Her Hometown Hero. Margaret Daley
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She ignored the ache in her leg and crossed to the bed to hoist the piece of luggage she carried. “When do you need me at the main house?”
“Will an hour be long enough?”
She nodded and opened her first suitcase. Whenever she traveled, she always liked to put her clothes and belongings away before doing whatever else she had to do. It gave her a settled feeling and right now she needed that.
“See you then. Carrie and Jacob are excited about you being here. Coming home at Christmas just isn’t enough for them, especially Carrie. You know that she wants to be you one day.”
Not anymore if she knew what happened to her. Carrie’s budding love of dance, much like hers at an early age, had been a bond between them even from a distance. The loss of the connection from their shared dreams was just one more thing the accident had taken away from her.
She opened her mouth to say something to her brother, but he was already gone. Her shoulders sagging, she sank onto the bed to rest a moment.
She loved her niece and nephew, but she wasn’t sure about seeing them and answering all the questions they most likely would pepper her with. They were curious and would want to know everything about what happened four months ago. They knew she’d had an accident but from what Howard had said, it was clear that they didn’t know she’d lost her leg. She would give them just enough information without a lot of detail or she would never be able to end the evening at a reasonable hour. She was thankful they would be going to school for at least a few more weeks. That would give her the time to decide if she wanted to stay or...
Or nothing. She was adrift, going wherever the current took her. No plans. No goals. So different from what she was used to, and what she needed in her life—a direction. She’d always had one—her dream to dance. The settlement from the insurance company of the man who had hit her allowed her to be financially solvent, and she was thankful for that, but the accident left a void she wasn’t sure she could ever fill.
She blew a breath of air out through pursed lips, then set about emptying her suitcases. For the time being, she stored her luggage in the closet in the other bedroom. When she glanced at the clock on the oven, she was surprised she still had thirty minutes. She was tired and could lie down for fifteen minutes, but she was afraid she would go to sleep. Maybe she’d check on Cinnamon before heading for the main house. She hoped the vet was gone and no one was in the barn. Dr. Harris had been their vet for as long as she could remember, and she felt good that her quarter horse was in his capable hands. But that didn’t mean she wanted to make conversation—with the doctor or with anyone else.
* * *
As Nate Sterling walked through the barn, he couldn’t stop thinking of the glimpse he’d gotten of Kit entering the cabin thirty minutes ago. Beth had told him she was coming to stay for a while, but it had still been jarring to see her. Kit’s sister-in-law had mentioned Kit had been injured and was recuperating here. He couldn’t see her staying long. Her life was in New York. He’d discovered that the painful way when Kit chose to pursue her career over marrying him. His love hadn’t been enough.
Reaching the doorway of the barn, he looked over to the cabin’s porch. He hadn’t seen her in years and yet physically she hadn’t changed. Her reddish brown hair was still long and pulled back in a ponytail, her favorite way to wear it unless she was dancing, then it was in a bun. He loved it when she let it down loose, a mass of curls about her face and shoulders. The memory of running his fingers through the thick strands made him clench his hand. He shoved the memory away.
But another image flooded him. Kit the last time he saw her, with excitement on her face from the news she’d received about being accepted into a New York ballet company. Her large, expressive blue eyes, fringed in long dark lashes, lit with a look he’d wished had been for him. That was when he knew even if he’d transferred to New York for college, it wouldn’t work.
“How’s Cinnamon?” a gruff voice asked behind Nate.
He tore his gaze away from the cabin and swung around to face Bud, the ranch’s foreman. “She should recover fine. I see Kit arrived.”
“Yeah, Howard and Beth have been working for days on the cabin to get it ready.” Bud’s sharp regard studied Nate.
Bud had come upon Nate not long after he and Kit had parted all those years ago at Christmas. Nate had ridden back to this barn while Kit had stayed up on the rise that overlooked the ranch. The older man had taken one look at Nate’s face and immediately asked if everything was all right.
Nate hadn’t said anything to Bud about breaking up with Kit that day, but later Bud had told him any time Nate wanted to talk, he was a good listener.
“Do you think she’ll stay long?” Nate finally asked the question nagging at him. He spent time at the Soaring S Ranch, taking care of the animals and renewing his friendship with Howard and Beth. He enjoyed his visits, but the thought of crossing paths repeatedly with his ex-girlfriend made him uncomfortable.
“Don’t rightly know. That, you’ll have to ask Kit.”
“Probably not. She never stays away from the dance world for long. Can’t, if she wants to stay on top.” For a moment Nate remembered how football had been for him in high school and college, at times taking over his life. “It’s like a football player training for the Super Bowl. It’s a nonstop process if you want to succeed, and if there’s anything I know about Kit, it’s that she likes to succeed and do her best.” Like him, except football hadn’t been his dream but his dad’s as a means to pay for college.
Bud’s craggy features split in a wide grin, the grooves on his tanned face deepening. “Yeah, that’s my gal.”
“Then why is she here? The spring season hasn’t ended for her ballet company. Why come all the way to the ranch for a short recovery?”
Bud’s bushy eyebrows hiked up. “You don’t know?”
Nate shook his head.
“The recovery isn’t as short as all that. She was injured four months ago.”
Four months and she still hadn’t recovered? Then the injury was more involved than Beth had led him to believe. For a few seconds he wondered if Kit might be back for good. Hope flared for an instant, only to be iced over with dashed dreams. She’d been injured before and went back to dancing—every time.
Nate released a long breath. “I’d better make sure Cinnamon is still all right.”
“Yeah, I totally agree. I’m sure Kit will want to ride Cinnamon as soon as possible. She always does when she comes home to visit.” Bud bent over and lifted a bale of hay, then sauntered toward the last stall.
Nate threw a glance over his shoulder toward the cabin. Would he see her again tonight? And why do I care? She’s made it clear that all we could ever be is friends because her life is dance.
* * *
When Kathleen stepped out onto the porch, she took a deep breath, the scent of mowed grass and roses from the multitude of bushes comforted her. She’d forgotten how much she missed this place, especially the horses. She’d missed Cinnamon. Hopefully the mare wasn’t dangerously ill. Although her brother didn’t seem to think it was anything serious, she needed to hear the diagnosis from Dr. Harris.
Noticing the red truck still parked near the paddock, Kathleen made her way toward the barn. When she entered the large black structure, where she’d spent many hours as a child, it took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the dimmer light. Unless Howard moved Cinnamon, the mare usually stayed in the second-to-last stall on the right when she wasn’t in the pasture. Kathleen headed toward the stall, limping slightly, her leg throbbing. The day’s travel had been hard on her injury. She’d use that as a reason to cut the evening short.
A large man, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeve, light blue shirt backed out of the stall, grasping a brown bag. Beneath a tan cowboy hat, dark, almost black, hair curled at the top of his collar. With broad shoulders and slim waist and