Phantom Waltz Page 4

  He had a point. She hadn’t been adventurous in a long while, and no matter what her brothers might say, she meant to enjoy this evening with him. “What about the mud pulls? You’re a sponsor, remember, and need to be there.”

  “I need to make an appearance. We’ll still go—after the surprise. It’s one of those things that just won’t keep, and I think you’ll enjoy it more than the pulls.”

  Bethany couldn’t imagine what he had planned, but she instinctively trusted him—even when he drove with his elbows. She hugged her waist and stared through the windshield, her vision blurring on the yellow line.

  He leaned forward to turn up the volume on the stereo. “Do you mind? This is my favorite song ever.”

  “You’re joking. It’s mine, too.”

  “You like Montgomery?”

  She nodded. “I can barely sit still when a song of his is playing.”

  He swept off his hat, laid it on the console, and then, dividing his attention between her and the road, gazed across the cab at her as if she were the love of his life as he sang the refrain. The song was “I Swear,” a beautiful outpouring of devotion in which the vocalist promised on the moon and the stars to be as steadfast as a shadow at his lover’s side until death parted them.

  Ryan Kendrick had a voice that made her bones melt. When he continued to sing to her, she couldn’t resist joining in, even though she sounded like a toad croaking on a lily pad. She had never been able to sing worth a darn. Dancing had been her forte—once upon a memory, a lifetime ago. Now she could only feel the beat of country music and dream.

  Just as she found herself dreaming right now that Ryan Kendrick really meant the words he was singing to her. Idiocy. What was it about him? Silly Bethany, spinning dreams. She supposed it was partly that Ryan was so handsome—the tall, dark, dreamy kind of handsome one usually saw only in the movies. That, coupled with the fact that he was so nice, made for a lethal package.

  She was almost grateful that there would be only this one evening with him. Otherwise she might be in serious danger of getting her foolish heart broken.

  Chapter Three

  The “surprise,” as it turned out, was taking Bethany to see his new foal. The instant she glimpsed the sprawling brick house perched on a knoll overlooking Crystal Lake, she knew they were at his ranch. Moonlight shone through misty fog that wreathed the trees bordering the clearings, the shimmer of silvery illumination touching everything with magic. In the pastures they passed, she saw oodles of cows with spring calves at their sides, which made her laugh with delight.

  “Oooh, aren’t they darling?”

  He stopped for a moment near an outdoor pole light so she could peer through the gloom at the babies. “See that little fella?” He pointed to a sweet baby Hereford with a snow-white face. “I call him Pig. He goes after the tit like you would not believe. Made his mama all sore and then started shoving other calves aside to hog their milk. For nigh on a week, I had to keep him in a pen and feed him with a titty bucket.”

  A funny look came over his face, and he scrunched his dark eyebrows in a frown. “Sorry,” he said softly. “I forget sometimes that not everybody lives on a ranch and hears that kind of talk.”

  Bethany giggled. She couldn’t stop herself. “I grew up on a ranch, Ryan. I’m not that easily offended.”

  He smiled and visibly relaxed as he shifted back into drive. “You’re a sweetheart. I’m sorry, anyhow, for not minding my manners.”

  As his truck bumped along the gravel road, Bethany gazed dreamily at the lake, which glistened like polished black glass, occasional patches of ice creating frosty islands in the vastness. She couldn’t imagine waking up of a morning and being able to feast her sleepy gaze on such beauty while she sipped a cup of coffee. “Oh, my. How lucky you are, Ryan. It’s beautiful here.”

  “I think so. But, then, I was raised out here so I’m probably biased.”

  She took in the expansive pastures nearer the house, which encircled countless outbuildings and were crisscrossed with white fencing. “You don’t need to do this, you know. My chair doesn’t handle well on muddy surfaces, and it’s bound to be muddy in the stable. We had rain only a couple of days ago.”

  “If I wait to bring you out, there may not be any new foals. They’re still cute later, but nothing beats seeing one right after birth.” He flashed a grin, his teeth gleaming in the shadows. “In another hour, that colt’s appearance will change.” His voice dipped to a gentle, deep tone. “Just relax, honey. Have a good time. The mud won’t be a problem.”

  On a ranch this size, there were probably mud wallows deep enough to swallow his Dodge. “I just don’t want you to regret asking me out.”

  “I’m having fun. A lady who likes mud pulls, horses, and John Michael Montgomery. Where have you been hiding all my life?”

  Oh, dear. He had no idea what he was getting into. She imagined her chair wheels dropping out of sight in the mud, and him, slipping and sliding as he wrestled to free them from the muck. She swallowed back further protests, though. This was a lovely gesture, and she didn’t want to spoil it.

  Even with outside lights blazing, she couldn’t tell much about his house—except that it looked big enough to hold three of hers. He parked the pickup as close to the stable entrance as possible, unloaded her wheelchair from the bed of the truck, carried it somewhere inside, and then came back to get her. She took a bracing breath when he opened the passenger door.

  He quickly unfastened her seat belt and swung her up into his arms.

  “Oh, my!”

  “I won’t drop you, sweetheart.”

  “What if you slip?”

  He chuckled. “It’ll be a first. I’ve carted struggling calves and foals through here when the mud was ankle deep, and I’ve never gone down yet. It might help if you’d be still, though.”

  She went instantly motionless, which prompted him to laugh again. “Why do I get this feeling nobody ever picks you up?”

  “They don’t usually. Not in ages and ages, anyway. I’ve worked hard to become self-sufficient. I hate inconveniencing people.”

  “And as a result, you haven’t seen a new foal in so long you can’t remember when? Forget about being an inconvenience.”

  He proceeded to carry her with apparent ease into the white clapboard building. As he picked his way down the well-lighted center aisle, he circled several muddy spots in the packed earth, which she eyed with growing dread.

  “I wish you’d stop worrying,” he told her. “I’m glad for an excuse to check on Rosebud. Sly, our foreman, will come over to look in on her, but it’s not the same as doing it myself. Now I won’t worry about her while I’m at the mud pulls.”

  He reached her wheelchair, which he’d left in front of a horse stall. Instead of lowering her into it, as she expected, he maintained his hold so she could look over the stall gate at the mare and newborn foal.

  “Well?” His voice rang with pride. “What do you think of him?”

  When Bethany saw the horses, she all but forgot the man who held her in his arms. Just as he had described, the foal was all gangly legs and knobby knees, and still so recently born that his nose and ears looked out of proportion to the rest of his body. She laughed in delight. “Oh, Ryan, he’s wonderful!”

  “I thought you’d like him,” he said huskily.

  “He’s going to be gorgeous.”

  “His sire, Flash Dancer, throws some real beauties.”

  Rosebud whickered and left her foal to come welcome them. Bethany’s heart melted the instant she looked into the mare’s gentle brown eyes. “And you must be Rosebud. Aren’t you lovely. No wonder your son’s so handsome.”

  “Careful. Being a first-time mama, she’s a little edgy, and you’re a stranger. She tried to take a hunk out of the vet right after the foal was born.”

  Bethany reached over the gate. “I’ve never had a horse dislike me yet.”

  Ryan stiffened, prepared to block Rosebud if she made a threatening
move, but the mare only sniffed Bethany’s outstretched fingers, then her arm. Apparently satisfied that this new human was no threat, the horse whickered again and moved closer to the gate, nudging Bethany’s shoulder.

  “I’ll be. She does like you.”

  “Of course. Horses always like me.” She shared her breath with the mare and stroked her muzzle. “I haven’t any clue why, but it’s been that way for as long as I can remember.”

  “Some people are just born with a gift.”

  “I think it runs in our family. My brothers are amazing with horses. Especially Jake and Hank. You know that movie about the horse whisperer? They’re just that good. When I was younger, I spent hours watching Jake work with them. My dad used to say he was like a horse charmer. Different name, same thing. He can work with a wildly uncontrollable horse and have it behaving beautifully in only a few weeks. It’s uncanny, almost as if he actually communicates with them somehow.”

