Rough Road Home (The Circle D series) (8 page)

Poor choice of words, she acknowledged as they echoed through her brain. But then, this entire adventure was becoming one big poor choice. For now, she’d just have to make the most of it and pray no more obstacles arose.

Focusing on the painted door, she drew a breath and swallowed her pride. “I’m sorry, Nick, I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just that going to the lodge by myself is not a problem. I’ve been going places alone for years.” She brushed the worn finish of the brass door knob with her fingertips when the reality of her words hit her square between the eyes. Alone. Yes, she wandered through her life alone. She tamped down the annoying reminder. Now was not the time to deal with the fences she needed to mend in her life. “I’ll follow the light around the building, run in, run out, and be back before you even miss me.”

“Missing you is the last thing I’m worried about.” A sharp hiss of air echoed across the room. “You don’t know what you’ll find in there.”

“It can’t be any worse than what I’ve got in here,” she mumbled under her breath. Defenses in place, Rachel rested her hand on her hip and turned to face him. Nick had stood up, the effort manifesting itself clearly on his face. “I can take care of myself.”

Looking around with controlled moves, he grabbed his hat and jacket. His gaze raked over her like he might assess a prize heifer. “I don’t care if you have a black belt in every oriental mind form in existence. To quote your own immortal words, ‘you’re stuck with me’.” Sidestepping the coffee table with surprising grace, he caught the knob and opened the door. “Let’s go.”

Rachel fumed as she lead the way along the concrete walk beside the lodge. A night chill edged a breeze that smelled of wood smoke and pine. She huddled into her jacket.

Barbarian. Just like a cowboy to think it their mission in life to save every damsel in distress, even if said damsel didn’t need saving. She stomped along the walkway, careful to stay a couple of body widths ahead of her bodyguard. Sure, spill concern over her now, but where would the same chivalrous cowboy be when he was really needed? On the back of some fool bull, riding for the roar of the crowd, that’s where. She kicked a stone out of her way. Oh no, she didn’t need him or any other rodeo-minded man, and she’d do well to remember that for the rest of the trip.

The rest of the trip. She glanced at her watch as they came up to the lodge. She needed to check in with Uncle Mitch before he worried about them. Patting the pocket of her jacket, she reached in and pulled out her phone. Stopping at the foot of the porch steps, she checked for bars and was relieved to find the reception good.

“Go ahead, Nick, and get out of this wind.” She gestured toward the door. “I need to make a call.”

At his skeptical look, she spread her hands and indicated the lighted porch. “No one is going to bother me. Stand by the window and watch if you need to, but give me a couple minutes.”

Nick peered out into the darkness, his one eye scanning into the thicket of trees with apparent care. He stopped beside her and draped his solid arm across her shoulders and pulled her close. Cold denim brushed her cheek as she inhaled the warm scent of clean male wrapping around her from the open edges of his jacket. Surprised by the embrace she lifted her chin and stared past the stubble on his face to the scowl in his eye.

“Two minutes, no more.” Warm breath caressed her cheek as he pressed her closer before dropping his arm. With light steps, he climbed the two steps onto the porch and opened the door. The smell of wood smoke from the fireplace spilled out, along with the hoarse laughter of one of the patrons inside. Holding up two fingers, he mouthed two minutes before he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

Rachel exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The way Nick looked at her wore her out. His very gaze drew her in and offered protection, unleashing a yearning that set her heart to beating a mile a minute. She ground her teeth in a familiar manner she hadn’t done in years. Protection, comfort, safety, all the elements the cowboy mystique offered. She didn’t buy any of it. His ‘come see the world from the back of my Brahma’ versus her ‘five figure commission checks each month’ told the story in a nutshell. She’d do well to remember that. The good Lord had gifted her with the talent to manage a career that provided her all the security, excitement, and contentment she needed.

Reaching for her headset, she tapped along her collar a moment before she remembered she’d taken it off to gather wood. As soon as she got back to the apartment, she’d block out Nick with her best message on “look to the Lord for all your needs.” She needed Divine guidance before she started fantasizing about cowboys and happy ever after, neither of which belonged in the same sentence.

