Gil kept waiting for Carma to pepper him with questions about his appointment with Tori, but they didn’t come.
Maybe it was a trick. Bing said silence was a vacuum—it sucked the truth out of her patients. Two school counselors had tried it on Gil, plus that one cop. He hadn’t felt an overwhelming urge to confess that yes, he had given the Earnest Pioneer statue a pair of acorn squash balls and a zucchini dick.
Damn fine artwork, if you asked Gil.
If Carma was playing him, she was really good at it. The music, the sex, her own confessions: it was all tailor-made to beat down his resistance. Or she was simply reading him, mirroring his emotions, and giving him what he needed the way the Internet article said. How could either of them really know?
Which was bullshit, and he knew it. The sex had been incredible. Intense. Mind-blowing. But that kiss on the landing had struck a chord so deep his heart was still quivering. It had done the same to Carma. He’d seen the impact in her eyes. They could leave it unspoken but it couldn’t be unfelt.
That single kiss had turned every one of their ground rules into a joke—and neither of them was laughing.
But he wasn’t freaking out, either. Didn’t have an overwhelming urge to make a run for it. His only compulsion was to sit and run his fingers through Carma’s hair. Maybe it was that weird thing he’d seen on the internet. He’d rolled his eyes when, in one of his desperate quests for sleep, he’d stumbled across online videos of women brushing their hair that claimed to be the cure for insomnia. Now he wondered if he should have paid more attention. It was pretty damn hypnotic.
Before he’d consciously decided to speak, his voice was saying, “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought, If I could have one more chance…”
She had been still before. Now she went utterly motionless, as if she had stopped the beating of her heart. After a moment, her answer whispered out. “Thousands, I imagine.”
“At least.” Like releasing a safety valve, thoughts spilled out through the tiny opening he’d allowed. “Now I have that chance, and I don’t know if I can take it.”
She didn’t comment, just turned her head slightly to signal that she was listening.
“Assuming I could find the time—and that’s a huge assumption—what if I got hurt again? Not just my hip. Anything. If I broke an arm and had to have surgery, it could trigger a relapse.”
She nodded.
“I know, I could have an appendix attack tomorrow and be right in the same boat. But the odds are definitely higher if I was riding.” He gathered a fistful of her hair, lifting the damp ends off her back and into the stream of warm air. “I’ve barely made time to spend with Quint, but I can find a way to take off rodeoing? How’s that gonna make him feel? I mean, yeah, I would take him with me, but what if he’d rather be at basketball camp than watching his old man get his ass kicked by a bunch of rookies?”
“Are you worried you’re too old?” Carma asked.
“Delon is two years younger than me, and he’s sick to death of people asking when he’s gonna retire,” he grumbled.
“So you’re worried people will think you’re too old.”
“No!” Then he scowled. “Some. I don’t want to be one of those pathetic has-beens who don’t know when to quit.”
She nodded again, giving him zero feedback.
“Tori says I’m in better shape than most twenty-year-olds.”
Carma reached back to squeeze his butt. “I can testify to that, although it has been a while since I’ve had my hands on a twenty-something.”
She’d better not be thinking about doing it again. And yeah, that was possessive as hell, but he’d have to worry about it later. Compartmentalize and conquer, that was him.
“And there’s still this place.” He tapped one foot on the floor. “I couldn’t do anything without more help. You know how much luck I’ve had with hiring, and Analise is already working overtime.”
Even as they spoke. She’d come in to cover while he went to Amarillo, and he’d promised to take over for her when he got back. But he had also told her not to expect him before ten, so technically he had another hour. “I could ask Dad to take on more of the stuff that’s not contracts or dispatch. And I could turn over the inventory and maintenance oversight to Max.”
“Could you?” Carma twisted around, eyebrows peaked.
Honestly? He had given it a lot of thought since Quint had moved in. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Max, but Gil busted ass—his own, the mechanics’, and the drivers’—to maintain an excellent safety rating, which had an impact on everything from insurance premiums to attracting new clients. Max might be too laid-back to keep everyone toeing the line.
