Kyle Read online

  Anna made sure Bootsie was secure in his pen and that the shoe was solid before making her way back to her forge. He really was a sweet horse.

  Kyle, on the other hand …

  The Malory brothers were all Anna disliked in men—overly confident, sure the world owed them for being big, bad dudes, certain all women wanted to jump into bed with them.

  And damn it, the women did. Plenty of ladies hung on the rails at the rodeos to watch Kyle, half falling out of T-shirts with his logo on them. They followed him from rodeo to rodeo, to the bar when he was in Riverbend, to the diner, to the feed store. They’d do anything for one look, one touch. They had no shame at all.

  She’d been certain that his convalescence would involve a score of buckle bunnies in his room, and was surprised when Grace told her he hadn’t had many visitors. Grace had said, with a laugh, that she was sure Kyle being without female company would kill him.

  So if Anna despised those women, why was she walking back to the porch where Kyle waited in the shade instead of loading up her forge and driving away?

  Anna stiffly climbed the steps and sank into a wicker chair, facing Kyle, who sat four feet away. He pushed a clinking glass of iced tea to her, droplets of condensation clinging to its sides.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  And why, why, did her insides turn to jelly as soon as Kyle looked at her with those warm green eyes, truly looked at her?

  She was sure her tongue had just fallen out of her mouth so she jammed the glass against her lips and took a gulp.

  And choked. Anna fought for breath, the tea slipping from her hands.

  Kyle caught the glass without spilling a drop and set it down, and then his big hands were on her back.

  “You okay?” Kyle’s body heat flowed over Anna as he gave her several firm thumps. She coughed, and her windpipe cleared.

  “Fine,” she gasped.

  “You sure?”

  Kyle remained at her side, enclosing her in his personal space, concern in his eyes.

  “Yes, yes.” Anna pushed from him, landing hard against the back of her chair.

  Kyle still hovered. “If you’re sure.”

  “I swallowed the wrong way, that’s all. No need for you to hurt yourself. Or to grope me.”

  Kyle’s concern vanished. “I wasn’t groping you.” He limped to his chair and lowered himself gingerly. “I was nowhere near your boobs. Or your ass. I was trying to be gentlemanly.” His lips twitched. “Course, I remember when you helped me out of the ring. Your hand was definitely on my ass.”

  Anna’s face went hotter than ever. “It was not. Don’t flatter yourself.”

  He grinned, his smile like a heatwave. “It’s okay. I didn’t mind.”

  “And you wonder why I’m always ‘prickly’ with you.” Anna jerked her fingers in air quotes. “You make it hard to be nice.”

  “Do I? I thought I was a sweetheart. Ray’s the mean one.”

  “Ray is always polite to me.”

  “And I’m not?” Kyle took a long sip of tea, let out a sigh and sat back, the wicker of his chair creaking. “Man, I’ll be glad when I’m off meds and can have a beer. Not that Grace doesn’t make a mean iced tea.” He drank another swallow, and then his razor focus returned to her. “I am polite to you. I asked you to dance at the wedding when you were sitting by yourself. I tell you that you look great. I give you a cold drink on a hot day. What more do you want?”

  “A little respect.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were Aretha Franklin. My apologies.” He lifted his glass in salute. “I do respect you. You can make a horse stand still while you’re nailing metal to its feet. You wrestle a steer into submission easier than cowhands three times your size. I have a lot of respect for you, Anna.” He raised his glass again. “But I’m not gonna sing.”

  Anna sipped her tea. It really was good—she tasted rose petals and a hint of sweetness.

  The soothing liquid let her regain her composure. “I didn’t see that respect when you were ogling my back end while I was shoeing Bootsie.”

  Color pushed aside the pallor in Kyle’s cheeks. “But it’s such a gorgeous back end. Can’t you be competent and pretty at the same time?”

  She shook her head. “You should hang a sign around your neck. Warning: So Not PC.”

  Kyle looked perplexed. “Why can’t I think a woman has a nice ass? Doesn’t mean I’m doing anything about it—not following her home or pinching her or anything weird and creepy like that. I’m just admiring. From afar.” He lifted his hands as though showing how much distance lay between the two of them.

