After my conversation with Ally, I decide to spend the rest of the day in my room, not least because I can’t trust my judgment around Cash Boyd.

A part of me can’t stop wondering what would have happened if I allowed more than just a kiss.

Would we have been able to stop?

Would he still have wanted me to leave?

No one’s ever asked me whether he could kiss me. Not the way Cash did, anyway, with forceful determination and the kind of desire that only managed to ignite my own flame of want. And certainly never a guy like him, who can make me feel discombobulated with a single glance.

I’ve also never enjoyed kissing a man as much as I’ve enjoyed kissing him, losing myself in the moment, forgetting the where and when. My mouth is still tingling whenever I press my fingers against my lips, as though he’s somehow seared himself into me, branding my body, preparing me for more to come.

I go to bed thinking of him, consumed by the memory of his knowing lips against mine, contrasted by the rough sensation of his stubble grazing my cheeks. I search for the quiet only sleep can provide, but his presence infiltrates even my dreams, haunting me, taunting me, punishing me for being so weak.

Even in my dreams, I want him. And after our kiss, I seem to want him even more.

The theoretical part of my brain tells me that I should have pushed him away. However, the chemical part of me, the one that gets all of my juices flowing, asks me to do the opposite. It’s the latter part that I fear most because it renders me unpredictable.

I spend the following morning gardening while chatting with Margaret, who’s just as eager for the company as I am, albeit for different reasons.

She isn’t just slowly turning into a nice diversion from my consuming thoughts about Cash, she’s also becoming a friend. Maybe because she reminds me of my dear, sweet Grandma with her good nature and non-inquisitive nature.

It’s early evening when I return from the greenhouse, my body tensing at hearing the angry voices echoing through the hall.

“I made myself clear that I don’t need help. I can manage on my own.” Cash’s voice booms from the kitchen, followed by clattering pots and cutlery.

Holding my breath, I tiptoe down the hall, unsure whether to turn around and give him privacy or storm in to make sure he’s all right.

“I’ve traveled all the way from Florida to see you. You don’t get to tell me whether I can help you or not, Cash Boyd.” The woman’s voice sounds just as angry and forceful. I flinch at the impact she has on me, even though I’m not even the target of her wrath.

She doesn’t sound like Margaret. Is it his girlfriend? Wife? I haven’t seen a ring on his finger, but that doesn’t mean a thing.

My heart gives a sharp pang at the thought of them fighting because of our kiss.

God.

I’m such a slut.

“Fine. Suit yourself, Shannon. But I’m telling you—”

“Don’t you dare! I promised on your mother’s grave I’d make sure you boys don’t get into shit. And what you’re doing is beyond shit. It might even be the shittiest stunt you’ve pulled so far.”

“Leave my mother out of this,” Cash yells. “She would have known to—”

I flinch at the sound of a slap. I really hope they’re not hitting each other. The woman laughs, cutting him off. “She would have known to slap some wits into you for being an arrogant idiot, Cash. Getting on that bull was idiotic enough. But being a jerk about it and getting on everyone’s nerves by insisting that you don’t need help”—she pauses, emphasizing the last few words—“is the icing on the cake. Now get out of my way, or I’ll do as Lizzy would have done if she were still here. She might have let you use such a tone with her, but you’re not doing it with me. My sister’s probably thanking me from Heaven right now for teaching you some manners.”

Is she his aunt? I stare at the door, wondering.

Something clatters to the floor, the sound reverberating off the walls. Startled, I take a step back. An instant later, Cash storms out—well, more like stumbles out, his beautiful face a mask of annoyance and pain.

He barely acknowledges me as he hurries past with unsteady steps, his leg in a weird angle, mumbling something that sounds like, “Get that woman the hell out of my house.”

I stare after him as he turns the corner, wondering what’s going on. Should I get mixed up in this? Whomever he’s been fighting with, it’s none of my business, and yet it is because he’s my patient and I’m supposed to keep him focused on regaining the full mobility of his leg.

Which hasn’t been an easy task so far.

I don’t know how he did it, but Cash managed to avoid me for all of three days. I’ve been combing each and every room at least six times a day. He needs to begin his therapy. However, he’s never around, even though I could swear I’ve heard noises a few times.

I can only suspect he has a hidden spot somewhere I’m not aware of, just as Margaret told me.

I’ve no idea when and if he prepared himself anything to eat the last few days, but I sure as hell didn’t do it for him.

