Cowboy Daddy. Angel Smits

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       CHAPTER FOUR

      IF SHE’D HAD the energy, Amanda would have given the two egotistical, bossy males a piece of her mind. But she had nothing left. Leaning back in the uncomfortable wheelchair, she closed her eyes.

      They might be obtuse, but neither Wyatt nor Lane was stupid. The testosterone level in the air dropped several degrees. “I can’t think right now,” she whispered. “Just let me rest, and we can discuss it later.”

      It was too much to think about. Too many people, too many choices. And Amanda would be damned if she’d let either of these two see the frustrated, overwhelmed tears that clogged her throat.

      Wyatt took her back to her room. But she could hear two sets of boot heels on the tile floor, letting her know Lane followed.

      This time Wyatt stopped at the nurses’ station and the cheery nurse who’d helped earlier followed to assist her back into the bed.

      The two men waited outside, and she hoped they’d stay out. Amanda heard deep voices and prayed they weren’t arguing or worse.

      “You up for guests, or should I shoo those two away?” The nurse smiled and waited for her decision.

      “I’d love to tell them to go away, but they’ll just hang around regardless.” Amanda snuggled down against the firm, crinkly pillows. “Might as well get it over with,” she whispered and closed her eyes.

      “It’s your choice.” The nurse gave her one more escape option, and she almost took it.

      “No. They’ll freak. It’s okay, I don’t back down often.”

      “Okay.” As the nurse left, she propped the door open. “You have ten minutes, boys, then it’s lights out.” The nurse made the right decision for her, and Amanda smiled.

      Amanda didn’t open her eyes, so she didn’t know who came in first. It didn’t matter. She could feel their equally angry stares. Her brother’s glare would condemn her for sleeping with one of his crew. She’d heard plenty from him over the years about staying away from them. And she’d most definitely hear plenty more of it from all her brothers, now.

      Lane’s stare was less clear in her mind. Would it be angry, hurt, condemning? She hadn’t told him, or anyone else, that he was Lucas’s father. Now everyone probably knew.

      Slowly, she opened her eyes to a feeling of disappointment. Lane was staring out the window at the city beyond. She couldn’t see his face, but his back was ramrod straight with his shoulders thrown back, broad and strong. Wyatt stood at the foot of her bed, looking exactly as she’d expected, and she only briefly met his gaze before glancing at Lane again.

      She wanted him to turn and face her. She almost wished he’d lose that famous temper of his and let her have it. Maybe her guilt would ease if he did. “I never meant to lie to you.” She waited a second. “Either of you.”

      “And yet you did.” Lane still didn’t turn around.

      “Watch it, Lane.” Wyatt’s voice was a low, protective growl. “You are far from innocent in this.”

      “Leave him alone, Wyatt,” she whispered. Once again, she looked at her brother. “I need to talk to Lane. Alone.”

      Wyatt didn’t want to leave. She saw the stubbornness in the set of his jaw. “I’ll be right outside.”

      “Down the hall,” she directed. “No eavesdropping.”

      * * *

      THE LIGHTS IN Mandy’s hospital room were low, letting the shadows take over. On the long, five-hour drive, Lane hadn’t pictured anything he’d seen when he got here. None of this was part of his normal world, or what he’d expected when he’d woke up in his truck this morning.

      Staring out the window, he watched the reflection rather than the city beyond.

      The bed, centered in the room, was metal with white sheets that looked stark against the evening light. Mandy, in a soft blue gown, looked tiny in the bed. Her dark hair tumbled across a snow-white pillowcase that echoed the pallor of her skin.

      The clear tubing of the IV snaked, from where it was imbedded in her arm, across the blanket and up to the hanging bag. What had Addie said about the transfusion? He envisioned the tubing filled with life-giving blood.

      He swallowed hard, easing the fear that still gripped him. He’d never before thought about losing her like that, forever. Never expected—

      Wyatt stepped back reluctantly, and Lane knew he was weighing Mandy’s wishes against his own concerns. He knew why Lane was here, and he wanted to know the rest. But Lane wasn’t here to talk to Wyatt.

      Wyatt’s receding footsteps were the only indication he’d left.

      Finally, with a deep breath, Lane turned to face Mandy. She hadn’t moved, but her eyes were open, looking groggily at him. Even in the dimness, the bright blue of her eyes reflected her thoughts. If anyone wore their emotions on their sleeve, it was Mandy Hawkins. He could read her like a book.

      Their gazes met. “How you feeling?” Lane took a couple of slow steps toward the bed. His boots sounded too loud in the quiet room.

      “Worn out.” She tried to smile, but didn’t move. “Why are you here?” Her voice shook. Were those tears in her eyes? She knew his answer, but was waiting for him to say it, to ask her...

      If Wyatt hadn’t been standing in the hallway, Lane would have walked to the bed and taken her hand, and—what? Cursed at her? Kissed her? He had no clue, and that bothered СКАЧАТЬ