Barrie awoke to the sound of her cell phone ringing from the bedside table, and she shot out a hand and groped around until she connected with it. Her body felt like it was filled with cement, but her mind was already trying to focus. She got emergency calls on a regular basis, so she was already pushing past the fog of sleep, wondering what might be the issue. She opened her eyes enough to see the screen and picked up the call.
“Dr. Jones,” she said.
“Barrie, this is Detective Mike Cruise at the Hope sheriff’s office. I’m sorry to wake you.”
Mike—Mallory’s sheriff husband?
“It’s fine...” She rubbed her free hand over her eyes. “Hi, Mike. What’s the problem? Is everything okay?”
“We have your ex-husband in custody, and he gave us your number,” Mike replied.
The detective’s words slowly sank into her mind, and she squinted at the clock beside her bed. It was past midnight. “You have Curtis at the sheriff’s office?” She was awake now, and she pushed herself up onto her elbow. “What happened?”
“He was arrested in an altercation at the Honky Tonk” came the reply. “Are you willing to pick him up?” There was a pause and a murmur in the background. “Mr. Porter asks that you be told that he wasn’t drunk.”
That sounded like a drunk Curtis thing to say.
“So was he drunk, or not?” she demanded. “What happened?”
“No, he wasn’t. His alcohol levels were within the legal limits, but he was arrested for assault and battery.” Mike’s voice softened. “You don’t have to come, Barrie. I can drop him off at Betty’s place after my shift tonight. Thing is, he’s refusing medical attention, and I’d rather not have him bleed all over my cruiser, if it’s all the same...”
Mike had always had a dry sense of humor and Barrie shook her head. Some things didn’t change—like the rebel bull rider who lived for adventure. But a bar fight? And here she’d been lying in bed last night, wondering about that kiss, wondering if fifteen years had changed anything in Curtis. Apparently, not enough!
“Is he okay?” she asked reluctantly.
“More or less,” Detective Cruise replied. “But I’m not willing to just release him on his own right now. He needs more TLC than I’m willing to provide at the moment.”
So he was roughed up, too. She sighed. “Okay. I won’t be long.”
“Thanks, Barrie,” Mike replied. “I’m sorry about this.”
“Is isn’t your fault, Mike,” she said. “See you soon.”
Barrie hung up the phone and swung her legs over the side of her bed. Curtis at the sheriff’s office in the middle of the night... He’d always been impetuous, and this was the reason she’d made him promise that he’d never go back to the Honky Tonk—she didn’t want this life, and she’d seen it too often in her own extended family. She had an uncle who drank his family into the poorhouse, and a few cousins who did the same. She’d seen it all up close and personal.
Her alarm at being woken up by a call from the sheriff’s office was quickly melting into anger as she pulled on her clothes. Miley didn’t even move from his spot on the end of her bed. He lay with his head drooping over one edge and his tail flopping off the other, and he didn’t look inclined to get up.
“Miley,” she said, patting his rear as she passed him to grab her sweater. “Let’s go. You’re coming with me.”
Miley made a groaning noise, then stretched so that his long legs moved into the center of the bed. Yes, it looked wonderfully comfortable, but if Barrie had to go outside into the cold at midnight, then so did Miley. Fair was fair.
“Come on, lazy bones,” she said as she pulled the sweater over her belly. “I need your gallant protection.”
Barrie headed out of the bedroom and toward the door, and she heard the sound of Miley’s reluctant feet hitting the floor mingled with the jangle of his collar. Miley might not like his slumber disturbed, but his loyalty outweighed his comfort. By the time Barrie had her boots and coat on, Miley was waiting by her side.
Luckily she’d picked up her truck that morning—ready just as the mechanic had promised. The drive to the sheriff’s office was short, and after she’d parked, she held open the door for Miley to accompany her. If she was being dragged from her bed at midnight, then the sheriffs could deal with a non-therapy dog in the precinct.
