A Bull Rider's Pride Page 9

  “Yeah, um. So, those are your test results.”

  “You could have called or emailed them to me.” Brady tore open the envelope and flipped through the documents.

  This wasn’t going as expected. “You’re right.” The thought had crossed her mind. “I didn’t like how we left things on Friday. I fear I overstepped as your physician.”

  Brady stepped away from the door. “Would you like to come in?”

  Don’t do it, Sheila. “Sure, thank you.”

  The immediate intimacy of the small residence set off a million warning bells in her head. That and the fact that his bed was fewer than twenty feet away.

  “Have a seat.” Brady motioned to the couch in front of a bank of windows. He set the cookies on the coffee table and joined her. “Where are my manners? Would you like some coffee or Coke?”

  “No thank you, I can’t stay long.” She shouldn’t be alone behind closed doors with him. “I wanted to see if you had any questions about your results. I must admit, I’m surprised to see you getting around with just a cane.”

  “I’ve been using it for a couple of days. Only when I’m indoors and near places where I can readily sit down.” Brady reached under the table and raised it with a simple touch of his finger. “I need to get one of these for my house. It’s perfect for Gunner’s little projects.”

  Sheila immediately regretted her decision to come inside. His close proximity was too casual, too tempting, too everything. She studied his profile as he read the cover sheet. Evening stubble shadowed his jawline. She fought every urge to reach out and touch it.

  “Help me out here, Doc.” Brady’s brows furrowed. “If I’m reading this correctly, you’re telling me everything’s fine?”

  Sheila nodded. “I even consulted with Dr. Mangone and he agreed. We couldn’t have asked for better results.”

  Brady dropped the report on the table and pulled her into his arms. His calloused hand guided her face to his as their lips met. Her brain urged her to push him away, but her body smothered any lingering logic. She wanted this—she wanted him. His fingers snaked into her hair drawing her closer, deepening their kiss. The tip of his tongue skimmed hers, playfully at first, then more demanding. Her hand trailed up his thigh, pausing just below his hip. Brady grabbed her wrist and tugged her across his lap until she was sitting astride him. He held her face between his hands and stared into her eyes.

  “I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted this.” Brady’s slow kiss left her body thrumming like a masterfully played instrument. He was gentle and firm at the same time. His hands, strong and powerful, skimmed over her shoulders with the lightest of touches, creating multiple shivers along her spine. He leaned forward, kissing the base of her throat. She tilted her head back, gripping his muscular upper arms. He was forbidden and she wanted to taste more of him.

  “We can’t do this.” Was that me? Sheila barely recognized her own heady voice.

  “Don’t you want me?” he whispered against her lips. “I used to watch you at the hospital and wonder what it would be like to kiss you.”

  Sheila groaned. “Don’t tell me that.” Her euphoric fog began to clear when he mentioned the hospital. “Brady.” She pushed against his shoulders. “We can’t do this.”

  She slid off his lap, embarrassed she’d let it go as far as it had. She’d never crossed that line with a patient before. It wasn’t real. His feelings for her were nothing more than relief and excitement about his test results. He’d been right. She could’ve phoned or emailed them and she knew better than to put herself in this position.

  “Can you honestly deny your feelings for me?” He entwined his fingers with hers, urging her toward him.

  Sheila stood, backing away from the couch. “That doesn’t matter. We both need to forget these feelings exist.” She shouldn’t even have feelings to take into consideration. But she did. She’d wanted that kiss just as much if not more than he did. If they were any two other people on earth, she’d kiss him again. No, no, no. She was his doctor. He was her patient—her younger patient. Okay, so she was only older by two years, but still... “This is wrong.”

  “You want me just as much as I want you.” Brady leaned back, draping his arms over the back of the couch. His cocksure smile both warmed and irritated her. “And I’m not talking about sex. I’m referring to the whole package. That’s why you’re so dead set against me competing again, isn’t it? My body’s showing you I can do it, but you keep trying to convince me otherwise.”

  He was insightful, she’d give him that. She’d pretty much come to the same realization yesterday. She’d wished they had pictures or video of Brady when he’d first arrived in the OR so she could show him how close to death he’d looked, how torn up. Maybe that would scare him enough to keep him from getting back on a bull. It terrified her to think of him being in that condition ever again. That thought screamed ethics violation. She cared. She cared more than she had a right to. Cared more than she even wanted to.

  “This can’t happen again.” Sheila squared her shoulders. “It happened, we got it out of our systems, we don’t mention it to each other or anyone else. I could lose my job over that kiss, and I’m sorry, Brady, you’re not worth my career.”

  * * *

  “THEN, YOU’RE FIRED.”

  “I’m what?” Sheila threw her head back and laughed heartily. “You can’t fire me as your physician, Brady.”

  “Actually, I can.” It wasn’t the optimal choice, but if it meant having a chance with her, then he was fine with it. “You’re telling me it’s an issue because you’re my doctor. If I eliminate the problem, then we can date.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Sheila said.

  “Sure it is.” Brady leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Unless you’re not really attracted to me.” He’d already laid his heart on the line. He needed to know one way or the other how she felt about him.

