Cowboy Take Me Away Part 4

Annoyed by the abrupt change in her, he said, "Fine, Carolyn, what's your last name?"

"West."

That stopped him. "What?"

"I'm Carolyn West."

"You're kiddin', right?"

She shook her head. "My dad is Elijah-Eli-West."

Carson had heard that name several times, always attached to a vile string of curses and a rant the likes of which he'd never heard from his closemouthed father. He'd warned his sons to stay far away from all members of the West family. He and his brothers tried to ask questions, but the old man had shut them down without explaining his reasons. Carson had put it out of his mind.

Then a few years ago he'd crossed paths with Harland West, proudly proclaiming himself Eli West's oldest son. The loud mouth started talking s.h.i.+t about the "mighty McKays" in the feed store in Moorcroft. Most of what the man shouted at him made zero sense-he'd blathered on about lies, bribes, blood money and theft-but Carson wasn't about to let it slide. They'd ended up in a knock-down, drag-out fight that left both of them bleeding and p.i.s.sed off.

A year or so later, he'd run afoul of Darren West at Bra.s.s Tacks, a bar in the Wests' neck of the woods. Words were exchanged, fists went flying and they were both arrested for drunk and disorderly.

That hadn't gone over well with Jed McKay.

After the a.s.s chewing on a whole new level, Carson became suspicious of why his father refused to talk about the past issues between the McKays and the Wests. He didn't give a d.a.m.n if his grandfather-who he'd never met-had wronged the West patriarch or vice versa. He suspected even his father wasn't sure what'd gone down years ago, which made no sense as to why the man held a grudge.

But those West a.s.sholes held a grudge too.

p.i.s.sed him off that they used their family's history of bad blood as an excuse to come after the McKays now. That changed Carson's I-don't-give-a-d.a.m.n att.i.tude. He'd jumped into the fray with both boots. So the mention of a younger West sister hadn't come up when Carson had been trying to beat the f.u.c.k out of Harland and Darren West.

Carolyn's brothers.

f.u.c.k.

The fact Carson wanted Carolyn West with every breath in his body wouldn't go over well with his father either.

And he didn't give a d.a.m.n.

Carolyn said, "I have to go."

His gaze flipped to her. "Don't leave. Let's talk about it."

"There's nothing to say-"

"You really runnin' away from me because my last name is McKay?"

"Why else would I..." That strong chin went up a notch and she crossed her arms over a pair of impressive b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "I'm not running away from you, Carson McKay."

"Prove it."

"How? By coming over there and kissing you?"

Carson grinned. "Not what I was gonna suggest, but sugar, I'll take more of them sweet and hot kisses anytime you wanna give them to me."

"What was your suggestion?"

"Meet me here tomorrow night."

"I can't."

"See? Runnin' from me."

"No, I have family obligations."

He raised an eyebrow. "On a Friday night?"

"Not everyone can go out and tear it up every night of the week like wild-living cowboys-excuse me-ranchers," she retorted.

Carson started toward her. "Whatcha gonna be doin' tomorrow night? Got a date?"

"None of your business."

The thought of some other guy picking her up, touching her, talking to her, tasting her sweet lips made him growl, "Tell me."

"Stop pestering me about this."

"Not a chance." By the time he reached her, she'd started studying her shoes. He tipped her chin up. "Talk to me. No bulls.h.i.+t."

"I'm afraid you'll laugh."

"Never."

"My dad gets paid on Fridays. He gives me money and I buy groceries for the week. So my Friday night is spent at the grocery store. Exciting, huh?"

"Your dad really is tryin' to turn you into a nun, isn't he?"

"Because I'm not out at the bars on a Friday night?"

"Because he's got you believin' that a beautiful, single woman shouldn't mind grocery shopping alone on a Friday night."

Carolyn closed her eyes. "You don't understand."

"I think I do. You're expected to take care of your family when you're home. No shame in steppin' up to your responsibilities and takin' pride in what you do. But the fact you're here tonight shows me you've carved out at least a little free time." He stroked her cheek. "And I want you to spend that free time with me."

"Carson-"

"Think on it. Please."