All I’ve been doing so far is setting up my gear in the morning, wait, and then wait some more. Then pack up again. Bang on his door. Call his name. Go for a walk to blow off some steam. Take a cold shower, because the hot water’s not working.

Rinse and repeat.

This drama has to end.

“Hi!” I peer through the open kitchen door at the blonde woman rummaging through the kitchen counters with the fury and speed of someone on a serious mission.

She looks younger than Margaret.

“Oh, hi. You must be Erin.” She slams the refrigerator door and turns to face me, the thin skin around her eyes wrinkling into countless fine lines as she shoots me a generous smile. In spite of the fact that she must be at least two decades older than me, she has a youthful flair about her. Wearing a black pencil skirt with a tight top and black stilettos, and with her hair curled, she looks like she’s about to head out to some office party. The tight top pushing her breasts almost up to her chin is most definitely helping with the youthful look.

I like her instantly, not least because she’s the only friendly face I’ve seen since Cash’s father and Margaret.

“I’m Shannon.” She pushes a hand with bright pink nail polish my way. As I’m reaching out to shake it, she grabs me in a quick but tight hug, which almost knocks the air out of my lungs.

Why can’t Cash be so friendly?

Then again, I’m not sure how I’d feel having his hard body pressed against mine again. The first time was enough to cause me a few hot dreams. And oh, that kiss…I wouldn’t mind repeating that experience.

“I’m Shannon,” she says and releases me. “Cash’s aunt.”

“I can come back another time,” I offer. “I wouldn’t want to be a nuisance.”

“No, silly. Stay!” She shakes her head and purses her lips. “You’re not a nuisance. That would be Cash. That boy will be the death of us all.” She shakes her head again.

I don’t want to point out that “that boy” is an adult male in his late twenties and from the looks of his house, very much in control of his life.

Unlike me.

Then again, that’s exactly why I’m here.

“I was looking for you anyway,” she says. “Trent told me you arrived a week ago. I would have come sooner, but work has been busy. Life is busy. And Cash, he is a handful. I thought I’d give you some time to adjust to your new life because Cash isn’t exactly—”

She waves her hand in the air, leaving the rest unspoken, but despite the irritation reflected in the expression on her face, there’s a warmth to the way she says his name. “Let’s just say, he should be glad he isn’t my son.” She laughs, and her eyes flicker with warmth.

It’s obvious she cares about him a lot.

“I haven’t seen him around much,” I offer, unsure how to react to her statement.

“Doesn’t surprise me. That one’s always been up to something.”

Her response sparks my curiosity. “You’re his aunt, you say?”

She nods. “His mother and I were sisters. I would like to go over a few things with you if that’s okay?”

I nod my agreement and she motions for me to sit down at the mahogany dining table. She pours two cups of coffee, and then perches on the chair opposite from mine, pushing a cup toward me.

I take a sip of the frothy concoction and can’t help but guzzle down half the cup after days of no coffee because I couldn’t find the coffee maker. He’s most certainly hidden it to spite me.

“Where are you from?” Shannon resumes the conversation.

“Port Huron, Michigan. But I’ve spent most of my life in Chicago.” I force myself to set the cup down to look at her.

“Is that where your heart is, Erin?”

“That’s a strange question.” I laugh even though the question makes me uncomfortable.

“Maybe.” Her gaze sweeps around the kitchen. “You said Cash has been giving you trouble? What’s he been up to this time?”

“Sorry?” The sudden change in subject takes me off guard. It takes a few moments for her words to register. “He hasn’t been trouble. He’s managed to avoid me for days. Margaret thinks he has a secret bunker, but I believe there’s a hidden passageway or something inside his house, or how else could he possibly manage to sneak past me every day?” I laugh at the ridiculousness of my idea.

Her gaze pierces into me, assessing me. “What makes you think that?”

“Well,”—I hesitate—“for starters, I’ve been hearing noises, but then, when I head out—”

“He isn’t anywhere to be found.” Her lips purse. For a moment, her eyes shimmer with something, and I’m sure she’s about to divulge a secret. But the impression disappears quickly. “You know, my ex-husband, Trent’s brother, owned a construction company. That was before I moved to Florida. Anyway, he did all the refurbishing for Cash a few years ago. I could get you the blueprints.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary. I wasn’t being serious.”

