Within Range Page 4

  Danielle looked up with a smile. “Oh my goodness, Dr. Franklin. That man… he gave me shivers!” she whispered.

  “Uh. Yes. He’s quite good-looking.” Understatement of the decade. “Did he happen to schedule another appointment?” She leaned over to point at the calendar.

  “Yes, he did, along with a note.”

  “What’s the note?”

  “Could cancel.”

  Atalee gripped the edge of the desk. Could cancel because he might change his mind about returning? Or something could pull him away from his personal life, make him abandon everything but duty?

  She had his file, but he’d admitted to giving false information on the form he’d filled out at the front desk. Though, the hospital was very strict about its patients, and no way would he have gotten away with falsifying documents for them, which meant he was in the system.

  A thought came to her. As his therapist, she had the right to pull his files and dig into his background. Special ops unit—who was he with? The idea of him as a bad-ass hero sent her body into overdrive all over again.

  No, she couldn’t pry into his life. Either he would come back and talk to her or he wouldn’t. Either way, she had to come to terms in her own mind with both eventualities.

  Throughout the rest of the afternoon, she was focused on her next patients, though the seconds between offered her too much time to think on Shaw. She could still see his broad spine as he stood at the door with his back to her. How she’d wanted to rest her hand between the planes of muscle and let him know he’d been right about Johnny and things had gone downhill quickly.

  But she wasn’t so sure if she wouldn’t still be married to him if not for Shaw’s interference that day. She’d let the man get under her skin, made her second guess her choices and maybe that had caused her to see things in Johnny sooner, to place higher expectations on their relationship, which only set him up to fail.

  The guilt was still a heavy stone roped around her neck and when she walked out of the hospital for the night and got in her car, all she could think of was taking a run. She needed the exertion, the pounding of her feet on pavement to carry her mind away from all this.

  Once inside her small house nestled in her quiet neighborhood, she shed her sweater and trousers in favor of spandex and a slim-fitting tank top. The evenings were still just as hot as ever in Texas, and most people didn’t like to run in the heat, but going to the track at the gym today wasn’t for her. She needed to be alone.

  She soaked a bandanna in icy water and wrung it out before knotting it around her neck. Then with her water bottle strapped to her waist, she locked up her house and took off.

  Every step matched her heartbeat, and that was still entirely too fast. After seeing Shaw, it hadn’t slowed. The skin on her arms pebbled despite the temps. She lengthened her strides and turned the corner, stretching her legs on the next block.

  How did a Texas Ranger get reassigned to a special ops unit? There was a story there, one she was dying to hear. She couldn’t pry a single word from that man, she knew. Next time, he’d probably talk more about ranching and horses, about his father, who he’d always been close with since his ma passed several years before Atalee had ever met Shaw.

  Her trained mind lingered over aftereffects of his mother’s death and how they played into the person he was now. But Shaw was also a driven man. He’d probably walked out of the womb ready to take matters into his own hands, and no wonder he’d landed himself in a position where his duty was to take action.

  Atalee turned another corner, whizzing past houses with minivans parked in the driveways and moms yelling at kids to hurry up and buckle their seatbelts so they could get to soccer practice. Normal American lives of normal American families. And here she was—feeling like a screwed-up mess despite her abilities to help patients cope with their own problems.

  She’d gone over it all so many times—Shaw had interrupted her wedding, planted a seed of doubt. That had sprouted roots that had grown quickly into more doubt and within six months, the fighting with Johnny had been intolerable.

  Shaking her head, she tried to cast off the entire mess. It was quicksand she’d never dig her way out of once she started analyzing her mistakes. Sometimes it was best to move on, to forgive and forget—or to pay her own therapist a visit.

  The heat was getting to her, and the wet cloth around her neck was now like hot water. She didn’t slow, though, because it would just prolong her time out here. Instead, she found that inner strength to keep going, her pace set to help her reach home and find a cold shower as fast as possible.

  When she rounded the corner, her house came into view. The last few steps in the heat sapped the final drops of her energy, and she slowed.

  Then she saw him. A man sitting on her front step, knees splayed and his elbows resting on them. Her heart gave a little jog of its own before recognition smacked her.

  Shaw.

  God, she looked like a sweaty beast that had just finished a rainforest marathon and the man she’d dreamed about nonstop was waiting for her on her front steps.

  How had he found out where she lived?

  Atalee couldn’t even fix her ponytail in a way that didn’t seem as if she was primping. At her approach, Shaw looked up. Pain creased his brows, and she stopped in her tracks.

  Finding her voice seemed an insurmountable task. She wet her dry lips and managed, “What are you doing here?”

  He stared at her a minute, eyes combing over her body and leaving behind a quake like a lover’s touch. Then he unfolded his long legs and got to his feet, tugging his cowboy hat brim as he did. She wished he wouldn’t do that—hide his eyes from her.

  “What are you doing runnin’ in this heat? You’re going to collapse. Get inside in the cool air.” His command shouldn’t send shiver after shiver racing over her skin. Or maybe that was heat exhaustion. Either way, she did need to cool off.

  She stepped up to the porch and fished a key from a little zipper on the waist of her spandex running pants. He watched her insert it and open the door. She glanced back to see if he was following, and he was.

  God, the tension inside her made her feel she was about to crack.

  “That’s the only lock? You don’t have more protection than that?” He pointed to the door.

  She shook her head. “This is a good neighborhood and—”

  “You treat patients who could be mentally unstable, Atalee. They could follow you home.”

  She stared at him. “Shaw, you’re my patient and you followed me home.”

  Agitated, he waved a hand. “I didn’t follow you.”

  “Which means you have ways to find out where people live,” she stated.

  He looked at her without giving anything away.

  “Come in. I need a drink and a shower before we talk.”

  He closed the door behind him and twisted the lock. The action—the veins bulging down his forearm—had her thinking indecent thoughts. Fact was, he now was her patient and he shouldn’t even be here, friend or not.

  She was not going to even allow her thoughts to touch on what else Shaw could be to her… what he once had wanted to be.

  When she walked to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water from the filtered pitcher, she offered him one as well, but he shook his head. She raised the glass to her lips, and he watched her drink.

  Lowering the empty glass, she looked at him. “Why are you here, Shaw? Wait—don’t answer that. I really could use a shower.” Sweat was rolling down her back and even her thighs. “Here, take a glass of water and hang out a while. Okay?” She poured him a glass and forced it into his hands. When his callused fingers grazed over hers, her body temp raised another few degrees.

  He just stood there, watching her.

  She must look really terrible. She pointed to the kitchen chair. “Have a seat here or in the living room.”

  Without waiting for his reply, she hurried to her bedroom and grabbed loose black shorts and a gr
ay T-shirt with her school’s alma mater logo. In her bathroom, she turned on the cold water and let it run a moment while she stripped. She wasn’t even going to glance at her reflection. She already knew she must be beet red from the heat and her own discomposure at finding Shaw at her house.

  He was in her kitchen, drinking from her glass.

  She was twenty steps away, totally naked.

  Her nipples pebbled, and she stepped under the spray. The splash of cold water hit her skin and cut through the sweat, but it did nothing for the internal warmth spread low through her belly, the awareness that in the other room was a gorgeous man who could rock her world.

  After a cursory wash, she stepped out and toweled herself. There was no help for the wet hair—she’d have to wait for it to air dry, which was her secret pleasure anyway. Any time she could skip over the trappings of modern women—like makeup, bras or hairdryers—she did.

  It was actually something Johnny had hated, often asking her if she was going to sit around the house like that, and part of her did it now as a way of casting him off. Clearly, she still held on to some animosity when it came to that man.

  As she dressed, she considered how Shaw had known the real Johnny and she hadn’t. Or if she’d just turned a blind eye to it all so she could tick off the next thing on the to-do list of life and get married.

  Stopping those memories was easy when she turned to open the door. Feeling cool and as light as air now, she went back to the kitchen. Shaw hadn’t moved and the water was untouched.

  At her entrance, he locked his gaze on her. He blinked, a slow closing then opening of his eyes. She stood there a moment, bare feet glued to the ceramic tile. Then she peeled them off and walked to the fridge again. This time she took out the sweet tea and poured a glass. She raised the pitcher in offer, but he shook his head.

  Leaning against the counter, she sipped. “Look, Shaw, you’re here for something. If it’s to talk about the things we didn’t cover today, that’s okay. We have plenty of time. I mean, I should really refer you to another doctor. It’s a conflict of interest to treat you since we know each other, but—”

  “Atalee.” He grated out her name in the roughest of ways.

  She set aside her tea.

  “I couldn’t part ways without telling you I’m sorry,” he said.

  Part ways? Where was he going?

  “Sorry about what?” she asked the obvious question.

  His direct stare started to pick apart the threads holding her together. One by one, she felt them pop until she had to drift to a chair and sit down.

  “You know what, Atalee. Your wedding day. I never should have said those things to you. It was wrong of me, and I’ve regretted it ever since.”

  Those weren’t exactly the regrets she’d experienced over the years. Shaw had been that man who’d spoken up even without the minster asking if any man objected to her and Johnny’s union. Shaw’s intervention had opened her eyes and might have saved her many more years of suffering in a marriage that wasn’t healthy.

  “Shaw, you don’t have to apologize—”

  “I do.” He took her hand.

  God, it was huge, swallowing hers. She stared at the backs of his knuckles, lightly dusted with dark hair. And the veins that snaked over his hands and up his forearms to disappear into the rolled sleeves of his western shirt had her hyperaware that anything she said could be used against her in a court of law… but might get her laid.

  “I shouldn’t have ambushed you that way.”

  “Well, I’ll admit it wasn’t perfect timing.”

  “It was for shit.” The corner of his lips twitched as if he might smile and seeing a smile on this man’s face again would splinter her heart into a thousand shards of joy.

  “There’s no need to apologize, Shaw. It’s over, water under the bridge.” She was aware her words were clichés that she’d been trained not to use on patients. Right now, though, Shaw was her friend.

  She drew a ragged breath. “You said something about parting ways.”

  He slanted a look away. “Never know what I’ll run into. I can’t leave things unfinished.”