  Sheila’s smile tightened. “I think we’ve already established my attraction to you and vice versa. Grace General Hospital frowns on doctors dating former patients. I’d lose the respect of my colleagues. And if you run to my attending and have me removed as your doctor, it will raise a few red flags.”

  “We’ll give them your white flags in exchange.” Brady held up the bag. Mutual attraction shouldn’t come with a lead weight attached to it. It should be light and fun. He wanted the chance to experience that excitement with her, but she had to lighten up a little.

  “Nice. Real mature.” Sheila scowled. “You just confirmed why we can’t be together.” She strode to the door and opened it, then changed her mind and slammed it shut again. “Any man in my life would have to respect my career. You don’t have a clue what physicians sacrifice. I put my entire life on hold to become a doctor. After eight years in school and another four in Grace General’s residency program with another year to complete before I begin my fellowship, I’m not throwing it away for a fling. Dedication and devotion from people like me is the reason you’re alive today.”

  “Sheila.” He hadn’t meant to upset her. “I do respect your career. I admire your dedication and achievements.” If she only understood that he’d devoted the same energy to his own career.

  She scoffed. “You take everything for granted.”

  Brady stood and reached for his cane. “Wait just a minute. I admit I don’t get the whole ethics violation thing and I’m sorry I teased you about your job.” She’d managed to rile him as if he were a bobcat with a burr under its tail, and he wouldn’t tolerate it. “But insinuating I take my life for granted is not acceptable. You don’t know me.”

  “You are so hardheaded.” She stepped toward him. “And I can say that with 100 percent certainty. I helped give you a second chance at life. A second chance to see your son grow up and you want to throw it all away for pride.”

 
“I’m doing this for my son,” he argued. “Why can’t you see that?”

  “Gunner doesn’t care what you do for a living. He’s four! He loves you no matter what.” Sheila threw her hands in the air. “Okay, I’m done with this conversation. I don’t care what you do.” Sheila reached for the doorknob and hesitated. She slammed her fist into her thigh. “So help me, I do care.” She spun to face him. “That’s the problem. I care what happens to you. This speech is nothing new to you, is it? You’ve compared me to Alice before. I’m sure she’s said the exact same things I’m saying. It doesn’t matter. You’ll do what Brady Sawyer wants to do.”

  Brady hadn’t expected Sheila to admit her feelings for him. He’d suspected and even hoped the attraction was mutual. Hearing the words gave it a completely different meaning. How could he walk away from a woman who intrigued him like no other?

  “It’s not pride.” Brady walked to the bedside table and opened the drawer. Removing a stack of paperwork, he brought it to the table. “Humor me for a minute.” He spread out the numerous hospital bills, pointing to the grand total at the bottom of each. “You don’t come cheap.”

  Sheila picked up one of the invoices and perused the items, before picking up another.

  “Have you ever even seen a bill from your hospital?”

  Sheila sat down at the table. “Not as extensive as these.” She continued to pick through the papers. “You weren’t a typical emergency room case.”

  “It doesn’t change the fact I have to earn a living to support my son.” Brady sat beside her. “Gunner is everything to me. Without him, I’m nothing. He came into my life at a very, very difficult time and he’s a blessing like no other. I refuse to allow him to go without.”

  “I know you want to be a good father.” Sheila gathered the bills and stacked them neatly. “There are other ways to support your son.”

  Brady rested his hand on her forearm. “I admire your dedication to your career. I admire your education. I wish I had a fraction of it.” He held his arms out wide. “This is it. This is me. This is all I know how to be—a bull rider. A rodeo cowboy.”

  “You’re so much more than that,” Sheila whispered.

  Brady laughed and rubbed the stubble along his jawline with his palm. “My father devoted all his spare time to make me a champion. He sacrificed everything. Both of my parents did. And I failed—miserably. I made a mistake and it almost cost me my life. Growing up, I spent every day after school honing my riding skills. We didn’t have schools like the one next door. We learned from other cowboys. As I got older I devoted every weekend—every free moment—to being the best competitor. When the season was over, I worked odd jobs here and there. Nothing permanent. Once the season started up again, I was back on the road. Everything I earned went to the next entry fee and my travel expenses.” Brady carried the paperwork back to the drawer. “When Gunner came along, I had to choose my events more wisely. Higher entry fees meant higher payouts. And I was good. I made a solid living at it. Hell, I haven’t even owned my ranch for a year yet and I might lose it because I can’t pay the bills.”

  “What about Alice? And your dad?”

  Brady shook his head “Alice is a great mom, but she can’t do it all alone. She shouldn’t have to. My dad’s giving her money right now. Do you have any idea what it’s like for a man to have his dad pay for his son? It’s demeaning. I feel like a castrated bull.”

  Brady raked his hand through his hair. If he was going to let Sheila into his heart, she needed to know—to understand—what drove him to compete again. “I love what I do and I am grateful for the support my family has given me through years. But it kills me that you and everyone else close to me want me to give up. There’s too much at stake and it’s not all about money. My mom might still be alive if I hadn’t competed that weekend. She’d planned to go with us, but she hadn’t felt well the previous night. Dad wanted to stay home, take care of her. But she’d have no part of it, said she’d probably just caught a bug.” Brady closed his eyes, still able to hear her voice in his head. “She told me to win for her, and I did. When we got home we found her in bed. She’d suffered a massive stroke and died alone.”

