Soft hands clutched his arm. “Are you all right?”
He shook her off. “I’m fine. Just a cramp. What do you want to drink?”
“Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get us something?”
She could almost feel the embarrassment, frustration and anger seething in the look he gave her.
She took a hasty step backward, raising both hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay. Fine. You go. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
It took every ounce of strength he had to force his feet to move and his legs to support him as he headed for the kitchen. Pain slammed through him with every step, but he kept his head high and his shoulders squared.
Life and war had left him with very little, but he still had his pride. It refused to allow him to show any further weakness in front of Molly Walker.
Chapter Three
It was all Molly could do not to rush to help Kyle into the kitchen. As the minutes crept by after he disappeared into the other room, the urge to check on him was almost overwhelming. Only the memory of the glare he had given her kept her in her chair.
He had looked hard and sort of aggressive, and she suspected most people would have been intimidated. Maybe a little annoyed that their instinctive offer of help had been so coldly rebuffed. Molly’s reaction had been just the opposite. Her heart had twisted in sympathy for him, an emotion she had known better than to let him see.
A lifetime of experience with angry and bitter young men had made her quite skilled at reading pain—physical and emotional. She had seen both when she looked into Kyle’s eyes.
A good fifteen minutes passed before he returned, carrying two cans of caffeine-free cola. Most of the color had returned to his face, she noted, but his eyes were still dark. Deep lines had settled in around the corners of his mouth, as though he held his facial muscles clenched.
She wondered what it was costing him just to keep moving. She would bet that if she wasn’t there, he would be flat on his back and moaning right now.
Her knowledge of the male ego kept her from voicing any of her concerns aloud. She thanked him for the soda, then pretended to read again while he walked with carefully measured steps to the recliner.
She let a few more minutes pass, and then she yawned delicately, but audibly. “Gosh, I’m getting tired. It was such a long trip here.”
After a pause, Kyle said almost offhandedly, “I’ll go back to my room so you can get some rest in here.”
She kept any hint of satisfaction out of her voice when she replied, “I don’t want you to miss your game.”
He shrugged. “It’s pretty one-sided, anyway.”
Pleased that she had come up with a way to send him to bed without a loss of pride—and making him think it was his idea in the process—she said, “Just don’t leave on my account. I can wait until you’re ready to turn in.”
He gave her a look that might have held a hint of suspicion, but she kept her expression as unrevealing as her voice. His shoulders seemed to relax when he nodded. “I’ll get you some sheets and a blanket. You can bunk down here on the couch, and I’ll read in my room until I’m ready to turn in.”
A very short time later, Molly lay on the couch listening to the rain that fell more gently against the roof now. With only a very brief “good-night,” Kyle had retired to his room. She hadn’t heard a sound from that direction since.
She hoped he had gone to bed—and that he had taken a pain pill or two while he’d been in the kitchen earlier. She knew he had some; she had seen the prescription bottles on his counter.
She supposed she would head back to Texas first thing tomorrow. If she left early, she might make the trip in one day. She would be worn-out when she got home, but satisfied that she had done absolutely everything she could to make sure her parents’ anniversary party was perfect. She wasn’t content with the results of her efforts, of course, since Kyle still refused to attend-but she had given it her best shot. That was all she could do.
Shane had accused her of being obsessed with Kyle Reeves during the past few weeks, so determined to convince him to attend the party that she couldn’t think straight. This impulsive trek to Kyle’s home probably proved her brother right about her mental condition. But now that she had made the trip and had a definitive answer, she should be able to put it behind her.
The funny thing was, now that she had actually spent time with Kyle, she seemed to be even more obsessed with him than she had been before.
Kyle’s first thought when he woke the next morning was that the pain had mercifully subsided to a more manageable—and all-too-familiar—dull ache. The sleep and medication had done their stuff, letting him get out of bed with a minimum of discomfort and grumbling.
It was only when he reached the closed bedroom door, which he usually left open at night, that he remembered he wasn’t alone in his house. Grinding out a curse, he turned back toward the dresser to pull out a pair of gray sweats. He doubted that Molly would appreciate the sight of him in his underwear first thing in the morning.
Grateful to find the bathroom empty, he showered, but didn’t bother with shaving. He had just shaved the afternoon before, and he saw no need to do so again.
Dried and dressed, he moved toward the kitchen. He found himself walking with much the same quiet caution he’d used in the military when he’d been braced for a surprise attack. Maybe he would find that observation amusing later. After Molly was on her way.
He stopped in the doorway of the living room. Molly was still asleep on the couch. Her long, red hair tumbled around her face and onto the pillow he had provided for her. She had kicked off her blanket, revealing the fact that she had slept in her clothes, removing only her shoes and socks.