Straight From The Hip. Сьюзен Мэллери

“You could cut the tension in this room with a knife. What have you two been up to? It’s bad. I can tell. I’m just going to back out and we can pretend I was never here.”

      “You don’t have to do that,” Nick said. “I’m leaving.”

      “But you’re the one I have to talk to.”

      Izzy heard footsteps retreating. Based on the sound and cadence, she knew Nick was the one who had left.

      “What did I miss?” Aaron asked, sounding intrigued. “You both looked guilty. There’s something going on between you two.”

      “Not that much,” she said, thinking that last night had been about comfort. He’d kept her sane through a rocky couple of hours. But what had today been about?

      “Honey, I know sexual tension when I see it and it was filling this room. Come have a seat and tell Uncle Aaron everything. Start at the beginning and talk slow. My love life sucks so I’ll have to live vicariously through yours.”

      He took her hand and led her to the sofa. When they were seated, the cushion moved as if he were getting more comfortable or angling toward her.

      “Tell me everything.”

      “There’s nothing to tell. We were arguing.” Sort of. “Nick wants to make sure I don’t give up. Sometimes he’s a jerk about it.”

      Aaron sighed. “Don’t you love it when he gets all manly. I know it makes my heart beat faster.”

      She laughed. “I find him annoying.”

      “I don’t think so. The way he was looking at you.”

      “Really?”

      “Uh-huh. Like he hasn’t eaten in three days and you’re the buffet.”

      Something deep inside her belly quivered to life. “Nick is nice,” she said cautiously, aware she was at a serious disadvantage. She couldn’t tell what Nick was thinking by looking at him.

      “Nice? He’s a lot more than that. Have you seen those muscles. Oh. Right. Probably not. Well, they’re there and they’re fabulous.”

      She’d felt them when he’d dragged her out of Lexi’s house and again last night. He’d been strong and safe and, well, kind. Not exactly a word she would have expected to use where he was concerned.

      “You’re not seeing anyone, are you?” Aaron asked. “I don’t want Nick hurt.”

      “What? You should be worried about me. I can’t wear makeup or fuss with my hair. I have to shave my legs by feel, which is probably not pretty.”

      “You’re beautiful and sexy and something tells me you’ve been fighting off the boys since you were thirteen. It’s not about makeup, Izzy, it’s about you. Nick is drool-worthy. Believe me, I know. But he keeps to himself. No one gets in, because he makes sure they don’t.”

      The compliments made her feel good, but she was more interested in what Aaron hadn’t said.

      “Why doesn’t he get involved?”

      Aaron was silent.

      She sighed. “If you’re making a face, I can’t see it.”

      “Oh. Right. Sorry. He has a past. Most of it, I don’t know either. Some I’ve figured out. Some he’s told me. He was raised in foster care. I don’t know what happened to his parents. He’s smart. Scary smart. Went to college on a full scholarship when he was fifteen or sixteen. It’s never good to be the smartest kid in the room. Then he grew up and…” Aaron paused. “The next few years aren’t clear to me. Anyway, he ended up here with this ranch and his business.”

      Talk about a lot of gaps, she thought, wondering how many were because Aaron really didn’t know and how many were because he didn’t want to tell her.

      “Did he buy the ranch or was it in his family?” she asked.

      “He bought it and fixed it up.”

      “Specially for the corporate retreats?”

      “Specifically for the kids. The corporate stuff happens to pay the bills.” The sofa shifted as Aaron stood. “Like I said, don’t hurt him.”

      “As if I could. I’m not here to get the guy. I’m here to get better.”

      Aaron said something and left, but she wasn’t paying attention. Until that second, she hadn’t been willing to admit the truth to herself. But there it was, at last. Her admission of something she’d been avoiding since she’d first found out she’d lost nearly all her sight. She wanted to get better. To heal. She didn’t know if that meant having the surgery or adjusting to what she had, but at least there was a goal.

      It had been a long time since she wanted something. It felt good to have a purpose and maybe, just maybe, get it right.

      “YOU’VE DONE THIS a thousand times,” Rita said calmly, as Izzy wrestled with getting the pad in the right spot.

      “Jackson’s going to hate me pretty soon,” Izzy muttered, smoothing the pad in place. “Does this look right?”

      “Don’t ask me,” Rita told her. “You’re the one saddling the horse.”

      “You can be very frustrating,” Izzy told her, as she made a couple of adjustments. “Okay—that should be good.” She bent over to grab the saddle.

      “I would appreciate a little cooperation,” she told the horse. “Just don’t step on me.”

      “Jackson is too much a gentleman for that,” Rita said.

      “I hope you’re right.”

      She raised the saddle to what she hoped was the correct height and lowered it onto his back. When it was in place, she made sure the right stirrup was still hooked out of the way, then walked around him and checked the saddle placement by touch.

      “This seems good,” she said quietly, patting Jackson as she went. She secured the saddle in place, grabbed it with both hands to make sure it was tight, then fumbled for the stirrup. “Now for the real test.”

      She swung herself up into place. Except for the fact that she felt too far off the ground and dangerously vulnerable in a blurry world, it was good.

      “I did it,” she said, oddly proud of herself.

      “Yes, you did. Next time you’ll do it faster.”

      “Why do I have visions of you holding a stopwatch?”

      “I have no idea. I’m not the stopwatch type.”

      Izzy removed the saddle and pad, putting both away before returning to Jackson’s side and offering him a piece of apple. “You were very good for me and I appreciate that.”

      “Next we’ll get you exercising the horses,” Rita told her.

      Izzy wasn’t too sure about that, but she would deal with that fight when it was time. For now she was getting through each day, making progress, albeit slowly. She was learning how to function. Sometimes she was pleased with her progress, other times she still wanted to scream at the heavens, complaining this shouldn’t have happened to her.

      At least the nightmares hadn’t returned. Not since that night Nick had shown up and comforted her.

      “Tell me about Nick,” she said.

      “What do you want to know?”