Rough Road Home (The Circle D series) (14 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

A bomb had detonated in his head.

Nick opened his eyes and carefully looked around the room. Plain walls; television in the corner; dark curtains pulled open to show a pink glow beyond the window. It wasn’t the hotel room he’d been expecting. He was used to drab, but not this drab. As he lifted his arm to check the time, he found an IV tube instead of his watch. Reality replaced assumption. Another hospital room. What happened this time?

His neck ached, the pain riding piggy-back on the one in his head. As he rolled to the side, he found Rachel, rumpled and asleep in a chair beside his bed, her head propped against his bed rail, her small hand tucked perfectly within his palm.

A lump formed in his throat. He’d traveled alone for so long, awakened in so many hotel rooms and hospital beds without a familiar face in sight, Nick couldn’t quite put his finger on the emotions building inside of him. As he watched her even breathing ruffle the sheet beside him, he recognized the loss of companionship he’d sacrificed for the fortress he’d erected around himself. Friendships dictated bonds and responsibilities, and in those relationships, a give and take was required. Unfortunately, Nick didn’t have anything to give.

With care, he turned his palm into hers. Her creamy skin felt so smooth beneath his thumb as he stroked small circles around her knuckles. The cuff of her flannel shirt stretched up her arm exposing a delicate wrist with a faint tan line where she might have worn her watch or a bracelet. Funny, the little things you notice when all is still.

Her tousled hair fanned across her face. Nick wanted to brush it back and tuck it behind her ear. Rachel had nice ears. Did she ever wear her hair up? For a formal event? She wouldn’t need anything fancy, Rachel was a class act just being herself.

He caught a glimpse of a fine, golden chain hooked on the button of her collar. It snaked into her shirt, but when he leaned forward, Nick could see a tiny cross resting in a fold of fabric. His gut twisted at the reminder of her faith. She turned to God with her lessons and music when things got tough, namely dealing with him. She found peace and strength in her relationship with Christ.

So had he at one time. God ignored him first. Now it was time to go it alone.

He stroked her hand a bit firmer. Her breath caught and her eyes fluttered open.

“Hmm, hi, you’re up,” she said in a husky voice as her palm rubbed down her face.

“Just a second ago,” he returned, hesitant to destroy the moment, but convinced of the need to keep space between them. “You can’t be comfortable.”

“I’ve slept better.” Pulling her hand from his, she sat up straight and stretched. “How’s your head?”

“It’s worked better.” He tried to smile, but all he could do was grimace. “Dare I ask why I’m in a hospital again?”

“The nap you took in the truck threatened to take you to Lala-land for good.” Yawning, she rubbed life back into her arm and blinked away her sleep before she squared her emerald-fired glare straight at him. “You scared me.”

Razor Rachel had returned full force. Bummer. He’d kind of liked her all soft and sweet, rather than ready and capable. “I take it the docs have checked me out? What’s up?”

“Right now, they’re watching the swelling in your brain. If everything looks normal after the next MRI, you can leave.” She leaned forward and brushed the hair off his face, her fingertips grazed his skin as she swiped at the stubble on his face. “You need a shave.”

His mouth went dry. He’d forgotten how gentle a touch could be--he’d known once, but that was so very long ago. Almost another lifetime. Her scent drifted around him. Not a teasing, provocative scent like so many women wore. He sniffed covertly. More like a downy, soft scent. The kind of scent that made you feel at home. Nick swallowed hard. “Shave? Probably.”

Their gazes met for an instant, long enough to let him know the awareness went both ways.

Rachel pulled back. Immediately, the wariness returned. “Let me call a nurse about that shave. Glad you’re feeling better this morning.”

Nick’s reply stuck in his throat. A knock at the door brought his salvation. Maybe miracles did happen.

“Good morning, Nick. I’m Dr. McMillan.” Rachel jumped out of her chair as the doctor stepped through the door. “Good to see you awake.”

Nick was fuzzy about the night before, but he did remember the pokes and prods, and way too many questions. He wasn’t really in the mood for more of the same this morning. “Rumor has it awake might not have been one of my options.”

