Ask Me Why (14 page)

“You want this?” he asked as her skin replaced leather beneath his touch.

Something in Trace broke, as if she'd fought loving him since the day they'd met and could no longer hold the line.

“Yes,” she whispered as she turned in his arms and tugged at his clothes, suddenly wanting to be closer to him.

They didn't have time to talk or question what they were doing. Sparks ignited a fire in both, and they had to feel the heat.

Rick didn't think, he barely took time to breathe. All he wanted to do was press her against him, and she had the same passion.

They rocked the bed with their lovemaking. There was nothing gentle or hesitant in their mating. The need was too great. The longing sharpened by a never-ending satisfaction he knew would fill them both. If he made love to her every day, every night of his life, he'd never have enough. And deep down he knew she felt the same. As wrong as they were for each other, one thing was right between them—no, not just right: perfect.

When their passion was spent, they started again as soon as their breathing slowed. The second mating was loving, tender, pure slow delight. For two people who hardly knew how to talk to each other, neither could get enough.

Finally they lay as close as their bodies could get, satisfied, exhausted.

Rick wrapped his arm around her, holding her so near, their hearts sounded in rhythm. They didn't talk. There was nothing left to say. They'd admitted everything in their actions. Slowly she relaxed and slept. He wondered how many hours she'd been up, how many days she'd been on the road . . . It didn't matter. She was here now. She was with him and he'd hold her for as long as she'd let him.

He kissed her cheek, loving every inch of her, wishing he had the energy to make love to her while she slept. “I love you, Trace,” he whispered against her hair. “I always will.” His hand moved along her damp body, memorizing these few moments, the pace of her breath, the taste of her lips, and the hum of her low moan of pleasure, even in sleep. He loved her all the way to the core of his soul.

Though he doubted she'd ever say the words to him, he knew she felt the same. She'd rushed to him when she thought he was hurt. He'd seen the worry, the caring in her. Trace might live for her job. She might have to always be in control. But she'd let down her guard with him long enough to love him.

She could deny it all she wanted, but he knew she cared about him. His beautiful warrior would protect him with her life, and he'd do the same for her.

At dawn, he reached to pull her closer and felt only the sheet. She'd gone. Vanished without a good-bye. He knew he should be angry, and he would be in days to come, but all Rick could do for now was lie very still and remember their night.

LIZZIE RETURNED TO
the doc's warm apartment after her cousin and the marshal left. Dr. McCall walked silently beside her. He seemed so tall now that they were standing. When she'd been cuddled next to him, she hadn't really noticed how much bigger he was than her. Now they no longer seemed to fit. At Lizzie's five feet, anyone over six feet was tall. But Dr. McCall was more the tree level now that they were so close.

She'd never thought of herself as having a type of man, but someone like the doc wouldn't be in the running. He would more likely make the good-friend category. They shared a love for animals, so that was a good base. He wasn't noisy and never had wild parties; he could help her with her pets and even give her advice on bullet wounds. Cuddling with him had been nice, but now it was about time to move to the “let's just be friends” category before either of them became foolish enough to think there could be more.

It was late, but she was in no hurry to go back to her place. The way he'd held her, all protected and warm, made her wish they could go back to the couch and hold each other for just a few minutes more. Only affection wasn't something she'd ever known to come in quantity.

She realized she didn't even know his first name. Everyone just called him Doc, or McCall. Someone said he was a widower, but there were no pictures of his life before Harmony, so it was hard to tell. Maybe he was divorced. Wouldn't a man who lost his wife keep her picture?

The rooms he lived in were as bare as those in a cheap hotel. Everything that wasn't wood was brown. As far as she knew, he never traveled or joined any clubs or churches. He simply worked. His old pickup was either parked in his lot out front or flying down a back road to check on some rancher's stock.

There was nothing exciting or even mildly interesting about McCall, she decided, except one observation: He loved animals as much as she did. She had seen him kneeling by a mare once, fighting to save mother and colt. He cared.

“I guess I should be going.” She helped him pick up coffee cups off his little dining table.

“I'll walk you home,” he said. “If you like, old Scotty can stay with you. He'll bark if anyone comes near your house, so he's good to have around on a night like this.”

She wasn't worried. No one uninvited had ever come near her house. Most of her Matheson relatives hadn't even seen the inside, and she didn't even know what her mother's relatives looked like.