  “Women weren’t made to stand around for you to admire.” Anna tried to say it with conviction, but the image of his tight-shirted groupies flashed to her. They certainly wanted Kyle’s attention.

  “Aw, come on. You can’t tell me you don’t stare at any guy’s ass. Or his abs or his pecs, or whatever women look at. Seriously—tell me straight up you never do. Ever.”

  Anna’s face heated. She opened her mouth to hotly deny it, but with Kyle sitting so near, his body one of the best examples of the male form she’d ever seen, she couldn’t speak. She had difficulty lying, so she mostly shut up.

  Kyle started to laugh. “See? You ogle men as much as I ogle women. So we’re even.”

  Anna went hotter. “No, we are not. Men are far more threatening to women than women are to men.”

  Kyle’s laughter died in a grimace of pain, and he pressed his hand to his ribs. “Honey, every guy around here knows you turn bulls into steers with a few jabs and a snip. They cross their legs when they see you coming, especially when you’re carrying your nippers. I’d say you were definitely a threat to every man in Riverbend.”

  “I mean in general.” Anna waved away a fly. “Women are uncomfortable with men leering at them.”

  “Who’s leering? How dumbass would I look with a leer pasted on my face all the damn time?” He tried one. “Ow. That hurts my cheekbones.”

  Kyle’s distorted face made Anna want to laugh. She stifled the urge with difficulty. “Yeah, but you notice. And you don’t hide it.”

  “What is wrong with me telling a woman she looks pretty? Which you do.” Kyle skimmed his gaze up and down her. “Seriously. I mean it as a compliment.”

  “You shouldn’t even say that.”

  “You mean I can’t even say, with a straight face, my eyes on the ceiling, ‘Hello, you look nice today’?” When Anna shook her head, Kyle took on a heavy scowl. “All right, then you’re tired and cranky and there’s horse shit in your hair.”

  Anna’s hand flew to her head. “Is there?”

  Kyle took up a paper towel he’d brought out with the teas, climbed heavily to his feet, and reached with it toward her. “Right there …”

  He touched her head, his hand all kinds of warm. Anna snatched the towel from him and jammed it to her hair, dabbing anxiously.

  Kyle sat down with a thump. “What do you want me to do, Anna? Stand ten feet away from you in a straightjacket with duct tape on my mouth? Maybe a blindfold?”

  Anna pretended to perk up. “That would be nice.”

  “Hell.” Kyle stood up again with a grunt of pain. “I am so done with this stupid conversation. See you around. Have a good life.”

  He started for the door, but stumbled, grimacing as he struggled for balance. Anna jumped up to steady him. Her hand landed on his arm, which held steel strength.

  “You all right?” she asked softly.

  Kyle’s eyes were clouded as he looked down at her. “See? You can’t keep your hands off me.”

  Anna didn’t let go. “You’re hurt. It’s different.”

  “Sure thing, sweetheart. Whatever lets you sleep at night.” His face twisted. “Damn, I landed hard off that bull. And don’t even say I shouldn’t have been on top of him in the first place. I already know that.”

  Anna opened the door and kept a supporting hold on Kyle as they stepped over the threshold. They entere
d the kitchen, a large sunny room with a gleaming tile floor, a table in a bay window, and an old-fashioned hutch with antique plates. Modern cabinets and appliances rounded out the room.

  This was a bachelor’s house these days, but it was pristine. Anna knew the brothers had cleaners come in, plus Grace lived only a few miles away.

  The Malorys were a close family, and Anna had always viewed them with envy. She didn’t mind being alone much of the time—her folks had moved to Houston while she’d been in college—but sometimes watching Kyle’s family gave her a wistful feeling. She’d grown up in Riverbend, had gone to school with Kyle, though Anna hadn’t spoken a word to him. She’d been way too shy, and Kyle had never noticed her. She’d been the introverted Lawler girl with gangly limbs who never looked anyone in the eye.

  She’d gained more confidence eventually, first when Callie Jones, one of the most popular girls in Riverbend, had formed an unlikely friendship with her, and second when she’d started acing all her classes and had colleges begging her to enroll.

