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If he needed Cole to prove something, Cole was going to have to prove it. Why the man needed proof was another question. For another day. And Cole would damn well be asking it. But for now…
“Fine,” he sneered. “I’ll play your little game.”
“It’s not a game,” Easy said softly. “And it’s not a test. At least, I won’t be the one grading it.”
“If you’re going to make me do this, at least don’t speak in riddles. Christ.”
“You’re gonna do it?”
“Sure. Yeah. I’ll do it. Just to prove you’re being ridiculous.”
“I might be. But it’s better than watching you cripple yourself over something you may not even want.”
This broken leg was ruining his life. First, he’d lost his brand-new position as ranch boss. He’d waited five years for Raoul to move back to New Mexico the way he’d been threatening. Finally, the position had been Cole’s, and the little house that came with it. But that was gone, too. After all, someone had to be boss when Cole couldn’t be, and that someone got the boss’s house.
And now this broken leg might cost him his sanity. Maybe even his whole way of life.
“Just tell me what you want me to do, so I can do it.”
“How would I know anything about it? Go talk to the lady in charge.”
“Fine. Which lady?”
Easy said the name. It fell into Cole’s ear and then expanded like an explosion. He hadn’t been expecting to hear it and, strangely, the shock gave him the moment he needed to compose himself. Easy didn’t see what Cole was really feeling, and that was damned good, because this time, it was definitely panic.
CHAPTER NINE
THE TRUCK TIRES SQUEALED as Cole took the turn into Jackson. He needed new tires. Hell, he’d needed new tires since last year, but he’d been trying to eke one more season out of them. Then that stallion had fallen on him and fifteen hundred dollars for a new set of tires had seemed an extravagance. More savings gone. More hours he’d have to work.
Now they were hours he’d have to work with Madeline.
Easy couldn’t have known. He’d never have forced the issue otherwise. Maybe Easy knew Cole had worked with Madeline, maybe he even knew they’d had a fling, but he didn’t know how badly it had ended.
“Damn,” he bit out, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he waited for a stoplight to turn green. But when it turned green, no one moved. A buffalo had wandered onto the shoulder of the highway, and now tourists were getting out to snap pictures. By the end of the week, they’d barely even glance at a standing bison, but it was only Tuesday. It was still special. Cole would’ve smiled at them on any other day.
But not today.
Madeline had been off-site today, at least, so Cole had gritted his teeth and told the location manager that he was there to help if they needed it. There had been a few questions here and there about moving horses and parking trailers and finding a place to store lights, but that had been it. Maybe Madeline would stay off-site. There was a river location where they’d film an extensive action scene. Probably on the Snake. Maybe she’d stay put on that site. Maybe Cole would be spared.
But it didn’t feel like mercy. It felt like torture, waiting for that woman to show up. His first eight-hour day back at work and he felt that he’d lost his mind. Actually, he felt that he needed to lose it. And fast. So when he finally got past the tourists, Cole drove too fast for home, then raced through his shower and headed for the Crooked R.
After the long day and too much tension, his leg throbbed, and if he couldn’t have a beer—or four—he was just desperate enough that he might’ve given in and popped an oxycodone.
Not good.
During those first few weeks, he’d taken the pills the doctor had given him, but only sparingly. He’d tried to get by on nothing but high-dose ibuprofen and Tylenol, but sometimes he’d needed the serious stuff. Sometimes he’d suffered enough pain to fantasize about sawing off his own leg just to stop the deep, incessant throbbing. Ridiculous, of course. Amputation would’ve offered more terrible pain, but his whole body had felt like one giant, pulsing light of agony. He’d been hurt plenty of times. This time, he’d realized that the ruthlessness of sharp pain could overwhelm itself somehow. Burn through you until it was done. But that horrible, deep ache…that was something else.
Yet he’d made it through. The long hours of daylight when he’d pretended to be cheerful for his friends, when it had taken all his concentration not to grind his teeth to dust and scream in pain and rage. And the longer hours of the night, when he’d lain sleepless and sweating, and sometimes he’d let tears roll down his cheeks just for the relief of it.
He’d gotten through it, and he was almost clear of it now. No more powerful drugs. Just ibuprofen for a few more months, and he’d be fine. He had to be. And he’d be damned if he was going to let that bitch ruin him. Not again.
Cole walked across the yard, head down, lost in thoughts of what might happen the next day. His stomach turned with the knowledge that he’d see her. This woman who’d once been his lover. This woman who’d used him. Who’d convinced him to use himself.
His face heated at the thought. His shoulders screamed with a tension that traveled down his back to join up with the ache in his hip.
He didn’t want to look at her face. He didn’t want her looking at his.
Would she smirk? Would she sneer, looking him in the face and knowing what he was?
