18. Skylar
18
SKYLAR
I took a deep breath as I rounded the last bend, arriving at the dude ranch’s beautiful main building. This was such an idyllic place. Guides were leading a dozen or so guests on the horse trail that wound in and around the historic property. Rowdy had mentioned that limited day passes were available, so locals could partake in some of the activities. It was a great idea, but then I got too busy to even consider it.
After parking in the circular drive, I got out of the car and squared my shoulders. I was wearing my favorite heels, skinny jeans, and favorite off-the-shoulder Ralph Lauren. Kit and I had texted back and forth a couple of times since that morning in Gruene, but we’d kept it light, and I didn’t know where the hell we stood at this point, so I needed the good armor to get his ass to Austin.
As I was preparing myself for battle, Kit walked out the main office door.
“Hey there,” he said with a cowboy grin.
“Hey.”
“Didn’t think you’d come,” he said, half-jokingly. I’d texted him last night, warning him I’d be taking him to his appointment one way or another.
I placed my freshly manicured hand on my hip, sending him an arch of my precisely plucked brow. “Your skinny ass is gettin’ in that MRI machine if I hafta shove you in there myself.”
“Bossy,” he said, smiling.
I lifted a shoulder. “Don’t lie. That’s what you like about me.”
He chuckled, limping toward my car. “Doesn’t hurt.”
Just as he got into the passenger seat, Sadie poked her head out the door. Is he actually going? she mouthed. I sent her a wink.
“You know, the only reason I’m going through with this is because Sadie kept canceling everything I tried to put on today’s schedule.”
“Sadie and I have colluded on your behalf. You’re welcome.”
He muttered good-naturedly to himself as he put on his seatbelt. “This is what I get for hiring good people.”
“Hoisted by your own petard.”
He dipped his head. “You should’ve seen Reed. He’s been laughing at me all morning.”
“You know that’s your own fault, right? If you hadn’t been so stubborn, people wouldn’t be fussing so much over you.”
“I don’t like being fussed over,” he grumbled.
“Don’t I know it.”
Kit shifted uncomfortably as we made our way out to the highway, and by the time we hit the two-lane, I sent him a look.
“What?” he asked, shifting again.
“Something wrong with the seat? Do we need to adjust it for you?”
“No. I’m fine. It’s a comfortable ride. We made sure of that.”
“That we did.”
Normally, I’d be the one to carry the conversation, but I wasn’t feeling it today, and he sat in determined—if shifty—silence for the first few miles.
Finally, I gave in. “You’re awfully loud for someone who isn’t talking, cowboy. You got something to say?”
He grunted and looked out the window, and I let the non-conversation continue.
“I got a lot to say,” he said, finally breaking the silence, “but I don’t know how to say it.”
I reached over and squeezed his forearm. “True or false: You’d rather muck out stalls than get this MRI.”
“True.”
“True or false: You’re doing this because you’ve been bullied into it by me, your son, and all of your staff.”
“True. And you left off my ex-wife.”
I patted his arm. “Aw, poor baby. Everyone sees you’re in agony and wants to make it better. How awful for you.”
“Shut up,” he said, but I knew he didn’t mean it.
“True or false,” I continued, letting the smile slip onto my face. “You’re also doing it because you think I’m sexy.”
He slid his eyes over to mine. “True. And I’ve got more to say on that, too.”
“Which part is making you squirm more? The MRI or the guy driving you?”
“Both. Equally,” he said, disgruntled. Even as his lips gave a happy twitch.
“Tell you what. Given how bad you were limping this morning already, let’s focus on the MRI for now, then we’ll focus on the sexy man on the way back. How does that sound?”
He took off his hat, running a hand through his hair. “Sounds like a fair deal.”
“Excellent.”
I turned on the Bluetooth and let him connect to his favorite Spotify list, which was, unsurprisingly, full of old country songs.
“Hope you don’t mind a little Dolly Parton,” he said, sneaking another look at me.
“I do love me some Dolly.” I smiled. “Actually, I love all music, including country. Even if a lot of those singers don’t like me very much.”
He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t think I ever thought about that.”
“I can’t afford not to,” I said, gesturing at my face full of elegant makeup. “If somebody thinks I’m an abomination, I really don’t want to give them my money. And anyone who thinks I shouldn’t be able to get married can go get fucked.”
He went quiet after that. Thoughtful.
“Growing up around here, you hear a lot of bullshit,” he finally said. “And after meeting you, I reckon the biggest crock of shit I ever heard was that gay men are weak.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Think about it. You’re not hiding, that’s for sure.”
