Any Day Now
Page 32
Well, there was that period of time a couple of years ago when he’d been pretty dysfunctional, didn’t work out much, ate whatever was handy, got a little flabby and out of shape. People joked about the divorce diet but in Connie’s case he’d actually gained fat, had a little floppy belly, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t concentrate.
He didn’t mention that part. He just said he was a little obsessive, having been small when he was a kid.
It was only about eight when he noticed Sierra was getting droopy. He met her eyes across the table. “I bet you’re worn-out,” he said softly.
“I think so.”
He pushed back his chair and stood. “Sierra’s saying good-night and then so am I. Dinner was great, Maggie, but I need a shower. First I’m going to take my rescue back to her cabin, then I’ll take off. Oh—someone will have to take her into town tomorrow if the orthopedist wants to see her—she can’t drive with that bad ankle. If you need my help, just call.”
“I got it,” Cal said. “I can take her to her cabin if—”
“I’m good,” Connie said. “By now she’s almost an appendage.”
“I’ll bring ice,” Cal said.
Connie scooped Sierra off her chair, swung her past the crutches leaning against the wall, clicked his teeth to Molly, told her come on, and took Sierra down the steps and across the yard.
She leaned her head against his chest and he felt warm there. Warm and cozy and pleasant. “You’re going to sleep good tonight,” he said, resisting the urge to drop a kiss on her head.
“You’re going to sleep even better,” she said. Then she yawned.
“Listen, about before, all that stuff about my ex, I don’t know why I brought that up. It didn’t mean that much, you know? It’s so over I can hardly remember her face. She’s still working in Timberlake and I run into her sometimes but if it wasn’t for that I wouldn’t even recognize her.”
“I thought nothing of it,” Sierra said. “But what I told you? About attracting losers? It’s real, so stand clear. It’s possible that if I like you, it turns you into a loser.”
He laughed. “I’m not worried. I’m kind of stuck with who I am.”
“Thank you for helping me today,” she said.
“No big deal,” he said.
“Connie, you carried me on your back for over a mile!”
“Like Cal said, it’s what I do. Don’t give me too much attention for it.” He put her down in front of the little cabin. “You’ll be okay now. Your brother is bringing ice. I have to work the next couple of days but if you need something, I can get a few hours of personal time.”
“I have Cal. And Sully. And Maggie, too—she doesn’t go back to Denver for a few days.”
“Well, you’re in good hands, then,” he said, backing away. “Have a good sleep.”
“You, too.”
He headed for his truck. He passed Cal, who had an ice pack and Sierra’s crutches. There was very little activity around the grounds; a few campfires here and there. There was a couple down near the lake. They seemed almost wrapped around each other and Connie envied them.
He was suddenly melancholy. He liked Sierra. She’d been up against his back or in his arms for a long time today and it had been perfect. And she, like him, had no confidence real love would ever find her. He understood the feeling.
But damn, he wasn’t ready. He might never be ready. He’d been getting by just fine so why now? Why her?
Look out, Connie, he told himself. Looks like you’re going down...
* * *
Sierra leaned on her door, feeling cold. Molly sat patiently beside her. They both watched Connie walk away and Sierra noted, he did not have a swagger. Nope. Just an even, powerful, confident stride. His back was straight, his legs long, his waist narrow. His arms must be sore, she thought. His back must ache. Even though she wasn’t heavy, he’d carried her for so long. And until today she thought his words sometimes had a little bite in them, but today, he was nothing but sweet.
He regretted mentioning the ex and she knew what that meant—he was still stung. He thought they had something in common, that failure to find a good partner. Ha! He had no idea! She hadn’t even thought about falling in love! She’d just been looking for a guy and, back in her drinking days, just about any man would do. They usually turned out to be creeps and users and liars, but not unlike she had been. Then that last one, the one she’d let into her life, the one who put her in danger, the one who left her in trouble, that one made her realize she’d been in no shape to have a man in her life. Not until she could stand on her own two feet, use actual clearheaded judgment, would she deserve the kind of man she really wanted. Needed. Could love for real.
At dinner, they told the story of how Maggie was lowered over a cliff to save Jackson Canaday, who had fallen, cracked his skull and lay unconscious on a precipice three hundred feet from the ground. If he came to and rolled around, he’d have fallen the rest of the way and be dead. If Maggie hadn’t been lowered down there to drill holes in his skull with an ordinary shop drill, he’d be dead. If the rope that dangled her down to that ledge had given way, she’d be dead. And then Connie and his paramedic team had gone after her, pulling her and the injured Jackson to safety.
He had just looked at his dinner, shy. Modest.
How many times a week was he a superhero, she wondered. How many women had he carried out of a burning house or across the trail for an hour? Because she wanted to be the only one.
She made no sense to herself.