  Now Anna could stand up straight and talk to people, mostly about her job—small talk was still tricky.

  But she wasn’t comfortable with Kyle. He had a big, warm laugh and a smile that melted her bones. Anna never knew what to say to him. What conversation could she have with a solidly muscled guy with a lazy smile that said he’d pay slow attention in the bedroom?

  The fact that he looked at her at all turned Anna inside out. But she’d never, ever admit that to anyone, least of all Kyle.

  She helped Kyle to a padded Windsor bench in the bay window so he could sink down to it. Her arm was tangled in his, and she went down with him.

  Thighs and sides touched, the length of his leg along hers. Kyle looked down at her, his eyes quieting, his mouth smoothing out.

  What if she kissed him?

  Anna jumped. Where the hell had that come from? She studied Kyle’s lips, flat and uncompromising at the moment, but which could flick into the widest grin in a heartbeat.

  A brush of whiskers darkened his face, enticing her touch. They’d feel pleasantly rough to her mouth, and warm, like the rest of him.

  Because the urge to kiss him was so strong, Anna unwound her arm from his in a few quick jerks and surged to her feet.

  “You all right now?” she asked.

  Kyle made a movement as though he wanted to rise, but pain wouldn’t let him. He fixed his eyes on her, and for a second, Anna feared he could read her mind. He knew she wanted to kiss him.

  She waited for him to mock her, keep teasing that she liked looking at his ass—which she did. Her cheeks heated, and she knew she’d gone bright red. Her unfortunately pale skin made every blush vivid.

  Kyle said nothing. He only looked at her with those green eyes that Riverbend High School girls had wilted over. Correction—some girls had wilted, others had followed him and tackled him. Anna had pretended she hadn’t cared about him one way or the other.

  “I have to go,” she babbled. “Appointments.”

  “Sure.” Kyle rested his hands on his knees. Working hands, rough-skinned, hard. They’d brush Anna’s flesh like fine sandpaper.

  She yanked her gaze from his lap. Through the window she saw the abandoned iced teas on the porch and a walking stick lying in the grass beyond. “You left your cane.”

  Anna was halfway across the room by the time she finished the sentence. She ignored Kyle’s, “Leave the damned thing,” and raced out the door.

  She fetched the stick and the teas, carrying all carefully inside. This she could do—tidy up and take care of hurt bull riders. Her tea glass went into the sink; Kyle’s she set on a table where he could reach it. She leaned the cane against the bench.

  “Want me to call Ray?” she asked.

  “What the hell for? Will you stop treating me like an injured puppy?”

  Kyle Malory was so far from an injured puppy that Anna couldn’t hold back a laugh. She gulped, trying, so it sounded like a gurgle.

  “See you, Kyle.”

  If she made a dash for it, she could get her stuff loaded and herself off his property in five minutes.

  “Anna.”

  Anna made herself stop at the doorway and turn back. Kyle was exactly where she’d left him, his body still, his eyes fixed on her.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly.

  Anna wasn’t sure what he was thanking her for—bringing him his cane? Shoeing his horse? Letting him laugh at her?

  She returned his nod, mumbled something, and got the hell out.

  She had her forge and tools inside the little trailer hitched to her truck in record time. Not letting herself look behind her at the house, Anna slid into the cab, started up, and peeled out.

  At the end of the drive, she had to stop and wait for Ray, who was turning in through the gate. The older Malory brother, who looked so much like Kyle, raised his hand in a polite wave. Anna fluttered her fingers at him and surged past him out to the road.

  She clutched the wheel as the Malory ranch dropped behind her. Two miles along, Anna pulled off into the grass, set the brake, and banged her head once on the steering wheel.

  “Why the hell does he make me so stupid!” she screeched.

  “Anna? You all right?”

  Anna jerked her head up. Grace Malory had stopped her SUV on the quiet road and peered through her rolled-down window at Anna in concern. The SUV pointed toward the ranch—she must be going to look in on Kyle.

  “Yes,” Anna all but yelled. “Shoeing a horse. Tiring job.”

