Back In Texas

“I—” He swallowed a sharp reply, suddenly tired of being defensive. Tired of the whole damned deal that had jerked him out of active service and into a world of surgery and pain, and empty promises from docs who didn’t have the guts to tell him the truth. “I do need some refills. Can a Texas P.A. write prescriptions?” he asked, more roughly than he’d intended.

“Yes, after you’ve established a relationship with that clinic.”

Damn. “So I have to wait until I can see the doc?”

He stifled a sigh. He could get along without most of his medications just fine, but the Skelaxin helped him keep moving during a bad day. And now and then, the Percocet was his only relief when the burning, throbbing pain in his shoulder or knee kept him awake until three in the morning.

When he finally fell into troubled sleep on those nights, the nightmares would return, and then he’d lie there wishing that he’d died in that godforsaken place instead of Tony and Dave and all the others. He rarely gave in and took the meds. But when he truly needed them…

She must’ve read his thoughts, because she touched his arm and smiled. “I can take care of this, easily.”

She handed him a clipboard from the counter. “Fill out this health history. If you don’t have your medical records, you’ll need to sign a release so we can request them by fax.”

He wished he’d just walked out the door. Confidentiality of medical records was mandated by federal law. But sharing personal information—having anyone read about the injuries that made him weak and useless now—still rankled.

And though there was nothing between them any longer, revealing those details of his life to Kristin Cantrell was a thousand times worse.

“I…have a folder of photocopies out in my truck.”

“Good, then. I’ll start a chart while you get it. After you fill out this form, I’ll take your vitals and you’ll be set.” She lifted a brow. “Are you game?”

There was a distinct challenge in her voice and her businesslike manner. She’d been such a sweet, shy little thing in college, wide-eyed at the world around her. Now she wore a much tougher veneer, and he could almost imagine her taking over a platoon.

In a few minutes he was back inside. He handed her the paperwork, then followed her down the empty hallway to an exam room. “Are you the only person here?”

“Our clinic nurse starts Tuesday.” She motioned him to the exam table, then flipped open the folder. “Oh, my God. You were at Walter Reed?”

He nodded.

“So this was no little bar fight, then.” She took a deep breath, clearly stunned. “You should go down to the Kerrville VA Medical Center. It would cost you a lot less, and—”

“No.”

“But—”

“I saw the doctor at Reed just last week. I don’t need to see anyone else.” His feisty doc back at the hospital had been sure Ryan would refuse to seek ongoing medical care, so the man had provided just enough capsules for the trip west, along with printed orders on what had to be represcribed by a local doctor. “Look, my dad’s outside talking to Arlen Enfield, but he won’t want to wait long.”

“Enfield…the former mayor?” She glanced up at Ryan, then started jotting something on the margins of the medical report. “Nice guy. I met him last winter, when I visited here.”

Enfield was tall, sophisticated. Urbane, with a propensity for saying just the right thing, but nice wasn’t the word Ryan would’ve used.

Who could forget the subtle animosity between the two men? Both wealthy ranchers, they’d been political rivals over the years. Intelligent, driven and competitive, they reminded him of two old dogs circling each other with hackles raised. “Can we make this quick?”

“Fine.” She took his blood pressure, weight and listened to his lungs, asking questions and jotting notes in a chart as she went.

She was pure, cool professionalism. But with every touch of her delicate hands, he had to force himself to be still, to betray no reaction. He hoped she didn’t sense his tension.

Only after he’d walked out the door of the clinic was he finally able to haul his thoughts back to the present.

Trevor would definitely need to bring Dad into the clinic on Tuesday, because seeing Kristin again was the last thing Ryan wanted.

No Ranger with a 60mm mortar could have done a better job of destroying his heart.

KRISTIN WAITED until she heard the door of the clinic close behind Ryan, then leaned her forehead against the cool, smooth wall of the waiting room. His new patient chart still in her arms, she willed away the tears burning behind her eyelids.