“More truth than rumor.” Dr. McMillan looked up from his chart and grinned. “We’ve run a number of tests and they’ve all come back within proper ranges. Once the swelling is gone, you’re free to go.” He reached for the stethoscope in his pocket.

“How long is that going to be?”

“Hard to say. Breathe deep.” The doctor listened all over Nick’s chest, then lifted his wrist and timed the pulse. Apparently satisfied, he opened the chart and scribbled. “Head still hurt?”

“Yeah.”

He shuffled through pages and frowned. “We’ll up the pain medication, that should make you more comfortable. Another bag of fluid, too.”

Rachel stepped up and read over the doctor’s shoulder. “Is that what Nick took last night?”

“Yes.”

She glanced at Nick and then back to Dr. McMillan. “When we talked earlier, you said that it might induce nightmares. He had a pretty restless night.”

The last thing Nick needed was drug induced nightmares. He had enough of his own brand to deal with, thank you very much. “I don’t need any painkillers.”

“Your body won’t heal if it has to deal with the pain also.” The doctor scribbled out a prescription. “Here, this is relatively harmless. You shouldn’t have any side effects, but it also won’t subdue the discomfort as well.” Turning to Rachel. “Prescribing medication is a two-edged sword. It’s important the patient stays comfortable in order for the body to concentrate on fixing itself, but without the pain to stop them, sometimes patients overdo it. You’ll have to watch him closely.”

“Closer than she has been?” Nick mumbled.

“You’re in a very precarious position, here.” Dr. McMillan turned his full attention to Nick. “You’ve sustained a severe trauma and it won’t be easy recuperating. Now, as I was telling your wife yesterday, you can either start taking it easy or face the possibility of brain damage.”

Nick could do nothing more than stare at the doctor as the phrases taking it easy and brain damage swirled around the word
wife
.

“You’re scheduled for more tests later this afternoon. If everything looks good, you can leave tomorrow.” He turned toward Rachel as he ran a finger down a sheet of yellow paper. “I’ll compile a list of neurosurgeons in close proximity to Hawk Ridge. I’m afraid the closest you’ll find one is Colorado Springs, or maybe Steamboat Springs. Or you can come back here. It doesn’t matter where you go, just make sure you see one. If you have any questions, just ask.”

Rachel nodded and thanked the doctor.

Nick never took his gaze off her. Any questions? Yeah, one big one. He waited until the doctor stepped out and left them alone. Rachel’s gaze flitted everywhere but at him.

“So.” He cleared his throat, his mind racing over the possibilities. “Mountain Shadows Lodge and Fishing Resort also offers drive-thru wedding ceremonies?”

Rachel rolled her eyes. She rattled the sheet of paper at him. “Is that all you’re worried about? Didn’t you listen to anything else the doctor said?”

“Yeah, I did. I’ve heard the medical mumbo-jumbo before. It was the tiny word
wife
that threw me big time. Care to fill me in?”

At least she had the grace to look sheepish. “When the ambulance got to the gas station, one of the medics started checking you out, the other asked if I was next-of-kin. Not wanting to slow things down, I said, ‘Yes,’ - since I was probably the closest thing at the moment - and they assumed I was your wife. No one asked me for any identification.” A wry smile twisted her lips. “I’m not wearing a ring. I’m surprised they didn’t think I was your sister.”

Nick couldn’t help checking her out from the top of her auburn hair to mid thigh on her jeans where the edge of the mattress stopped his roaming gaze. “Sweetheart, no one would think you’re my sister.”

A subtle flush colored her cheeks. “Feeling better, I see.”

“I am feeling better. The last place I need to be is in a hospital. Use your
wifely
influence and spring me.”

“Nick, I can’t do that. You may not be worried about your head, but I’ll bet others are.” Before he could argue, she waved him quiet. “Uncle Mitch, for one. He’s coming to see you this evening.”

“Good, I've got a thing or two to settle with my old friend.”