  Watching Bethany with Rosebud, Ryan could believe she had a special gift and that her brothers might as well. Her face fairly glowed as she admired the mare’s finely shaped head. Ryan lifted her a bit higher so she could reach over the gate. Keeping one slender arm hooked around his neck, she twisted and arched up to scratch between Rosebud’s ears. As a result, her parka drew apart and the plaid-covered peak of one softly rounded breast hovered a scant inch from his nose.

  His breath hitched, and his throat closed off. She had no idea she was pressing her nipple so close, and he needed a swift kick for noticing. Even worse, he shouldn’t imagine what it might be like if that nipple were bare.

  Shouldn’t, but did.

  She fit comfortably in his arms, her weight so slight he barely noticed it. If they were lovers, he could nibble on that sensitive peak until she sobbed with yearning and begged him to nibble elsewhere. The sweetness of her scent worked on his senses like an intoxicant, the tantalizing mélange of baby powder, deodorant, well-scrubbed skin, and feminine essence making him want to taste every sweet inch of her.

  Whoa, boy. What the hell was he thinking? She wasn’t trying to entice him. Just the opposite. He recognized “hands off” signals when he saw them, and Bethany’s eyes flashed the message every time she looked at him.

  “You’ve spent a lot of time with horses, then?” he asked, forcing his gaze back to her face.

  “You’re looking at a three-time state champion in barrel racing.”

  He vaguely recalled that one of Harv Coulter’s kids had made a big splash on the rodeo circuit. For some reason, he’d always thought it was one of the boys. “Three-time state champion? You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. I was phenomenal!”

  He couldn’t help but grin at her unabashed lack of humility.

  When she noted his expression, she said, “Well, I was. No brag, just fact, cowboy. I practically lived in the saddle until I got hurt.” Her eyes shimmered. “With five older brothers, I was the world’s worst tomboy. I would have slept with my horse if Daddy hadn’t put his foot down.” She gave Rosebud a final scratch and then lowered herself back into the circle of his embrace to loop both arms around his neck. “Thank you so much for bringing me, Ryan. Even the smell of a stable seems heavenly after so many years. I’ve missed it.”

  Her breast now pressed against his collarbone, her nipple only a dip-of-his-chin away. “Don’t a couple of your brothers still own horses?”

  “Jake and Zeke do, and I’m sure Hank will again someday. On a much smaller scale now that we don’t have a ranch, of course. They ride for pleasure. Isaiah and Tucker, my other two brothers, don’t live here in town for the time being. They’re both away right now, doing their internships.”

  “Doctors?”

  “Vets.” She smiled. “They hope to start a practice together here when they finish up. They’re both horse lovers as well. Perhaps you can use them when they get their shingle up. It’ll be tough until they build a reputation.”

  “I’ll keep them in mind.” Ryan frowned. “I’m sorry if it seems nosy, but I have to ask. If two of your brothers still keep horses, why is it you’re never around them anymore?”

  Her smile remained in place, but the radiance dimmed.

  “It upsets my mom if I even look at a horse.” She glanced down at her wheelchair, clearly expecting him to deposit her in it. When she looked back up, she laughed and said, “Are you going to put me down, or have your arms frozen in this position?”

  Ryan was loath to turn loose of her. Oh, man. He was in trouble here. He needed to back off, take a deep breath.

  What the hell was the matter with him? He’d known men who took one look at a woman and went into Neanderthal mode, but he’d never been one of them. What was more, everything about Bethany’s behavior told him she was wary and needed a slow hand. If he moved too fast, he’d scare her off.

  The thought hung in Ryan’s brain. If he moved too fast? When, exactly, had he gone from taking her out on an obligatory date to making moves on her?

  He bent to set her in the chair, acutely conscious as his hands slid away from her soft curves. She felt right; there was no other word to describe it.

  After she was settled, she leaned forward to grasp her left knee and lift her foot onto the rest. Ryan quickly helped with the other leg. As she sat back and he looked up, their gazes locked, and for a long moment he found it impossible to move or break eye contact. Unless he imagined it, she was holding her breath. He could breathe fine, but his pounding heart was about to crack a rib.

