Cowboy For Keeps. Debra Clopton

that changing his mind wasn’t something he did. She knew from his profile that he was probably also used to getting his own way, doing things his way and more than likely able to buy anything he needed in order to make it happen. This could very well be doomed from the start—begging him to keep her on was not an option that would work for either of them, no matter how much she wanted to stay.

      “Then I guess that does it.” Disheartened in so many ways, she fought to think rationally—something she’d been having a bit of a problem with lately. Her stomach decided to step in and help her out by letting out a long, drawn-out roar. It broke the uncomfortable silence that stretched between her and Wyatt. That was one way to end their meeting: food. It might help her refocus. She’d been stuck in traffic and running late, so she hadn’t taken time to stop for lunch. “Is there somewhere in town I can get a bite to eat?” she asked, fighting to keep her tone neutral.

      He’d entered the house and turned the chair—probably so that he could slam the door in her face! His brows locked in consternation as he stared at her through the screen. For a minute she wondered if he’d expected her to beg him for the job. She needed this job to take her mind off her own troubles, but she would never beg. He had to realize he needed her. Surely he knew how badly his injuries needed attention before they began to worsen. That would start to happen while he looked for someone to replace her. Time was of the essence, she wanted to say—but he was a smart man and he knew this.

      “Sam’s is the only diner in town. You can’t miss it.”

      She held his gaze and almost challenged him…any other time she might have, but not today. “Thanks,” she said, turning to go. She’d eat and then she’d call Joyce. If anyone was going to fix this it would be up to her boss. With her back held straight she retraced her steps to her vehicle. In her heart of hearts she hoped Wyatt would reconsider and stop her before she drove away…but she knew he wouldn’t.

      Wyatt Turner was not a man who changed his mind. He also wasn’t the only person who was good at reading people. It was a trait she’d learned after the accident, watching nurses and doctors and her parents when they gave her hard information. It had come in handy in her profession as she evaluated her clients’ needs and signs of pain.

      It was a shame that it did her absolutely no good now…then again, maybe she wasn’t as good at it as she’d thought she was. She’d read Jonathan about as wrong as possible.

      Or maybe she really hadn’t. Maybe she’d only imagined in their relationship what she’d wanted to see there.

      She got into her car, pulled the strap of the seat belt securely about her and stole a glance toward the house. He was watching her…and he was rubbing his hip since he thought she wasn’t looking. So be it. She started the SUV and drove away. She watched the house disappear in her rearview mirror and felt more lost than she had in ages. What was she going to do?

      The feelings she’d been able to set aside as she’d headed toward this job crowded back in around her.

      In the early days, working with kids gave her something to focus on other than herself. Now she didn’t even have that comfort any longer. God had a plan for her life. She clung to that belief, but right now it was giving her little comfort.

      Turning onto the blacktop, her thoughts turned to Wyatt Turner and she found herself wondering if that was how he felt. If so, he had her sympathy. Even if he had just fired her.

      Wyatt needed out of this wheelchair.

      He needed out before he went crazy. It had to happen and it had to happen sooner rather than later.

      It would happen—he’d make it happen as quick as possible. Something about Amanda Hathaway bothered him. She would only have slowed down his progress.

      Letting her go had been his only option. Still, he hadn’t liked doing what he’d done.

      She wasn’t up for the job, it was obvious. It niggled at him that he’d judged her by her appearance, but he didn’t have time to go soft. He hadn’t gotten where he was in life by going soft. The facts were that she wasn’t strong enough—she was small and young. There was no way she’d be able to handle strenuous training like he expected and needed. And she’d worked with children! Of all things. What had Cole and Seth been thinking?

      They’d wanted to remind him about how important his physical therapy was and yet they’d gone and pulled a sorry stunt like this.

      His doctors had assured him he could make a full recovery, but only with hard, diligent work. There wasn’t an ounce of quit in him—never had been, but this physical disablement had thrown his world upside down. Every time his hip and back seized up he felt weak…if he let his guard down. If he didn’t work absolutely as hard as he was supposed to there was a chance he would always have a limp and lower back pain.

      He’d admit that deep inside he was scared. If he let up, if he messed up in the least little bit he wouldn’t come out of this as strong and healthy as he’d been before he’d botched things up with his stupid error in judgment when he’d decided to fly his plane in unsafe conditions.

      That was the scariest thing—how weak he felt. As if to show him who was boss, pain shot through his left hip once more and attacked his lower back with a vengeance. This time it was so strong he groaned before he could stop it. Perspiration beaded across his forehead as he grimaced against the pain. He closed his eyes, he counted to ten, willing his muscles to relax. Tensing up made the spasm worse—not a good thing.

      Sucking in a heavy breath, he tried to relax and let the pain pass. What if I can’t make it back to the way I was? The question sliced through him like a knife to a wound.

      It had been three endless weeks since he’d crash-landed his twin engine plane in a pasture during a storm. It had happened not long after he’d left Mule Hollow and was headed back to Dallas. He’d taken time he didn’t have to fly home to congratulate Cole on his wedding engagement. Since he was responsible for matching up Cole and Susan, he’d wanted to make the quick day trip and share in the joy of the moment. If he’d listened to his gut—which was usually right—and stayed the night, taken time to really enjoy the moment with them, he’d have been all right. But enjoying the moment wasn’t something he did. Instead he’d rushed off in the middle of dangerous winds and a severe thunderstorm. He’d been arrogant enough to believe he could handle the storm. What an inane bit of stupidity.

      When had he decided he could control everything?

      He hadn’t closed the door after watching Amanda drive away and now he stared across the land that had been in his family for over a hundred and fifty years. It was in this place his roots ran deep and was from his ancestors’ example that he’d become the man he was.

      Being used to control was a good thing, he reminded himself. It had driven him to where he was in his career as an attorney. It would get him through this. Taking another deep breath, he began to relax as his mind cleared and the pain began to recede.

      Good blood ran through his veins. Hardworking, upstanding—well, upstanding except for his good ole great-great-great-great-great-grandpa Oakley—him being upstanding was questionable. By and large the Turner men and women were tough. Generations past had stared across this land that stagecoaches had crossed on their way to this old stagecoach stop. Like this house, his ancestors had stood the test of time and so would he.

      His brothers had been right in bringing him home.

      This place had always been good for his soul.

      Two months. He would get better and he’d get to work. He would not let himself get waylaid by debilitating, unproductive thoughts again. He hadn’t been feeling like doing anything except sitting in this chair and feeling sorry for himself. It wasn’t something he understood or wanted, but that was what had been happening. He wasn’t sleeping and his attitude stank. But lately he hadn’t been able to do anything about it. Cole and Seth had known and they’d taken action when he wouldn’t. Their action had helped him—jolted him enough to fight…and fight was what he needed.

      Action: