Wyoming True - Diana Palmer Page 0,12
huge yellow cat came trundling off the porch, rubbing up against the steps.
“He’s not afraid of cars,” she said. “I live in terror that somebody will run over him.”
“Most cats are intelligent.”
“I got the stupid one,” she laughed. “He’s old and arthritic, but he’s so sweet.”
He came around and opened her door. The cat curled around his slacks.
“Don’t let him do that. He’ll get hairs on you,” she said quickly, trying to shoo Butler away.
“I have a German shepherd named Wolf,” he replied. “I’ve got dog hairs everywhere, despite the best efforts of my housekeeper. You’ve got cat hairs. Hairs are hairs,” he added with a faint smile.
“I guess so.” She glanced up at him. It was a long way, and she was at least medium height. “I know you don’t like me. Thanks for driving me around in spite of it.”
He scowled. “How many surgeries have you had on that hip?” he asked abruptly.
“Two...” She blurted it out without thinking and then flushed, high on her cheekbones.
His pale silver eyes narrowed. “Two. It must have been one hell of a break.”
She swallowed, hard, remembering. “It was. My hip was fractured and the femur was, too.”
He wondered if she’d been in a car wreck. She didn’t say any more about it and flushed, as if it embarrassed her to have said even that much.
“I got caught in the cross fire when I was fighting in Iraq, over ten years ago,” he said quietly. “Three hits in the chest. One would have been fatal, but the medics were quick. I got sent home.” He shrugged. “I would have gone back, but they discharged me. I guess three bullets qualifies you for retirement.” There were other injuries, as well, but he wasn’t sharing those.
She grimaced. “It must have been very painful.”
“It was.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “The scars remind me, every time I look in a mirror.” He laughed sarcastically. “I never take my clothes off in the light when I’m with women. I made that mistake just once.”
She turned scarlet and averted her eyes.
He was stunned. She was embarrassed. It was so obvious that it was unmistakable. She was a rounder who slept with anything in pants, but it embarrassed her to hear a man talk about what he did with women.
“I have to go in and take these,” she said, holding up the bag of pills from the pharmacy. “Thanks again for the ride...”
“I gave Cindy my number,” he interrupted. “When they finish with your Jag, I’ll have one of my men come with me to bring it home.”
“But you don’t have to do that,” she protested.
“I don’t have to do anything,” he said, “except pay taxes.”
She got the point. “Well...thank you.”
“You hate being obligated to other people,” he guessed and saw her blue eyes flash. He nodded. “So do I. But it’s not a bad thing to offer help when it’s needed. You live alone.”
“Yes.” She drew in a breath. “I like...being by myself.”
“Same.” He studied her for another minute before he turned back to his car. “Watch your cat. I’ll try not to run over him,” he added.
“Come on, Butler,” she called to the big yellow cat, who was trying to follow Jake to his car. “Butler!”
The cat looked torn, but he trotted back to Ida and followed her up onto the porch. She watched Jake drive away with mixed emotions. She couldn’t think why he’d offered help, when it was so obvious that he didn’t like her.
Jake didn’t understand it, either. He went home, berating himself all the way for getting involved with the scarlet woman, even indifferently.
CHAPTER THREE
IDA HATED TAKING the huge ibuprofen caplets. They hurt her stomach, even when she took them with food, and she had to take an antacid just to tolerate them. But they did help with the inflammation and the pain.
Her car had required a part that had to be sent for, so it hadn’t been returned the day Jake drove her home. It would be ready today, though. The mechanic, a former Jaguar mechanic at that, had told her on the phone. She didn’t really mind. She couldn’t take ibuprofen and drive anyway.
She scrambled some eggs and made a piece of toast to go with them. She didn’t have much of an appetite. All she could think of was how dangerous Bailey was, and what he was capable of doing to her. The pain in her hip reminded her graphically what could happen when she refused him.
Over