Cowboys & Kisses (7 page)

He laughed. “It’s harder than it looks.”

I shrugged. “I believe you.”

He pushed off the counter. “Thanks again for dinner, Dr. Cooper. I’ll be back at first light.”

“You
are
allowed to sleep, Wyatt.” Mom smiled.

Dax followed Wyatt to the door, almost slamming into his back when Wyatt stopped in the doorway.

“Coming?” Wyatt asked me, brown eyes sparkling.

I knew Dax and Mom were watching. I knew if I went, it would mean something. And I knew
I wanted to go
…

I shook my head. “Don’t break anything.” I waved.

The slightest frown creased his face before he smiled. “Night.”

Dax, on the other hand, was clearly irritated. He shook his head and rolled his eyes.

When they were gone, I felt like an idiot. Once the leftovers were put away and the dishwasher was loaded, there was nothing to do.
Nothing
.

“Let me check your hand?” Mom asked. She unwrapped the bandage and nodded. “Looking good. I’ll take out the stitches in the morning.”
Good news.
“Any new college letters?” she asked as she finished covering my hand with a clean bandage.

“No. Not yet.”

“You’ve got time. I know your heart is set on SMU, but try to keep an open mind, okay?” I shrugged. Even if I didn’t get accepted to SMU, I was leaving. She had to know that. “The clinic needs computers so…” she sighed, looking tired. She had to be exhausted. The move. The clinic. Dad, being Dad. Dax. Me…

“Good luck.”

She nodded and moved to her desk. In no time, Mom became absorbed in her laptop, scouring the Internet, determined to find a deal on computers for the clinic—and some organizational software too, I hoped.
Poor Mom. Talk about a big job.

I didn’t have a computer yet—another confiscated item. Which was fine, since I didn’t
want
to check email or know what was happening in the rest of the world. It was enough to know that the world was going on just fine without me.

I grabbed a book and went onto the front porch and the waiting swing.

***

This was all familiar, this dream…

A nightmare. Inescapable…

Nothing I did could change it. Or stop it. I was watching it happen again—like a movie.

Rain. Icy cold. Dark night outside. Loud, hot party inside. I don’t remember whose house it was. It didn’t matter.

Lindie fighting with her boyfriend, Charlie. The scene. Him leaving. Lindie crying. We did shooters to make her stop crying. Lots and lots of shooters.

Lindie flirting with Zach Haney, Charlie’s best friend.

Me feeling sick…wanting to go.

Lindie laughing, getting too cozy with Zach—again. Zach smiling, totally into her.

I hated this—watching them hook up and having to keep it a secret.

They kept laughing.

I wanted to go home but they wouldn’t listen. I saw myself lean forward, whispering to her—something I couldn’t take back.
I’ll tell Charlie about Zach
—something I’d promised never to do.

She almost slapped me but I caught her hand, so angry…she might have hated me. But she got Zach to take us home.

It was raining hard and freezing as I made a beeline for Zach’s piece of crap Suburban. His dented tank had heavy-duty clear plastic sheeting duct-taped across the back instead of an actual window. I leaned against the side and threw up—a lot—then climbed into the very back and passed out to the sound of rain on plastic…

Rain on metal.

Screaming.

Screeching brakes.

Impact. My bones hurting. And then I was flying—airborne—out the plastic-wrapped window. Falling…forever.

Hitting asphalt, hard. Pain. Whacking my head. Pain.

Rain. Confusion. Cold. Pain.

Lindie?

Something wet touched my hand. That was new.

Suburban… Pain… Eighteen-wheeler… Sliding off the road…

Something sticky was definitely on my hand. I shook my hand.

Lindie. Zach. The drainage ditch full of rushing water… I screamed and screamed…

There was panting in my ear. Heavy panting. Something was…licking my hand?

“Pickett.” A familiar voice, soft but firm. “Leave her be.”

“Wake her up.” That sounded like Dax. “She’s having a bad dream.”

“Is she?”

“All the time.”

“I can carry her up.” That other voice…Wyatt.

Was this a dream?

Dax snorted. “She wakes up with you carrying her and she’ll probably break your nose.”

So I
was
sleeping…on the porch swing. That would explain why I was cold…and uncomfortable.

Wyatt’s chuckle was soft. “Guess I better hope she doesn’t wake up.”

Dax murmured, “You’re on your own man. I’ll wait here.”

My brother—my hero.

But my anger died as the most delicious warmth wrapped around me. Oh. My. God. Strong arms, a heartbeat, a hot palm pressed against my side. And I was being lifted, held, by those arms.

Wyatt was carrying me.
I like this dream…

I’m glad I
was
sleeping. If I wasn’t, I’d have to wake up. He’d put me down. I’d have to get pissy with him—because that’s what I did, acted pissed. Right now, I didn’t want him to put me down. And I was way too warm and comfortable to get pissy.

The front door opened. We were going inside, up the stairs…

I burrowed in a little, to breathe against his chest. His really strong, no-give chest.
God, he smells good.
Really
really
good.

I turned, pressing my cheek against him. His heartbeat picked up…a lot. And his arms tightened, holding me more surely. Something about that, the way he was holding me, made my heart thump. Maybe I should admit I was awake?

I heard the floorboard creak. We were almost to my room. Which was good. So why was I feeling panic?

Because he’ll put me down and leave…

My hand gripped his shirt front. I needed…wanted to hold on to him, to keep him here, protecting me, holding me. And for some new and bizarre reason, I felt sort of…frantic about it.

“Allie?” His voice was soft, his breath stirring the air by my ear.

I didn’t say anything. What was I supposed to say?
I’m awake but don’t put me down? You smell really good…and you feel even better?
Yeah, that wouldn’t go over very well.

Or would it? What if he was cool with it? What if he stayed? Did I want him to stay? I swallowed.

I was being lowered, slowly. I felt the muscles in his chest and arms and shoulders move against me and felt…breathless and hot and confused and…

I’m so in trouble.

My bed was soft beneath my back, but before his arms slipped out from under me I opened my eyes.

He froze, bent over me, his arms under me, looking guilty. “Hey.”

“Hi.” My voice was husky.

“You were asleep,” he said, still not moving.

I didn’t loosen my grip on his shirt. “And you thought…”

“I’d get you out of the cold.” His jaw tightened.

“Oh.” I nodded. “That was…nice of you.”

He smiled.
Oh shit. Yeah. Big trouble.

“I’m a nice guy,” he said, still not moving.

“So everyone keeps telling me.” Why did I sound so breathless? Why did I feel so breathless?

He glanced at my hold on his shirt. I didn’t let go.

When he looked at me, his smile was gone. His eyes stared at me, at my face, my eyes, my nose, my mouth. One of his hands slipped from beneath me, slowly reaching for me. His callused fingertips traced my cheek.

My heart went crazy. My stomach was hot and twisting and quivering.
Holy crap.

I blew out a deep breath, heard it hitch—knew he heard it too. The muscle in his jaw tightened and he smiled at me.
Holy freaking crap.

I wanted to smile back. I wanted to touch that way too gorgeous face.
I want to kiss—

The floorboard squeaked.

“Shit,” I hissed, letting go of Wyatt, pushing him away, right as Dax stuck his head in my room.

5 CHAPTER FIVE

“Wake her up?” Dax asked.

I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of my bed. “Yeah.”

“Are you bleeding?” Dax asked Wyatt, laughing. “I didn’t hear any fighting or furniture being broken.”

“No one’s bleeding.” I paused. “Yet.” I glared at Dax, refusing to look at Wyatt. I couldn’t. What the hell was wrong with me? My heart was pounding like crazy. I was all hot and bothered. Over a
cowboy?

I needed to find a hobby. Or a job. Or something.

“Good. Nice to know you can still be civilized when you want to be. Or maybe you were just caught off guard, being asleep and all.” Dax smiled.

I continued to glare at him, but didn’t take the bait. I didn’t have the energy.

“You should have come tonight, Allie.” Dax was watching me. “Beats sitting around here alone.”

I glanced at Wyatt then, but he seemed caught up in the photos and posters and newspaper clippings I’d tacked up on my walls.

“These all about you?” Wyatt asked.

I stood, standing beside him to look at one of the articles. It was about our journey to the state tournament and our championship game. The picture was after the game. We were all sweaty and victorious. Lindie was making a goofball face and I was grinning like a complete idiot.

“Not just me.” I shrugged. He shifted, leaning closer to me. The hair on my arms and the back of my neck stood up. “My old team,” I added.

“Allie was the only freshman to play varsity,” Dax chimed in.

“You’re that good?” Wyatt asked, facing me.

I knew I shouldn’t look at him, but the draw was too strong. And once I was looking—staring—at him, it was kind of hard to miss the curiosity in his bright gaze.

He was curious…about
me?
I swallowed, then shrugged.

“She’s
that
good.” Dax flopped onto my bed. “She’s
amazing
.”

I tore my gaze from Wyatt and put some space between us by directing all my attention on my brother. “Don’t be a jerk.” I knew he hated soccer. He knew I knew he hated soccer. He’d made sure to remind me my games were a huge time-suck on his weekends.

He frowned at me. “I was being serious.”

I frowned back. “You hate soccer.”

“I do hate soccer.” He nodded. “But you’re still an amazing player.”

I waited. Dax was really good at dragging out sarcastic punch lines. He had one humdinger of a comment coming, I just knew it… Any time now… I arched an eyebrow at him.

“What?” he asked.

I put my hands on my hips. “I’m waiting.”

“For?”

“Since when do you give me compliments?”

“The girls’ team could definitely use you,” Wyatt interrupted.

I shook my head.

“Come on, Allie.” Dax sighed. “You’re only hurting yourself.” I glared at him.

“Too bad.” Wyatt looked over one of the boards the team moms had put together—pictures, ribbons, newspaper clippings, all sorts of memorabilia.

A whimper came from the hallway, drawing my attention to a black and grey dog. It sat, its pointy ears perked up, staring at Wyatt with such concentration I couldn’t help but smile. “Who’s this?” I asked.

“Pickett,” Wyatt said, instantly calling the dog to his side. Pickett sat, his ears perked.

“Pickett?” I asked, squatting in front of the dog. Pickett’s ears drooped and his stubby tail began to wag frantically.

“He’s friendly,” Wyatt said.

I put my hand out and Pickett charged me, knocking me onto my butt and plastering me with wet doggie kisses.

Wyatt hissed and Pickett immediately sat where he was. His brown eyes looked at me, then Wyatt, then back at me again.

I could tell the dog was trying to control himself but I couldn’t resist. I rubbed Pickett behind the ears, ending any restraint the dog had. He was up, climbing into my lap.

I laughed, turning my head to avoid dog-kisses, and rubbed the wiggling animal with both hands. “I think friendly’s an understatement. Why I haven’t seen you before?”

“He’s always around. Laying in the shade, mostly. When he’s not working,” I could hear the smile in Wyatt’s voice but didn’t look away from Pickett. The dog ran around me, climbing over my legs, its stubby little tail going crazy the whole time. I laughed again as Picket settled onto my lap, staring at me until I rubbed his neck.

“You should get a dog,” Wyatt murmured.

I looked at him. “Why?” I giggled, tilting my head back to avoid Pickett’s slobbery tongue.

Dax looked at Wyatt then shook his head. Wyatt stared at me like I was missing something. Like I needed to feel any more awkward than I already did.

I stood up, hating the droop of Pickett’s ears. “What?” Both of them shook their heads, irritating me. “Dax…” I couldn’t think of anything. “Get off of my bed,” I snapped.

Dax stood, both hands up. “There’s the Allie we know and love.”

“You can leave any time.” I stepped closer.

Pickett was circling me, trying to get my attention. I smiled, impressed. He wasn’t jumping up on me or whining; it was like he was trying to…herd me. But I couldn’t stay in full bitch-mode while oohing over a dog, so I ignored him and all his furry cuteness.

“Time to go, Pickett.” Wyatt pointed to the door and the dog. “We’re in the way.”

“You’re not in the way,” I said before I realized what I was saying. But the look on Dax’s face, the slight smile on Wyatt’s, was too much. “
Pickett’s
not in the way,” I amended.

I didn’t like the way Wyatt’s smile dimmed. Or the way Dax frowned at me. Pickett, however, sat at my feet with his stubby little tail wagging.

“It’s late,” Wyatt tried again. “Gonna be another long day tomorrow.”

Dax shook his head. “You’re a slave driver, man,” he murmured as he walked out of my room. “And
I’m
not getting paid,” Dax continued to complain.