A Bull Rider's Pride Page 4

  “Relax, Doc.” Brady shrugged. “It was just a harmless flirtation. You’re a beautiful woman, and I’m trying to get my bearings back. I didn’t mean anything by it. It won’t happen again.”

  “Good.” His admission was oddly reassuring and uncomfortable at the same time. “Thank you, for saying I’m beautiful.” Sheila knew she shouldn’t have said anything but it had been so long since she’d heard a compliment she felt it deserved an acknowledgment. “I’m going to finish my rounds and then I will be back to see you because you’re on my list too. So don’t run off anywhere.”

  Brady pointed to his chair. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” They both laughed, easing the tension. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

  Sheila shouldn’t have read anything into his reply, but the undercurrent had been undeniable. No man had ever had the ability to ruin her, but if she wasn’t careful this one just might.

  * * *

  BRADY BARELY HAD time to recover from Sheila’s rejection before he spotted Gunner dragging his grandfather up the walkway by the hand.

  “Daddy!” Gunner jumped in his lap. “Easy, kiddo. Daddy’s sore from all his physical therapy.” His father reached over Gunner and gave Brady a hug. “It’s good to see you, Dad.”

  “You look great,” John Sawyer said. “You finally got some color back into you.” The older man looked around. “This place is huge. I’m sorry I couldn’t get here until today. Work has been crazy and this little guy has kept me busy.”

  “Once I’m on my feet, I’ll pay you back with interest. I appreciate all you’ve done.” He admired his father, but he hated the extra stress his accident had placed on the older man. He’d already had a heart attack two years ago and Brady didn’t want him to risk another. His dad worked long hours on a residential construction crew in the hot Texas sun to help pay Brady’s bills. It didn’t matter how many times he or Alice told him not to, he picked up Brady’s mail every day and paid whatever came in. Brady wasn’t broke—yet. He had money in the bank, but every time he attempted to pay his father back, the man refused, telling him they’d settle up later. When Alice had the mail forwarded to her house, John called each utility and credit card company and sent them a check for the amount due. If anything happened to his father, he’d never forgive himself. That was one more reason he needed to regain his life.

  John squeezed Brady’s shoulder. “Eh, let’s save all that nonsense for another time. Are you going to show me around this place or what?”

  “I can show you, Pawpaw.” Gunner climbed down from Brady’s lap.

  “You can!” John took hold of his grandson’s hand. “You lead the way, then.” He looked over his shoulder at Brady. “You coming, son?”

  “I’ll catch up with you. I left my phone back in the cottage. I want to get it in case Alice calls for him. I think Gunner wants to show you the rodeo school.”

  Brady watched them walk toward the corrals. His father and Sheila had missed each other by mere minutes. He’d barely composed himself after acting like a complete jackass before they’d arrived. He didn’t have a clue what had compelled him to blurt out everything he’d said to Sheila. This was definitely one of those “in need of a do over” situations.

  He wheeled down the path to his cottage. Despite all the things he’d said wrong, something Sheila had mentioned kept replaying in his head...she’d already fielded questions about him. When? And from who? He wanted to ask her, but he wasn’t about to track her down and appear even more desperate.

  After giving his father the grand tour, Brady was hot, sweaty and hungry. The hippotherapy center and rodeo school had a combined cookout to celebrate the holiday. Two hours had passed since he had last seen Sheila and he wondered if she’d left for the day without seeing him. He couldn’t blame her if she had. Once they’d piled their plates with food and made their way to the picnic tables, Brady spotted her talking with Kay and a group of people he hadn’t seen before. Then again, from his vantage point he seemed to miss quite a few things. He’d definitely developed a better appreciation for what it was like to be his son’s height.

  “I didn’t want you to think I forgot about you.” Sheila’s voice almost caused him to choke on his hot dog. She patted him on the back a few times. “You okay? I didn’t lose you in the hospital, I’m not going to lose you out here.”

  Brady cleared his throat. “I’m good. Dad, this is Dr. Sheila Lindstrom, one of my surgeons. Sheila this is my father, John, and my son, Gunner.”

  Sheila shook hands with John and readily welcomed a hug from Gunner. “Thank you for fixing my daddy.”

  Sheila cupped Gunner’s chin and smiled. “You’re welcome, honey, but I had lots of help.” She turned to the table. “I hadn’t realized how late it was. I didn’t mean to interrupt your meal. Brady, do you have any questions or concerns for me?”

  He had many questions and a few concerns, none of them relating to his health. “No, everything I’m feeling is muscle related. It’s been a while since they’ve had this much of a workout.”

  “Dr. Lindstrom, why don’t you join us?” his father asked. He attempted to shoot the man a look, but John refused to make eye contact, confirming to Brady he was up to no good. “Unless we’re taking you away from your own family.” Subtle, Dad. Real subtle.

  “My family lives in Colorado. I’m not here with anyone.”

  “Then I insist.” His father rose. “Have a seat next to me, I’ll fix you a plate.” Before Sheila could protest, John was halfway to the buffet table.

  “Just for the record, I didn’t put him up to that.”

  “I believe you.” Sheila laughed. “He reminds me of my own father. Forgive me for asking, but your mom...?”