“Hi, Barrie,” Mike said as she came through the front door.
“Hi.” Barrie nodded toward Miley. “I hope you don’t mind, but I didn’t want to leave him in the cold.”
“No problem.” Mike held out his hand, and she shook it. “Mallory’s going to kill me for even calling you for this.”
Barrie smiled wanly. “She might. So where is he?”
“In the interview room.”
“Miley, sit.” She turned to her dog and took his large face between her hands. “Stay.”
Miley lowered himself onto his haunches, and Barrie followed Mike past the desks, where a couple of officers were typing away on their computers, and the coffee machine, which smelled like the last pot had burned. The interview room was toward the back of the station, and her heart sped up as Mike gripped the knob, then turned back to her.
“He’s not pretty,” Mike apologized. “And that isn’t my fault. I wanted to bring him to the hospital.”
“Okay.” She nodded. How bad was it that Mike felt the need to warn her?
Mike opened the door then stepped back. As Barrie entered the fluorescent-lit room, she spotted Curtis, a towel and an ice pack held to one side of his face. When he saw Barrie, he grimaced.
“Hi,” he said.
Barrie dropped her purse on a table and crossed the room. “Let me see.”
“It’s not too bad,” Curtis said.
“Mike disagrees,” she replied. “Show me.”
Curtis eased the towel off his face, revealing an eye swollen painfully and a gash above it that had already been butterfly stitched by Mike, she assumed. Her stomach flipped, and she looked away for a moment. She hadn’t expected to feel like this. She was a vet—she saw gross and painful injuries on a regular basis.
“I’m fine,” Curtis growled. “It’ll heal.”
“You are not fine, Curtis!” A sob rose in her chest. “What were you thinking?”
She’d been prepared for anger, not for the urge to sit down and cry. She was blaming this on the pregnancy.
“I wasn’t drunk.”
“A point in your favor,” she snapped. “Sort of! So you managed this sober?”
“There were extenuating circumstances,” he replied, pushing himself to his feet. “Thanks for coming, Barrie. I didn’t want to give them anyone’s number, but Detective Cruise there insisted, if I wanted to be let out of here.”
Barrie glanced back. Mike had left the room, and they were in relative privacy.
“Mike says you should have gone to the hospital,” she said.
“Barrie, I’ve gotten some nasty injuries riding bulls,” he said with a sigh. “I have a pretty good sense of when I’m hurt or not. This is cosmetic. It’ll heal.”
He was just as stubborn as he’d always been—the same old Curtis. So why couldn’t she put aside the way he made her feel?
“So, what was this about?” she asked.
“Dwight Petersen,” he replied. “You don’t want to know.”
“I just got up in the middle of the night to pick you up from the sheriff’s station. I absolutely do want to know,” she retorted.
Curtis picked up his jacket and winced as he attempted to pull it on. So it wasn’t just his face. She put a hand on his arm to stop him and felt down his ribs. Curtis grimaced as she got to a puffy place on his side. A cracked rib, too, no doubt. Broken ribs felt the same on animals as they did on people.
“Dwight Petersen had a few things to say about you,” Curtis said, catching her wrist to stop her probing. “And I didn’t like it.”
“What things?” she asked, pulling her hand free of his grasp.
“Things I don’t care to repeat,” he said, but she caught the glimmer of disgust in Curtis’s dark eyes. Had it been that bad?
“So you started a fight?” she asked.
“I didn’t start anything. Okay...maybe I was the first to lay a hand on the slimy twit, but if he ever considered acting on the ugly things he was saying, I wanted him to associate that with a little pain.”
“What did he say?” Wariness wormed up inside her.
“He was describing an assault,” Curtis replied grimly. “Stay clear of him.”
“Oh...” She licked her lips, her bravado slipping away. “Where is he now?”
“He went to the hospital,” Curtis replied. “Mike says he’ll keep an eye on him. He’s definitely on their radar now.”
Did that mean that Dwight was in worse shape than Curtis? And was she hoping so?
