Dylan's Last Dare

He tensed. Oh yeah, that was going to help a lot.

Brenna just stood there for a few more moments.

“Is there something else you want?” he asked.

“Staying closed up in here isn’t good for you, Dylan. Not when you’re used to having people around.”

“I don’t have a problem with it.”

“As your therapist, I do. Your sister-in-law called and asked if you want to come up to the house for dinner.”

Oh boy, the whole family all at once. He thought about Wyatt and the way he’d handled things earlier.

“If you are worried about the children, I know little Kelly would love to get to know you better.”

“I’m not good with kids.”

“Kelly is female. No matter what her age, I bet you can have her charmed in minutes.” Brenna wrinkled her nose and Dylan knew she was trying to hide a smile.

“If I’m so good with the ladies, how come it hasn’t worked on you?”

Her easy laughter filled the room. “I don’t think you’ve been trying to charm me, only drive me away. Besides, I’m not a lady. I’m your therapist.”

Ooh, she was definitely a lady. “Just out of curiosity, what would it take to get your…attention?”

“More than sweet words…or a cocky smile. I have three brothers, and they’ve inherited a bit of the blarney along with their Irish genes.” She sobered. “Besides, I learned a long time ago to believe only half of what men say, and the other half is probably exaggerated.”

“Whoa, someone must have done you wrong, lady.” He scooted to the edge of the bed and placed his legs on the floor. “Who was he? Want me to go beat him up?”

A sadness transformed her face. “His name was Jason. And you can’t beat him up…he’s dead.” She started to leave, when Dylan reached out and grabbed her arm. She pulled away as tears formed in her eyes.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” The urge to take her into his arms and hold her was overwhelming.

“It’s okay.” She moved toward the door. “I guess if you aren’t going to your brother’s for dinner then I better fix you something.”

He shook his head. “No, don’t cook, Brenna. We’re going to supper at Wyatt’s.”

“I’ll help you get there,” she said, “but it would be better if you go to dinner on your own.”

“Look, for the past week we’ve been living in pretty close quarters. And it’s been hard to stay out of each other’s business, much less their space. I’ve let you handle me at will, strap me in contraptions, and cause me considerable pain. Now, I’d say you owe me. Please, go with me.”

She hesitated. “Okay, but don’t think you’re going to get your way all the time.”

He wanted his way, all right. With her. “I’ll take what I can get.” He got to his feet. “Give me ten minutes to shower.” Using his crutches, he grabbed some underwear and a pair of jeans from the bureau drawer.

“You be sure to use the bench in the tub,” she warned.

“Or what? You’re coming in and joining me?” He grinned. “Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.”

He watched her blush, but she didn’t back down. “Be careful, remember I can hurt you.”

He wasn’t thinking pain, only pleasure as he headed off to the shower, a cool one. And for the first time in a long while, it was good to feel alive.

Fifteen minutes later they were both seated in one of the golf carts that belonged to the Mustang Valley Guest Ranch. With Brenna behind the wheel, they headed up to the main house. That was the easy part. The three steps to the porch were much more of a challenge to Dylan.

“You’re getting to be pretty good with those crutches,” Brenna said.

“Now, who’s trying to charm who?” he asked, trying to relax his labored breathing.

“If that’s what it takes, I’ll do my part.”

He smiled, enjoying the easiness between them. “Just how far will you go, Ms. Brenna?”

Even under the porch light, he could see she was flustered, but before she could give a retort the door opened and Kelly appeared. The child looked a little apprehensive, then relaxed seeing Brenna. “Hi, Unca Dylan,” she said. “Hi, Brenna.”

“Hello, Kelly,” Brenna said, and she pulled open the screen door allowing Dylan to go in first. Then she followed.

Dylan’s gaze swept around the huge sunny-yellow kitchen. There were pine cabinets and white-tiled countertops. At the stainless-steel stove, his sister-in-law stood cooking. His brother had always talked about having a home. It looked as if he’d gotten his wish.

Maura turned and smiled. “Dylan and Brenna, I’m so glad you both came.”

“Thank you for inviting us,” Brenna said.

Maura walked over to greet them, surprising Dylan with a hug. Then she stood back and gave him the once-over. “Well, look at you, Dylan, getting around so well.” She turned to Brenna. “Thank you for helping him.”

“Oh, Dylan is the one who did the work,” she insisted. “I only gave him a little push now and then.”

“Using a bulldozer,” Dylan said, and they all laughed.

The sound of voices drew their attention to the doorway where Wyatt and seven-year-old Jeff walked into the room. He and Wyatt weren’t identical twins, Dylan thought, struck once again by their differences, but they were pretty close, with the same height and build. Their hair color was the same, but their eyes were different—his brother’s were blue while his were more gray. Wyatt was the more sensible one. Dylan had always been attracted to trouble.

The young boy’s face lit up. “Wow, Dad, Uncle Dylan came.”

Wyatt smiled. “Yes, son, I’d say he did.” He walked up to Dylan. “Glad you could make it, bro.”

“I didn’t have much choice,” Dylan lied as he leaned on his crutches. “This was the only way to get a taste of Maura’s meat loaf. You’ve certainly bragged about it enough.”

“Well, come and sit down,” Wyatt coaxed. “Dinner shouldn’t be too long. Would you like something to drink? Soda? Iced tea? Milk?”

“Iced tea sounds good.”

“I’ll get it.” Jeff ran to the refrigerator, then came back with a full glass. “Uncle Dylan, Dad said you’re the best bull rider in the world.”

A sadness moved through him, but he pushed it aside and smiled at his nephew. “Well, I had won the national championship, but someone else won the title this year.”

“I told Benny Roberts you did, but he said that I’m lyin’ ‘cause you aren’t really my uncle.”

A strange protectiveness came over Dylan. “I guess you just have to prove him wrong. As soon as I locate my things, I’ll dig up one of my championship buckles and you can show him.”