Chapter 6 #3
Kenzie watched the goings-on around them for a minute before pulling the key out of her pocket and returning it to Reagan.
“He’ll feel safest with his brothers. Have them bring him down tomorrow after breakfast. If he protests, pick up his damn chair and carry him to the barn.
Just make sure the area’s clear.” She closed her eyes for a brief moment and listened to Gizmo’s second bugle.
“I’m going to do what I can to ensure the horse is up for the visit. ”
She dug her truck keys out of her pocket.
“Where are you going?” Reagan asked, clearly confused.
“I need to get my own mare home and make plans to be back tomorrow for Gizmo’s first physical therapy session.”
Reagan shook her head, reaching behind her to begin braiding her hair into a French braid as she spoke. “It’ll be easier if you just stay.”
No. Oh, no. I’m not getting roped into being the one to deal with the injured cowboy because these folks aren’t willing to. No, no, no.
But when Kenzie started into the—first—hundred reasons that came to mind as to why she couldn’t.
..shouldn’t...wouldn’t stay, Emma stepped in.
“Truly. There’s a one-bedroom cabin vacant.
It’s nearest the barn and set up as a honeymoon suite.
No one’s renting it at the moment, so you’re free to use the space.
And your mare can stay here. I’m sure the barn will be okay for her.
” At Reagan’s wheezed laughter, Emma’s gaze snapped between them. “What? What did I say?”
The slightly shorter woman shook her head, swinging the tail of her braid. “The Malone barn is nicer than our house, Emma. Nicer, even, than the house you and Cade are building.”
“I don’t know about that,” Kenzie objected, but once again, her input was overrun with the doctor’s practical assessment.
“Look, Ms. Malone—”
She held up a hand. “Kenzie, please.”
“Kenzie, then. It’s no secret you’re the sole heir to the Malone fortune. That’s all well and good. That money has undoubtedly afforded you a different life than most have led, particularly here. ‘Different’ doesn’t equal better or worse. Just...well, different.”
“You’re The Malone’s daughter?” Emma’s clear capitalization of her father’s name made Kenzie want to smile, but she refrained. Barely.
Instead, she gave a single nod. “I’m sure you and I have our differences, but I know the value of hard work.
My dad has money, yes. That didn’t excuse me as a kid from chores any more than it exempted me from having to make my way through the dips, dives, turns and resentments of the male-dominated sport of cutting.
” She sighed and scrubbed her hands over her face.
She was so tired, and at this point just wanted to lie down.
Emma fidgeted, twisting her fingers together until she formed a fist. She paused and seemed to struggle with whether or not to speak her mind. Finally she blurted out, “Are you the one who paid Ty’s hospital bills?”
Kenzie didn’t answer. She refused to admit she’d helped the man who’d been so wretched to her only moments ago. And she was sure that she, and her motives, had been the topic of many a Covington discussion.
She wound her hair up and then absently tucked it under her ball cap, trying to buy time.
The two women opposite her shared a look, and then Emma stepped forward and hugged her. “For all you’ve done for us, for all you’ve done without any reason other than it was the compassionate thing to do, stay. Please. Give us a chance to at least repay your kindness with some of our own.”
Guilt wrapped around Kenzie’s spine like a ribbon around a maypole.
Multilayered.
Fast.
Bright.
Tight.
Yet what these women shared, this tight family bond, was everything Kenzie had missed in her own family since Michael died, everything she craved.
They were offering her a place inside that inner circle.
It was too good to turn down. Impossible to refuse.
Under the guise of the partnership, she could rediscover what it meant to have whole family unit, not a broken interpretation of what might have been.
She could have this place, this space, this sense of belonging, even for the short time left until she handed Gizmo’s recovery wholly to Reagan.
It was selfish, but she wanted to experience what it felt like to be part of something outside the Malone name, something that had been built on hard work, sweat, tears and genuine talent versus parental expectation, unavoidable responsibility to grieving parents and the burden of obligation based on nothing more than her last name and bank balance.
This could blow up in her face on an epic scale.
Ty could accuse her of lying and she’d have nothing with which to refute his allegations other than her own assertion she’d only done what he asked her to.
Except the whole partnership thing. That was a big ol’ lie.
Nothing more, and nothing less. She should say no.
She should get out of there before the brothers became involved and a similar obligation led them to open their homes, and their lives, to her.
Gizmo bugled again. The horse’s third call echoed across the open air, forlorn and lonely, a spirit lost between what had been and what now was.
That did it.
“Okay. I’ll stay.”