  Brady felt Sheila’s warm touch against his cheek. “It wasn’t your fault.” He opened his eyes and met her gaze. He entwined his fingers in hers, knowing they were partially responsible for him being alive today.

  “It sure felt that way. I know my father still questions his decision to leave that day. He’ll never admit it. Hell, he won’t even talk about her. I have to live with wondering what would have happened if I had insisted he stay home. My mom made the ultimate sacrifice so I could compete with my dad by my side. She wanted me to win and not just that day. It was important to her that I follow my dreams and succeed. And I will. I refuse to let her down.”

  “I didn’t realize.”

  “Now you do.” Brady gave her hands a gentle squeeze, urging her to stand. He brushed the hair from her face and lightly caressed her cheek, relishing the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips. The desire to take her to his bed and make love to her until she understood almost overrode his senses. “Can’t you give us a try? I’ll wait. You’ve already said I’m improving and you won’t need to be my doctor for much longer. There are other orthopedists not associated with the hospital I can see if I have a problem.”

  Her eyes welled with tears. “It’s not just that. I can’t give my heart to someone knowing every time he goes to work may be the last time he leaves home whole.”

  Brady released her hand. “How is this any different from other professions? Look at deep-sea fishermen and lumberjacks. Aren’t those the most dangerous jobs in the world?”

  “That’s a job—this is a sport,” Sheila argued.

  “A professional sport, like football and racecar driving,” he countered. “It’s called being a professional rodeo cowboy for a reason. I hate to break it to you, but my so-called sport is a job. Asking me to walk away from that is like asking you to walk away from being a physician. The only difference is I know I’ll have to walk away from my job within the next few years. Retirement comes early for us. It’s a short-lived career, but make no mistake, it is a career.”

  “I understand where you’re coming from and I sympathize with your reasons, but I’m saving lives and you’re risking yours. This goes against everything I believe in.”

  He made his way to the door and opened it. “Then I guess we have nothing more to discuss.”

  Sheila dropped her head. “No, I guess we don’t.”

  Closing the door behind her should have been easier. It shouldn’t hurt. He understood her not wanting to jeopardize her career. After all, he wasn’t willing to give up his career for anyone either. Including her.

  * * *

  SHEILA LEANED AGAINST the side of his cottage for five minutes before she willed her feet to move. She had to walk away. She’d made the right decision. Then why did it feel so wrong?

  Brady’s door clicked open. She scurried around the corner in an attempt to hide from him. Seeing her still there would serve only to strengthen his argument. A child’s bloodcurdling scream came from the cottage next door. Before she could react, Brady flew down his front ramp. Unable to support himself completely without his walker or cane, he fell to the pavement onto his knees.

  “Brady!” Sheila ran to his side. “Don’t move.”

  Brady shifted his legs into a sitting position. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?” She offered her hand as he attempted to stand.

  “Forget about me, will you. Go check on the kid.” Sheila jumped back at his harsh tone. She ran up the ramp next door and pounded on the door. “This is Dr. Lindstrom, are you all right in there?” She tried the knob—locked. She pounded again. “Please, open the door.”

  A crowd had begun to gather around the cottage. Thomas made
his way to the door with a master key card in his hand. Within seconds, they were inside. A terrified preteen girl had her wheelchair backed into a corner while an enflamed frying pan burned on the stove. Thomas quickly grabbed the extinguisher, and put out the blaze.

  “Oh my!” The girl’s mother ran into the cottage. “What happened?”

  Sheila checked the girl for burns. “Just a little kitchen fire. She appears to be okay. Scared, but okay.”

  “I’m sorry,” the girl cried. “I wanted to make my mom dinner for all she’s done for me. I know how hard this is on her.”

  “Oh sweetheart.” The woman knelt before her daughter, wrapping the child up in her arms. “Shh, I’m here.”

  “I’ll send Housekeeping over to clean up the kitchen. They’ll bring you a fresh fire extinguisher and a new frying pan,” Thomas said.

  Relieved, Sheila followed him out. When she returned to Brady’s cottage, he was gone. She had a hunch where he might be. A few minutes later, she found him in the fitness room working the parallel bars with Abby by his side. While she further understood his determination, his relentless fight to push himself to the limits worried her. Something had to give and she feared it would be Brady before too long.

  Chapter Eight

  That kiss. That earth-shattering kiss. She wanted to tell Gracie. Heck, she wanted to scream it from the hospital rooftop. It was a secret she couldn’t share. Her lips had still tingled when she’d awoken that morning. Disappointingly, she hadn’t dreamed about him last night as she’d anticipated. The only way she’d ever have Brady was in her dreams.

  Sheila stood outside Dr. Mangone’s office knowing full well she should report the kiss and step down as his doctor. The kiss, at least the extent of the kiss, had been equally her fault. Even Sheila had to admit Brady’s offer to wait and find another doctor had been moderately appealing. All right, it had been downright tempting, but not worth the professional backlash that would ensue.