Clutching the phone in a white knuckle grip, she punched in the familiar numbers and listened for the ring. She loved Uncle Mitch, but this cowboy friend of his was really getting under her skin. On the fifth ring, she heard the service click on asking her to leave the pertinent facts and he’d return the call when he could.

“It’s me, Rachel. We had to stop for the night, but we’ll be back on the road again early in the morning. If you need me, call.” She started to snap off the connection and stopped. “Oh, Uncle Mitch? Saddling me with this rogue cowboy of yours wasn’t nice of you. See you soon.” Confident her uncle understood the measure of her irritation, she tapped off the connection.

Behind her, the door squeaked open. Nick stepped through the doorway, his hat tipped low and propped his shoulder against the jamb. He looked lean and dangerous, and one hundred percent cowboy.

“Your two minutes are up,” he said in a low voice that could melt butter.

Rachel glanced up and squinted. The porch light created a halo around Nick’s solid build, an image so contrary to the truth, she almost laughed. “Lucky for you I didn’t need three.”

A slow smile spread across his lips causing her heart to flip-flop.

“Yeah.” He took a step forward. “Hoisting you across my shoulder and hauling you inside would have made my day.”

Rachel stared at the hand he extended to help her up. No way. Aid on behalf of injuries was one thing; no more intentional body contact. Scrambling to her feet, she brushed past him and pushed open the door. Sandwiches and sleep were all she needed and the sooner she obtained both, the better.

The great room of the lodge sported half a dozen hunters winding down for the evening. All heads turned and conversations stopped as she stepped into the room. A pheasant in a thicket had nothing on the honing instincts of these guys.

“Hiya, honey.” The man lounging in a worn vinyl chair shouted out more loudly than necessary. “Ol’ Nick here said he was awaitin’ for a friend. He sure didn’t mention his friend looked like you.”

A wave of laughter filled the room. Rachel felt her cheeks warm as she glanced back at Nick. To the room full of sportsman, he gave the appearance of a laid back cowboy at the end of a hard day. But Rachel knew better. His clenched jaw and arms crossed over his chest meant he stood ready to cowboy up at any indication of trouble. Oh, Lord, we don’t need trouble now.

She pasted on her wooden grin and singled out the unshaven leader of the group with her best wink. “You know, fellas, my friend Nick here has just had the ride of his life this past weekend over in Rapid City. He and the bull toughed it out and Nick won. Made him a shoe-in for the Finals in December. I don’t suppose any of you want to hear all about his ride, do you?”

Another man pulled open a cooler and pointed to the fellow who’d given her the key. “Jake here said Nick Davidson was stayin’ at the lodge. We thought he was bluffin’. Shoot, come on over”–-he waved them over-–“I’ll front ya a can.”

“Nick,” Rachel whispered as he stepped up close behind her. “Your adoring fans await.”

He dipped his head until his breath tickled her ear. “After you.”

“Oh, go on,” she urged, confused over his hesitancy. No bull rider worth his weight in Stetsons ever turned down a chance to revel in war stories. “Every bull rider lives for the glamour. That’s why you ride.”

“What makes you such an expert?”

Uncertainty niggled at her as she searched his bruised face, the face that offered irrefutable evidence of the danger of his sport. “I just am.”

“Not always.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Nick surveyed his audience of seven men, each appearing to be well past that first beer. Great, the last thing he wanted was to swap war stories with a bunch of guys that probably couldn’t identify the business end of a bull and know enough to keep away from it. He stiffened his spine, squeezed Rachel on the shoulder and crossed the room. Some kid barely sporting peach fuzz moved to one side and offered him a seat in the overstuffed, fake-fur upholstered couch. As the questions began, Nick glanced up and caught Rachel’s puzzled frown before she turned in search of the kitchen. She might know some cowboys, but she didn’t know this one and he needed to set the facts straight.

