Straight From The Hip. Сьюзен Мэллери

recognized Nick’s voice. Even more interesting, she smelled something delicious. Something that made her sit up, even though the sudden movement made her head swim.

      He put something on the dresser then walked over to the bed and grabbed her arm. He pulled her forward, then shoved all the pillows behind her back and let her go. She found herself propped up.

      “You win,” he repeated. “I give up. I’ll call Lexi and Skye in the morning and tell them to come get you. You can go back to living in Lexi’s house. That’s what you want, right?”

      She blinked, then remembered too late that wouldn’t bring him into focus. Her head felt fuzzy—almost like she was drunk.

      “Why?” she asked, and was surprised that her voice sounded hoarse. Probably because she hadn’t spoken in three days.

      “You don’t want to be here.”

      “I didn’t want to be here before.”

      There was movement. If she had to guess, it was a shrug. He handed her a large glass.

      “Sip slowly,” he said. “It’s going to taste sweet, but you need to get it down. There’s water, but plenty of sugar, some herbs, electrolytes. It’ll help you feel better.”

      She took a sip and nearly gagged on the too-sweet taste. Seconds later she felt like she was dying of thirst. Still, remembering her stroll into the wilds just outside the ranch and vomiting afterward, she continued to take small amounts.

      He put a tray with stubby legs across her lap. She inhaled the mouthwatering scent of chicken and vegetables, not to mention fresh bread.

      “Soup,” he said. “And one of Norma’s biscuits. Aaron will be by later. If you’ve kept all this down, he’ll give you a sandwich. Go easy on the food for the next couple of days.”

      She wanted to dive into the soup and drink it while swimming around in the bowl. The image lightened her spirits, or maybe it was the sugar rush from the drink.

      “See ya,” he said and turned to leave.

      “Wait.” She cleared her throat. “That’s it?”

      He faced her again. She couldn’t see his individual features, so she had to guess what he was thinking. If she had to pick an emotion, she would guess boredom.

      “What do you mean?” he asked.

      “This is as much as you’re doing? Seriously? What kind of crap is that?”

      He leaned against the door frame. “You’re not interested in being helped. You’ve made that clear.”

      “Not interested? This was the best you could do? I refuse to wash a horse and you’re finished? Is that what you do when those hurt kids come here? Do you even have any training for this kind of work? Are you certified? How much are my sisters paying you?”

      “A lot less than they should have been.”

      “How did they find you? The phone book?”

      “I come highly recommended.”

      “Oh, please. I doubt that. I’m not even a hard case. You didn’t make any effort.” Now that she thought about it, he’d done nothing, which really pissed her off. “One or two idiot pep talks and you’re through? A three-day hunger strike and you throw in the towel? Talk about all hat and no cattle.”

      “What would you have wanted me to do, Izzy? Beg? I think this is all about being the center of attention. You need everyone running around, fussing over you. Then you’ll be happy. You probably won’t get the surgery because you like being the one everyone worries about.”

      “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She wished her throat weren’t so raw so she could yell. How could he think something like that, let alone say it? “I’m not the one pretending to know what he’s doing. You’re nothing but a snake oil salesman. When my sisters find out about this, they’re going to investigate you. You’re going down.”

      “You think I’m all talk? What about you? You’re just taking up space.”

      She’d never actually hated anyone before. But now the feeling burned hot inside her. “Go to hell.”

      “You’ve said that before. You need some new material. Maybe you can take your act on the road. The pity Izzy show. Not that you’ll sell many tickets. You’re okay to look at but once you break the skin, there’s nothing inside. To really be funny you have to be smart and have a world-view. You need to be likeable. None of those are your strengths. Still, you’re a Titan. You have money. You’ll survive. Maybe they’ll get you a nice room with a view. Not that you’ll see it.”

      She wanted to throw something at him. She’d nearly finished the drink so she hurled the glass in his direction. It crashed into the door.

      “Plastic,” he said, sounding pleased. “It didn’t break. See, Izzy. You can’t hurt me.”

      And then he was gone.

      IZZY HADN’T EXPECTED to sleep. She’d been so angry, so filled with rage, she’d spent the evening pacing in her room. When Aaron showed up with a sandwich, she’d eaten it because she wanted to be strong. She was going to leave this place, work out with some martial arts master, then break every bone in Nick’s body.

      Maybe it was the pacing that exhausted her, or the hot energy of fury or the food in her belly. But sometime in the middle of the night she fell asleep. She only knew because she could suddenly see again.

      She was back on the rig, walking down the hallway. There hadn’t been any warning. That’s what she remembered. The absence of a whisper of what was to come. One second she was heading to the mess for breakfast, the next she was in the middle of an explosion, flying through fire.

      The brightness of it battled with the sound. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could only be tossed around like a kite in the wind. Fire was everywhere. It licked at her skin. She felt sick and terrified and tried to scream, only she couldn’t and then—

      “Shh. It’s all right.”

      The voice called her back, as did strong arms pulling her upright. She sucked in a breath, then opened her eyes.

      “It was just a dream,” Nick told her. “Make that a nightmare. You’re safe.”

      Her whole body shook. She was covered in cold sweat and thought she might lose the sandwich she’d eaten earlier. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Her heart raced around in her chest until she wondered if she was having a heart attack.

      The lights were on, but she still couldn’t see enough. She tried to get free, but he didn’t let her go.

      “I know you’re scared. I know it’s real. It was the explosion, right? It’s a bitch to relive that. But you’re safe. You’re here on the ranch. I’m right here.”

      Words that shouldn’t have comforted her, she thought, confused. Words he shouldn’t be saying. Still, his body was warm and solid and his arms felt secure enough to keep her from falling.

      Gradually her breathing slowed, as did her heart rate.

      He sat on her bed, holding her against him. One of his arms wrapped around her waist, as if anchoring her in place. With his free hand, he stroked her head, the side of her face and her arm, rubbing her like a cat. The contact should have been annoying, but it wasn’t. It made her feel safe.

      She could feel the warmth of his chest against her cheek, the softness of his T-shirt. His heartbeat was steady and seemed to influence her own.

      He drew back a little. “Lie down.”

      Not knowing what else to do, she rolled away from him and stretched out under the covers. He moved behind her, pressing his body against hers, her back to his front, his arm around her waist. He found her hand and