“For the record, I wasn’t the one who beat him so badly. Apparently there were other guys who had a beef with him, too. I was already knocked out cold when they got to Dwight.”
That did make her feel a little better, actually. The thought of Curtis beating on some man—deservedly or not—was enough to turn her stomach.
“So you didn’t hurt him?” She heard the tremor in her own voice.
“Not very much.” He smiled down at her, then grimaced in pain. “I got in one solid right hook. That’s it.”
“I never liked the Honky Tonk,” she said.
“I know.” Curtis reached forward and brushed a tendril of hair away from her face. “I’m sorry about this, Barrie. I had to give them a number or end up in a cell tonight. Maybe I should have taken the cell.”
“No.” She sighed. “Come on. I’ll take you back to my place and get you cleaned up. You can sleep on my couch tonight, if you want.”
“I don’t need babying,” he said. “If you’d just drop me off at my truck, I can take it from there.”
Curtis might not want babying, but he hadn’t grown up much in the last fifteen years. If he had changed, he wouldn’t have been in the bar to begin with, and he’d never have let himself get goaded into some stupid fight.
Barrie shot Curtis a disappointed look as he eased into the cab of her SUV. Yeah, that was familiar. Miley jumped into the back seat, and she slammed the door. He leaned over to push the driver’s side door open, and a stab of pain shot through his ribs.
“I always hated this,” Barrie said as she hoisted herself into the driver’s seat, ignoring his grunt of pain as he pulled himself into an upright position again.
“This is my first bar brawl,” he replied with a small smile.
“I hated picking you up with broken ribs, a cast, a split lip...” She turned the key and the engine rumbled to life. “But it was your choice. You loved bull riding, and nothing I ever said could keep you from it.”
“This was a little different,” he said.
“Not to me.” She pulled out of the parking lot and onto Montana Avenue. “This is exactly the same from where I’m sitting. I get a call, and I come pick you up in pieces.”
“Barrie, I’m fine.” Curtis heaved an irritated sigh. “I get that I’m not pretty right now, but a cold steak on this eye and I’ll be presentable.”
Barrie didn’t answer, and Curtis turned his attention to the streets sliding past. He knew her well enough to see that under that veneer of anger was fear. This had scared her—and, well, it should. A fight hadn’t been his intention, but if he could redo tonight, he couldn’t say that he’d do anything differently. She hadn’t heard the things Dwight had said, and if Curtis had his way, she never would. That would scare her a whole lot more than his mangled mug. They were approaching the turn for the Honky Tonk, but she didn’t seem to be slowing down.
“My truck is in the bar parking lot,” he said.
“Hmm.” She passed the turn without even a glance.
“So you’re not dropping me off at my truck,” he clarified.
“You’re coming home with me,” she replied, her tone icy.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said.
“I really shouldn’t have to do this!” Barrie shot him an angry look. “I’m taking you back to my place and giving you that cold steak for your eye. If you want your truck so badly tonight, you can damn well walk to the Honky Tonk, but I’m not leaving you there.”
Curtis wasn’t sure how to answer that—this was a Barrie he’d never seen before. Back in their married days, she’d have yelled and cried. She’d even kicked him out a couple of times. But whatever lecture might have been coming his way back then didn’t seem forthcoming now. It stood to reason—they were no longer married. But taking him back to her place was no longer necessary, either.
Barrie signaled the turn onto her street.
“I appreciate the gesture,” he said. “But I’m not exactly helpless here.”
Barrie pulled into her drive and parked. Then she turned toward him. “So I’m supposed to just not worry about you, then? I should just crawl back into my bed and forget all about you?”
“It’s what most exes do.”
“I guess I’m not like most.” She got out of the truck and slammed her door. Curtis looked back at Miley, who met Curtis’s gaze with a mournful look of his own.
“Women, am I right?” Curtis muttered.
