The Cowboy's Valentine Bride

Chapter Two

Brody woke with a start, his heart thudding hollowly in his ears. The dream was still fresh in his mind—fire, explosions, fear mingling with his training. In his dream, he pulled himself across the dusty ground, a trail of fresh blood behind him, and he grabbed at Jeff’s hand, only to realize his hand was all that was left of him. He always woke at the same place, with the hand clutched in his, rubbery and limp.

Brody swallowed the bile that rose in his throat, and he sucked in a wavering lungful of air. This had been his first night back home, and he’d slept in the visitor’s bedroom on the main floor. There had been no way he was hopping up those stairs last night, and so they’d settled him down here. It was just as well—he wasn’t sure how he’d feel about sleeping in his old bedroom anyway. His sister’s room was directly above him, and glancing at the clock, he realized that she’d already be out doing chores. It was past four in the morning.

I should be out there, too.

He rubbed his hands over his face and grimaced as he sat up. His leg throbbed. If things were different, he’d already be out in the frigid January air. He’d be driving out to the herds with a pickup bed full of hay, and he’d bring a shovel to break the ice that would cover the cattle’s water troughs. He’d always wanted to join the army, but that hadn’t emptied the cowboy out of him. There was something about the crisp air at dawn and the lowing of cattle that soothed his soul like nothing else, and right now, he could use a little soothing, but he hardly felt like he deserved it.

Jeff had had a wife and three small kids waiting for him, and he’d returned home in a box. Jeff’s wife would have been given a flag in her husband’s honor, and those little kids would never see their dad again. Jeff always had pictures in his pocket, and he’d show them to anyone who would look. Three blond, blue-eyed kids, the youngest of which looked like she could barely walk. So when Brody got back to American soil to find out his fiancée hadn’t waited for him, it hardly seemed fair that he should be the one to come back alive.

He just hadn’t counted on the dreams. Other guys had mentioned them—the haunting nightmares that came back every time they shut their eyes, but somehow he’d thought he’d be immune. He was tough—but not that tough, apparently.

He grabbed the bottle of pills on his nightstand and shook two into his palm. They’d help with the pain. He’d have to remember what time he took them so he could tell Kaitlyn when she arrived.

Kaitlyn as his nurse was hard to wrap his head around. She’d been attending nursing school when he left, but he’d never really imagined her in the role. Her aunt, Bernice Harpe, was the local nurse—a solid woman of sixty. Kaitlyn had always been Nina’s younger sister to him, sitting with textbooks and paper spread in front of her at the kitchen table. When he thought of Kaitlyn, he saw her with a backpack and her hair pulled into a ponytail. And a year later, she was his nurse—cleaning his wounds, checking his stitches, noting his medication. And she was bossy, too.

Swallowing the pills, he dropped back onto his pillow. Everything had changed since his return. The shock of Nina’s marriage was starting to wear off, and while he’d been sure that underneath that shock was some heartbreak and pain, right now he felt relief. He’d been absolutely positive that Nina was the woman for him before he left for the army, but after boot camp and eleven months in the desert with spiders as big as his hand, he’d done a lot of changing, too. He wasn’t the same guy who left town a little over a year ago, and while he’d hoped he could pick up where he left off at home, he’d been wrong.

Maybe Nina marrying someone else was for the best. He couldn’t really imagine her nursing him back to health anyway. He’d been the one to take care of her, not the other way around. She’d been flirtatious and fun, and incredibly high maintenance. That engagement ring had set him back significantly more than three months’ salary. If she’d waited for him, he’d have had to face that look of disappointment when she realized the husband she’d be saddled with—wounded, bitter, broken. Maybe it was all for the best... The pain had dulled—still there but somehow far away—and his eyes drooped shut.

Several hours later, Brody awoke again, this time to a soft tap on his door. He pulled his blanket over his waist to keep himself decent and called, “Yeah?”