I snickered as he continued. “I understand a little more of what it means for you to walk out the door knowing that, if you come across a homophobe, you’re gonna get chirped at pretty hard.”
“Why do you think I’m like this?” I asked, then didn’t wait for his response. “I don’t want to just get by. Like, that’s a choice lots of people make so that they can stay safe, and I don’t fault them for it. Genuinely. But I wanna know who the people are around me who don’t support me. I wanna know who those motherfuckers are, so I know where I stand.”
“Ever have someone try to hurt you?”
I gave him a look, then returned my eyes to the road. “ Guess .”
“What do you do when that happens?”
“Sometimes I end up with a fat lip or a bloody nose, but mostly I end up with bruised knuckles.”
He shook his head. “Why does that not surprise me?”
“Because you know better than to discount the pretty guy with the flashy clothes.”
His eyes tracked down my body. “That I do.” He took in the road ahead of us as he repeated himself. “That I do.”
Kit went quiet again, his thoughts an almost visible line of ticker tape rolling across his forehead. He seemed to want to ask something, or maybe he was just nervous about the MRI. Instead of trying to pry it out of him, I let him stew in his thoughts as we drove into town.
When we pulled into the parking garage of the doctor’s office, he stiffened, crinkling his hat in his hands, ratcheting up the nervous energy.
“I didn’t know how you would be with confined spaces, so I ordered sedation for the MRI,” I informed him, keeping my voice neutral. “It’s fast acting, won’t leave you groggy for too long, and you can refuse it. But if you’ve never had an MRI before, you may want it.”
“Are y’all gonna put my head inside that thing?”
I shook my head. “Because it’s your knee, they’ll put you in feet first. Also, this is an open bore MRI, so it’s roomier than those old tubes you may have seen in movies.”
“Then I won’t get the sedation.” He rolled back his shoulders. “But thank you for considering my comfort.”
“Sedation isn’t only for claustrophobia. If you’re in pain or just super nervous, it’s okay to take the meds. Don’t be a hero.”
He shook his head again. “Bein’ out of control would make me even more anxious.”
I reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “Then you don’t have to take them at all.” Letting him go, I continued, “I was going to do my monthly check-in with Dr. Kleinfeld while you were getting the MRI, but I can walk you over to the office if you’d like. They won’t let me in the magnet room, though.”
“I’m a big boy. I can go to the scan myself.”
I crossed my arms. “And you won’t run away and pretend you did it when you actually didn’t?”
“Thought about it, but I’ve heard about the way you run. I wouldn’t make it very far.”
I chuckled. “That was for a sale on Manolo Blahniks, but you make a good point.”
Kit opened the passenger door. “You are a menace.”
“And don’t you fucking forget it.”
We exited the car, and I pointed him toward the MRI suite, then shook my cell phone at him. “If you need anything, I’m only a few steps away.”
“Thanks, Sky.”
I kissed his cheek, and we parted ways. I walked into Dr. Kleinfeld’s office a few moments later, and she looked up from her desk, smiling. “Skylar! How are you doing?”
“It’s been an adventure.”
“I’ve been watching your notes come in. You are hitting it out of the park with this business model.”
“You think?”
“I know. I recognize some names because I’d already beaten my head against the wall trying to get them to come in. Whatever you’re doing out there, keep doing it.”
“I had a good mentor,” I said, thinking of both her and of Kit.
She and I discussed my cases, which didn’t take long because there weren’t that many—yet—and, according to her, I’d done a fantastic job of both diagnosing my patients’ issues and documenting them. Right as we finished up, a notification popped up on her computer.
“Oh, your Mr. Baker’s scans are already done.”
She’d had the radiologist prioritize his images, and she was reading through the notes as they came in. I gripped the edge of the desk when she clucked her tongue. “Looks like he’s been in pain for a while.”
“Yep. He’s a stubborn cuss, that’s for sure. I’m guessing torn meniscus,” I said, crossing my fingers in my lap.
“Not a guess,” she said primly. “An excellent diagnosis. And it looks like he’s the perfect candidate for arthroscopic surgery.”
I let out a breath . . . and then a groan. “Now the hard part. Getting him to agree to it.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” She paused and held my gaze. “Don’t be too disappointed if he pushes back. Some of these guys need to be in pain for a little while longer before they agree to the surgery.”
I shook my head. “Book the appointment. I’ll make sure he gets there.”
She laughed, then set the appointment for the first available time slot, which was a month out. “I’m only doing this as a favor to you.”
“I’ll owe you one.”
