LITMIR.BIZ

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But love him she did, God help her. She remembered the first time she’d seen him as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. Her first day of high school. Standing at the top of the stairs, she’d glimpsed the guys all the freshmen girls were talking about. The Barron brothers. Cord. Chance. And their cousins, Cooper and Boone Tate.

      Rooted to the spot, she’d gazed down at him. He’d looked up and snagged her with his gaze. That maddening smile of his had slid across his face and broadened until dimples appeared to bracket his full lips. Love at first sight. But then Boone had said something and Cord’s expression had sharpened before they’d all turned and walked away. She should have seen the truth even then. That was only the first time he’d walked away from her.

      As she parted the curtains of his room, the sight of him kicked her in the chest just like that first time. Unshed tears prickled the back of her nose and her throat burned. Her fingers itched to comb his thick hair off his forehead before tangling in the dark silk of it. Why did she come every morning? This was torture. Things hadn’t changed. His father still hated her, still pulled all the strings. And it wasn’t just herself she had to worry about now. There was CJ, too.

      “You just gonna stand there or are you gonna come in and say hello?” Cord’s raspy voice raised goose bumps on her arms.

      “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

      “C’mere.”

      “No. I mean...I have to go. My shift starts soon.”

      “Jolie. Please.”

      Oh, God, how could she ignore the pleading in those beautiful burned-honey eyes of his? Dragging her feet, she approached the bed and stood at its foot. His gaze raked over her, hot and hungry, and...yes, there was the hurt she expected to see. Well, good. Now they were even.

      “Thank you.”

      She blinked as her jaw dropped a little. Those were not the words she’d expected to fall out of his mouth. “F-for what?”

      “For being in the ER. For calling Chance. For staying with me.”

      “You remember?”

      “Yeah. I’m sorry my old man is such an asshat.” He offered a crooked grin that indented only one cheek with a dimple as he held out the hand not plugged full of needles and tubes. “C’mere, Jolie.”

      Her fingers curled and her hand started to reach for him of its own accord. She smoothed her palm against her scrub pants and forced her fingers to grab the cotton instead of his warm flesh. “I can’t, Cord. You know that. I have to go.” She turned to leave but his voice stopped her, the plaintive tone twisting her heart.

      “Jolie?”

      She listened to him inhale and her shoulders slumped. He sounded so...defeated. Glancing over her shoulder, she forced her feet to remain planted. Everything in her wanted to run to him, to wrap him in her arms. The pain—physical and emotional—on his face almost undid her.

      “I...I can’t, Cord. We can’t.” She fled, dashing tears from her eyes as she pushed through the ICU doors only to smack into a very solid chest. Strong arms gripped her biceps, holding her up.

      “Jolie? You okay?”

      Chance. Just her luck.

      The timbre of his voice changed. “Jolie? Is it Cord? Is he okay? Did something happen?”

      Oh, yeah. Something happened. She’d fallen in love with a man she couldn’t have, she’d seduced him to get back at him, and then she’d kept a big ole honkin’ secret from him. One that would make him hate her. Breathing deeply to steady her nerves, she blinked away the tears.

      “He’s awake, Chance. You can talk to him. I have to go. I’m on shift in a few minutes.” She tried to step around him but he didn’t release her.

      “He still loves you, Jolie.”

      Her heart ripped just a little more. “No, he doesn’t. If he loved me, he would have never broken my...broken up with me.”

      She jerked free and stalked away. She kept her head up and shoulders stiff even though she wanted to hunch over to contain the pain ripping her apart.

      * * *

      Jolie didn’t come back. Cord was disappointed. And pissed. Was she just teasing him again? Anger washed over him like a big ocean wave, filling him with enough bitterness to choke him. One week rolled over into two weeks, and then the third one dragged by with no sign of her. Fine. He was stupid to think they might have a chance, that she’d visited because she still cared.

      He fidgeted, waiting for the doctor to arrive. After a month in the hospital, rumor had it he might be discharged today. He was more than ready to get out. To get away from any reminder of Jolie. She was just a few floors away, down in Trauma One. He’d caught a glimpse of her once, as a physical therapist had wheeled him past the cafeteria. She’d taken one look at him in the wheelchair, blanched, turned and all but ran away.

      Yeah. He knew the feeling. He hated the freaking chair. Hated that his legs still didn’t work quite right, that his head felt like a watermelon splattered on hot pavement whenever he looked into a bright light, that he was crippled. Cord wanted to go home, where he no longer had to see pity on the faces surrounding him.

      Chance and Cassie arrived, followed closely by the doctor and his entourage of medical students. Ah, the joys of University being a teaching hospital. Not.

      Seeing his state of undress, his sister-in-law immediately split, offering to grab coffee from the waiting room. Cord would be damned glad when he could wear clothes again so his dangly bits didn’t offend anyone.

      He put up with the poking, prodding, comments and advice. The doctor used a stylus to record stuff on a touch screen tablet, frowning as he filled in blanks. Cord’s heart sank. He was going to be stuck here even longer.

      “Meg will bring all the paperwork and go over your therapy plan, Mr. Barron.” The doctor glanced at Chance. “You’ve arranged for a home health aide?”

      “Wait,” Cord interrupted. “Does this mean I’m getting out of here?”

      “That’s what it means, Mr. Barron.”

      “Hot damn. Chance, you better have brought me a pair of pants!”

      It took three hours to get out of there. Three freaking hours to clear up all the paperwork, but Cord was finally free. Sort of. He was still stuck in the wheelchair. But he wore real clothes—jeans, boots, a T-shirt that hung a little loose on him. He’d lost weight and muscle tone in the hospital, despite the burgers, fries and pizza his brothers had sneaked in and all the physical therapy exercises. But he could go home now. Get away from the hospital, where he wondered every day if he might catch a glimpse of Jolie, wanting her to come back to see him, needing it as much as a man needed water in the desert. That was how he felt. Parched. He wanted to drink her in, knew he could drown in her presence.

      Chance insisted on pushing the wheelchair while Cassie carried the bags of medical supplies, paraphernalia and other stuff he’d accumulated. They rode the elevator down to the first floor in silence. Cassie waited with him while Chance went to get his truck. Once he was settled in the front passenger seat and they were underway, Chance glanced at him.

      His brother cleared his throat before saying, “I thought we’d take you to the ranch.”

      As much as he wanted to go home to his condo and hide from the whole world, Chance’s suggestion made sense. They had staff at the home place, the Crown B Ranch. Miz Beth and Big John, the caretakers who’d been with the boys for as long as they could remember. And according to the doctor, a home health aide. Cord hated being an invalid. But he’d have the place to himself. The old man, when he was in town, kept an apartment in Barron Towers. His brothers all had their own places. Only staff and Kaden Waite, the ranch manager, would be around.

      “Yeah, fine. Whatever.” He swallowed the snarl and added, “But I’m starved. I want a steak before

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