The door opened to reveal Kaitlyn. She wore a pair of jeans and a white cotton shirt that brought out the contrast between her milky skin and the auburn waves that fell behind her shoulders. That sure beat waking up to Afghanistan.

“Morning,” she said. “How did you sleep?”

“Like the medicated.”

“I guess that’s to be expected,” she said with a chuckle. “What time did you take your pills last night?”

“Four in the morning.”

She jotted it down on a chart, then pulled out a roll of gauze. “I’m going to change your dressing this morning. Are you okay with that?”

Her tone was professional and slightly distanced. He might as well be in the hospital again with the kind but unrecognizable nursing staff that moved through his room like clockwork. He didn’t like this side to Kaitlyn—and while he appreciated her attempt to put him at ease, maybe he didn’t need to be at ease. A few messy, personal connections were better than sterile professionalism, where the emptiness was filled by the clamor of his memories.

“How come you’re being so formal?” he asked with a grimace.

“I’m your nurse. You’re my patient. It’s a different relationship, and you need to be able to trust me for your medical concerns.”

“I’d trust you a whole lot more if you didn’t sound like a stranger,” he said.

Kaitlyn smiled and shrugged—suddenly she looked like the same old Kate who used to beat him at cards.

“That’s more like it,” he said. “I’m still me, and you’re still you.”

“Except you have to do as I say,” she said, a teasing smile tugging at one side of her lips.

“Yeah, yeah.” She was right—he was at a distinct disadvantage...especially waking up to Kaitlyn coming into his room first thing in the morning before he was dressed and steeled to the day. At least it was cold enough that he’d worn an army-issue undershirt to bed so she wasn’t staring at him bare chested.

“All right,” she said, kneeling next to the bed. “Let’s see the leg.”

Brody tossed the covers back to expose his leg, and she went to work. She moved with confidence, peeling back bandages, easing gauze away from the wounds. She made little sympathetic sounds when gauze stuck to stitches.

“Wiggle your toes,” she instructed.

He complied, and she looked satisfied. “Does that hurt to move them?”

“No.”

“Good sign.” She took his foot in her hand and moved his ankle in a full rotation, then jotted something in a notebook. “How is the pain right now on a scale of one to ten?”

“Ten being?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“When I saw you yesterday,” she said.

So she’d noticed how bad his pain was the day before. That was somehow gratifying. He wasn’t the complaining type, but he also didn’t want to suffer for days unnecessarily, either.

“About a six,” he said.

“And you’re—” she looked at her watch “—just about due for your next dose. So that’s an improvement.”

“Why not just ask if I’m feeling any better?” Brody asked.

“Because you’d tell me you were even if you weren’t,” she retorted.

She had a point. “Okay, fine.”

“So now I want you to stand up,” she said, pushing herself to her feet. She stood beside the bed, hands folded in front of her and a no-nonsense look on her face.

“What?” He pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Right now?”

“Yes, right now.”

“You’re not going to give me pain meds first?”

“No.” She met his gaze evenly, and Brody heaved a sigh. “If you don’t start putting some weight on that leg, it’ll only get harder.”

Brody pushed the covers back and Kaitlyn bent to help lift his injured limb over the side of the bed. Every movement was a fresh blaze of pain, and he closed his eyes against it, willing his stomach to settle. He felt vulnerable sitting here in an undershirt and a pair of army-issue shorts. His muscles were tense along his shoulders, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Take a moment to breathe...” Her voice was quiet and close. “You’ll be fine. I’m right here. When you’re ready, you’ll stand, but you’ll put all your weight on your good leg. I’m not that mean.”

The pain slowly subsided, and he had to admit it was marginally better than yesterday. She’d said it was a good sign, hadn’t she?

“Okay,” he said.

Kaitlyn’s cool fingers slipped under his biceps and she tugged him gently forward. He followed her encouragement and pushed himself up, all of his weight on his good leg. He wavered slightly, and Kaitlyn moved in closer—sliding an arm around his waist to steady him.

