скачать книгу бесплатно
“Grant.” A pain shot through her own chest, as if she could feel what he felt. His contorted face was so tortured she could hardly bear to look at it. His arm must be badly broken.
“He’ll live, Crimson,” he said thickly. “I promise.”
And with a low moan, he slumped to the ground and out of sight.
Every part of her body felt cold and numb and strangely distant, as if she weren’t really here. As if she might, please God, be dreaming.
Dimly, she heard Molly wailing from the truck. In front of her, Kevin was still slumped over the wheel, motionless. Unconscious, unresponsive, unaware.
And Grant... She couldn’t see him at all, and somehow that was the worst, as if she were an astronaut free-floating in space, her lifeline snipped in two.
The emptiness of infinite space roared in her ears, and she wondered if she’d gone deaf.
But then, finally, she heard the noise she’d been waiting for, the one sound her ears, her heart, her entire soul had been listening, straining, praying for.
The sound of the ambulance, screaming toward them through the rain.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_c0bc876b-6463-53be-a169-ced2bed3c274)
IT WAS ALMOST midnight before Grant was able to go home.
Actually, he was secretly shocked that he’d been able to talk the doctors into discharging him at all. Given how scrambled his brain was right now, he wouldn’t have thought he could talk a bear into sleeping in the woods.
But luckily Harry Middleton was the doctor on duty, and Harry had bought Grant’s first foal, Tender Night, out of Charisma Creek. So a few corners could be cut. Besides, once they set Grant’s arm and did a CT scan on his brain, they didn’t have anything left to hold him for.
“Observation” wasn’t a good enough reason to keep a man in the hospital, not when he had a ranch to run single-handedly.
He looked down at the cast that covered his right forearm from palm to elbow. Single-handedly, indeed. He might have smiled at his inadvertent pun, except his head hurt like a demon, and his bruised ribs were killing him.
And who could feel like smiling about anything while Kevin lay up there on the third floor, unconscious? Sure, Grant’s right ankle was sprained and his arm broken, but that was nothing compared to the crushing Kevin had suffered. He’d never regained consciousness after the accident, and no one seemed sure when—or if—he might wake.
Condition serious but stable, they called it. Whatever that meant. Grant shook off the memory of Kevin’s bandaged form. He didn’t have time to dwell on worst-case scenarios. He had to stay focused. Not only were there chores to do, horses to look after and accounts to settle...but he also had a baby to take care of.
With one hand.
Earlier, while he’d been waiting for his CT scan, Crimson had sent word that Marianne Donovan would babysit Molly for the evening. He’d been surprised at first, because Crimson normally never missed a chance to be with the baby. But he realized how dumb that was. Of course Crimson would want to stay at the hospital as long as she could, even though they wouldn’t let her in Kevin’s room.
She would want to be as close to him as she could get.
If Grant had ever been fool enough to wonder about Crimson’s feelings—to wonder whether maybe Molly was more the attraction than Kevin himself—he knew better now. The look on her face when she first saw Kevin slumped over the steering wheel had said it all. She had been pale with terror, mute with grief.
God, the quiet hospital hallway seemed endless. The polished floor reflected the overhead lights in hazy circles, as if someone had spilled milk at intervals—and the line of circles seemed to stretch on forever.
He’d lied to Harry and the nurses about how much his ankle hurt, hoping they wouldn’t insist on a wheelchair. Limping as little as he could, he followed the path of watery lights to the waiting room on the second floor.
Crimson had sent word she’d be there, and she was.
To his surprise, though, she was deep in conversation with another female, a teenager, he’d guess, and a bottle blonde. The two huddled together in adjoining chairs by the far wall, talking in low tones even though they were the only two people in the room.
They both looked up as Grant entered. Only then did he see that the blonde had a black eye, a swollen upper lip and a bandage across the bridge of her nose.
“Grant!” Crimson rose jerkily. “Is there news?”
He shook his head. “Nothing since I sent the note around nine.”
She nodded. “Thanks for that. No one would tell me anything.”
He’d figured as much. A couple of weeks ago, when Kevin had learned that his new law firm would be sending him overseas periodically, he’d filled out forms naming Grant his official healthcare surrogate and the emergency guardian for Molly.
It was a sudden outburst of practicality, which, frankly, had been a shocker. In their college days, Kevin had been the least sensible person Grant knew.
Of course, he hadn’t seen Kevin in years, so maybe he’d grown out of that long ago. Working with the law could make you overly cautious. And fatherhood changed even the craziest frat boys.
Grant knew that, too.
So now Grant got all the medical updates. Crimson, who had no official standing, couldn’t force the doctors to admit Kevin existed, much less that he lay in one of these rooms, unconscious.
“They may move him to Montrose in a day or two,” Grant said, uncertain whether he’d included that in his note. The painkillers they’d given him were powerful, and a lot of tonight was a blur. “They don’t have neurosurgeons here in Silverdell. The brain scan looks normal, and he does respond to light and stimulus...”