Her phone rang, and she picked it up. Smiling at me, she said, “Thanks, Alyssa. Have Mr. Baker come into my office.”
Kit shuffled in a few minutes later, looking pained and irritable.
“How’d the MRI go?” I asked, even though I could guess.
“They made me take off all my clothes. Didn’t know I was gonna have to get down to skivvies.”
“Don’t Wranglers have metal rivets in them?”
“Yes.”
“And were you hoping to be permanently attached to that big magnet or . . .?”
He let out a grunt and Dr. Kleinfeld chuckled, then gestured to the open seat. “Why don’t you have a seat, Christopher?”
“Christopher?” I looked at Dr. K’s screen while Kit shook her hand. “How did I not know...?”
He blushed as he gingerly took a seat. “I was named after my daddy and grandaddy. Kit was just a childhood nickname that stuck.”
The fact that he kept the nickname was endearing as hell. Yet another layer to this complex, sexy man.
We refocused on Dr. K, who gave him a warm smile. “Well, Kit, this is a good news, bad news situation. Which do you want first?”
“Bad news,” he said, unsurprisingly.
“You’ve got a torn meniscus. Which is probably pretty painful.”
Kit seemed to fold on himself, taking the news like a physical blow. “That why it feels like somebody’s stabbing the back of my knee?”
“Yes, sir. That is a classic symptom of a torn meniscus.”
“I’ve always been a fan of the classics,” he said, the joke falling flat when he tightened his jaw in pain. “What’s the good news?”
“The surgery to fix it is minimally invasive and has a high success rate.”
“No,” he said, almost before the words were out of her mouth.
“Kit.” I grabbed his hand. “Listen to Dr. Kleinfeld.”
“ No ,” he said, a little louder this time, then ripped his hand from mine. “I ain’t got time for knee surgery.”
“Mr. Baker—Kit,” Dr. Kleinfeld started. “It’s a quick outpatient surgery, which means you’ll be in and out the same day.”
“Yeah, a buddy of mine got something similar and couldn’t walk for weeks . I ain’t got weeks to sit on my ass.” He turned to me. “I told you.”
“I know,” I said, surprised by the vehemence of his reaction. “But you won’t be out for weeks. I mean, yes, you’ll need to baby it for a couple of weeks, but surely Lane can take care of the heavy lifting and you can stick to the office.”
He clenched his jaw. “Please don’t tell me how to run my business.”
I sat back, a little shocked, and Dr. Kleinfeld sent me a pitying look. She’d called it.
“Skylar? Why don’t you give me and Kit here a few moments to discuss the specifics, maybe calm some of his fears.”
“I ain’t afraid,” he said, shaking his head.
“My apologies for the poor word choice. My goal is to make sure you have all the facts. Is that okay?”
“Fine.”
Dr. Kleinfeld sat back and I got up, embarrassed he’d sniped at me in front of her. “I’ll, uh, go for a walk I guess.”
“Don’t go far,” Kit growled.
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I stood and quietly walked out the door. Still shaken by his reaction, I hit the sidewalk a few minutes later, aiming for the small café on the corner. Grabbing my phone, I shot Dr. Kleinfeld a quick text.
Me: Don’t listen to what he says. Keep that appointment for next month. I will get his ass here, I promise.
Dr. K: Okay, but $20 says you’re wrong.
Me: You’re on.
Putting my phone away, I cursed under my breath. That fucking stubborn cowboy. Not aware of my surroundings, I nearly screamed when someone gripped my shoulders.
“Kit, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Who the hell is Kit?”
I turned around, shocked. Daddy Big Bucks. Rich .
Fucking fantastic.
“Get your hands off of me.”
He pulled his hands up immediately and stepped back. “I’ve been calling your name.”
“Why? I’ve blocked you everywhere. What makes you think I’d wanna talk to you?” I said, surprised by the viciousness of my words. I had never once talked to Rich that way and the shock showed on his face.
“What happened to you, baby boy?” he said, probably going for sweet when all he sounded was condescending.
“Nothing. I’m just having a bad day.”
“Is that why you look so tired?”
That drew me up short. I’d spent extra time on my makeup this morning, knowing I was going to see Kit. “You think I look tired?”
I cursed at myself again. This was just Rich trying to make me feel bad so he could put me under his control again.
Bastard.
I knew his tricks and still walked right into that one. Before he could weasel his way in with another negging comment, I held up my hand.
“Rich, I have nothing to say to you. Please get the fuck out of here.”
“You’re clearly in crisis, Skylar. Don’t push me away.”