The auburn top of her head shone just at his shoulder level, and he was distinctly aware of where her hands touched his sides, even if he was trying to ignore it. She smelled good—something like vanilla, but not quite—and it made him start thinking of things he should know better than to connect to Kaitlyn Harpe.

“Can you straighten your leg?” she asked, and her voice was close to his chest as she looked down at his injured leg—that was her focus, at least. He straightened it with a grimace, and after a moment, he put a little bit of weight onto it.

That was too much, and the pain made the room tilt and spin. She’d never be able to catch him if he went down...

“Brody, this is great!” Her tone lost the nurse quality, and she looked up at him with shining eyes. It brought him back to the one time he’d kissed her when he was all of twelve... They’d been kids, and nothing had ever come of it, of course. If he were a little less woozy, he’d be tempted by those pink lips so close to his face—just a matter of dipping his head down and catching them with his—but with the room tilting like that, he’d probably miss. He wouldn’t come off as anything better than an awkward twelve-year-old, pecking a girl on the lips and not knowing what else to do.

“I’d better...” His voice was weaker than he liked, but she expertly eased him back down to the side of the bed, and he rubbed his hands over his face. She was his nurse, but having her this close to him was going to be harder than he’d imagined.

“A little dizzy?” she asked.

“A bit.”

“That’s natural. It’ll be easier the next time we do it. You’ve been on some pretty strong pain medications.” She was back to being the nurse again, and she chattered on about his different doses of meds as she adjusted his pillows so that he could sit propped up in bed.

“I think I need a few minutes to myself,” he said discreetly.

“Sure.” She shot him a grin. “I’ll go get your breakfast sorted out. You shouldn’t take any more pills on an empty stomach. Just trust me on that.”

She made a grossed out-face; he laughed softly. This was definitely going to be strange to get used to... The Kaitlyn who joked around and made faces was also the woman who was taking care of him. This was going to be a delicate balance, he could tell.

“I believe you,” he said.

“I’ll be back in a bit.” She left the room and closed the door behind her with a click, and he was left in silence.

That quiet felt good. Last night, he’d had all sorts of attention from his family. Everyone had questions, and his mother had wanted to make him comfortable, but only ended up leaving his pillow lumpy behind his back. But he couldn’t tell her, because every time she fussed over him, he could see the tears misting her eyes. No matter what had happened over there, she was still his mom, and that was something that hadn’t changed. Except that she’d been part of the deception, too, and that rankled him. When he was off serving the country, he should have been able to trust his family to have his back.

But they thought they had.

And maybe that was the biggest problem.

Of all the changes around here—Nina’s betrayal, Dakota’s marriage, Kaitlyn—he was the biggest change of all, and he wasn’t sure he could fit back into his spot here again, even for the short term.

You’re brave, Valentine. He’d kept it—a standing joke between them—but it had turned into a kind of good luck charm. He’d tucked that slip of paper into his front pocket because it made him feel braver somehow. A lot of the guys had good luck talismans...a small stone from their home driveway, or a hair elastic from a girlfriend. He’d had the Valentine card.

In the army, he’d learned that when you were wounded, you had to keep focused on the next step. That might be pulling yourself across the rocky ground, or tying off your own tourniquet. That was what he had to do now with his recovery—grit his teeth and take the next step. The rest of the answers would have to wait.

* * *

WHEN KAITLYN HAD arrived at the Mason ranch that morning, Millie Mason was making breakfast—oatmeal with raisins, stacks of toast with butter and boiled eggs. The Mason kitchen always smelled of baking and food, something Nina had resented.

“I’m not a cook,” Nina had insisted when Brody said that all he wanted for his birthday was a cake made by his girl. “Why can’t he just get his mother to make the cake and let me provide...other things?”