“Don’t get him too angry. Someone’s going to have to take custody of you after I leave.” The words hung heavy in the air. “Uncle Mitch is staying at the inn by the arena. At least you’ll be comfortable.”

“Comfortable, right.”

Silence stretched between them. Rachel finally ran her hand through her hair and stepped around the chair, picking up her jacket.

“Look, I better go get cleaned up. You need your rest. I’ll be back later. I’d like to hear about your scan, but I’ll understand if you don’t want to tell me.”

An unexpected weight settled on his chest. Suddenly he didn’t want to be left alone. For four years, he’d managed all his mishaps by himself. Over the past two days, he’d discovered having help wasn’t so bad. Having Rachel around wasn’t so bad.

“I’m not much in the mood to sleep, guess I’ve done a lot of that lately.” He stared out the window barely registering the cloudy sky. “Don’t leave on my account.”

“Cowboy, everything I’ve been doing lately is on your account.”

He risked a glance and saw a shadow of a smile. “Trust me, my credit’s good.”

“Maybe, but a rodeo cowboy’s portfolio contains more risk ventures than this little stockbroker can handle.”

“Okay then, we’ll keep things neutral. How about you tell me what turned you to a life of money?”

A genuine smile deepened the dimple in her cheek. “A life of money? Try a life of other people’s money. I don’t get to keep the profit I make.” She stared at him a moment, her bright green eyes twinkling. Turning around, she drew her chair close to his side and sat down. “What do you want to know?”

Nick held his sigh of relief in check. He wanted her to stay, just for now. “Talk to me. Tell me the first thing that pops into your head.”

Without missing a beat, she grinned. “Hot chocolate.”

If he were a betting man, hot chocolate wouldn’t have made his top ten topics. “Hot chocolate? Why?”

“Look at it out there. We’re going to have an early snow. What else do you do during a snowstorm but drink hot chocolate?”

“Of course. How silly of me.”

She laughed, a pure, clean sound that penetrated right into his soul. She’d laughed when they’d first met and Nick hadn’t realized how much he’d been looking forward to her honest joy again. He drank in the sounds, sight, and scent of her, knowing this moment wouldn’t last, but the memory was his to keep forever.

“You’re too serious, Nick. God gave us snowstorms to make us stop our hectic pace and sit in wonder of His handiwork. You know each snowflake is different, right?”

He nodded.

“When I was little, I used to sit in the window seat of my bedroom during the snows, my cup of cocoa with marshmallows right beside me. I’d pretend to be the Snow Queen, blanketing her lands in snow so all her subjects had to go home to be with their families.”

She seemed unaware she traced a pattern on the bedspread at his side. Nick moved his hand slowly until her fingers bumped into his. “Um-hm, go home with family.”

“Of course, all our ranch hands would hurry through their chores then disappear either into the bunkhouse or cabins staggered about the place. I loved watching them go home to their families.” She released a wistful sigh as she stared out the window. “My brothers were a lot older than me and in charge of the ranch while Dad was gone. They’d stay out in the bunkhouse in case an emergency came up. Since I was the baby, I always stayed in the house with Mom. She’d would throw a log on the fire and we’d roast chestnuts and wait. . .for the storms to pass.”

Her fingertips bunched into her palm confirming her mental diversion of the conversation. He doubted it was the storm passing she’d waited for - more like her father missing out on moments that created eternal memories. Nick covered her hand with his and coaxed her grip open until their fingers intertwined. “I’ve heard snow can do that.”

“I still love snowstorms.” Her head tilted and a small frown formed between her brows as she stared at their hands. “My office overlooks Larimer Square in downtown Denver. There’s nothing prettier than snow falling at Christmastime when all the lights and decorations are up. I’ll sit by the window with my hot chocolate by my side and watch the flakes all evening long.”

Snowstorms had a completely different connotation to Nick, but he kept that bit of information to himself. All warm and snug at home was one thing; driving recklessly through a blizzard, quite another. Still, he wanted to keep her talking, wanted to keep her close, even if the subject touched a bit too close to home for him. His thumb traced a pattern along her finger. “Do you stay at work late very often?”