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Slim, Joey, Bucky, Mark...and more crowded into the room. Tyler hadn’t seen this many of the boys since they’d celebrated a rookie’s initial ride at the Watering Hole bar. Tyler lay back in his bed and moaned. He almost wished the bull had finished the job he’d started. Even in the best of conditions, Tyler wasn’t good at being social, Preferring to be an observer, rather than a participant. Tonight, feeling as though he’d been run over by a truck, he just wanted to curl up and feel sorry for himself.
Tyler opened his mouth to bite out a quick dismissal of the group, but thought better of it, when he caught Skye’s glowering gaze. He’d be better off taking on Tornado again, than butting heads with her.
Skye Whitman was one woman he didn’t want to cross.
From a spot in the corner of the room, away from the center of action, Skye watched the interchange between Tyler and his friends. She’d never met a man who so carefully guarded even the simplest show of emotion. Every time one of the boys brought up his injuries, he changed the subject. If they asked how he felt after his harrowing ride, he brushed it off with a joke. He hid his feelings behind a good ol’ boy mask of indifference. Not letting anyone see the real Tyler Bradshaw.
Whoever that might be.
The nurse on duty, a harried young woman with long blond hair and a worried frown, entered the room, pushing her way through the crowd. “Gentlemen, it’s after visiting hours. Our patient’s tired. He needs his rest. I’m sorry, but ya’ll have to leave now.”
Murmurs of regret sounded in the room.
The nurse hadn’t been the only one to notice Tyler’s eyes drifting shut more than once. Or his ashen pallor. Or the grimace of pain that he tried to hide behind a strained smile. Without an argument, the cowboys mumbled their goodbyes and began drifting toward the door.
It was time to go home.
Skye watched the men’s slow exodus and wondered if, with the setting sun, the ranch house had cooled down any. Or if it was still sweltering with heat.
She noticed her father deep in conversation with Joey Witherspoon at the foot of Tyler’s bed. Their voices were low, hushed in deference to the now sleeping Tyler. Her curiosity piqued, she sidled up to the pair.
“He’s going to need help,” Gus was telling his friend. “He’s got some cracked ribs and he’s done a number on his back again. Doctor says he’s going to need to rest and recuperate. But, hell, he lives out of that damn truck of his, driving from one rodeo to the next. Where’s he supposed to go?”
“Juanita and I would like to help.” Joey flexed his massive shoulders into a shrug. “But with the new baby, Juanita already has her hands full.”
“My apartment’s too small to turn around in, let alone have a houseguest,” Gus muttered, glancing at Tyler’s still figure. “Dammit, what are we going to do with him?”
“Surely, somebody could take him in.”
“Who?” Gus asked sharply. “Don’t get me wrong. Tyler’s a good ol’ boy and all, but—” He sighed. “Well, I don’t know too many cowboys fool enough to stay within kickin’ distance of him when he’s been hurt. He can be a bit on the cantankerous side.”
Skye clapped a hand to her mouth, smothering a laugh. Gus Whitman calling Tyler Bradshaw cantankerous was a little like the pot calling the kettle black.
The noise caught both men’s attention.
Joey turned, startled. “Hey there, Skye. I didn’t notice you standing there.”
Gus frowned. “Honey, I thought you’d left along with the others.”
“I just thought I’d stay and see how Tyler’s doing,” she said, instantly regretting the words. Admitting to her father that she was worried about Tyler didn’t seem like a wise thing to do. She shrugged, covering her concern. “You know, to see if he needed anything, like a toothbrush, or a magazine, or something.”
The two men exchanged a glance.
Gus cleared his throat and gave his most engaging smile. “Say, honey...how’s that ranch house? Gettin’ kind of lonely?”
Skye frowned. “Lonely? No, not yet anyway. I mean, it’s a lot different from living in the city—” She stopped herself, stared at the two men, seeing the wheels turning behind their guarded expressions. She gave her head a slow, disbelieving shake. “Oh, no, you don’t—”
“Don’t what, honey?” Gus asked, a picture of innocence.
“Tyler...” she sputtered, waving a hand at the injured man’s prone form. “You’re not going to foist him off on me to nurse.”
The mere thought sent the heat of anger racing through her veins—along with another emotion she didn’t want to dwell on at the moment. Her father was certainly running true to form. Once again, he was pushing his obligations off onto another person—namely, herself.
“He’s not in that bad a shape,” Gus protested weakly.