Her pet grooming salon was in an old converted beauty shop across the road from the vet's office. The Matheson relatives who did stop by usually visited her there. Two of her favorite great-aunts came every Wednesday with a bag of hamburgers and fries. She'd learned never to book a twelve o'clock appointment and to have the iced tea ready. They'd huddle around the break-room table and talk like they hadn't seen her in months.

“Thanks for helping me out tonight, Doc.” She moved outside, feeling the cold more than she had earlier. If she'd been brave, she would have begged to stay longer.

He followed her out to the long porch that wrapped around three sides of his offices. The two old dogs tagged along behind him. When he jumped off the porch, he turned to face her. Now that he was three steps below her, she was finally at eye level with the man. Both smiled.

“You've got pretty eyes,” he whispered.

“So do you.” She giggled, thinking her aunt Fat would say he had bedroom eyes if she saw him in this moonlight.

Without a word they walked the path. The lights around his business and her front-porch light offered just enough glow to see the way. All the world seemed fussy in the damp night.

“When it rains, I don't mind you parking in my lot,” he finally broke the silence. “I've got plenty of room, and I'd hate you getting stuck in the mud in that trail you call a road.”

“Thanks, but I don't know when I'll get another car. Since I totaled the last one, I don't feel much like going shopping. Usually one of my relatives calls me and offers to sell me his old car. They all know my record. I seem to be where Mathesons send their vehicles to die.”

He laughed. “You're not so bad. I heard the last car got hit in the parking lot.”

She shrugged. “That's right. I wasn't even in it. Guess I should have parked between the lines, though.”

“And the one before that someone said you wrecked on an icy road.”

She nodded, guessing he heard a great deal about her problems while he circled the relatives' ranches. Suddenly Lizzie wanted to change the subject.

“Why didn't you buy my place when you bought the clinic?” She'd always wanted to ask him. After all, the old vet had built the business and then the home to live in. Some old-timers said the former vet's wife had tried her hand at running a beauty shop across the street, but it never took off. It only made sense that the property would have sold as one place.

“I didn't have the money,” he answered honestly. “The offices were already under the same roof as the clinic. They had a little kitchen and bathroom, so I figured I'd just live there. I really didn't have any use for your house or the shop. I wouldn't have minded having the land around, though. I understand you bought the pastures on either side of me.”

She shrugged as she realized her property almost surrounded his. “If you ever need to put an animal in those pastures, I wouldn't mind. I'll trade you for the parking space if I ever get another car.”

He leaned low and nodded, as if sealing the deal as they crossed the boundary line between their places. The old tree Trace had fallen from shadowed the path. He took her hand in his. “I wouldn't want you to fall, Elizabeth,” he said softly. “That wound could start bleeding again. It might seem small now that it's stitched up, but you need to be careful.”

Lizzie almost giggled again. In his way, he was taking care of her, and no one had taken care of her in so many years.

When they were past the shadow, he squeezed her fingers before letting go. “If you want, I could check the wound for you tomorrow. I've got to spend most of the day out on farms, but I should be in by seven.”

She thought about saying that she could take care of herself, but she liked being around him. Better yet, she had the feeling he liked being around her. “How about you come to dinner tomorrow? Then after supper you can check me out.”

He didn't answer, but slowed. After a moment, he whispered, “Elizabeth, your front door is wide open. Did you leave it that way?”

“Never,” she said so low the wind stole her answer.

They both slowed. Reason told her Rick might have opened it, but how? It always locked automatically when she stepped out. She'd grown up with only a curtain for a door at Granny's. Then in the dorm she'd had roommates who always invaded her space. When she moved to Harmony, she loved the idea of having her own place with locks on the doors.

As a kid she'd carried her grandmother's front-door key on a chain and continued with a dorm key for four years. Even now, with the door wide open, she reached for the key about her neck.

“How about I go in with you?” McCall whispered as if he might frighten a burglar and somehow protect her.

She nodded and let him go in first. Two steps behind him, she turned on the lights as they moved from room to room. All looked as she had left it. The big kitchen lined with appliances she'd bought online, the living room with its long wall of windows on one side and bookshelves on the other. Her paintings and supplies were scattered about in a colorful mess. They passed into the roomy bedroom she loved, with her desk tucked between wide windows facing the sunrise.

“Looks all right,” he said when all the lights were on. “Do you notice anything missing?”

She laughed. “Someone could take a truckful and I probably wouldn't notice.”

