The Cowboy's Valentine Bride. Patricia Johns

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СКАЧАТЬ he sucked in a wavering lungful of air. This had been his first night back home, and he’d slept in the visitor’s bedroom on the main floor. There had been no way he was hopping up those stairs last night, and so they’d settled him down here. It was just as well—he wasn’t sure how he’d feel about sleeping in his old bedroom anyway. His sister’s room was directly above him, and glancing at the clock, he realized that she’d already be out doing chores. It was past four in the morning.

      I should be out there, too.

      He rubbed his hands over his face and grimaced as he sat up. His leg throbbed. If things were different, he’d already be out in the frigid January air. He’d be driving out to the herds with a pickup bed full of hay, and he’d bring a shovel to break the ice that would cover the cattle’s water troughs. He’d always wanted to join the army, but that hadn’t emptied the cowboy out of him. There was something about the crisp air at dawn and the lowing of cattle that soothed his soul like nothing else, and right now, he could use a little soothing, but he hardly felt like he deserved it.

      Jeff had had a wife and three small kids waiting for him, and he’d returned home in a box. Jeff’s wife would have been given a flag in her husband’s honor, and those little kids would never see their dad again. Jeff always had pictures in his pocket, and he’d show them to anyone who would look. Three blond, blue-eyed kids, the youngest of which looked like she could barely walk. So when Brody got back to American soil to find out his fiancée hadn’t waited for him, it hardly seemed fair that he should be the one to come back alive.

      He just hadn’t counted on the dreams. Other guys had mentioned them—the haunting nightmares that came back every time they shut their eyes, but somehow he’d thought he’d be immune. He was tough—but not that tough, apparently.

      He grabbed the bottle of pills on his nightstand and shook two into his palm. They’d help with the pain. He’d have to remember what time he took them so he could tell Kaitlyn when she arrived.

      Kaitlyn as his nurse was hard to wrap his head around. She’d been attending nursing school when he left, but he’d never really imagined her in the role. Her aunt, Bernice Harpe, was the local nurse—a solid woman of sixty. Kaitlyn had always been Nina’s younger sister to him, sitting with textbooks and paper spread in front of her at the kitchen table. When he thought of Kaitlyn, he saw her with a backpack and her hair pulled into a ponytail. And a year later, she was his nurse—cleaning his wounds, checking his stitches, noting his medication. And she was bossy, too.

      Swallowing the pills, he dropped back onto his pillow. Everything had changed since his return. The shock of Nina’s marriage was starting to wear off, and while he’d been sure that underneath that shock was some heartbreak and pain, right now he felt relief. He’d been absolutely positive that Nina was the woman for him before he left for the army, but after boot camp and eleven months in the desert with spiders as big as his hand, he’d done a lot of changing, too. He wasn’t the same guy who left town a little over a year ago, and while he’d hoped he could pick up where he left off at home, he’d been wrong.

      Maybe Nina marrying someone else was for the best. He couldn’t really imagine her nursing him back to health anyway. He’d been the one to take care of her, not the other way around. She’d been flirtatious and fun, and incredibly high maintenance. That engagement ring had set him back significantly more than three months’ salary. If she’d waited for him, he’d have had to face that look of disappointment when she realized the husband she’d be saddled with—wounded, bitter, broken. Maybe it was all for the best... The pain had dulled—still there but somehow far away—and his eyes drooped shut.

      Several hours later, Brody awoke again, this time to a soft tap on his door. He pulled his blanket over his waist to keep himself decent and called, “Yeah?”

      The door opened to reveal Kaitlyn. She wore a pair of jeans and a white cotton shirt that brought out the contrast between her milky skin and the auburn waves that fell behind her shoulders. That sure beat waking up to Afghanistan.

      “Morning,” she said. “How did you sleep?”

      “Like the medicated.”

      “I guess that’s to be expected,” she said with a chuckle. “What time did you take your pills last night?”

      “Four in the morning.”

      She jotted it down on a chart, then pulled out a roll of gauze. “I’m going to change your dressing this morning. Are you okay with that?”

      Her tone was professional and slightly distanced. He might as well be in the hospital again with the kind but unrecognizable nursing staff that moved through his room like clockwork. He didn’t like this side to Kaitlyn—and while he appreciated her attempt to put him at ease, maybe he didn’t need to be at ease. A few messy, personal connections were better than sterile professionalism, where the emptiness was filled by the clamor of his memories.

      “How come you’re being so formal?” he asked with a grimace.

      “I’m your nurse. You’re my patient. It’s a different relationship, and you need to be able to trust me for your medical concerns.”

      “I’d trust you a whole lot more if you didn’t sound like a stranger,” he said.

      Kaitlyn smiled and shrugged—suddenly she looked like the same old Kate who used to beat him at cards.

      “That’s more like it,” he said. “I’m still me, and you’re still you.”

      “Except you have to do as I say,” she said, a teasing smile tugging at one side of her lips.

      “Yeah, yeah.” She was right—he was at a distinct disadvantage...especially waking up to Kaitlyn coming into his room first thing in the morning before he was dressed and steeled to the day. At least it was cold enough that he’d worn an army-issue undershirt to bed so she wasn’t staring at him bare chested.

      “All right,” she said, kneeling next to the bed. “Let’s see the leg.”

      Brody tossed the covers back to expose his leg, and she went to work. She moved with confidence, peeling back bandages, easing gauze away from the wounds. She made little sympathetic sounds when gauze stuck to stitches.

      “Wiggle your toes,” she instructed.

      He complied, and she looked satisfied. “Does that hurt to move them?”

      “No.”

      “Good sign.” She took his foot in her hand and moved his ankle in a full rotation, then jotted something in a notebook. “How is the pain right now on a scale of one to ten?”

      “Ten being?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

      “When I saw you yesterday,” she said.

      So she’d noticed how bad his pain was the day before. That was somehow gratifying. He wasn’t the complaining type, but he also didn’t want to suffer for days unnecessarily, either.

      “About a six,” he said.

      “And you’re—” she looked at her watch “—just about due for your next dose. So that’s an improvement.”

      “Why not just ask if I’m feeling any better?” Brody asked.

      “Because you’d tell me you were СКАЧАТЬ