As though on cue, Tyler moaned in his sleep. In sync, they turned their heads to look at him. He looked even paler than before. Deep lines of pain furrowed his brow. The bump on his head was taking on an ugly red hue.
Not that bad a shape, ha!
Skye fastened a hard look on her father, trying a new tack. “Think about this, Gus. We’re talking about Tyler Bradshaw, the man who dated three women on the same night in Little Rock. He barely got out of town one step ahead of an irate boyfriend and two bloodthirsty fathers. Do you really want to leave your own daughter alone with this man?”
“Tyler?” Gus thumbed a gesture at his friend. “He’s too banged up to do anybody any harm.”
Skye growled. “I thought you just said he wasn’t in that bad a shape.”
Joey watched the exchange in wide-eyed silence, with all the wariness of a man who had two young daughters of his own at home.
“Look, Skye,” Gus pleaded. “You’d be doing me a big favor. There isn’t anybody else who can help. I wouldn’t ask except Tyler’s an old friend. He’s like a—” Gus stopped himself, then glanced away, his cheeks flushing with color.
Like a son, Skye silently finished for him, experiencing an emotion that felt suspiciously like jealousy. Gus had never kept his feelings for Tyler a secret. Skye had been a mere child when he’d taken Tyler under his wing. She’d watched with an envious eye all the attention her father had showered on the youth, showing him the ropes of bullriding, helping him earn his stripes as a top-seeded rodeo star. Tyler. had been his protege. The light Skye could never hope to compete with in her father’s eye.
Appalled by these feelings, unable to admit to anyone—not even herself—that she was resentful of Tyler in any way, Skye gave a defeated sigh. “All right, Gus. If you really want me to help, then I guess it’ll be okay if Tyler stays at the ranch with me for a few days.”
“The hell I will,” a deep voice interrupted them.
Skye jumped, casting a startled glance at the bed. And caught Tyler’s stormy gaze.
The patient was awake.
“No way,” Tyler said, making his point clear. “I don’t need a nursemaid.”
Especially not a nursemaid like Skye, he added silently.
“Just how far do you think you’re going to get without help, Tyler?” Gus asked, his expression thunderous. “You’re as weak as a newborn colt. And just as wobbly, too.”
Gus was right, of course. His head was throbbing. He felt each of his cracked ribs every time he drew a breath. The wrist was so sore and swollen, he could barely move his fingers. And his back...each movement brought a new spasm of pain zigzagging up and down his spine. Tyler had no idea how he was going to walk out of this hospital room, let alone cope on his own.
“I’ll get by,” Tyler said, trying to sound stoic.
“The hell you will,” Gus said, shaking his head in frustration. “If it isn’t at the ranch with Skye, then we’ll have to find you somewhere else to go. What’s the harm in spending a few days with Skye?”
Tyler stared at him, wondering if his friend was really that naive. Skye was a beautiful, desirable woman. Wounded or not, any man’s willpower would be tested. The problem was, he didn’t know how to explain to his mentor the real reason why he didn’t trust himself to be alone with her.
“Tyler, listen,” Skye said, her tone resigned. “I don’t want a houseguest any more than you want to stay at the ranch with me. But I don’t see that we have much of a choice. Granted, it’s not going to be easy sharing living quarters. But I’ll be working most of the time on my thesis. You’ll hardly even know I’m there.”
Tyler cast a surreptitious glance over the tight-fitting tank top and the white cutoffs that hugged her generous curves. He frowned as he studied the smooth length of bare legs. Not noticing Skye would be like trying to ignore a ten-pound powder keg that was about to explode.
Oblivious to his troublesome thoughts, she continued, “I promise, I’ll stay out of your way...unless you need me.”
Need her? Tyler bit back a moan, wondering if a man could be condemned just for the prurient thoughts running through his mind.
“You’ll be doing me a favor, really,” she insisted, forcing a smile. Her rosebud lips parted, revealing a set of even white teeth, and Tyler was instantly reminded of the kiss they’d shared. He licked his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling dry, parched. “The ranch is kind of lonely. It’ll be nice to have someone to keep me company.”
A lie if he’d ever heard one. The problem was, as far as he could see, Skye was forcing him to make the decision. If he turned her down, he’d be the bad guy. If he said yes, there would be hell to pay, for sure.
“So what do you say, Tyler?” she asked. “Want to let an old friend help you out?”
Since she’d put it like that, he’d sound like an ungrateful cad if he said no. Lifting his good hand, he rubbed the grit out of his weary eyes and sighed. “All right, Skye. I’ll stay for a couple of days.”