He let the sentence drift off. He’d included the details to provide hope, but even he wasn’t sure what they meant. Clearly the doctors weren’t sure, either. All they were certain of was that Kevin wasn’t brain-dead, and therefore he would probably require a higher level of care.
Crimson nodded silently. She didn’t look shocked, so he assumed his note had covered the basics well enough. But she did look grave. She must hate the idea of Kevin being moved—it would be harder to get to Montrose, which was about an hour away from Silverdell.
On the other hand, she would want him to get the best care possible. Poor Crimson. Her emotions clearly were a heavy weight to carry. Her hazel eyes, normally lit with both intelligence and mischief, were dulled with grief and fear.
Without ever meeting Grant’s gaze, the mystery girl standing next to Crimson fidgeted with her purse strap. She tentatively touched Crimson’s arm.
“I probably should go. Rory’s waiting for me downstairs, and he has to work in the morning.”
Crimson frowned, but even the frown was blunted. When she didn’t agree with something, she ordinarily zapped you hard. Now, though, her voice was softly troubled. “Becky, Rory isn’t—”
“It’s okay!” The girl smiled so brightly it looked out of place here, in the dim, hushed chill of a hospital waiting room at midnight. “He’ll watch out for me. After I fell, he practically carried me to the hospital. Honestly. I stumble on one wet staircase, and suddenly he thinks I can’t walk without tripping over my own feet.”
Crimson shut her eyes and took a deep breath. She swayed slightly. Grant wondered whether she might collapse right there. He’d never seen her look so dead-dog tired.
She opened her eyes. “You still have my card?”
The girl nodded, never letting the smile drop. “Sure do! Thanks. Pretty crazy, huh, both of us showing up here tonight?” She transferred the high-wattage beam to Grant. “Good to meet you,” she said, though she hadn’t. “Glad you’re okay!”
Wiggling her fingers in a goodbye better suited to friends parting at the dance club, she left.
Grant went over to where Crimson stood. She’d let her shoulder drop against the wall as if she needed the support. Beside her, through the window, he saw flashes of silver, which made the ugly metallic rooftop air handlers look almost pretty.
“It’s still raining.” He was surprised, though he wasn’t sure why. Silverdell springs could be wet as hell. But he felt as if he’d been inside this hospital for days, instead of hours.
“It’s okay. I drive pretty well in the rain.”
Right. He’d have to leave the driving to her, wouldn’t he? He wasn’t even sure his sprained right ankle would be capable of making the transition from gas to brake—and the last thing they needed was another accident.
He almost asked her where her car was parked—but he remembered in the nick of time. She didn’t have a car anymore. They’d towed it to the junk lot down by Mark’s garage on the south side of town, waiting to be crushed, no doubt.
And suddenly, like a tsunami, all the practical details of this mess rushed into his head. None of it had seemed to matter earlier, when he’d been focused on Kevin’s condition and on persuading the doctors to let him go home.
But it mattered now. Thanks to that fool tourist, who had been texting when he should have been watching the road, Crimson was in a fix—and so was he.
What was he going to do with Molly? He couldn’t tend to a baby with only one good hand.
He couldn’t tend to a baby. Period.
“Hell.” He frowned, getting a sudden glimpse of the long list of things he wasn’t going to be able to do one-handed. It stretched from the profoundly important, like grooming, feeding and training his horses, to the ridiculously trivial, like buttoning his jeans and squeezing toothpaste onto his own toothbrush. “I’m screwed, aren’t I?”
His cell phone chose that moment to buzz at him. Clumsily, he dug around in his pocket with his left hand, barely managing to extricate the thing before it was too late.
He answered without looking at the caller ID, because he didn’t have time. Just his luck. It was Ginny.
And apparently, she’d heard about the accident.
“Honey, are you okay?”
“I’m okay.” He wondered why they were back to honey. He’d been so relieved when she broke up with him. Surely she wasn’t going to try to patch things up now.
Crimson was staring at him, her face set as if she feared it might be bad news, so he smiled a little and shook his head to set her mind at ease. “My arm’s broken,” he explained into the phone, “and I’m on some serious painkillers, but I’m alive.”
He winced when he heard himself say that. I’m alive, but Kevin...
“Are you still at the hospital? Let me come get you. You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”
Instinctively, he began to protest. “No, really. I’m fine. I know you decided we should take a break, and just because I’ve had an accident, you shouldn’t—”
“I want to! You know I wouldn’t leave you in the lurch!”
“Listen, Ginny.” He was suddenly so tired he wasn’t sure how much longer he could string words together. “I’m fine. I don’t need any help.”
“What about the baby? If your arm is broken, you’ll need someone to help with the baby, surely. Diapers? Feeding?”
