Chapter Nineteen
I hold on to the bar and push the glass door open.
Then reach for my new crutches leaned against the wall next to the towel hook.
There was already one there when I came in, and I didn’t have the energy to go searching for another one.
I don’t know if it’s fresh or used… but somehow I don’t care either way as intrusive thoughts bombard me.
Maybe it’s been wrapped around his body, dried places that only he sees…
I lift the towel off the hook and hold it to my chest, then bring it to my nose and inhale…
It smells like that damn soap I just used.
Cinnamon, with a hint of bourbon, maybe?
It’s definitely not new. But I’m alone, and there’s no one here to judge me.
So I lean against the glass enclosure to support myself as I wrap the fuzzy fabric around my frame and continue to breathe him in.
Goosebumps ripple over my body, but it’s not because I’m cold. I can’t help the way he makes me feel—it doesn’t make sense. And it’s certainly not anything I can act on or do about. He’s my boss. I’m his employee. He’s got kids for hell’s sake. And who am I?
A dirty, used up cowboy with a pretty face. Nothing but a truck and a horse to her name.
They took my soul that night. Then the universe laughed and robbed the only glimmer of light shining at the end of that damned sewage pipe I was hiding in. I, Dixie Wilder, have nothing to offer a man like him.
I let go of the towel and feel it slide down my body as it drops to the floor. I have no business indulging in a fantasy that could never be a reality. To let myself, would be to torture what little dignity I have left.
I pull the crutches from the wall and place them under my armpits.
My hair is still dripping wet, but I don’t care.
I look up and see myself in the full length horizontal mirror on the wall in front of me.
Then I turn and take myself out of the bathroom.
I can see my duffle bags sitting on the floor and realize he must’ve brought them in for me.
It’s a good thing too, because my ass is bare, and I hadn’t thought this through when I dropped the towel a minute ago.
It’s a struggle, but I get my clean clothes out and dress myself. He left my walking boot next to the bed too. That was thoughtful of him. I sit on the edge of the unmade mess and strap my ankle in. When I’ve accomplished my task, I reach for my cowgirl boots and place the left one on my good foot.
My hair still isn’t dry, but I find my hairbrush and quickly comb through it so I don’t look so wild. Usually, I let it air dry. I move to the wooden door and open it. I don’t hear anyone out there, but I make my way to the living room, anyway.
Swing, click, swing, click. All the way down the long hallway. But as I come to the end, I see someone sitting on the couch. It’s not my boss though—it’s Grady.
“How is it? Bunking in the big-house, showering in the boss’s shower… Probably sleeping in his bed too—you give it up for him last night, Cowboy?”
I freeze. Shit! How long has he been here? He knew I was in the shower. I don’t have my gun; I don’t have my legs, I can’t run. My heart races and my mind spirals. What if it happens again? Fuck.
Grady slowly stands and takes a few steps toward me.
“You think you can show up here, get cozy with El Jefe? Think you can act like one of us, be one of us? You ain’t no cowboy…
” He looks me up and down greedily and his eyes fade to black.
“But I sure as hell can show you how one rides—especially with that bum leg you got there. No way you’d be able to put up a fight… ”
Before Grady can say another word, I hear it. That deep bass vibrates through me like thunder, and I know everything’s going to be okay.
“What the fuck are you doing inside my home?”
Grady jolts and turns to face the man who will ultimately seal his fate. “Sir! I mean, Boss, I um…”
“Get your filthy mouth out of this house and off my ranch, you son of a bitch.”
“No, you don’t understand, I was just…” He tries to cover up what happened, but it’s too late. There’s a hand around his neck, pushing him back against the nearest wall, and I swear I see a wet spot form on the front of Grady’s jeans. Pissed his pants.
“I said…get off my goddamn ranch. You have as long as it takes to grab your shit and put your truck in drive. Go.” He drops his hand from Grady’s neck and fists his shirt instead, throwing him toward the nearest exit. Grady stumbles and then bolts out the door.
Two little girls stand frozen behind the couch. I feel horrible they had to see all of this.
“Adelaide, Evolette, go up to your room. You’re safe. I’ve got to help Dixie and make sure that asshole really leaves.” My boss moves toward his daughters and wraps them both in a hug, then guides them to the stairs where they scramble to the top.
I can feel my legs buckle as the righteous monster, who just saved my life, strides toward me and scoops me up. My crutches smack the hardwood and within seconds I’m lying on the sofa, staring into the whisky brown eyes of my rescuer.
“I’m so sorry, blondie. So damn sorry. I shouldn’t have left, I should’ve waited and just had someone get those fuckin’ eggs tonight. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
“No.” I move my head side to side, and feel a tear leak from each eye, then run down to my ears. “He didn’t touch me… but he was going to.” My jaw tightens and I grit my teeth to avoid becoming a sobbing mess.
“Dixie… has anyone hurt you before? I promise anything you tell me, will stay with me.”
I’ve never told a damn soul—except my horse. I swallow the lump in my throat and whisper, “Yes.”
“You never need to feel afraid when you’re with me.
Do you understand?” I feel the backs of his fingers softly brush my cheek, and I believe him.
“You need some water, some more pain meds, and that ankle needs to be elevated.” We hear Grady's tires whipping through the gravel, past the house and quickly fading into the distance. “Good fuckin’ riddance.” He growls, then strides to the kitchen to get all the things he says I need.
I can hear him on the phone talking to Brian.
He’s telling him what happened and making sure he knows Grady isn’t permitted on the property, for any reason.
What did I even do to Grady? I didn’t show up here and start being the asshole—that was him.
I took his spot on the drive, but that wasn’t my fault.
And I didn’t mean to slip off a cliff, but that’s what happened.
Maybe there isn’t a reason at all. There wasn’t a reason back then either.
You can’t fake your way out of being a girl when that’s exactly what you are.
My life has taught me that girls get hurt, that girls aren’t safe, that men hunt us like animals.
Until Chris.