“I can try.”
“Sure.” She sounded skeptical. Because she doubted Max’s ability to lay down the law, or Gil’s to cede any significant control?
He gave her a nudge and she faced forward again. He knew she’d noticed that he’d skipped over the most obvious source of extra labor. “I’m not gonna make Delon cut back his rodeo schedule.”
“Why not?”
“He isn’t gonna be able to compete at this level forever. I don’t want him to waste any of the time he’s got left.”
“Shouldn’t that be his decision?”
“It’s not that simple.” He leaned down to yank the dryer cord out of the socket. “Where I’m concerned, he has a bad case of survivor’s guilt. He’d say yes because he’d think it was payback for all the years he went on rodeoing when I couldn’t.”
“And for the business you built for him to come home to?” she asked.
“I didn’t do that for him. And it’s not like he didn’t contribute.” Gil wrapped the cord tightly around the dryer. “His success has helped put Sanchez Trucking on the map.”
Carma laced her fingers together in her lap and bit down on her bottom lip, visibly restraining herself.
“Go ahead,” Gil said. “I want to hear what you think.”
She held out for another few seconds, then shook her head. “I don’t think Delon will thank you for making more sacrifices on his behalf.”
“I told you, I haven’t given up anything for him.”
Her eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched, but her voice was neutral. “If that’s how you see it.”
“It is.”
She drew a deep breath. “Okay. So you pawn off what you can on your dad and Max. Maybe take another shot at hiring someone who can cover dispatch at least part time. What else?”
That was the tricky part, and that kiss out on the landing had made it ten times more complicated. He set the dryer on the nightstand before turning back to face Carma. The rain had stopped and the sudden silence made his ears ring. Her fingers curled into her palms as she read his intent before he could put it into words. All the chaos inside him was reflected in her eyes. They weren’t ready for this, but like the thunderstorm, it had hit them anyway.
“I would need you to stay,” he said.
She sat very still again, absorbing the impact.
“I know it’s sudden. But this…” He spread his hands, indicating the two of them. “It’s gonna take a while to sort out.”
Her mouth opened, but for a long moment she only stared at him. Finally she said, “You realize what you’re asking?”
“Yes.” And it made his heart knock and sputter like an engine with a bad spark plug. This was a total violation of their no-strings rule. A monster step over Gil’s personal lines.
She didn’t throw herself into his arms. Not that he’d expected her to, but a little unbridled enthusiasm would have made him feel less like a bad decision she was telling herself she shouldn’t make. He should be thrilled that she was also leery. Her obvious misgivings made it easier for him to establish a whole new set of ground rules, this time with an eye toward damage control so that if it did end, it wouldn’t have to be in a ball of fire.
Her mouth curled ever so slightly. “So…you’re gonna go for it.”
“Yeah. I guess I am.”
The smile grew, climbing into her eyes. “And you think I should go on this wild-ass ride with you.”
“Yeah. I do.”
She gave a slow, disbelieving shake of her head, as if she couldn’t believe what was happening. “I guess it wouldn’t be the craziest stunt I’ve ever pulled.”
“Have you ever jumped off a cliff?”
“Only a short one, but I was on a horse.”
He had to laugh. Geezus. Only this woman could top damn near every bone-headed stunt he’d ever pulled.
He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Thanks.”
“I didn’t do anything but listen,” she insisted.
“That was enough.” He kissed her again, then reluctantly stood. “I’ll see you in the morning. I’d better go take over for Analise.”
And let them both have some time to possibly come to their senses.
* * *
When the back door shut behind him, Carma flopped onto the bed, exhausted. It had taken every molecule of self-control to keep her lips zipped when that know-it-all part of her brain was screaming opinions on exactly what Gil should do. Her only slip had been when they were talking about Delon, and Gil had refused to listen to her so it didn’t matter.
And as delicious as it was to have him lounging around in nothing but his underwear, Carma needed some distance to process what had just happened.
