to Brady he was up to no good. “Unless we’re taking you away from your own family.” Subtle, Dad. Real subtle.
“My family lives in Colorado. I’m not here with anyone.”
“Then I insist.” His father rose. “Have a seat next to me, I’ll fix you a plate.” Before Sheila could protest, John was halfway to the buffet table.
“Just for the record, I didn’t put him up to that.”
“I believe you.” Sheila laughed. “He reminds me of my own father. Forgive me for asking, but your mom...?”
“She died shortly after Gunner was born.”
“I’m sorry. That must’ve been really difficult, losing her at such an important time in your life.”
“Thank you.”
“Here you go.” John set a plate twice the size of any of theirs in front of Sheila.
“My God, Dad. If she ate all of that she’d burst.” His father was determined to embarrass him today.
“Oh, you’d be surprised what I could put away.” Sheila thanked his father.
It was early evening by the time they finished eating. Gunner had dragged his grandfather off to the dessert table for seconds. “Thank you for humoring my dad. I don’t want to keep you from your Fourth of July plans tonight.”
“I rather enjoyed it. My only plans involve heading into town to watch the fireworks a little later. This is the first year I’ve been able to see them since I’ve moved here. I’ve always been on call. It’s a rare night of freedom for me.”
“Fireworks?” Gunner asked as he returned with an ice cream sundae in hand and a mouth full of whipped cream. “Can we come too?”
Brady didn’t know if he should hug his son or reprimand him. He chose the middle-of-the-road approach. Wrapping his arm around Gunner’s waist, he tugged him onto his lap. “If you want to see fireworks, ask Pawpaw if he’ll drive us, but don’t invite yourself to someone else’s party.”
“It’s hardly a party. And you’re more than welcome to join us. We’re taking everyone from Dance of Hope and the rodeo school into town. You’re a part of Dance of Hope, so you’re automatically invited. That’s what I was discussing earlier with Kay.”
It wasn’t the most private setting imaginable, but it was better than the alternative.
“We’d love to join you.”
* * *
SHEILA HAD NO idea what had possessed her to offer Brady and his family a ride into town. After she had helped Kay pile all the kids into multiple ranch vehicles, she’d realized Brady was the odd man out. He hadn’t been there long enough to form many friendships and she figured they’d look platonic enough with John as their chaperone.
With John and Gunner in the backseat of her car, she had to fend for herself up front with Brady. She’d never considered her Ford Fusion a small car, but Brady’s hulking frame transformed it into a much more intimate space. Normally it wouldn’t have fazed her, but after their little moment earlier followed by John’s not-so-subtle matchmaking, her belly was flip-flopping like that of a teenager with a crush. Brady had crossed the invisible line between the seats more than once during their short drive into town. Accidentally, of course. That didn’t stop her from enjoying the occasional arm brush.
All of Ramblewood had come out to see the pyrotechnics. But the mayor had set aside a separate parking area for the Dance of Hope patients so they’d have an unobstructed view and not have to leave the vehicles if they didn’t want to or weren’t able to. The second Sheila cut the engine, John hopped out with Gunner in tow. So much for their chaperone.
Neither one of them made a move to exit the car. After sitting in silence for a good three minutes, Sheila opened the moonroof, and reclined her seat slightly. She had a comfortable front-row seat and didn’t see the need to get out. Truth be told...she was quite content sitting in the dark with Brady by her side.
As the sky lit up in shades of red, white and blue, Brady reached for her. She didn’t resist, enjoying the feel of his palm against the top of her hand. Their fingers entwined and for a few moments, they had what could never exist outside in the real world.
It felt good. So good, she knew she’d miss it tomorrow.
Three days had passed since Brady had seen Sheila. In a way, it felt like only a few hours since he’d held her hand in the dark. But at times it felt as if it had happened years ago. Either way, he missed it more than he should. He hadn’t even kissed the woman—not that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind a few hundred times—and he was already craving her touch again. He’d held hands, kissed and done much more with his fair share of women and none of them had had anywhere near the same effect. Once he was capable of taking her on a proper date, he would plan a night she wouldn’t forget. That is if he could convince her to say yes. He didn’t want to endanger her job, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Maybe they could find a way...
He wheeled his chair to the abdominal crunch machine in the fitness room and adjusted the weight plates to slightly more than he’d lifted yesterday. He’d been a little overconfident the first day, thinking he could crunch close to what he did preaccident only to discover just how much his ab muscles had atrophied in two and a half months. When he looked in the mirror, he still saw the same man he was before GhostMaker took him out...with the exception of numerous surgery scars. He could live with those. Rodeo cowboys and ranchers had plenty of them. And while they were still raw, they didn’t bother him nearly as much as his lack of strength. Walking two feet without any assistance had become a daily goal he still couldn’t master. Weakness wasn’t part of his vocabulary.
He missed working on his house. He’d bought the small ranch thirty miles outside Ramblewood in January. Here it was July and he was already dipping into the money he’d set aside for renovations so he could pay the mortgage. He refused to allow his father to pay for his house. His dad didn’t have the money either, but knowing him, he’d sure as heck try to earn it.
He longed to get back to the ranch and his career, but he missed playing with his son more than anything. Gunner’s laughter was his favorite sound in the world. Now when his son looked at him, he saw worry in the boy’s small face. No father wants to hear his child ask when he’ll be able to play with them again. It broke his heart. Now that he was out of the hospital, they had the opportunity to spend more time together and have some long overdue fun.
Standing steadier every day since his arrival at Dance of Hope a week ago, Brady maneuvered into the machine’s seat and slid his feet under the pads. He reached above his shoulders and firmly grabbed hold of the handles. He concentrated on contracting his abdominal muscles and slowly bent forward, lifting his thighs and knees toward his upper body, and then eased the machine back into position. By not allowing the weight plates to touch, he could keep constant tension on his muscles. With each set, his range of motion increased slightly. He’d probably be able to squeeze in only ten or fifteen reps before his physical therapist came in and scolded him for pushing himself too hard. They didn’t understand. He’d continue to feel like half a man until he no longer needed anyone else’s help to provide for his son.
Brady heard the door to the fitness