“Great,” she said, her smile tightening. “It’ll be fun.”
“Fun?” Gus asked, a vein pulsing at his temple. He looked as though he were having second thoughts. “Now look, young lady—”
“What’s the matter with you, Gus?” Skye asked, laughing off her father’s latent streak of paternal protectiveness. “You’re the one who suggested he stay with me in the first place. Like you’ve said a hundred times before, Tyler’s like a son to you. Then that must make him like a brother to me. We haven’t seen each other for years. It’ll be nice to catch up.”
A brother? She thought of him as a brother? Tyler scowled. The night was going from bad to worse.
Joey lifted a hand to his mouth, hiding an amused grin, looking as though he were about to bust a gut to keep from laughing. He cleared his throat. “I think I’d better be going.”
“Me, too,” Skye said. “I’ve got a lot of things to do before tomorrow.” She waggled her fingers in a goodbye salute, then shot Tyler an innocent smile as she followed Joey to the door. “See ya in the morning, Tyler.”
“Right,” Tyler muttered. “Good night, sis.”
Her step faltered. She gave him an uncertain look, then disappeared through the hospital door.
Gus hesitated before following the pair. He narrowed his gaze, looking as unconvinced as Tyler felt at this newfound sibling relationship. “Don’t worry about a thing, Tyler. I’ll be checking in on you two as often as possible. Just to make sure Skye hasn’t taken on anything more than she can handle.”
The warning was clearly noted. Touch Gus’s daughter and he’d die a slow and painful death.
Gus strode from the room, leaving Tyler alone to stew in silence.
He might have his faults, but stupidity wasn’t one of them. Not only was he going to have to suffer through his injuries from the bull, but he was going to have to endure an ungodly amount of torture. He was going to be cared for by a beautiful woman who swore she thought of him only as a brother.
A brother, eh? It would be a hell of a challenge to prove her wrong.
Chapter Three
“Are you aiming for the potholes?” Tyler asked, clenching his teeth against the fresh pain each bump in the ride from the hospital brought him.
Since Skye’s arrival at the hospital this morning, he’d been in a foul mood, not his usual cheerful self. He’d been thrown off a bull before, but he’d never felt quite this bad. And that was why he was feeling so ornery and out of sorts.
Or so he told himself.
He refused to admit his tetchy mood might have something to do with the prospect of spending time alone, in close—and all too tempting—confines, with the woman sitting next to him in this pint-size car of hers.
“No, I’m not aiming for the holes,” Skye said, frowning. “The road’s a nightmare. I have no idea when it was last paved.”
“Paved?” He chuckled, glancing outside at the cloud of dust the little car was kicking up. “You have been living in the city too long.”
Her scowl deepened. “Tyler, for someone who’s being granted a huge favor, you aren’t acting very grateful.”
“Oh, I’m grateful, Skye.” He shifted his bruised tailbone against the vinyl seat, wishing the aging vehicle had more legroom. Wishing he wasn’t forced to sit so close to Skye, so that every time he breathed he inhaled the sweet scent of her perfume. “It isn’t every day I’m squeezed into a tin can-size car with a set of broken ribs, a bum wrist and an aching back. Don’t worry, though, I get thrown by bulls on a regular basis. I’m used to pain.”
“You wanted more room? Too bad I left the Mercedes up north,” she said, snapping her fingers, taking his complaints in stride. “Next time I come home to Texas, I’ll be sure to bring it along.”
He glanced at her sharply, ignoring her sarcasm. “Plan on leaving again soon?”
She took her eyes off the dirt road long enough to look at him in surprise. “This visit’s only for the summer. I haven’t moved back to Texas for good. Ralph’s job is in Boston—”
“Ralph,” Tyler interrupted, uncertain why he felt a sudden flash of irritation. “That’s the fiancé, right?”
“Right,” she said, her brow crinkling into a frown. “He’s a professor. Jobs aren’t easy to get in the academic field. He has to go where he’s wanted”
“I suppose there’s not much call for medieval history in Texas,” he drawled.
If she noticed the mockery in his tone, she didn’t mention it. Instead, she reached a hand to the dashboard and flipped on the windshield wipers, doing her best to clear off the worst of the film of dust that had settled across the window. He noticed the slender fingers on her left hand were ringless.
“So, Ralph’s not big on tradition, eh?”
She looked at him again, this time in confusion.
He pointed to her ringless hand. “No diamond.”