  “So you came here to tell me this in case something happens to you.” Her words came out flat, along with a sharp pang to her heart.

  He shifted his stare to their joined hands, and then he brushed his thumb over hers, barely a rough tingle over her skin.

  Oh Shaw.

  Whatever happened now, he was right—things couldn’t go unspoken. Too much time had been lost between them already.

  Her muscles tightened, and she had to shove down the urge to jump into his lap and hold on tight for whatever ride was to come.

  * * * * *

  While Atalee had been in the shower, Shaw had found himself battling to stay away from that bathroom door. He’d prowled her house, checking the security of windows and door locks, and luckily it had helped him control himself.

  But now… sitting across from her with her soft hand in his, it stripped another bolt out of the hardened machine he tried to be in her presence. Just looking at her, all girl-next-door in her college shirt and no fucking bra… Jesus, how was he supposed to remain cool at all? Hell, he had a raging boner beneath this little antique farmhouse table, and the woman had no goddamn clue what she would be into with him in her life.

  Her wet hair was beginning to dry on her shoulders, the ends growing wispy and curling. So freakin’ soft. She wasn’t wearing her glasses, he’d noted upon first seeing her run up to the house, and she wasn’t wearing them now.

  “Where are your glasses?” he asked to cut off the need inside him. It didn’t work. Nothing fucking would.

  She angled her head at his question. “I put in contacts for running.”

  “That brings me back to the question of why the hell you’re running outside in Texas. Do you have a death wish? Do you know how many Rangers I’ve seen collapse and you’re half their weight.”

  “I doubt I’m half.” A smile brushed across her full pink lips. “I usually use the track at the gym, but I couldn’t face all the people today.”

  Ticking his gaze over her womanly appearance made him realize what a mistake it was to come here. If he didn’t leave now, he’d have her in his arms and his tongue in her mouth.

  He released her hand and stood.

  She stared up at him, lip caught between her teeth. He stifled a groan.

  “Where are you going? Sit down. We’re talking.”

  The command in her voice almost made him smile. Damn little girl could hold some sway with those hard vets she dealt with. Not him, but many.

  He cocked a brow. “As a patient?”

  “As a friend.” She pointed to the chair he’d vacated.

  A heartbeat passed before he sank to the seat again. “Look.” He took her hand too, unable to stop himself from touching her in some small way. “I was sorry about the wedding. It was uncalled for. I should have kept silent.”

  She looked down, chewing her lip again. “It upset me for a long time after.”

  “How long?”

  “Till I filed for divorce. Then I sort of realized the things you’d said had been your way of letting me know I was making a bad decision. You were right, Shaw. Johnny might have once loved me, but by the time we got married, things were already skating downhill. It started with him ignoring me, then eventually he said things that hurt me, and soon I was just living with all this resentment…” She trailed off. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t dump all that on your lap. It wasn’t your fault.”

  He clutched her fingers tighter. “I’m sorry for it all. I hate that you were hurt.”

  She stared up at him with those big sea-green eyes tilted ever so slightly up at the corners to give her an ever-happy appearance he wanted to stare at for the rest of his days.

  Shit.

  This was no good.

  He got up and headed to the front door.

  “Shaw!”

  He reached the door before he turned
to her. She stood before him, all feminine sex appeal. So beautiful. And he wanted her. Always had.

  “I’ll see you next week, Atalee.” He pointed to one of the windows along the front wall. “Might want to have that lock checked. It’s temperamental and someone could force it.”

  Without another glance, he walked out before he started something he couldn’t stop.

  Chapter Four

  “Good Lord, Momma, what is all this junk?” Atalee scoped out the wreck that was her mother’s bonus room. The bonus clearly was that it came with so much stuff that you couldn’t walk through it.

  Her mother poked her head from the closet and eyed her daughter through the light blonde strands of hair that were slowly becoming all white. “I didn’t know you were coming over today.”

  Neither did Atalee. But after the disaster that was Shaw’s visit, she couldn’t just sit at home and think on it. She’d go crazy. So she’d come over to her mother’s house to see if she wanted to make popcorn and watch a movie like old times, but her mother was in the thick of some cleanout process.

  “What’s wrong?” Her mother’s sharp eyes saw everything and always had. Since the day Atalee had come home from kindergarten with skinned knees after some mean kid had pushed her off the swing, her mother had seen it written all over Atalee’s face, even when she tried to hide the blood on her knees under the hem of her dress.

  Reaching out, Atalee picked up a plastic basket full of art supplies. “Just thought we could watch a movie. But maybe I could help you with this project if you’d like.”

  Her mother gave a hesitant nod, obviously unconvinced her daughter wasn’t concealing her real reason for coming. Atalee offered a smile. In time, she’d spill it all to her mother, but that would entail starting at the beginning—back at her wedding.

  “Let’s grab some water bottles and see how much of it we can get through.” Her mother started weaving her way through boxes of shoes, handbags, books, gadgets and makeup still in packages.

  “Mom, when did you become a hoarder? Why didn’t I know about this room?”

  “Because you never come in here. It’s my dirty little secret.” Her mom let out a sigh. “It’s gotten a bit out of hand over the past few years, I’ll admit.”