She was right, of course. He would desperately need help with all that. But he’d learn to change diapers with his toes before he’d put Molly in the Ginny’s care. The breakup over late-night wailing was only the last in a long line of small indications that Ginny wasn’t fond of babies.
He glanced at Crimson. Maybe something in his face alerted her to the problem. Or maybe she had just put two and two together from his end of the conversation.
She raised her eyebrows and tapped her index finger against her collarbone. “Me,” she mouthed. She held her elbows out, cupped one hand behind the other and mimicked rocking a baby. “Me.”
He nodded. Yes. Oh, hell, yes. He didn’t have to think twice. Even his muddy brain could see how perfect that solution was. Crimson was capable, kind and newly unemployed. She loved Molly, and the baby had clearly bonded with her.
“I’ve already got the help I need,” he said into the phone, though he kept his gaze on Crimson, who was smiling her approval. She was extraordinarily beautiful, he thought suddenly, and then pulled back from the thought. Was that the painkillers talking? He didn’t concern himself with the beauty of women who belonged to other men.
Maybe it was just that, at the moment, she looked like his guardian angel. He hadn’t even realized how daunted he’d felt at the prospect of handling things alone until he didn’t have to. She was the perfect candidate.
Honestly, he couldn’t think of anyone else he could stand to have living at the ranch right now.
“What do you mean, you’ve already got help?” Ginny sounded suspicious. “You’ve been in the hospital all afternoon. What did you do, hire a nurse straight out of the ER?”
“Better than a nurse,” he said. “Crimson’s offered to move in till Kevin wakes up.”
* * *
“I’VE GOTTA TELL YOU, pumpkin, you’re cute, but you’re exhausting.”
Crimson dropped a kiss on Molly’s head as she spoke, as if to offset any implied criticism. But it was true. She was dog-tired. And she’d only been a substitute mother for about—she glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand by Kevin’s bed—about three hours now.
Three hours out of...how many? How many days, weeks, months, even, would it be before Kevin was well enough to come back to his infant daughter?
If he ever was.
She shivered, even though this bedroom, one of the few completely renovated rooms in Grant’s comfortable ranch house, was cozy warm. She could see a peaceful spring dawn rising over the greening mountains through the window.
About half an hour ago, the rain had finally stopped—and Molly had woken up. Maybe the sudden silence was the problem. Maybe the deep drumming of water against the roof had provided a lullaby of white noise. Or, heck, maybe waking at 5:00 a.m. was normal for Molly. Crimson had never been intimate enough with Kevin to learn such things.
She’d never spent the night in this bedroom. Not until tonight.
She looked at the baby, who looked back, wide-eyed and curious.
What had she gotten herself into? Was it really just yesterday she’d been saying she needed to get the heck out of Silverdell? She should have listened to her gut. She should have gone straight to her car and...
As if Molly sensed Crimson’s distress, she frowned. She puckered up and inhaled, clearly prepared to wail.
“Shhh...no, no, we have to let Uncle Grant sleep.” Crimson patted the baby’s back, wondering what on earth to try next.
Clean diaper? Well, she wasn’t an idiot. She’d taken care of that first. She’d also offered a bottle of formula. Kevin had cleverly turned this guest bedroom into a self-contained baby-tending unit, with a small refrigerator on the dresser, and an electric bottle warmer conveniently situated on the end table.
After Molly had eaten, Crimson had patted her back until she burped. Serenading her softly, she’d walked her around the room.
And around. And around.
She’d been pacing a cramped circle through this small space for half an hour now. From the crib, down around the foot of the bed, over to the window, past the armoire and back to the bed. Every time, the minute Molly saw the crib, she started to fret, so Crimson would start the loop all over again.
But still Molly rode her shoulder with her head erect, her body tense, her feet kicking slightly. She was 100 percent wide-awake.
“Hush now, pumpkin. Hush.”
But Molly was clearly not in the mood to be hushed. Jiggling the baby with one arm, Crimson snatched up her long bathrobe with the other and made her way out the door, worming her arm into the sleeve awkwardly.
She still had only one arm in by the time she hit the staircase, and the robe dangled from her shoulder. Gingerly, she made her way down the beautiful Australian cypress treads, being careful not to trip on the untied belt, which dragged beside her like a snake.
The staircase seemed to fascinate Molly, who instantly went silent. She gripped the neck of Crimson’s nightshirt in one fist to steady herself and used her other hand to push upright so she could gaze at the big house with her liquid blue eyes.
She smacked her lips, and then she made a noise that sounded a lot like a kitten purring. Crimson had to chuckle. It was undoubtedly an expression of approval, as if saying that Crimson had been a little slow on the uptake, but she’d finally gotten it right.
“I hear you, girlfriend,” Crimson said, kissing the warm, silky head again as they made it to the bottom of the stairs. “A lady’s gotta have space. A lady’s gotta have a little excitement.”