  Grace nodded with understanding. “Want to come back to the house for tea or something? I’m taking Kyle a great big cake.” She smiled the Malory smile that had snared Carter’s heart. “He says he doesn’t like the fuss, but he really does.”

  “No!” Anna made herself soften her voice as Grace sent her a perplexed look. “No, I have more appointments to get to.”

  Anna didn’t, but that was her business. She could not return to the Malory ranch today. Or … ever.

  “All right.” Grace’s eyes held curiosity, but she nodded. “You have a good day, Anna.”

  “Thanks, you too,” Anna said automatically.

  Grace smiled and pulled away. Anna waited until Grace’s dust faded around a bend in the road before she laid her head down on her steering wheel and groaned.

  “Ray, I think you’d better call Dr. Anna,” Kyle said a week later. “I saw Peetie barfing. Better have him checked out.”

  Kyle made this demand from the warmth of the back porch. He’d given up his bedroom, finding the sunshine good for his injuries. Plus he could be more involved in the running of the ranch—the guys who worked for them had no problem coming up to the porch to talk to him.

  Ray Malory, a few years older than Kyle, thicker, stronger, and in Kyle’s opinion, grumpier, stared at his brother from the bottom of the porch steps. “Peetie probably ate something stupid. He does it all the time. More curiosity than sense.”

  The Malory animals had been having bad luck lately. A horse woke up lame—or so Kyle inferred from what one of the ranch hands had told him. Another might have had colic or something worse. A few cows hadn’t wanted to stand up out in the field, and a cat had given birth to seven kittens. Each time, Kyle had suggested that Dr. Anna be called, just in case.

  “Better safe than sorry,” Kyle said now. “Make sure he wasn’t poisoned. Have Margaret call her.”

  Ray’s eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you get up off your ass and call yourself?”

  Kyle moved the stick at his side. “Injured. Remember?”

  “You’re moving a hell of a lot better now. You could haul yourself to the office and make a few calls. Or do it on your cell phone from here. Or are you worried about straining your pinky? You know, when you quirk it drinking all that iced tea.” He mimed.

  “You’re full of shit.” Kyle used the stick to stand up, exaggerating his grunts and groans. “Margaret likes to make phone calls. She likes to tell everyone in Riverbend to d
o what she wants.”

  Ray shook his head, busy and on his way someplace else. “Whatever. Just take care of it.”

  He strode away, back to the barn, his job, his life.

  Kyle took out his cell phone, looked at it, put it back into his pocket, and made his slow and painful way the hundred yards from the house to the trailer that was their office.

  Peetie met him halfway, his heavy tail thudding into Kyle’s thighs. Kyle patted him, knowing there was absolutely nothing wrong with the dog.

  He entered the office. Margaret was on the phone bending someone in Riverbend to her will, and Kyle slid to his desk without a word. He wouldn’t be calling Anna or asking Margaret to call her. Way too embarrassing.

  Kyle was surprised then, when Anna showed up herself not twenty minutes later. She wasn’t alone. A little girl with her—Faith Sullivan, Carter’s daughter—waved out the window at Kyle, who’d hobbled to the office doorway. Faith hopped out of the truck and turned to help Anna bring out her medical box.

  “Hi, Uncle Kyle,” the girl sang as Kyle went out to meet them. “I decided I want to be a vet when I grow up.” Anna straightened up next to her, blue eyes sweeping Kyle and making the cool breeze suddenly hot.

  Chapter Three

  “Anna is taking me around and showing me what she does,” Faith went on. “It’s for school,” she added quickly, as though Kyle would worry about her ditching classes on this fine autumn day. Kyle had ditched plenty in his life, so he’d not sit in judgement.

  Anna wore her braided hair coiled on her head, Swiss-Miss style, Kyle called it. She’d look great in a dirndl with one of those lace-up bodices. Picturing her breasts pushed up by the lacing, her legs in smooth stockings, made Kyle’s blood stir in low places.

  He cleared his throat. “Did Margaret call you out here? Peetie was a little sick, but Ray’s right. He probably just ate something. He eats anything. And everything.”

  Peetie danced around Faith, tail going so hard he’d knock the poor kid over. He didn’t look sick at all.