She also needed to touch a familiar base. She yanked on jeans and a sweatshirt, grabbed keys and the cheap cell phone he’d told her to keep until hers was replaced, and escaped out the front door and across rain-scrubbed gravel to her van.
The interior smelled of sun-warmed vinyl, dust, and the whiff of burnt sweetgrass that had earned her a search by the K-9 unit in Tucson after she’d been stopped for supposedly not using her turn signal—but more likely for driving while being brown-skinned. The carpeted walls and plush velvet ceiling closed around her, everything soft and unapologetically out of date, a piece of home on wheels.
She collapsed onto the bed and rubbed her cheek into the scratchiness of the wool Hudson Bay blanket that she used as a bedspread. She missed this van, with all its textures and its checkered past, a family legend in its own right.
The apartment had zero personality, unless she counted what wafted up through the floor vents. She and Gil had packed so much into the past six days—sweet hell, had she really been in Earnest less than a week?—that she hadn’t given her accommodations much thought. Lying in the van, though, she knew she couldn’t stay in that apartment.
She craved solitude, and a place with grass, and trees, and stars that weren’t drowned by security lights. Bing would let her park out at the ranch, but that came with an obligation to socialize, and too many eyeballs that would be winking if Gil stopped by for a visit.
The Canadian River was nearby. And a lake. She vaguely recalled a sign pointing to a recreation area on the drive from Amarillo. There must be a campground where she could park in the short term.
In the long term…
She groaned out loud. Long term? After less than a week? Rolling onto her back, she dug her fingers into her blanket, breathed in the scents from her world, and slowly settled back to earth. What was she doing?
She’d promised to help make the therapy program a reality. More to the point, she’d promised to consider herself first the next time she got involved with a man. Her needs, her responsibilities, her motivations, her future. But Gil asked her to stay and she immediately said yes. No questions. No qualifications. She hadn’t even asked For how long?
A month? A year? Until he won a few rodeos and found a shiny new blond of his own?
Oh, stop it! Of all the issues she and Gil had to deal with, that was the least of her worries. Maybe she should start with how he was a recovering addict, and she was a serial enabler who had a crappy track record with men. Well, mostly one man, but still…
Carma sighed. The hell of it was, Tori was right. Carma had caught Gil at a weak moment. He was struggling to find his footing with Quint, and Sanchez Trucking was at one of those tipping points where growth was outpacing their work force, even fully staffed. Gil’s life had been in a state of forced flux before Carma stumbled in.
He wouldn’t be the first man to jump into a relationship to solve his problems. She wanted to shake off Tori’s words, but it was a truth that had to be faced.
And that was just Gil. From Carma’s standpoint, there was a lot to consider. How did she feel about living in this town? Hell, this state? She had never considered moving away from home indefinitely. What about Sanchez Trucking? Could she work with Gil, side by side, day after day? If she couldn’t, what would she do?
And how could they even ask, let alone answer, any of those questions when Gil could be on the verge of turning it all upside down? There was no sense figuring out how she fit into this life if he made a successful comeback and ended up living a completely different one.
Oh hell. Admit it. You were in it for the long haul the minute he said he needed you.
God, she was such a sucker.
She reached over to the stereo, tuned it to a classic country station, then gazed at the constellation of raindrops on the nearest bubble window. But for once, looking to the heavens wasn’t the answer. What she needed was a good grounding.
She palmed the cell phone while she did the usual time zone calculation, minus an hour now that she was in Texas. Nine forty-five here was seven fifteen in the morning in Afghanistan. She could pay for the international call when Gil got the phone bill.
As always, reaching around the world seemed impossible, and her heart tripped in relief and affection when a gruff, infinitely precious voice answered. “Carma? I almost didn’t pick up, but Mom said you got a different phone.”
“Yeah. Mine got stolen.”
She settled herself more comfortably on the bed and prepared to tell her brother the whole story—minus a few key parts. They did not discuss their sex lives, and Eddie was too sensible to believe anyone could fall in love practically overnight. But even if all they talked about was the lousy weather for calving back home, Eddie would help center her.
And Lord knew where Gil was involved, she was in constant danger of losing her balance.