Straight From The Hip. Сьюзен Мэллери
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I’ll help you down.”
“I’m good.”
She held out the water until he took it, then pressed her hands between her thighs, on the back of the horse, swung her right leg around and lowered herself to the ground. She hit a couple of inches after she’d expected to but didn’t stumble.
Nick dismounted and handed the horse to someone. She tried to see who it was, but couldn’t.
“This way,” he said.
Dinner, she thought longingly. She would kill for a meal. Or even act nice. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so hungry.
But the building they approached didn’t look like the house. She couldn’t see the details but the shape was all wrong. He opened a door, then waited, maybe for her to go first. There was no way she was stepping into that pit of darkness.
Seconds later he reached past her and flipped on lights. She saw a big bright room, but no details. Cautiously, she walked inside.
The ceiling was a long distance up—she couldn’t say how far. The floor was hardwood. She saw shapes she didn’t recognize. The place was familiar, although she couldn’t say why.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“The gym. I heard you’re into rock climbing. I thought we’d take a few minutes before dinner so you can practice.”
She spun toward his voice. “Are you insane?”
“There have been rumors, but technically, no.”
“What’s wrong with you? I’m thirsty, sunburned, tired and hungry. I’m not climbing a wall just to amuse you.”
“Sure you are. Besides, isn’t there a part of you that wonders if you still can?”
She could accept a lot, but not that he was having fun at her expense. The bastard. She’d been right—Nick was a bully.
“I’m blind!” she screamed. “I can’t see.”
“You don’t climb with your eyes. You climb with your hands and your feet. Come on, Izzy. Once to the top. Think of how it will feel.”
Terrifying, she thought, angry and scared and hating life. It would feel terrifying. To be all the way up there, in darkness, or near darkness.
“I can’t.”
He jingled something that sounded like a harness.
“You can and you’ll feel better if you do. You’ll feel like there’s hope.”
“Are you talking? I can’t really hear you. There’s a lot of static.”
“Ignore me if you want, but I’m right. Come on. One quick climb to the top, then we’ll have dinner.”
She was so weary. Exhaustion hung on her, pulling her toward the ground. She just wanted to curl up and whimper.
“Can I kick you in the balls if I make it?” she asked.
“No, but you can have dinner.”
Her sisters had done this to her, she thought bitterly. Turned her over to this stranger who got his rocks off by bullying those around him. Resentment built up inside her. It burned hot and bright, until she could only think of pounding him into the ground. Of frightening him and making him whimper.
But that wasn’t going to happen. Not anytime soon. She was trapped and there seemed to be only one way out.
She grabbed the harness. The shape was familiar in her hands and she slid into it easily.
“The shoes are over here.”
She pulled off her sandals, not caring that her feet were probably filthy, and slipped on the climbing shoes, then allowed him to guide her to the wall. He offered her chalk for her hands.
She rubbed her fingers together. The room was cool and quiet. She could hear herself breathing and nothing else. Her skin burned from the sun, her body ached and she was so hungry she felt hollow. But none of that mattered. Not knowing where the need came from, she suddenly knew she had to climb the wall.
She closed her eyes, because then not seeing felt like a choice. She put her hand on the smooth surface in front of her, then felt around until she found handholds. When she’d gripped them, she moved her right foot forward and up. Nick moved behind her and clipped the safety line to her harness.
She ignored him. There was only the wall in front of her and finding the next place to hang on.
Slowly, she climbed. She found her rhythm in the movements. He was right—she didn’t need to see to do this and each step gave her more confidence.
About twenty minutes into the climb, she moved her foot higher, found the foothold and shifted her weight. Her foot slipped. Suddenly she was hanging in midair, with no idea of where she was or what came next. Panic surged, but she ignored it. She hung on with her hands, scrambling with her feet until she found another hold. Cautiously, she centered herself on it, easing her weight off her hands and onto her legs again.
Her heart pounded in her chest. Sweat soaked her. She kept her eyes closed. When she’d caught her breath, she began moving up again.
Nick watched Izzy’s careful progress. He’d wondered if she would refuse to climb, but she hadn’t. Now she worked her way steadily to the top of the wall, her body moving easily as she remembered what she was supposed to be doing.
His gaze slipped over her bare arms. Something inside him tightened when he caught sight of the curve of her breast. She was wild enough to be appealing but not so crazy that she made him wary. In other circumstances, before everything had changed, he would be interested. As it was—he could look but not touch.
She took the last few feet easily and slapped the top of the wall.
“I made it,” she yelled.
He reached for the safety rope and lowered her to the ground.
“Next time you can take it at more than a crawl,” he told her.
She touched the floor and unhooked herself, then grinned at him. “Next time we’ll race and I’ll so kick your ass.”
“In your dreams.”
She laughed. “No, Nick. In yours.”
BY THE TIME they returned to the main house, Izzy was hungry enough to eat a water buffalo. Or at least pretty much anything that was served for dinner. At this point, she would even consider one of her sister Lexi’s über-healthy sticks and greens sandwiches on the pressed cardboard she called bread. But when they walked into the kitchen, the smells that surrounded her were rich and thick and filled with promise.
“Over here,” Nick said, guiding her to the sink in the mudroom.
She found the taps, then the soap. After washing her hands, she splashed water on her face and dried herself with a towel. She turned toward the sound of footsteps.
“You’re back,” Aaron said happily. “I was worried. I know, I know. I shouldn’t. It gives me wrinkles. So we’re having pot roast for dinner. And, honey, the things Norma can do with a pot roast will make you want to weep.”
Aaron linked arms with her and led her into the kitchen. “Norma, this is Izzy. Izzy, Norma, who keeps us all fed and happy.”
“Hi,” Izzy said, feeling a little awkward as she stared at a blurry shape that was probably Norma. Should she hold out her hand? Wave?
“You’re skinny,” Norma said by way of greeting. “You sit at my table, you eat food.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Izzy murmured. “I’m actually a big eater.”
“Uh-huh. We’ll see about that. Now you go sit. I don’t have time for chitchat. Shoo.”
Aaron