A tinge of color settled across her cheeks. “Well, the engagement’s not exactly official. It’s still in the planning stage.”
“Planning stage?”
“We’re working on the details, ironing out a few of the kinks.”
“Kind of like a business deal, hmm?”
She squirmed in her seat and Tyler realized he was enjoying her discomfort way too much.
“There’s nothing wrong with approaching marriage in a logical, sensible manner,” she said. “The divorce rate in this country is way too high. If more people took the time to think things through, rather than act on emotion and impulse, the courts wouldn’t be half as busy dealing with failed marriages.”
“Then again,” Tyler said, watching her closely, “if more people didn’t bother with a wedding in the first place, there wouldn’t be a need for divorce court.”
A strained silence filled the car. All that he heard was the thumping of the wipers against the windshield and the pounding of his own heart.
“So you don’t believe in marriage,” she said finally, her tone flat.
“Not for this cowboy,” he said, grabbing for a handhold as the car bumped unheedingly across a gaping pothole. Unfortunately, he reached with his sore hand, causing his wrist to pulsate with pain. He bit back a curse. “For Pete’s sake, Skye. Slow down. Are you trying to kill me, or what? I don’t remember the ranch being this far out of town. It feels like we’ve been driving forever.”
“Be patient, Tyler. We’re almost there.”
“Yeah, well, I haven’t seen a house in ages,” he groused.
She shrugged, frowning. “So it’s a little isolated.”
“A little isolated? This place is practically deserted. Don’t you get lonely out here?”
“What is this? An inquisition?” Her frown deepened. “I like being by myself, don’t you?”
“Well, sure. But I don’t mind giving a few friends the chance to drop by once in a while, either,” he said, knowing he didn’t give a dang about the isolation. It was the thought of him and Skye alone, with no one else in sight, that had him on edge.
“I saw plenty of people when I was at school up north. It’s nice to get away from the stress when I’m home.” With a relieved expression, she said, “Speaking of which...here we are, home sweet home.”
“Home sweet home” was a faded white clapboard, one-and-a-half-story house. A dismal little building with blue shutters that were weathered and peeling in places. The grounds had a minimal amount of shrubbery and landscaping, giving it a barren appearance. What little grass and bushes there were lay wilting, gasping for water in the hot Texas sun.
“It’s...um...nice,” he said politely.
“It could be,” she said, making him wonder if she’d become a mind reader while attending college. Ignoring his curious gaze, she continued, “Gus doesn’t have the heart to sell the family homeplace. But he doesn’t have the desire to give it the attention it really needs, either.” She raised a brow, glancing at him. “How about you, Tyler. Interested in becoming a rancher?”
“Who, me?” Tyler looked at her, uncertain how much Gus had told her about his injuries. He lifted his wrapped and sore wrist, wincing at the needles of pain. “This is only a temporary setback. I’ll be on my feet and back on the rodeo circuit in no time.”
“Of course you will,” she said, revealing nothing but sincerity in her tone. Her eyes focused straight ahead, however, her gaze trained on the narrow lane leading to the house, making him wonder why she didn’t want to face him.
Tyler blew out a pent-up breath. The pain was affecting his judgment. He was becoming paranoid, looking for trouble where there wasn’t any to be found. Skye was being supportive, helping him out when he was in need. He had no right to question her motives.
Skye jerked the little car to a stop, parking as close to the front door as possible. Once the dust settled, she opened the car door and stepped outside. With a catlike grace, she stretched her arms above her head, causing her T-shirt to ride up an inch or two, revealing her smooth, flat tummy.
“Goodness.” She sighed “It feels great to stretch my legs.”
Pushing aside the erotic thoughts her svelte figure conjured up, Tyler took his time joining her. His raging hormones would have to wait, he told himself. He had a more pressing problem to handle. Earlier at the hospital, with the help of an orderly and a wheelchair, Skye had gotten him into this tiny car of hers. He wasn’t sure how she expected to get him out.
Opening the car door seemed to use up all of his energy. Breathing deeply, bracing himself, he swung one leg, then the other onto the ground outside. Then he waited, closing his eyes and clenching his muscles against the rippling tide of pain that washed over his body.
“Let me help,” Skye said, her voice close.
He opened his eyes and found her standing before him, her cheeks flushed from the heat, her skin moist with perspiration, her dark hair curling about her face from the humidity. She couldn’t be more than five foot three, probably weighed a hundred pounds, soaking wet. How she thought she could lift a hundred and eighty pounds of solid male was beyond him.
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