She’d expected challenges when she decided to move back to Homestead, with a new career. A new home. A nine-year-old son who considered Central Texas the last place on earth he wanted to live. And a town that held bad memories from her early childhood.

But she certainly hadn’t expected to run into Ryan Gallagher on her second day here.

For years, she’d known he was a Ranger, involved in highly dangerous operations in the Middle East. Last year, when she’d been back in town for her dad’s funeral, she’d overheard someone mention that he was still there, and that he rarely ever showed up in Texas.

There was nothing between them, not anymore. But discovering that he’d been airlifted out of Iraq as a “Critical 4”—on the verge of death—just months ago, had filled her with sadness.

Scanning the grim surgical reports in his medical folder had made her feel worse. His well-muscled, six-foot-two body had suffered multiple, serious injuries that time would never totally heal.

His lean, darkly handsome face was the same. The nearly black hair she’d once loved to touch. The piercing blue eyes and strong masculine jaw.

But the sexy twinkle in his eyes had died, along with his quick wit and his born-and-bred Texas cowboy manners, leaving behind a stranger. A hardened and dangerous soldier, one who’d survived all those years.

With luck, Ryan hadn’t seen the sorrow and sympathy in her eyes over all he’d sacrificed in the line of duty, or noticed how his arrival had thrown her off balance.

But no matter what he thought, no matter what she’d once prayed for, there was no going back. She had too much at stake during the next six months to even think about old loves or new beginnings. Cody’s future depended on it.

CHAPTER THREE

“SO…WHAT DO YOU THINK of your new place?” Miranda Wright, Homestead’s mayor, climbed out of her blue GMC pickup and pulled an overflowing welcome basket from across the seat, then closed the door.

Her dog—some sort of golden Lab mix—hung its head out the window and watched sorrowfully as Miranda flipped her long ponytail over her shoulder and handed the wicker basket to Kristin with a flourish. “Dusty really wanted my mom’s Texas Pecan Kisses—there’s a dozen of ’em in here—and I swear that dog will do anything for a cookie.”

Kristin grinned at her over the huge red bow tied at the top of the handle. “Thanks. Want to come in and see what I’ve done so far?”

The tall, leggy brunette checked her wristwatch and frowned. “Just a few minutes. I’ve got to get home, load up and deliver hay to a sheep farmer near Llano by five.”

“The guy down at Tanner’s grocery tells me you raise the best peaches in the entire area.” Kristin shook her head in amazement as she pulled open the yard gate set in the low limestone wall encircling the house and ushered the other woman through. “You must be the busiest person in Loveless County.”

Miranda laughed. “I don’t handle it all alone. My mother, Nan, takes a very active part, and we usually have at least one family working for us.” She stopped in front of the small two-story house and propped her hands on her hips. “I think this is one of my favorite old houses in this area. A little paint, replace some windows on the ground floor, and this place will be lovely, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I do. I already have a lot of plans, for when I have the money and the time.” Kristin led the way up onto the wraparound porch and into the front room. “We’ve just unboxed the living-room things and still need curtains, but it’s starting to feel like home.”

Just minutes ago she and her son, Cody, had shoved their old leather couch and love seat into position, with the couch facing the fieldstone fireplace and the love seat at a right angle to it, flanked by oak end tables. A lacy white afghan over the back of the love seat covered the worst of the scuffs, and a pile of pillows on the couch covered a couple of old stains.

Miranda brushed a hand across one of the stained glass lamps on the end tables, admiring the deep jewel tones. “These are so pretty. Family heirlooms?”

Kristin felt herself blush. “A consignment store in Austin, I’m afraid. There weren’t many things to pass down in my family.”

“Lovely all the same.” Miranda nodded in approval. “It’s great finding treasures like these and being able to save money while you’re at it.”

She moved over to a wall and peered at the thermostat. “Have you checked the heating system? The water and appliances? We sent a handyman out here to look at everything before you arrived this week, but I always want to make sure.”