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“I . . . think so.”
“Good. You’re my employer, not my mother.” And not my lover. The last words were implied. Shane could tell from the tightening of her mouth that there was no need to say them. She was a smart girl, as proud in her own way as he was in his.
The hell of it was, he could scarcely look at her without remembering how she’d felt in his arms, her eager body welcoming him in, sheathing him in silken warmth, her little cries filling his ears as they climaxed together. Even the thought was enough to make him ache.
His doctor had discussed the issue of sex with him. “Give yourself time,” Shane had been told. “Your body’s had a powerful shock. As you recover, the function may come back on its own. If not, there are ways to help—injections, implants, devices like pumps. Above all, don’t let yourself get frustrated and don’t give up hope.” That much was easier said than done—especially when the thought of those alternative methods made Shane want to cringe.
Ahead, in the opposite lane, a raven, feeding on a road-killed rabbit, flapped upward to land on the crown of a saguaro. The grim but common sight reminded Shane that things had changed since his first visit to Alamo Canyon Ranch. The smiling woman who’d cooked breakfast for him was gone, and a new Champion sister had arrived from California.
“I confess I’m curious about your movie star sister,” he said, shifting the conversation to neutral ground. “Is she like you or more like Tess?”
“Val?” Lexie shook her head. “She’s more like somebody from a different family, or even a different planet. She’s petite, gorgeous, enjoys shocking people, and couldn’t care less about ranching. I told you she’d been in rehab.”
“At least we’ll have something in common,” Shane joked.
“That’s one way to look at it,” Lexie said. “But, as you know, her rehab was for pills and alcohol. I guess that Hollywood lifestyle isn’t as glamorous as the tabloids make it out to be. I’ve asked her about it, but if I even hint at questioning her, she clams right up. Whatever happened to her, I figure it must’ve been bad.” Lexie slowed to let a ground squirrel scurry across the road in front of the truck. “Since she’s not one for roping cows or mucking out the stable, we volunteered her for kitchen duty, with me as backup.”
“How’s her cooking?” Shane asked.
“Good enough, although she doesn’t do breakfast, and she complains about not being able to find the fancy ingredients she likes. I’m hoping that with a man in the house, she’ll be inspired to make more of an effort.”
“I’ll add that to my job description—inspire the cook.”
She chuckled at his feeble joke. “Of course, we’ve been spoiled over the years. Nobody could cook like Callie did.”
Shane’s gaze wandered to the eastern horizon. The rocky, brown hills were beginning to look familiar. Lexie had already told him how her stepmother had died, and the sheriff’s conclusions.
“She seemed so happy and full of life. I can’t believe she won’t be standing on the porch when we drive up,” he said. “Does your family still think she sabotaged the ranch?”
“Some of us never did think that. We’re still trying to find out what really happened. Tess has got her hands full, but Val and I have been playing detective.” Lexie geared down and swung the truck onto the gravel road that led up to the pass.
“Any new discoveries?” Shane asked.
“Nothing that makes sense. Val thinks Callie might’ve been fooling around. That would account for the missing bra. But it’s not like she had a great selection of men to choose from. Ruben doesn’t strike me as a stud. Neither does Aaron. They’re too old. I’ve known both of them all my life. And the boys . . . I know about teenage hormones, but I can’t believe Callie would do something like that.”
“You can’t rule it out, especially since someone might have killed her.”
“I know.” Lexie sighed. “But Callie was like a mother to me. I can’t even stand the thought of it.”
They fell into silence again as the truck mounted the pass and began the zigzagging descent. From here, Shane could see the layout of the ranch, with its sprawling, red-tiled house, the sheds and stable, the bunkhouse, the tall windmill, and the small trailer where the foreman lived. He could see the paddocks, corrals, and pastures that spread over the high meadowland, and the patches of deep green where springs seeped out of the rocks. At the northeast boundary, he could see the arroyo, a ragged gash that looked as if it had been carved by some giant primordial claw. In the monsoon, it would channel the runoff and send it streaming down onto the reservation. Today it was bone-dry.
Compared to Brock’s luxurious spread, the Alamo Canyon Ranch was nothing. But to Shane it was a refuge, a place to start over from nothing and build a life again—but only if he could find the strength, the patience, and the courage.
As Lexie pulled the truck up to the house, Shane saw three people waiting on the porch—the teenage boys he recognized from his last visit and a petite, red-haired woman in ragged jeans and a black tee. As Shane opened the door of the truck, she strode out to meet him.
“Howdy, cowboy. You must be Shane. I’m Val.” She was as beautiful as Lexie had described her. But she was bone thin, and her smile reminded him of one he’d seen on a combat veteran with PTSD. She was wounded, he sensed. Like him.
Lexie had hurried around the truck. She directed her attention to the boys. “The wheelchair’s in the back. Get it and set it up. After you help Shane out of the truck, you can unload his things from the back and take them to his room.”
Shane stopped himself from protesting. The truth was, he’d needed help getting into the truck because of its height, and he would need help getting out and into the chair. In the rehab center, everything had been set up for him to get around on his own. But this was the real world. Pride be damned, there were some things he wouldn’t be able to manage on his own.
The distance from the truck to the ramp wasn’t far, but the chair’s narrow wheels sank in the gravel, making for slow progress. And the ramp was so steep that Val had to jump behind him and help push him the last few feet.
Patience, Shane told himself. Today would be the worst of it. After that, little by little, the adjustments would come. But damn, he hated needing so much help.
At least getting around inside the house wasn’t too difficult. Someone had moved the furniture to give him a clear path, and when he saw his bedroom and bathroom, Shane was relieved. With a few minor changes, he could manage fine here.
“Thank you,” he said to Lexie, who’d come along to show him the way. “You’ve done a lot of good work here.”
