you all right?” She heard the panic in her voice and knew it was entirely out of proportion to the incident, but she couldn’t help herself. If anything happened to Dylan, she could not go on living. Not this time.
Dylan’s lips quivered. Tears rimmed his wide, hazel eyes. “I sorry, Mommy. I sorry.”
“Is he hurt?” Kati, now beside them, asked.
Becka did a quick once over, checking the child for injuries. “No. But he could have been. Why on earth was he allowed to run wild like that?”
“Becka, little boys are naturally rambunctious. It’s a part of their physical makeup. Running is healthy. I can’t make him sit in a chair all day.”
Becka inhaled deeply then blew out a calming breath. “I know.” She shook her head, embarrassed now that she knew her son was all right. “But it’s dangerous for him to be so unruly.”
Kati touched her arm and said quietly, “I was actually pleased to see him playing with such zest. Of all the little boys, Dylan is the most timid.”
Kati’s son, four-year-old Evan, dark eyes echoing his mother’s concern, hurried over to them. “Is Dylan hurt, Mommy? I bumped him down.”
Kati laid a hand on her son’s smooth, brown hair. “He’s fine, baby.”
“I not a baby.” He patted her bulging tummy with a chubby hand. “Baby is here.”
Both women smiled indulgently. Becka hoisted Dylan higher on her hip. “Do you allow Evan to run and roughhouse that way?”
“Oh my, yes. At home he and his daddy wrestle and romp like two puppies. Colt had him on a horse by himself on his second birthday.”
Becka shuddered at the thought. “How can you stand it? Aren’t you afraid something will happen to him?”
Kati laughed and swooped Evan into her arms. “His daddy loves him. Colt would never do anything to cause Evan harm.”
When Kati spoke her husband’s name, her eyes lit up. Becka envied the couple, though she was as amazed as everyone else in Rattlesnake when Colt, the confirmed bachelor with a reputation almost as bad as that of his brother, had married his quiet nanny and adopted the infant Evan. But anyone who’d seen the family together knew they had something special.
“How was Jett doing when you left the hospital?” Kati asked.
At Becka’s look of surprise, she went on. “Colt came by earlier and told me. Is the knee as bad as he says?”
“Probably worse,” Becka answered, remembering the way Jett had tried to downplay his injury.
“Probably. These cowboys, especially the Garrett men, think they are invincible.” Kati smiled softly and shook her head, a dark, waist-length braid swaying. “Sometimes I think Colt actually is.”
Becka wondered what it would be like to love a man the way Kati loved her husband. So confident. So secure. Yes, she’d loved Chris but not like this. Theirs had been a frenetic life, always on the edge, never safe and secure. She’d learned a valuable lesson from that short, manic episode of her life. Now, safety and security were the only things she wanted. That and a new car.
She sighed, weary with the constant worry over finances, and redirected her thoughts. “Your brother-inlaw will get great care in Amarillo. If anyone can repair the damage to his knee, the orthopedic team there can.”
“Colt said he had a concussion, too. Something about him singing his fool head off.”
Becka laughed. “I’ve never seen anyone react to a head injury in such an entertaining way.”
“That’s Jett for you. Always doing the unexpected.”
“Unexpected” Becka could do without. She didn’t like surprises. She liked safe, routine, predictable. Come to think of it she hadn’t seen Sherman Benchley, her occasional date, in a while. Maybe she’d give him a call and invite him over for a movie and popcorn tonight. With Sherman she always got exactly what she expected.
The unexpected occurred a week later. Called into the hospital’s administrative office, Becka sat across the desk from the director of nurses, Marsha Simek. The two had worked together since Becka’s graduate days shortly before Chris’s death and shared a friendly, comfortable relationship.
“I received an interesting call today,” Marsha said, fixing Becka with a curious blue gaze.
“Concerning me?”
“It seems you made quite an impression on one of our patients recently, and now he’s interested in hiring you to do home health care visits.”
Becka leaned forward, immediately interested. She’d done some home health care on the side to bolster her ever-low bank account, and right now she could certainly use some extra cash.
“Who was it? The man who had the foot amputation? Mr. Novotny?”
“No.” Marsha shuffled some papers, came up with a yellow sticky note, and handed it to Becka. “Jett Garrett. Do you remember him?”
“Jett—” The words stuck in Becka’s throat. Anyone but the singing cowboy with enough masculine chemistry to melt paint. “Why would he need a home health nurse?”
“Seems he’s staying out at that ranch he and his brother own while he recoups from knee surgery.” Marsha crossed her arms on the desk. “The orthopedic docs in Amarillo sent him home with a PT machine and he’s having fits trying to run it.”
“I’m not a physical therapist.”
“No, but you know enough about it to do the visits, help him with the machine, and see that he follows doctor’s orders. The PT department could give you a quick in-service if you’re not familiar with that particular piece of equipment.”
“Why me? Why not send PT out?”
“They’re too shorthanded. Besides, Mr. Garrett insisted on hiring you. And with your fitness training, coupled with nursing expertise, you’re the obvious choice.”
“Well, call him back and tell him I’m not interested.”
Marsha looked surprised. “Not interested? Becka, the pay is excellent.”
She didn’t even want to know.
Marsha told her, anyway, naming a sum considerably more than her usual fee. She needed that money, needed it badly. But Jett Garrett? No way. She shivered with a sense of unease and a flutter of unwanted interest at the idea of spending time in his troubling presence.
“I can’t, Marsha. Sorry.” She stood to leave, anxious to get back to her station. The physicians should be making rounds anytime now and they’d be looking for her.
“How’s your dad doing?”
She stuck a fist on one hip. “Dad’s okay, but that was a dirty trick.”
Marsha knew about Becka’s money woes. About the ailing father whose social security check