Then Barrie pulled open the back door to let Miley out. The dog looked between Curtis and his mistress, then scrambled down and into the snow. Curtis opened his own door and headed around the vehicle. Barrie hadn’t waited for him, and she stood with her back to him while she unlocked the front door. Miley was marking a bush at the side of the house.
“Come on,” Barrie said, her tone softening, and when he and Miley both moved toward her, he suddenly wondered which one of them she’d been talking to. Whatever. He’d take her up on that offer of a cold steak, and after that, he’d leave her alone.
When Curtis got inside, he managed to ease out of his coat without any help. Those ribs were bruised, not broken—he knew the difference from experience. Bull riding was harder on a body than bar brawls.
“Sit,” Barrie ordered, pulling out a kitchen chair.
Miley dropped into a seated position, and the dog shot Curtis a sidelong look.
“He seems to know when you’re serious.” Curtis chuckled, and he headed for the chair that Barrie indicated.
“Not you, silly,” Barrie said, rubbing her hand over Miley’s head. Then she went to the fridge and pulled out a bowl of fresh meat cuts.
“So you just have beef in your fridge all the time?” he asked incredulously.
“It’s Miley’s, so yes,” she said, picking through the bowl until she came up with a marbled, gristly piece of meat that looked big enough. Then she came over to where he sat and looked down on him. Her eyes had lost the angry glitter, leaving her looking tired and sad.
“You sure you don’t want to just yell at me like the good old days?” he asked testily. Honestly, it would have been easier to tune her out if she’d just tell him off.
“I think we’re past that, aren’t we?” She carefully laid the meat over his swollen eye. “There.”
Miley, still seated, eyed the meat on Curtis’s face covetously. Barrie took another couple of pieces of meat to Miley’s bowl and dropped them in. Miley followed and gulped them down in two mouthfuls.
“Why did you like it so much?” she asked after a moment of silence. “The bull riding, I mean.”
“Adrenaline,” he replied. “It makes you feel alive—man against beast.” Not unlike a bar fight with Dwight, ironically enough.
“Hmm.” She turned on the tap and washed her hands. “And that was enough to endure the broken bones and concussions and—” she turned the water off “—the pain?”
“I survived.” He attempted to turn and look at her, but his side was too sore to allow the twisting motion.
“You never did think of what it did to me, did you?” She pulled out the chair opposite him, then sank into it. “Do you know what it’s like to see the man you love in that state?”
“It’s part of the sport, Barrie—”
“I know, I know.” She sighed. “And it’s no longer my business. But all of this—” she gestured to his face “—is a little too familiar.”
Her sitting in the kitchen late at night, looking pale and drawn—yeah, this was pretty familiar to him, too. Them butting heads over what he wanted, and what she wanted... It was exhausting.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you back then,” he said. “I needed the outlet. I mean, I was no good at school, and bull riding was the one thing that people gave me some credit for. I needed that. You were smart, going places. Everyone said so. I was—” He shrugged, unsure of how to finish that. He was the guy no one thought was good enough for the likes of Barrie Jones.
“You were smart, too,” she countered.
Curtis didn’t answer. He didn’t need to be soothed or mollycoddled. He knew the score, and he’d made his peace with it over the years. Some guys were better at book work, and some guys had better instincts with hands-on work. Curtis was the latter, and that eight-second ride was his proof. That was the one place that his skill set—agility, instinct and bullheaded courage—seemed to matter. Because it sure hadn’t been enough to keep him married.
“I loved you, Curtis.” She sighed softly. “I really did. And every time you came home with a broken bone or a nasty sprain, it meant that you were choosing an eight-second thrill over me.”
“You had me for life, Barrie. You couldn’t give me eight seconds?”
“It’s my fault, really.” Barrie pushed herself to her feet, one hand in the small of her back. “I thought I could tame you.”
She started to move past him again, and he shot out his hand and caught her wrist. “You did.”