Nina always managed to sound like Marilyn Monroe with her innuendos, but she had had a point. Since when did a fiancée need to replace a mother? But Kaitlyn had sensed that Nina’s frustration went deeper than a different skillset—Nina hadn’t ever been terribly nurturing. She’d been beautiful, and everyone else had nurtured her. Including her sister. Kaitlyn hadn’t been so different from everyone else, constantly making excuses for Nina. Nina isn’t very good at that. Her heart is in the right place. But maybe her heart hadn’t been quite so well situated after all.

Nina had suggested that Kaitlyn just bake the cake and let Nina take the credit, but Kaitlyn had said no. It was one thing to have her sister dating the guy who had her heart in a vice, and quite another to bake the cake that would make Brody love Nina even more. So Kaitlyn flat out refused...but consented to pick one up at the bakery since Nina wasn’t dressed yet. Looking back, Kaitlyn couldn’t believe she’d been such a pushover.

Now, as Kaitlyn left Brody in his bedroom and returned to the Mason kitchen, she found it empty, the food on the table and the air fragrant with freshly brewed coffee. This was a kitchen where love took the form of food, and while that was hard for a girlfriend to compete with, it certainly did make for a cozy home. Growing up with Millie Mason’s cinnamon buns and strawberry pies would have been idyllic.

“Mrs. Mason?” Kaitlyn called.

There was no answer, so Kaitlyn opened a cupboard and pulled out some bowls and plates to set the table. She wasn’t Brody’s girlfriend, and she didn’t need to prove anything. Her goal was to get Brody to walk from the bedroom to the kitchen, and the best way she could see to make that happen was to lure Brody out with food—and his mother’s fantastic cooking was sitting right here waiting.

An envelope crinkled in Kaitlyn’s back pocket, and she paused. Nina had sent a letter for Brody just as soon as she found out that he was on his way back. That was the deal—she needed to explain her actions herself, except Kaitlyn had hoped she could do it in person, or at least garner up the courage for a phone call. Regardless, once Brody read it, Kaitlyn was supposed to give her sister a call and let her know. That would let Nina off the hook, and she could start announcing her wedded bliss from the rooftops. Mrs. Brian Dickerson.

Kaitlyn had to admit she was curious about the contents of that letter, but there probably wasn’t anything in there that Kaitlyn didn’t already know. Nina and Brian had been flirting for some time before Brody even left, not that anyone thought anything of it. Brian had driven Nina home from the airport after they’d all seen Brody off. In fact, Brian had been around a lot, so maybe it shouldn’t have been quite so shocking that something had developed between the two of them.

The outside door opened with a rush of cold air.

“Morning,” Dakota said as she came inside. She blew out a breath and slammed the door shut again. She pulled off her gloves and unzipped her coat.

“Where are your parents?” Kaitlyn asked.

“They went to my uncle’s place. He’s come down with a nasty flu, so they’re helping out with his chores this morning.”

Kaitlyn nodded. Ranches didn’t stop for pesky little things like vomiting or fevers. Dakota lifted the lid of the porridge pot and inhaled the aroma. What had Mrs. Mason added—nutmeg? It smelled amazing.

“How’s Brody?” Dakota asked.

“I got him standing this morning,” she replied.

“Really?” Dakota grinned. “That’s great! How long do you think it’ll take him to be fully recovered?”

“I’m not sure.” Kaitlyn frowned. “That depends on him.”

“Hmm.” Dakota pulled her hands through her hair. “I know we’ve probably manipulated things quite enough, but—”

“No,” Kaitlyn said firmly. “Leave me out of anything else.”

“The thing is, we’re going to need Brody around here,” Dakota said, ignoring Kaitlyn’s statement. “Dad will, at least. With Andy and me living on the Granger ranch, and with Mackenzie busy with the new babies, I can’t be running between two ranches forever. I’m exhausted.”

Kaitlyn could sympathize. Dakota was a new wife, and she was trying to support the running of two different ranches. It wasn’t a fair workload. But then, Brody wasn’t exactly a candidate for ranch work, either.

“He’s not in any condition to do chores,” Kaitlyn said. “Right now, Brody has to focus on recovery.”

“It isn’t that. The problem is, when I talked to Brody last night, he didn’t seem like he wanted to stay,” Dakota said. “At all.”

Kaitlyn’s stomach tightened. Brody wasn’t intending to stay in Hope? For some reason, she’d assumed that he was home safe...for good. Obviously, it was a presumptuous conclusion, but she hadn’t seriously considered him leaving again.

“I didn’t realize,” Kaitlyn said quietly.

“So we need to convince him to stay,” Dakota said.

“We?” Kaitlyn raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, I’m done with interfering. I highly doubt Brody would welcome our meddling, either.”

“He’s always liked you—”

“I don’t think he likes me as much as you think.” She smiled wanly. And he may like her even less after he saw the letter from Nina. She pulled the envelope from her back pocket and tapped it against her hand. “My sister sent a letter to explain things to Brody.”

“What did she say?” Dakota asked, lowering her voice.

Kaitlyn shrugged. “No idea. But I have to give it to him. He deserves to hear from her.”

Dakota nodded, but she eyed the letter in distrust. “I just wish I knew what she said...”

“We aren’t opening it,” Kaitlyn said.

“No, of course not.” But Dakota looked a tiny bit sheepish. “You have to give it to him.”

“The sooner the better, right?” Kaitlyn asked. “I don’t want to make things harder on him, but it might actually help him make sense of what happened.”

There was a rustle behind them.

“Give me what?”

Both women turned to see Brody in the doorway. He’d managed to get his crutches, but he had to hunch over them. They looked like matchsticks compared to his bulky frame. His expression was taut, and his lips were pale. He was in pain, but he’d managed to get out here on his own, and Kaitlyn couldn’t help the grin that came to her lips. She hurried to his side and reached to steady him.

“I’m fine,” he grunted. “Let me do it.”

Kaitlyn stepped back, feeling slightly stung, not that she entirely blamed him. Dakota pulled out the closest kitchen chair, and Brody sank into the chair with a wince.

“You okay?” Dakota asked her brother. “You look...white.”

Brody nodded slowly. He’d be nauseated after that exertion, Kaitlyn knew, and she slid a glass of water in front of him. He took a sip and some of the color came back to his face.

“So what are you supposed to give me, but don’t want to part with?” Brody asked, glancing between them.

Kaitlyn sighed and held out the envelope. “A letter from Nina.”

Brody eyed the envelope in Kaitlyn’s hand, then took it from her, his rough fingers brushing against hers. He looked ready to tear it open, then he sighed and tucked it into his front pocket.

“Aren’t you going to read it?” Dakota asked.

“Probably.” Brody cast his sister an annoyed look. “What’s it to you?”

“I’d kind of like to see what she has to say for herself,” Dakota retorted, and when Brody glanced in Kaitlyn’s direction, Dakota went on, “Oh, don’t worry about Kaitlyn’s feelings. We’re all pretty much on the same page when it comes to Nina and Brian.”

Kaitlyn shrugged—Dakota was right. They’d all hashed through this so many times that the eggshells were no longer necessary. They all thought Nina was a nitwit for what she’d done, and they all knew that there wasn’t a thing they could do about it. Nina had made her choice, and they’d all have to live with it. Including Brody.

“Nina wanted to explain, I think,” Kaitlyn said, except that Kaitlyn highly doubted Nina’s explanation would have the same impact without her big green eyes and plunging cleavage. Nina had always managed to sweet-talk her way out of every scrape, but this one came down to character and cleavage simply didn’t make up for that kind of deficiency.

“Fine.” Brody’s voice was gruff and he reached for the pot. Kaitlyn dished him up some porridge and watched as Brody poured a splash of milk over it.