  When he finally straightened, his throat had gone tight with an emotion he couldn’t and didn’t want to name. Judging by the look in her eyes, she felt it as well, and it scared her to death.

  As he turned to unlatch the stall gate, he groped for something to say, anything to ease the sudden tension. “You hurt your back in a riding accident?”

  It wasn’t really a question. Why else would her mother get upset whenever she looked at a horse?

  “While I was barrel racing.” Her voice was shaky, and the brief silence afterward was brittle. “State competition, my fourth year. I had my eye on the nationals.” A melancholy note laced her words. “My horse, Wink, stepped in a hole and went to her knees as she started into a turn. I went over her head, landed on my side over a barrel, and that was that.” She brushed at a smudge of dust on her jeans, then pushed at her dark, glossy hair. His fingers itched to touch it. “I was very fortunate. When the barrel tipped, I fell directly in Wink’s path and she couldn’t stop. With all that weight crashing down on top of me, the injury to my spine could have been much worse.”

  Ryan glanced at her legs. Worse? Dear God, she was paralyzed from the waist down. It didn’t get any worse.

  By way of explanation, she added, “Most of the damage was to one side of my spinal cord, and unlike many paraplegics, I have some feeling here and there, which makes my life and daily routine much easier.”

  Ryan circled that, wondering how “feeling here and there” could make her life easier. Paralyzed was paralyzed. Right?

  Apparently noticing the bewildered look on his face, she grinned. “That’s a polite way of saying it. You’ll have to ferret out the rest by yourself.”

  She was referring to continence, he realized, an ability many paraplegics didn’t have.

  She glanced around the stable. “How many horses do you have, Ryan?”

  “Twenty-three in this stable, close to thirty over at Rafe’s place. Working stock, some show. We breed and sell quarter horses on the side.”

  He moved her chair to swing the stall door wide. “Don’t be nervous. Now that she’s accepted you, Rosebud will be a perfect lady. I honestly believe I could lay a baby at her feet.”

  “I’m not nervous.”

  Eager for more petting, the mare exited the stall.

  “Oh, Ryan, how sweet. She really does like me.”

  It was true; the mare headed straight for her. The new foal wobbled in his mama’s wake. Clearly delighted, Bethany leaned forward over her
knees to pet him. Rosebud whickered and chuffed, almost as if she were giving permission. Watching the three of them together, Ryan frowned to himself, thinking what a shame it was that this young woman’s affinity for horses was going to waste.

  “You know, unless I’m mistaken, they have saddles for paraplegics.”

  In an oddly hollow voice, she said, “Yes, I know.”

  “Are you afraid to get back on a horse?”

  “I honestly can’t say. I haven’t been on a horse since my accident.” She went back to admiring Rosebud’s colt. “Probably not. What happened to me, it was none of it Wink’s fault. She was—is—the most wonderful animal on earth.”

  “She’s still around?”

  “Oh, yes. Bless my brother Jake’s heart, he rescued the poor baby. Took her out to his place and sold her the following week to a local rancher who uses her to work cattle. She’s only thirteen and has many a race left in her.”

  “You say Jake rescued her?”

  “Daddy nearly shot her. Silly of him, blaming her.” She ran her slender hands the length of the colt’s ears. “Wink wouldn’t have hurt me for the world.”

  “I know what you mean. My brother Rafe blamed a horse for the deaths of his first wife and kids, and he ordered the animal to be shot.”

  “I hear a story in there.”

  “An old story now, thank goodness. We’d gone north to pick up a stallion we’d purchased.” He nodded toward the new foal. “Flash Dancer, this little guy’s sire. Rafe took his wife Susan and their two kids along. We made a weekend out of it, took in a rodeo, treated the kids to a carnival, that sort of thing. On the way home a hailstorm struck, and the sound of the ice hitting the trailer frightened the stallion. Rafe was following along behind the truck and trailer in the station wagon, and he radioed me in the truck that maybe he and I should ride in the trailer for a while to settle the horse down before he hurt himself.” The memories made Ryan’s voice grow thick. “His wife Susan grew up here, and she was used to driving in snow and ice. It never occurred to either one of us that she might have a problem.”