Tough To Tame. Diana Palmer
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horns, pitchforks or breathing fire while he’s here,” she said firmly.
He saluted her.
She made a face at him and went to do her chores.
“That’s not fair!” Cappie burst out when she’d “died” for the tenth time trying to take out one of the Hunters in the Halo game.
“Don’t throw the controller,” Kell said firmly.
She had it by one lobe, gripped tightly. She grimaced and slowly lowered it. “Okay,” she said. “But they do bounce, and they’re almost shockproof.”
“She ought to know,” Kell told an amused Bentley Rydel. “She’s bounced it off the walls several times in recent weeks.”
“Well, they keep killing me!” she burst out. “It’s not my fault! These Hunters aren’t like the ones in ‘Halo 3…’ they’re almost invincible, and there are so many of them…!”
“I’d worry more about the alien grunts that keep taking you out with sticky grenades,” Bentley pointed out. “While you’re trying to snipe the Hunters, the little guys are blowing you up right and left.”
“I want a flame thrower,” she wailed. “Or a rocket launcher! Why can’t I find a rocket launcher?”
“We wouldn’t want to make it too easy, now would we?” Bentley chided. He smiled at her fury. “Patience. You have to go slow and take them on one at a time, so they don’t flank you.”
She gave her boss a speaking look, turned back to the screen and tried again.
It was late when he left. The three of them had taken turns on the controller. Bentley and Kell had wanted to try the split screen, but that would have put Cappie right out of the competition, because she was only comfortable playing by herself.
She walked Bentley outside. “Thanks for bringing the pizza and beer,” she said. “Some other time, I’d like to have you over for supper, if you’d like. I can cook.”
He smiled. “I’ll take you up on that. I can cook, too, but I only know how to do a few things from scratch. It gets tiresome after a while.”
“Thanks for bringing the game over, too,” she added. “It’s really good. Kell is going to love it.”
“What did we all do for entertainment before video games?” he wondered aloud as they reached his car.
“I used to watch game shows,” she said. “Kell liked police dramas and old movies.”
“I like some of the forensic shows, but I almost never get to see a whole one,” he sighed. “There’s always an emergency. It’s always a large animal call. And since I’m the only vet on staff who does large animal calls, it’s always me.”
“Yes, but you never complain, not even if it’s sleeting out,” she said gently.
He smiled. “I like my clients.”
“They like you, too.” She shook her head. “Amazing, isn’t it?”
“Excuse me?”
She flushed. “Oh, no, not because of…I mean…” She grimaced. “I meant it’s amazing that you never get tired of large animal calls when the weather’s awful.”
He chuckled. “You really have got to take an assertiveness course,” he said, and not unkindly.
“It’s hard to be assertive when you’re shy,” she argued.
“It’s impossible not to be when you have a job like mine and people don’t want to do what you tell them to,” he returned. “Some animals would die if I couldn’t outargue their owners.”
“Point taken.”
“If it’s any consolation,” he said, “when I was your age, I had the same problem.”
“How did you overcome it?”
“My stepfather decided that my mother wasn’t going to the doctor for a urinary tract infection. I was already in veterinary school, and I knew what happened when animals weren’t treated for it. I told him. He told me he was the man of the house and he’d decide what my mother did.” He smiled, remembering. “So I had a choice—either back down, or let my mother risk permanent damage to her health, even death. I told him she was going to the doctor, I put her in the car and drove her there myself.”
“What did your stepfather do?” she asked, aghast.
“There wasn’t much that he could do, since I paid the doctor.” His face hardened. “And it wasn’t the first disagreement we’d had. He was poor and proud with it. He’d have let her suffer rather than admit he couldn’t afford a doctor visit or medicine.” He looked down at her. “It’s a hell of a world, when people have to choose between food and medicine and doctors. Or between heated houses and medicine.”
“Tell me about it,” she replied. She colored a little, and hoped he didn’t notice. “Kell and I do all right,” she said quickly. “But he’ll go without medicine sometimes if I don’t put my foot down. You’d think I’d be tough as nails, because I stand up to him.”
“He’s not a mean person.”
“He could be, I think,” she said. She hesitated. “There was a man I dated, briefly, in San Antonio.” She hesitated again. Perhaps it was too soon for this.
He stepped closer. “A man.”
His voice was very soft. Quiet. Comforting. She wrapped her arms around her chest. She had on a sweater, but it was chilly outside. The memories were just as chilling. She was recalling it, her face betraying her inner turmoil. He’d hit her. The first time, he said it was because he’d had a drink, and he cried, and she went back to him. But the second time, he’d have probably killed her if Kell hadn’t heard her scream and come to save her. As it was, he’d fractured her arm when he threw her over the couch. Kell had knocked Frank out with a lamp, from his wheelchair, and made her call the police. He made her testify, too. She held her arms around herself, chilled by the memory.
“What happened?”
She looked up at him, wanting to tell him, but afraid to. Frank got a six-month sentence, but he’d already served three months and he was out. Would he come after her now? Would he be crazy enough to do that? And would Bentley believe her, if she told him? They barely knew each other. It was too soon, she thought. Much too soon, to drag out her past and show it to him. There was no reason to tell him anyway. Frank wouldn’t come down here and risk being sent back to jail. Bentley might think less of her if she told him, might think it was her own fault. Besides, she didn’t want to tell him yet.
“He was a mean sort of person, that’s all,” she hedged. “He kicked my cat. I thought it was terrible. He just laughed.”
His blue eyes narrowed. “A man who’ll kick a cat will kick a human being.”
“You’re probably right,” she admitted, and then she smiled. “Well, I only dated him for a little while. He wasn’t the sort of person I like to be around. Kell didn’t like him, either.”
“I like your brother.”
She smiled. “I like him, too. He was just going downhill with depression in San Antonio. We were over our ears in debt, from all the hospital bills. It’s lucky our cousin died and left us this place,” she added.
Bentley’s eyebrows lifted. “This place belonged to Harry Farley. He got killed overseas in the military about six months ago. He didn’t have any relatives at all. The county buried him, out of respect for his military service.”
“But Kell said…” she blurted out.
Her expression made Bentley hesitate. “Oh. Wait a minute,” Bentley said at once. “That’s right, I did hear that he had a distant cousin or two.”