyelids became too heavy to hold open, Glory whispered, “I love you, Travis.”

“Shh, rest,” he murmured as she drifted away.

****

In the dark, Travis lay quietly, staring at the ceiling and listening to her breathe. As the rhythmic intakes lengthened, a small hum came from her side of the bed. He turned his head and smiled.

All his life he’d looked for something to come home to. Now that he’d found it, he didn’t want to admit that something was lying next to him. His arm moved across her waist, and he pulled her against him. Tomorrow there would be time for regrets, but right now Travis wanted to burn this night in his mind forever because he knew his life would never be the same.

****

She woke just as the sun peered in through the window. A soft smile curled her lips. Her left hand reached out, but he was gone. Glory’s eyes opened. She sat up in the bed, pulling the sheet against her chest, and glanced around the room. She was alone. The tray and the bag of melted ice were gone, along with Travis. Turning to her right, she rescued the pillow from the bed and held it to her face. Breathing deeply, she could smell his presence stamped upon the cotton case. The sound of water running came from downstairs. He must be in the kitchen.

Rising, she gathered her clothing and slipped it on, testing her bruised leg as she did so. It seemed to be pretty much okay, other than the coloring. Maybe a little sore when she stood on it. She looked around the floor for her boots, then slapped her forehead and recalled he had taken them off in the kitchen. Glory made her way downstairs and paused at the last step. Self-doubt surged. She bit her bottom lip and leaned against the wall. Yes, she’d enjoyed last night—immensely. Being held by a man was nearly as wonderful as being made love to, especially when you hurt all over. She craved the intimacy of his touch one more time before Alma returned.

She glanced at the door to the kitchen. The question was, did Travis feel the same way? She took a deep breath and brought her hands together. She blew out a deep breath and pushed away from the wall. “I can do this,” she muttered to herself. Plastering a smile on her face, she rounded the corner and strode into the kitchen.

“Morning,” she said and prayed it sounded normal. Travis had made himself at home, sitting at the table, a mug of hot coffee in front of him. She watched him look up and nod in acknowledgement.

“Well, morning to you, too,” Alma replied.

Glory’s steps faltered. She hadn’t expected to find the housekeeper home. She gave a startled glance toward Travis. The lift of his lips begged forgiveness. Swallowing, she pushed down her heart, which had risen to her throat. “Morning, Alma. Did you spend the night with Angel? How’s Mickey?”

Alma scooped some bacon onto the plate. “Doing much better,” she said, moving toward the toaster. “I left the hospital, went by their house and picked up things for them. You’d think with Angel at home she could at least do the laundry.” She shook her head. “Fix some juice,” Alma ordered.

Glory moved to the refrigerator and grabbed the pitcher of orange juice.

“Yes, imagine my surprise,” Alma said, “when I came home this morning and found Mr. Hargrove here.”

“I’ll bet,” Glory murmured and peered over her shoulder. Travis lifted his cup, but she detected the unmistakable twinkle in his eye. “Must be that rodeo life that gets him up early.”

“Yes, it must,” Alma remarked.

The toaster spring snapped, and the housekeeper turned away. Glory looked back and stuck her tongue out at him. Travis put his cup down and struggled to keep from laughing aloud. Clearing his throat, he said, “I don’t know if it’s the rodeo or not, but I woke up and thought I’d come over for a cup of coffee and see how Glory was doing. She got a nasty bruise on her leg.”

“And that’s where I found him, sitting at the table. Humph,” Alma snorted. “You’d think he spent the night. How is your leg?”

Glory’s hand shook and juice spilled on the counter. “Shoot,” she hissed and grabbed the dishrag to mop it up. “It’s fine. Travis made me take some painkillers before he left for the mansion.”

“I see.”

Glory ignored Alma's piercing glance.

“Mop up and bring the glasses over here. Then you sit down and eat. You two got a lot on your list today.”

Travis avoided Glory’s stare as she sat down to breakfast. Food eaten, Travis quickly excused himself and let her help Alma clean up. “Now, I won’t be home for dinner. I’m going over to take care of Mickey so Angel can work. I’ll leave a casserole in the fridge for you and Mr. Hargrove.”

“Thanks, Alma,” Glory replied. She shook the dishcloth and hung it over the handle of the stove. “Tell Mickey I’ll see him later.”

“Will do.” The housekeeper nodded and pulled a dish from the cabinet as Glory hurried out the back door.

Hands in her pockets, she moved as quickly as she could without letting anyone notice a limp. The hands were feeding the cattle and getting the morning work completed before the heat of the day set in.