For the next half hour, Nick listened to more armchair rodeoing from the boys than sharing his own exploits. By the time Rachel reappeared around the front desk with a cardboard box covered by a towel, Nick had lost the battle to keep his good ol’ boy grin plastered on his face. Pain speared the muscles around his swollen eye. A ringing in his ears compounded the pressure in his head that threatened to explode at any second. He’d paid his dues. Rachel had bartered him for a roof over their heads and Nick swore he’d compensated for their lodging in spades.

“Nick?” At the sound of her voice, all turned their attention to her and away from him. Nick closed his eyes in relief only to be reminded of his ribs aching from too many good-natured slaps on the back. Her soft voice held the attention of every male in the room for which Nick would be eternally grateful. Or maybe not. If it hadn’t been for her, he wouldn’t have been here in the first place.

“Boys,” she continued slowly. Nick managed to open his eyes and focus on the sweet curve of her smile. Her smooth city polish creased her denim and flannel in all the right places. He gave a quick glance around the room. The boys didn’t stand a chance against the charms of this cultured pearl.

Her luminous green eyes talked louder than her words. “I really hate to ruin this bonding moment, but we’ve got to go. Nick needs his rest if he wants to ride in Casper next weekend.”

“He won’t get no rest,” a burly man still sporting his camouflage vest cut in. “Not if he’s goin’ home with you.”

Obnoxious laughter filled the room. Rachel stood her ground, her eyes wary. Nick forced himself to his feet and crossed the sea of whooping sportsman, ready to deflect the advances of any enthusiastic hunter. Rachel may have been a pain, but she was his pain, and he protected what was his.

The sounds of knee slaps and belly howls continued until he came to a stop in front of her, turned, and cleared his throat.

“Fellas, you might think I travel with a whole en-tour-age of women at my beck and call,” he drawled in his best cowboy-ese. The laughter died as he scanned the men until an uncomfortable silence filled the room. “But I’ve got to level with you. That bull back in Rapid City roughed me up pretty bad. If it wasn’t for this fine lady delaying her own plans to give me a ride, I’d still be back there mad as hornets I had to miss the Regional Finale out here in Casper.”

“Mighty fine looking travelin’ buddy, Nick.” Jake snickered and held up a beer.

“They don’t come any better.” He looked each hunter in the eye until the lot of them fell silent. A gust of wind rattled the windows as he cleared his throat. “Now, show Ms. Hill some sportsmanlike respect.”

Gazes dropped, boots scraped the floor and beer cans whished open. The group muttered apologies.

Nick grabbed the box out of her hands. “Get the door.”

The look on her face was priceless as she stared at him a second before she reached for the knob and opened the door wide.

“See ya, boys,” he called over his shoulder, hoping to lighten the mood a notch. “Remember, next Saturday, Casper. I’ll have tickets waiting at the box office for ya’ll.”

“Yeah, thanks, Nick,” the guy with the vest called. He tipped his head. “G’night, ma’am.”

As they stepped into the cold night air, Nick could almost see the wheels turning in Rachel’s head. Spooky how well he was getting to know her. She stopped at the edge of the porch.

“The boys were only having fun,” she snapped.

“Fun,” he repeated, the word forced out through clenched teeth. “As much fun as a toothache. Doesn’t it bother you that their fun was at your expense? I was trying hard to salvage your reputation, or don’t you care what folks think about you?”

“Of course, I care, but your words weren’t going to change their minds. Besides, fans are fans. They just wanted to share in a bit of your glamour.” She reasoned with a flick of her wrist. “No harm done.”

“Oh, so you’re part of my glamour? My own personal Buckle Bunny? Well, sweetheart, I care about my reputation and seeing my name in some rodeo gossip column doesn’t really light my fire.”

The pair of porch lights on either side of the door bathed her in uneven shadows. “I don’t plan to light your fire, cowboy. Look, I don’t need you defending me like some sort of misguided John Wayne or Roy Rogers. Keep your glamour and savor it all yourself. Chivalry is a dying art, so don’t drag me into your dreams.” Rachel stepped off the porch and stomped away from the lodge at a good clip.