“I thought you’d turn into a family man,” she said. “I thought you’d come home to me in the evenings, and we’d talk and cuddle. I thought you’d become a husband and maybe—” she tugged her wrist free of his grasp “—and maybe a father.”
Curtis dropped his hand. “I wasn’t ready to be a dad back then. I told you that all the time.”
“I know.”
That had been a source of arguments, too. She wanted a baby right away. That was before she changed her mind and decided she wanted school first. They’d both been young, and she hadn’t found her path yet, apparently. For Curtis, he’d wanted to have some fun. Just because they were married didn’t mean they had to start with all the heavy responsibilities so soon. They were young and healthy and in love... Frankly, he was more concerned about his time with her between the sheets than he was with starting a family.
“A baby wouldn’t have made things easier between us,” he added.
“I know that, too.” She smiled tiredly. “And you want to know something? I was dumb enough back then to think that a baby would nail you down with us, give you another reason to drop the bull riding and do something serious.”
“Yeah?” He’d suspected as much, but he was surprised to hear her admit to it. She went back to the counter and flicked on the electric kettle. Her voice came from behind him, so he couldn’t see her face.
“I’ve done a lot of thinking about it over the years, and I realized that while I loved you for who you were, I wanted to marry you for your potential to be...more. And that doesn’t work. I was trying to change you into a different man, and I thought that marriage would change you.”
Which was why she never should have married him to begin with. He heard that loud and clear. And while he could agree on a logical, mental level, his heart ached.
“I always was too stubborn for my own good,” he said.
“Yes, you were.” She came back and sat down again.
“I think we both had an idea of what marriage would be, and we never really talked about it,” he said. “Or maybe we already knew that if we put all our cards on the table it wouldn’t work.”
“Maybe,” she said. “Everyone told us to think it through, and we were determined to plow ahead anyway.”
More than determined. Desperate. All he’d wanted was to make it legal, claim her as his... If only he’d known how hard marriage would turn out to be. Love wasn’t enough when building a life with a woman.
“I might have been a stubborn lout, but for what it’s worth, I loved you.”
She smiled sadly, then dropped her gaze to the table. “I know.”
Of all the tangle of things he wished he could tell her, that was the most important. They might have been mismatched from the start, but he’d been there for the right reasons. The kettle started to whistle, breaking the moment.
“Do you want tea?” she asked.
“No, thanks.” He pulled the piece of meat off his eye. “What I want is for you to go to bed and get some rest. I feel bad enough having woken you up.”
“I can make you a bed on the couch,” she said.
“No.” That’s where this ended. He wasn’t a bedraggled kitten to be cared for by Barrie’s big heart. Besides, if he had to spend the night a stone’s throw from her bedroom, she’d either end up kicking him out, or he’d convince her to do something they’d both regret the next morning. “I’m going to walk over to the Honky Tonk and pick up my truck.”
“But you’re—”
“I’m fine,” he interrupted her. “Look.” He could feel that the swelling on his eye had gone down already.
Barrie put out one hand and gingerly touched his temple. Her fingers lingered, and Curtis put a hand over hers. Looking at her—her eyes bleary with exhaustion, her hair mussed and her belly domed out in front of her—he wanted to be the one to take care of her, not the other way around. He wanted to pull her into his arms and prove just how “fine” he really was, and that mental image was so strong, he had to shut his eyes to vanquish it. He’d already let things go too far in this kitchen once already, and he wasn’t going to do that again.
“I’ll get going,” he said, and he rose to his feet.
This time when he went to the door, he kept his hands to his sides. “Thank you, Barrie.”
He meant for tonight, for fifteen years ago when she’d shared her life with him for just a short while...for enduring the frustration that came with an emotionally stunted bull rider.
“Don’t mention it.”
Curtis settled his hat back on his head and opened the door. He’d get his truck and go back to the ranch. Chores would be waiting at 4:00 a.m. whether he was ready or not. And he needed to think clearly. Frustrating as it was, Barrie still seemed capable of firing his blood without any effort on her part.