He didn't move until she gave him a grudging, "Okay."

Then he forced himself to walk away from her. He'd give her a week to make a decision. After that, he was going after her.

"Mr. McKay?"

He'd been so deep in the memory he hadn't heard Nurse Lissa approach. "Yes?"

"Let's get you suited up." As she helped him dress she detailed the protective outwear he'd have to put on every time, even for a five minute visit.

"You'll have a few minutes alone with your wife before the twenty-four-hour isolation begins."

Carson approached the bed, his stomach in knots, his heart so heavy he swore that it was what made his feet move so slowly and not this hazardous materials suit he wore.

He clasped her hand in both of his, hating how cold her skin was, hating the layer of latex between them. His gaze encompa.s.sed her beautiful face. He wanted to kiss her. Or at least put his lips on her forehead and bathe his lungs in her scent. Or press his mouth to the side of her throat, hoping to feel that familiar way her pulse leapt whenever he kissed her there-even after almost fifty years together.

But he settled for a light stroke on her cheek. "Sugar, don't leave me. I can't live without you-I ain't even gonna try." Emotion choked him so his words were barely above a whisper. But she needed to hear him, because he had no doubt she could hear him. The plastic face s.h.i.+eld covering the lower half of his face required him to speak louder. "I'm here. Right here, right beside you where I've always been and where I'm always gonna be. I ain't goin' nowhere. I love you. Come back to me. Please."

He forced himself to move before his tears fell. Wouldn't want to give her an infection. He probably had rust in his tear ducts.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried.

Chapter Three.

Carolyn

Come back to me. Please.

G.o.d. The man sounded so forlorn.

Why? Carson McKay never sounded like that.

Carson, honey, I'm right here.

Wait. Where was here? Where was she?

And why couldn't she see anything?

Wake up, wake up, wake up. You're in a dream.

But her eyes wouldn't open.

Come back to me. Please.

Come back...from this dream?

She listened but couldn't hear his voice.

Carson?

A loud click echoed.

Was that the sound of a door closing? Where was it coming from?

Carolyn followed the sound and floated down the pathways of her mind. Doors of all sizes loomed before her.

One of these doors had to lead back to her current reality. She shouldn't have retreated when they started jamming tubes in her nose and throat. But it was loud and painful-surely she wasn't dead if she could still feel pain?-and she'd hidden in the shadows of her mind.

But now, the deeper into her mind she traveled, the lighter it'd become.

So many doors.

Then she noticed one door was ajar.

Maybe it was the exit? Could she escape her subconscious?

The door made no noise when she opened it.

She found herself in her mother's bedroom, sucked back in time to early summer the year she'd graduated from high school.

The morning after the night she'd met Carson McKay...

"Don't hover in the doorway, child, come in." Her mother scooted over and patted the bed. "Sit. Tell me about the dance last night."

Carolyn settled on the twin bed and reached for her mother's hand. The arthritis had gotten so bad in the last couple of years her fingers were claw-like and almost useless. It killed her to see her mother bedridden, to see the listlessness in her eyes from the amount of medicine she took to deal with the pain.

But her stoic mother wouldn't complain.

"Liebchen," she said softly. "Talk to me."

Liebchen. Her mother had always called Carolyn her little sweetheart-it was one of the few German words her mother still used.

She forced a smile. "Beverly took off with Michael about half an hour after we got there."

Her mother clucked her tongue. "That girl is fast. Michael will get what he wants from her and move on."

"Oh, I don't know. He leaves for basic training at the end of the summer and as soon as he's done they're getting married."

"Ach. She's too young." She s.h.i.+fted on the bed. "Did Beverly introduce you to anyone?"

The image of Carson McKay's perfect face flashed in her mind and she felt her cheeks heat. His good looks aside, he was so much...more than the boys she'd gone to school with. The only trace of boyishness in him was in that dimpled smile and the devilry twinkling in his dark blue eyes. The rest of him was all man-wide shoulders, broad chest, strong arms, rough-skinned hands. An earthy mix of sun and soil and soap emanated from him; an irresistible musk that tempted her to rest her face in the crook of his neck and just breathe him in.

"You did meet someone."