Rough Stock (12 page)

She’d come for this. Whether she was with another man now in New York or not, whether she wanted to see Mason or not, she’d come for this. She’d come to see Clay, and Mason would see her again.

Although, now a new suspicion began to arise in his mind as all the facts started to add up. Clay never once mentioned April in any of his correspondence. Clay carried April’s photo in his pocket during competition. Mason rarely heard from April anymore, and when he did she never spoke of Clay.

Maybe April hadn’t found someone new in New York. Maybe April and Clay were a couple and neither of them could face telling him. Clay was making enough money now that he could fly to New York to see her between competitions or fly her to be with him on the road.

But then wouldn’t Clay’s parents know they were dating? Maybe they kept it secret from their parents so he wouldn’t accidentally find out.

As jealousy he thought he’d long ago buried reared its head, he glanced over to find Clay’s father watching him with interest. Mason was not about to elaborate on either his or Clay’s relationship with April, past or present, and thankfully, Mr. Harris didn’t ask.

Mason turned again to Clay, deathly still in the bed, and his heart felt as if it was being squeezed in a fist. “Mrs. Harris. You should probably call April’s parents as soon as possible.”

***

There was probably not another sound in the world that was both as unnerving and as comforting as the constant
beep, beep, beep
of a hospital monitor. Every blip told Mason that Clay’s heart was still beating strong and his body had not given up. But every sound also reminded him that his best friend was still unconscious even though the doctors had weaned him off the drugs that had kept him in the medically induced coma. Even when he did wake up—and Mason had to believe he would or lose his mind—what then? Would he be able to ride or even walk? They still had no idea of the full extent of the damage.

In the dimly lit room, Mason pulled two chairs close to Clay’s bed, slumping low in one while his booted feet occupied the other. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but he’d slept in worse places. He’d convinced Clay’s parents to go to their hotel and get some rest, promising he wouldn’t leave their son’s side. It was an easy vow to make. He’d been away from his friend for too long as it was.

“Well, buddy. It’s just you and me now.” Mason leaned his head back against the vinyl chair. He didn’t think twice about speaking out loud. Clay had a private room, so he wasn’t bothering anyone and it was supposed to be good to talk to patients who were unconscious. More than that, talking aloud somehow comforted Mason.

“I wish you could talk, though. There are a hell of a lot of questions I’d like to ask you, but they’ll wait, I suppose.” Mason sighed and felt his mind drifting peacefully as he spoke. As usual, when his mind wandered, it traveled immediately to April.

Cracking one eye, he spotted the picture of her on the bedside table. He reached out and picked it up, running a thumb up over the scratched surface.

“So, you and April, huh? It doesn’t surprise me. I’d always thought you’d end up together.” He let out a deep sigh, eyes still focused on the face in the photo.

“I still think of her, you know. All the time.” Mason laughed bitterly. “Dream about her too. You’d think the dreams would be about just me and her, since they’re my dreams and all. But no, you’re always there too, Clay old buddy. Just like it was that last night before I left for boot camp.”

“Well, that was a really good night.”

Mason’s boots slipped off the edge of the second chair and crashed to the floor as his eyes flew to the now awake man in the bed next to him. “Clay? Holy crap. You’re awake.”

Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, Mason was pretty sure he did both. He grabbed Clay’s hand and squeezed it, comforted when he squeezed back. “I’ll get the nurse.”

Mason left Clay, who looked totally dazed and still out of it, and ran into the hall, calling for a nurse probably louder than he should given where he was and the late hour.

Even unconscious Clay had charmed the nursing staff, and the night nurse was there in seconds, teary eyed as she checked his vital signs.

When she left to go call Clay’s doctor, Mason reached for the phone. “We need to call your parents.”

Clay reached for his arm. “Mason, wait. Not yet.”

Frowning, Mason nodded. “Okay. But why not?”

“Can I have some water?” Clay’s voice sounded scratchy, but that wasn’t a surprise considering.

“Sure.” Mason held his own bottle of water up to Clay’s lips, thinking he’d ask the nurse for a pitcher of ice water when she came back. He noticed Clay’s hand come up to try and hold it, only to fall right back down to the bed.

After Clay had finished drinking, Mason asked again, “Why don’t you want to call your parents? Your mama is so worried…”

“I want to know how bad I am before they get here.”

Mason didn’t know what to say to that. If Clay didn’t know how bad he was, he sure as hell couldn’t tell him. Maybe his doctor could answer that question. “Well, how do you feel?”

“Weak as a kitten,” Clay answered. “How long have I been out?”

“A couple of days. The docs knocked you out on purpose until the swelling went down. The drugs they used to keep you under have to work their way out of your system. Probably why you still feel weak.”

“Damn horse fell on me.” Clay shook his head, then his eyes opened wide. “My horse. Is the rodeo still in town? Is someone taking care of April Dawn?”

“April Dawn?”

“I wrote you about her. The mare I bought and trained. She’s with me at the arena. She’s got a stall in with the barrel horses.”

He’d named his horse after April.
Mason put the water bottle down and laid his hand over Clay’s again, fighting the pain in his heart. “I’ll call and find out where she is. I’ll check on her personally as soon as I can. I promise.”

Seeming satisfied with that, Clay nodded, then flipped the edge of the sheet back.

Mason frowned. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting out of this bed and seeing if I can walk.” Clay used his arms to move to the edge and then realized he was too wired up to move any farther. He began pulling off electrodes and was just reaching for the intravenous tube to yank that out of his vein when Mason grabbed his hand.

“Clay, dammit. Let me get the nurse to do that. God only knows what kind of damage you can do to yourself.”