He slowly turned as if just now really seeing the room. “Your world is so colorful. It's like visiting an art gallery.” He picked up one of the paintings. “I saw this cat once. It looks like the old tom you brought over one day for me to take a look at.”

Lizzie nodded. “Hershel died. That's why I painted him.” She didn't want to tell the doctor more. He'd only join all the folks who thought she was strange. But she didn't want to lie either, so she took a chance that he might understand. “I used to give the paintings to the pet owners. I thought they'd like them. The first one said it was creepy, and she hadn't liked the pet anyway—she'd just got stuck with him. The second told me I had no right to paint her precious without permission.

“So now I just paint the ones I want to remember. Sometimes I really believe that animals understand us far more than we understand them.”

McCall nodded. “Folks are funny about their animals. I knew this owner who taught his little colt to rear up and put his front legs on the man's shoulder. It looked cute when the horse was small, but a few months later I heard the colt had knocked all the rancher's teeth out with the trick. The rancher sold the horse off the next week like the accident was his fault. Unfair.”

“I know what you mean. One of my ladies comes in once a month for me to cut her dog's hair just like hers. She even dyed her hair the same color as her pet and swears that they plan to be buried together.”

McCall laughed. “Wonder if anyone asked the dog's opinion?”

He lifted his hand and gently brushed over the streaks of green in her hair. “Why?” he asked simply.

For a moment she thought of acting like she had no idea what he was talking about, but the truth won out. “I'm afraid of fading away. Sometimes I feel like no one sees me. Maybe if I stand out, people will remember I was here.”

“I see you, Elizabeth. I always have. It doesn't matter what color is in your hair or what you wear.” He grinned. “Sometimes just watching you walk across my lot on your way to your shop makes me smile. In a small way, you add color to my world.”

Looking up into his eyes she realized that maybe he was trying just as hard to fade away, become invisible, as she was trying to be seen. Before she could say anything, his dogs discovered her cats and a wild chase ensued.

The war finally ended when her tabby, Molly, swung one blow and sent both dogs running.

While she held her fat cat, the doc examined both his dogs' noses. He scolded them for chasing the cat; Lizzie told her cat to be nice, but it was obvious none of the animals were listening.

Lizzie had always believed that if cats could talk, they'd be cussing most of the time, and dogs, no matter what trouble they got into, always managed to have a “Who, me?” look about them.

She and McCall let the animals go, determined to watch them. “I guess I'd better say good-night, Elizabeth.” He looked toward the windows but didn't move. “Sun's coming up.”

“It's been a long night, but I'm not tired. If I had a car, I'd run into Harmony and have breakfast at the diner.”

He faced her. “Mind riding in an old pickup? We could be sitting at the diner in ten minutes.”

She grabbed her jacket by the door. “I guess that means we'll have to walk the path again.” Before she could think to stop herself, she added, “Will you still hold my hand when we go by the tree, Doc?”

His face looked deadly serious when he said, “I'd be happy to.”

Her cheeks warmed. That she'd asked sounded childish, but he hadn't seemed to mind. As they walked back, she was quiet, thinking it would take her half an hour to explain how little she knew about men or dating or even being friends. Rick, her cousin, was probably the only man she felt comfortable with, and they never talked about anything important.

As he'd promised, he took her hand at the tree and didn't turn loose until they reached his old pickup.

When they got to the Blue Moon Diner, it was just opening, so they had their pick of booths. Lizzie pointed to one in the middle, and he headed toward one at the back corner. Laughing, they settled on a table halfway between.

She was always comfortable in the old diner because breakfast is one meal you can eat out alone and not feel so lonely. At least once a week she'd eat breakfast out—when she had a car and the weather wasn't too bad. She'd buy a paper and read as she downed her pancakes. No one bothered her.

Only this morning was different. She wasn't alone.

This morning she was eating with Dr. McCall. After they ordered, he talked about his work and she asked questions. They discovered he loved dogs and horses best. She loved cats and little dogs. They both hated bats, snakes, and rats.

When they finished breakfast, the morning crowds were filling up the booths. A few waved at the doc, and one of Lizzie's cousins, who worked at the bank, gave her a slight nod.

The excitement of the night faded, and the real world set in as they drove home. She wasn't some wounded princess, and the doc wasn't her knight. They were just two neighbors who had had breakfast together. The shooting, the cuddling, the breakfast conversation would fade, and everything would go back like it was.