  “She died shortly after Gunner was born.”

  “I’m sorry. That must’ve been really difficult, losing her at such an important time in your life.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Here you go.” John set a plate twice the size of any of theirs in front of Sheila.

  “My God, Dad. If she ate all of that she’d burst.” His father was determined to embarrass him today.

  “Oh, you’d be surprised what I could put away.” Sheila thanked his father.

  It was early evening by the time they finished eating. Gunner had dragged his grandfather off to the dessert table for seconds. “Thank you for humoring my dad. I don’t want to keep you from your Fourth of July plans tonight.”

  “I rather enjoyed it. My only plans involve heading into town to watch the fireworks a little later. This is the first year I’ve been able to see them since I’ve moved here. I’ve always been on call. It’s a rare night of freedom for me.”

  “Fireworks?” Gunner asked as he returned with an ice cream sundae in hand and a mouth full of whipped cream. “Can we come too?”

  Brady didn’t know if he should hug his son or reprimand him. He chose the middle-of-the-road approach. Wrapping his arm around Gunner’s waist, he tugged him onto his lap. “If you want to see fireworks, ask Pawpaw if he’ll drive us, but don’t invite yourself to someone else’s party.”

  “It’s hardly a party. And you’re more than welcome to join us. We’re taking everyone from Dance of Hope and the rodeo school into town. You’re a part of Dance of Hope, so you’re automatically invited. That’s what I was discussing earlier with Kay.”

  It wasn’t the most private setting imaginable, but it was better than the alternative.

  “We’d love to join you.”

  * * *

  SHEILA HAD NO idea what had possessed her to offer Brady and his family a ride into town. After she had helped Kay pile all the kids into multiple ranch vehicles, she’d realized Brady was the odd man out. He hadn’t been there long enough to form many friendships and she figured they’d look platonic enough with John as their chaperone.
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  With John and Gunner in the backseat of her car, she had to fend for herself up front with Brady. She’d never considered her Ford Fusion a small car, but Brady’s hulking frame transformed it into a much more intimate space. Normally it wouldn’t have fazed her, but after their little moment earlier followed by John’s not-so-subtle matchmaking, her belly was flip-flopping like that of a teenager with a crush. Brady had crossed the invisible line between the seats more than once during their short drive into town. Accidentally, of course. That didn’t stop her from enjoying the occasional arm brush.

  All of Ramblewood had come out to see the pyrotechnics. But the mayor had set aside a separate parking area for the Dance of Hope patients so they’d have an unobstructed view and not have to leave the vehicles if they didn’t want to or weren’t able to. The second Sheila cut the engine, John hopped out with Gunner in tow. So much for their chaperone.

  Neither one of them made a move to exit the car. After sitting in silence for a good three minutes, Sheila opened the moonroof, and reclined her seat slightly. She had a comfortable front-row seat and didn’t see the need to get out. Truth be told...she was quite content sitting in the dark with Brady by her side.

  As the sky lit up in shades of red, white and blue, Brady reached for her. She didn’t resist, enjoying the feel of his palm against the top of her hand. Their fingers entwined and for a few moments, they had what could never exist outside in the real world.

  It felt good. So good, she knew she’d miss it tomorrow.

  Chapter Four

  Three days had passed since Brady had seen Sheila. In a way, it felt like only a few hours since he’d held her hand in the dark. But at times it felt as if it had happened years ago. Either way, he missed it more than he should. He hadn’t even kissed the woman—not that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind a few hundred times—and he was already craving her touch again. He’d held hands, kissed and done much more with his fair share of women and none of them had had anywhere near the same effect. Once he was capable of taking her on a proper date, he would plan a night she wouldn’t forget. That is if he could convince her to say yes. He didn’t want to endanger her job, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Maybe they could find a way...

  He wheeled his chair to the abdominal crunch machine in the fitness room and adjusted the weight plates to slightly more than he’d lifted yesterday. He’d been a little overconfident the first day, thinking he could crunch close to what he did preaccident only to discover just how much his ab muscles had atrophied in two and a half months. When he looked in the mirror, he still saw the same man he was before GhostMaker took him out...with the exception of numerous surgery scars. He could live with those. Rodeo cowboys and ranchers had plenty of them. And while they were still raw, they didn’t bother him nearly as much as his lack of strength. Walking two feet without any assistance had become a daily goal he still couldn’t master. Weakness wasn’t part of his vocabulary.

  He missed working on his house. He’d bought the small ranch thirty miles outside Ramblewood in January. Here it was July and he was already dipping into the money he’d set aside for renovations so he could pay the mortgage. He refused to allow his father to pay for his house. His dad didn’t have the money either, but knowing him, he’d sure as heck try to earn it.

  He longed to get back to the ranch and his career, but he missed playing with his son more than anything. Gunner’s laughter was his favorite sound in the world. Now when his son looked at him, he saw worry in the boy’s small face. No father wants to hear his child ask when he’ll be able to play with them again. It broke his heart. Now that he was out of the hospital, they had the opportunity to spend more time together and have some long overdue fun.