Clay glanced down and peered beneath his hospital gown, then winced. “All right. Call the nurse, because there’s one tube in me I don’t think I want to be pulling out myself.” He grimaced. “Not that I particularly want some nurse doing it either. But swear to me, Mason. No one calls my parents until I see if I can walk.”

“Clay, there was a lot of swelling. It may take some time…”

“Mason, either you’re gonna help me on this or get out of my way.”

Recognizing the determination in Clay’s face, Mason nodded. “I’m with you, but we do this the right way or you’ll damage yourself. Let me get the nurse. We’ll get those tubes out of you, call your parents and then we’ll see what you can do
after
the doc sees you. Okay?”

Clay nodded and leaned back against the pillow, looking like he wanted to fight but knew he’d lose. “Okay.”

Using his usual charm, Clay easily convinced the nurse that he’d be a good boy and eat and drink anything she brought him, and even pee in the bedpan if she would take out the IV and catheter. Clay probably could have charmed her into just about anything while never mentioning that the moment she left the room, he was going to try and walk.

Over Mason’s dead body. That wasn’t going to happen until the doc evaluated Clay’s injuries. Then, whatever the damage was, they’d deal with it.

Chapter Eleven

“Walk for me.”

April did as she was told and walked across the apartment. Since it took her only a few steps to traverse the incredibly small room, she spun and made the return trip while Ben sat on the futon sofa bed.

“Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.” Ben clapped his hands together. “Now, take it off so I can shorten the halter-top strap an inch.”

April laughed and glanced down at the neckline that plunged deep between her breasts and exposed her nearly to the stomach. “You really think an inch is going to make a difference?”

She unfastened the neck of the dress and let the blood-red satin pool to the floor at her feet, before stepping out of it in nothing but underwear and heels.

Ben grabbed the dress and shook it out. “An inch will make the difference between those luscious tits of yours staying in the dress or falling out of it at the party tonight.” He raised a brow at her expectantly.

“An inch it is then.” April put her push-up bra back on and pulled a silk tank top over her head.

Meanwhile Ben’s gaze swept the apartment, the entirety of which was comprised of a single room the size of her bedroom in her parents’ house, a microwave and a tiny bathroom that she strongly suspected had once been a closet, since the apartment didn’t have one of those.

“Why do you insist on living in this…
place
?”

She had a feeling Ben had another word he would have rather used. “Because it’s all I can afford at the moment.”

New York rentals cost a fortune. As it was, April didn’t have cable television, or a phone or Internet in her apartment. In fact, she only managed to have a cell phone because her boss Christian paid for that. Damn, she’d have to remember to plug it in and charge it because it had been dead for a while now, but since she’d been with Christian at the theater for about twenty hours a day for the past week as opening night approached, she didn’t exactly need the phone. He could just yell if he needed her.

Ben suspiciously eyed the linen pants she’d just pulled on to go with the silk tank top and designer shoes. “You had enough money to put that outfit together, I see.”

April scowled and pointed to each of the three pieces of her wardrobe in turn, starting at her feet and working her way up. “Shoes, sample sale; pants, used from a thrift shop; and top, clearance rack.”

Ben smiled at her lovingly. “My little bargain shopper. And I guess it doesn’t hurt to have a perfect, sample-sized body either.”

She let out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Make fun of me, but if you weren’t a clothing designer, I’d have nothing decent to wear for the party tonight.”

He took a step closer and kissed her, softly, gently, on the lips. “And if you weren’t the personal assistant to the hottest new director on Broadway, I wouldn’t be invited to the party tonight, so we’re even.”

“I guess so.” April sighed and thought of the many times she’d raided the sample rack at Ben’s studio when she had a last-minute fashion emergency. Sometimes it didn’t feel so even.

Taking a step back, Ben glanced at his watch. “I’ll run home and knock out the alteration quick. I’ll bring the dress tonight and you can change for the party at the theater, I guess?”

She nodded. “I left a ticket for tonight’s show under your name at the window.”

“Thanks, sweetie.” Ben waited for her to unlock the chain and two deadbolts before he planted another quick kiss on her. “See you later.”

April nodded. “Later.”

Closing the door, she glanced down at her watch and noticed exactly how late it was. She needed to get to the theater. Christian would probably be flipping out today from the pressure of opening night.

April scrambled to gather a clutch purse, pantyhose, makeup and jewelry to go with the dress for the party later and flung it all into her tote bag. She was halfway out the door when she remembered her phone. No time to charge it now. She’d have to plug it in at the theater. Grabbing both the cell and the charger, she added them to the contents of her bag and was out the door in a New York minute.

Opening night passed in a blur, between Christian’s near meltdown when he heard the lead actor had a sore throat, to the computer glitch that had oversold the house by ten percent more seats than actually existed. Amazingly, somehow it all worked out. Dressed in Ben’s creation that had everyone in the room drooling—the straight men because of the cleavage and the women and gay men because the design was simply scrumptious—April could relax a bit for the first time in weeks. All that was left for her to do was enjoy the party and wait for the reviews to come out in the next day’s paper.

Oh, and she should probably eventually listen to the five voice mails she’d noticed on her cell phone when she finally charged it and turned it on back at the theater. She pulled the cell out of her bag and punched in her code. Holding it to her ear, April smiled and nodded as Ben held up his empty glass and pointed toward the bar. She could definitely use another drink after the week she’d had.

When her father’s voice sounded on the message, April expected it to just be the usual, “How are you?” phone call, but what he said had her feeling weak in the knees. Trembling, she grabbed onto the lapel of Ben’s tuxedo when he returned to her carrying two martinis.

He frowned, put the drinks down on a nearby bus tray and held her by both arms while she listened to one message after another. By the last two voice mails, her father was simply asking if she was getting his messages and begging her to call. What else was there left for him to say? The big bomb had been dropped during the first three times he’d called.