Cal was walking toward her. He smiled as he passed Connie. She took the crutches and let him into her cabin and he waited for her to get in her pajamas—a T-shirt and boxers—then propped her foot up on a pillow and gently covered it with the ice pack. He pulled a couple of pills out of his pocket.
He didn’t mention that part. He just said he was a little obsessive, having been small when he was a kid.
It was only about eight when he noticed Sierra was getting droopy. He met her eyes across the table. “I bet you’re worn-out,” he said softly.
“I think so.”
He pushed back his chair and stood. “Sierra’s saying good-night and then so am I. Dinner was great, Maggie, but I need a shower. First I’m going to take my rescue back to her cabin, then I’ll take off. Oh—someone will have to take her into town tomorrow if the orthopedist wants to see her—she can’t drive with that bad ankle. If you need my help, just call.”
“I got it,” Cal said. “I can take her to her cabin if—”
“I’m good,” Connie said. “By now she’s almost an appendage.”
“I’ll bring ice,” Cal said.
Connie scooped Sierra off her chair, swung her past the crutches leaning against the wall, clicked his teeth to Molly, told her come on, and took Sierra down the steps and across the yard.
She leaned her head against his chest and he felt warm there. Warm and cozy and pleasant. “You’re going to sleep good tonight,” he said, resisting the urge to drop a kiss on her head.
“You’re going to sleep even better,” she said. Then she yawned.
“Listen, about before, all that stuff about my ex, I don’t know why I brought that up. It didn’t mean that much, you know? It’s so over I can hardly remember her face. She’s still working in Timberlake and I run into her sometimes but if it wasn’t for that I wouldn’t even recognize her.”
“I thought nothing of it,” Sierra said. “But what I told you? About attracting losers? It’s real, so stand clear. It’s possible that if I like you, it turns you into a loser.”
He laughed. “I’m not worried. I’m kind of stuck with who I am.”
“Thank you for helping me today,” she said.
“No big deal,” he said.
“Connie, you carried me on your back for over a mile!”
“Like Cal said, it’s what I do. Don’t give me too much attention for it.” He put her down in front of the little cabin. “You’ll be okay now. Your brother is bringing ice. I have to work the next couple of days but if you need something, I can get a few hours of personal time.”
“I have Cal. And Sully. And Maggie, too—she doesn’t go back to Denver for a few days.”
“Well, you’re in good hands, then,” he said, backing away. “Have a good sleep.”
“You, too.”
He headed for his truck. He passed Cal, who had an ice pack and Sierra’s crutches. There was very little activity around the grounds; a few campfires here and there. There was a couple down near the lake. They seemed almost wrapped around each other and Connie envied them.
He was suddenly melancholy. He liked Sierra. She’d been up against his back or in his arms for a long time today and it had been perfect. And she, like him, had no confidence real love would ever find her. He understood the feeling.
But damn, he wasn’t ready. He might never be ready. He’d been getting by just fine so why now? Why her?
Look out, Connie, he told himself. Looks like you’re going down...
* * *
Sierra leaned on her door, feeling cold. Molly sat patiently beside her. They both watched Connie walk away and Sierra noted, he did not have a swagger. Nope. Just an even, powerful, confident stride. His back was straight, his legs long, his waist narrow. His arms must be sore, she thought. His back must ache. Even though she wasn’t heavy, he’d carried her for so long. And until today she thought his words sometimes had a little bite in them, but today, he was nothing but sweet.
He regretted mentioning the ex and she knew what that meant—he was still stung. He thought they had something in common, that failure to find a good partner. Ha! He had no idea! She hadn’t even thought about falling in love! She’d just been looking for a guy and, back in her drinking days, just about any man would do. They usually turned out to be creeps and users and liars, but not unlike she had been. Then that last one, the one she’d let into her life, the one who put her in danger, the one who left her in trouble, that one made her realize she’d been in no shape to have a man in her life. Not until she could stand on her own two feet, use actual clearheaded judgment, would she deserve the kind of man she really wanted. Needed. Could love for real.
At dinner, they told the story of how Maggie was lowered over a cliff to save Jackson Canaday, who had fallen, cracked his skull and lay unconscious on a precipice three hundred feet from the ground. If he came to and rolled around, he’d have fallen the rest of the way and be dead. If Maggie hadn’t been lowered down there to drill holes in his skull with an ordinary shop drill, he’d be dead. If the rope that dangled her down to that ledge had given way, she’d be dead. And then Connie and his paramedic team had gone after her, pulling her and the injured Jackson to safety.
He had just looked at his dinner, shy. Modest.
How many times a week was he a superhero, she wondered. How many women had he carried out of a burning house or across the trail for an hour? Because she wanted to be the only one.
She made no sense to herself.
Cal was walking toward her. He smiled as he passed Connie. She took the crutches and let him into her cabin and he waited for her to get in her pajamas—a T-shirt and boxers—then propped her foot up on a pillow and gently covered it with the ice pack. He pulled a couple of pills out of his pocket.