  Standing steadier every day since his arrival at Dance of Hope a week ago, Brady maneuvered into the machine’s seat and slid his feet under the pads. He reached above his shoulders and firmly grabbed hold of the handles. He concentrated on contracting his abdominal muscles and slowly bent forward, lifting his thighs and knees toward his upper body, and then eased the machine back into position. By not allowing the weight plates to touch, he could keep constant tension on his muscles. With each set, his range of motion increased slightly. He’d probably be able to squeeze in only ten or fifteen reps before his physical therapist came in and scolded him for pushing himself too hard. They didn’t understand. He’d continue to feel like half a man until he no longer needed anyone else’s help to provide for his son.

  Brady heard the door to the fitness room open. Choosing to ignore it, he closed his eyes and continued his workout. One or two more crunches meant one or two more steps away from his wheelchair.

  “Ahem.” A very feminine sounding throat cleared.

  Determined to complete two sets, he refused to stop. Abby would physically have to block him this time. After another three crunches, Brady was surprised she still hadn’t said a word. Grunting, he opened his eyes and saw two tiny red-and-black sneakers. His heart lifted. Slowly, he eased the weight plates down as his son eagerly danced in front of him.

  “Surprise, Daddy!”

  Brady unfastened his fingerless gloves and tugged them off. “Come here, little man.” He slowly slid his feet out from under the pads and lifted his son into his arms. It was the first time since the accident that he’d held his son from somewhere other than a hospital bed or a wheelchair. It was a simple pleasure he wanted to enjoy for as long as he could. “I thought you were working today,” Brady said to Alice.

  “Rebecca wanted tonight off so we traded shifts. Mom said she would watch Gunner. Since I had the day off, I thought we’d bring you your mail and see how you were doing.”

  “Be careful when you head home tonight.” Brady hated when Alice worked the late shift at the emergency call center. Granted the police department was in the same building, but it wasn’t located in the safest part of town. “How did you know where to find me?”

  “The tiny blonde physical therapist said you sneak in here every morning when you think no one’s looking.”

  So much for getting away with an unsupervised workout this morning. It was a nice move on Abby’s part. She didn’t have to put an end to his routine today. She’d had his son do it instead. That was okay... Gunner was a welcome interruption. “Mmm. What’s that smell?” Brady sniffed the air.

  “We brought you bre-fast, Daddy,” Gunner said. “All your fav-rits. Show him, Mommy.”

  Alice held up a bag she had hidden behind her. “We stopped in town on the way here. Care to join us?”

  Brady’s stomach began to growl. “Most definitely.” He eased Gunner onto his feet and gave him a playful poke so he would move out of the way. Alice reached for the boy’s hand, leading him away from the equipment. While his son’s back was still turned, Brady took the opportunity to stand and maneuver into his chair, consciously aware Alice was watching his every move.

  “Wow,” she said. “You’re doing so much better than the last time I saw you.”

  Brady released the brake and grumbled a thanks before wheeling to the door. He was grateful for Alice and her support even though he knew how much she wanted him to retire from bull riding. As much as he respected her concerns, he wished his recovery hadn’t come as such a surprise. He’d made it clear to her and anyone else who’d listen that he’d beat this. Alice hadn’t quite grasped that concept yet.

  They feasted on pancakes, sausage and eggs at one of the picnic tables facing the rolling hills of the Bridle Dance Ranch. The view from his ten-acre ranch paled in comparison but it was home and he missed it. Brady’s father had taken his horses while he recuperated. That had been his father’s choice of words. It made it sound so simple, as if he had the flu. But they both knew it would probably be months until he was able to care for them on his own again. Months was tolerable, forever wasn’t. Despite his improvement, the more he spoke about getting back
to his old life, the more people downplayed his career and told him either to take it easy or not to get his hopes up. Everyone except Gunner. Through Gunner’s eyes, anything and everything was possible.

  “You’re thinking about home, aren’t you?” Alice asked as she gathered their take-out containers and stuffed them into a paper sack. “You’ll be there before you know it and then you can decide what you want to do next.”

  Brady wiped his mouth on a napkin before crumpling it. “I already know what I’m going to do next. So do you.”

  They watched Gunner waving to the horses near the corral fence. “I refuse to even entertain that idea. You’re out of the hospital and it’s time for you to get your priorities straight.”

  “They are straight.” Brady kept his voice down so Gunner wouldn’t overhear them. “This is who I am, who I’ve always been. You’ve known me forever, know how much I love rodeo. I won’t stop competing till I’ve won the World All-Around Champion Cowboy title at the National Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas. I can’t possibly win this year, but just you watch—I will win. Until then, the money will pay the bills and keep me from losing my ranch.”

  “What about the fund-raiser your dad set up?” Alice asked.

  Brady cringed. He’d been humiliated when he discovered his father had pleaded for donations on social media. His sponsors, family and friends had all chipped in, but it still wasn’t close to the amount he needed. “I know Dad meant well, but I wish he hadn’t done that.”

  “Are you mad that I contacted some of the relief funds designated to help injured rodeo competitors? Because if you are, you need to stop being modest and accept the help people are offering you.”

  “Those funds are meant for people with serious injuries.”