Page 93 of Cowboy's Last Stand
Jason glanced toward the upstairs apartment.His inability to sleep indoors was a serious problem for her and pretty damned inconvenient for him.He had to tackle the issue before he returned to duty.
He ascended the steps and went inside the remodeled space.The floors were finished, walls freshly painted, and the fireplace was functional.He could try to sleep here.Maybe near an open window, with the fire going.If the nightmares came—and he knew they would—he could move outdoors again.Gradual exposure was a strategy his therapist had recommended.He’d failed at it spectacularly.He’d also stopped taking the sleep medication that had left him in a fog.Instead, he’d embarked on this cross-country trip and dubbed it a “natural remedy.”
Was he better now, four months later?Or had he merely postponed his recovery by walking away from his problems?Jason couldn’t say for sure.He felt stronger than he had at the beginning of his journey.He didn’t regret the time he’d taken to heal his own way.What he regretted, more and more each day, was hiding the truth about his involvement in Mike’s death.The choices he’d made couldn’t be undone.
Massaging a dull ache in his temple, he left the apartment.He needed to make a trip to the hardware store to buy the security system Wade had recommended.If he could get the truck running, Natalie could sell it for cash.
An hour later, he’d located the source of his trouble under the hood.He replaced hoses, connected wires, and climbed behind the wheel to test the engine.It turned over with a roar, then quieted to a steady putter.Jason gripped the steering wheel and leaned back against the shredded bench seat, triumph flooding him.
“You did it.”
He jumped at the sound of Natalie’s voice.She stood near the driver’s side door, her hair a fluffy disarray.He exited the truck, letting the engine run.“I’ll have to go for a test drive to see if it’s road-worthy.”
She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest.
“How’s Marcus?”
“Better.He’s still sleeping.”
“Did he throw up again?”
“Just once.Dry heaves.”
Jason studied her face, which showed the telltale signs of fatigue.Her eyelids were puffy, her mouth soft and vulnerable.She wore an oversized gray sweatshirt and sweatpants.The garments had probably belonged to Mike once upon a time.Her feet were encased in a pair of cozy sheepskin boots, her hair haloed by sunlight.He wanted to wrap his arms around her, to stroke her back, and press his lips to her forehead.Instead, he stood silent and waited for her to deliver the bad news.
She moistened her lips.“I’m sorry about last night.”
Jason was surprised by the apology and embarrassed that he hadn’t thought to do it first.He’d been braced for her to tell him to hit the road.
“I shouldn’t have gone there,” she said.
“You have the right to ask questions.I’m sorry I overreacted.”
Her steady gaze met his.“What you said was true.”
Jason’s mind flashed back to the previous evening.He remembered how she’d responded to his touch before Marcus interrupted.He also remembered the criticism she’d lobbed at him.His own words were harder to recall.“Which part?”
“I am afraid of getting hurt.”
Of course she was, for good reason.He would hurt her.He was too honest to give her reassurances to the contrary but not honest enough to warn her away.Torn between desire and deception, he stayed quiet.
“You’re very tight-lipped today.”
“I said too much last night.”
She didn’t disagree.“We’ll have to take a raincheck on the picnic.”
Jason felt some of his tension ebb away like a spool unraveling.She wasn’t asking him to leave.He still had a chance to smooth things over with her.The truck’s engine continued to chug in a steady rhythm, encouraging him further.The black cloud of exhaust he’d expected didn’t materialize.
He gestured toward the house.“I told Wade I’d get a security system installed.I think you need two cameras.”
She reached out to capture his hand.“What’s this?”
Heat crept up his neck as she examined the scraped knuckles.The evidence of his overexertion was undeniable.
“Were you fighting with Wade?”
“No,” he said in a disgruntled tone as if he hadn’t come within inches of punching that cocky bastard’s lights out.“It’s from tinkering with the engine.”