“Still…I’ll have Josh get you a copy.” At my questioning look, she adds, “Josh is my son, so if you need anything and can’t get a hold of any of us, my son’s the one to call. Or Kellan, Cash’s brother. He doesn’t live far from here.” Reaching into her purse, she pulls out a sheet of paper and pushes it across the table toward me. I peer at the neat scribbling—rows and rows of names, their connection to Cash and the corresponding phone numbers.

I stare agog. There’s at least forty people on there, all friends and family.

“It’s a close community. We all care about Cash,” Shannon says softly. “I don’t know if Trent showed you what happened to him, but for a good few minutes we all thought he was dead.”

“What happened?” I find myself asking even though I know I shouldn’t be prying or gossiping, and particularly not when it involves a patient. But I’m curious and eager to find out more about Cash’s life, not least because I’m not sure Trent revealed the entire magnitude of the bull riding accident. Relatives can be just as traumatized as the patients. I can imagine that he has yet to come to terms with what happened to his son.

Shannon draws a sharp breath and releases it slowly before she speaks. “Cash has been obsessed with bull riding ever since he was a child. It’s a bit of a tradition around here. Something young people do for fun. The bulls are vetted and mellow. Nothing too dangerous, you understand.”

She raises her eyebrows. I nod, interested, even though I’ve heard the story before, and she continues, “Anyway, a few years back, Cash decided to take it to a whole new level, go pro. He signed up for one competition after another. Some people are addicted to skydiving or other dangerous activities. Cash gets his adrenaline rush from bucking bulls, and he’s always looking for the most temperamental bull he can get. I wish I could say this was his first accident, but it’s just one in a very long string of incidents that could have cost him his life. He’s convinced that he can and will conquer every bull.”

Frustration seeps from her voice.

“Obviously, I don’t know him, but he seems like someone who knows what he’s doing,” I say. While I understand her concern, it is his life, after all.

She grimaces. Her blue eyes are overshadowed by worry as her hand squeezes my arm. The motion is gentle, but I can feel the unspoken imploration and urgency in it. “Is that what he told you?”

I open my mouth to appease her but she doesn’t give me a chance. “He doesn’t know shit. The real reason I’m here is because I wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yes.” She nods her head gravely. “I’m not sure whether Trent told you that Cash had a head injury three years ago.”

“No one mentioned that.”

She begins to stir sugar into her coffee, absentminded, and then takes a sip, grimacing. “A bull stomped on his head, cracking his skull. He spent weeks in the hospital, the doctors warned him to stay away from bull riding. You think he would have listened.” Grimacing again, she stirs more sugar into her coffee—this time with such fervor I fear the mug might shatter and spill its contents all over the dining table. “Of course, he wouldn’t. He jumped right onto the next bull. And the one after that. And so forth.” She stops stirring and raises her gaze to meet mine. “He didn’t take the warning seriously. He doesn’t believe that another head injury could kill him. You see, Cash is Cash. He doesn’t care if his life’s at stake. Or that we’re all worried sick about him. That he only dislocated his hip and broke a few bones in the process was a blessing for us. I know what I’m saying sounds horrible, but it’s the truth.” Her eyes shimmer with guilt, seeking my sympathy, understanding, approval. “What happened to him is bad, but we’re also relieved because we still hope this might open his eyes. Or so we did until—” Inhaling a sharp, shaky breath, she spreads her hands on the table, her posture going rigid.

“Until what?” I ask, sensing what she’s about to say.

“He said he’d do it again, if he could only walk. And we believe him.”

“I don’t think he’d—”

“You don’t know him the way we do,” Shannon says. “He hasn’t given up on this passion of his. He hasn’t learned anything from his mistakes. My son told me that Cash already inquired about entering the next competition. Which, if you ask me, is insane. He is insane.” Tears form in her eyes, and her voice is shaking. “He takes one step, then another, and that’s when things begin to escalate. That’s what they always do. They escalate until there’s no going back. Until it’s too late. Why can’t he see that?” She leans back, her face drawn in pain and frustration, her hands shaking. “I don’t know how to stop him. None of us knows. This recklessness, foolishness, stupidity of his needs to stop. He isn’t even back on his feet, and he’s already thinking about playing with his life again. Why doesn’t he see the pain and worry he’s causing us?” She leans forward, her eyes narrowing on me as she squeezes my hand, the sudden gesture startling me. “I’m here because I need you to understand the magnitude of this. I need you to make sure he stays out of trouble. Don’t encourage his passion. Don’t tell him you admire it. Because the next time Cash is back on a bull, breaking a few bones won’t be the only bad thing happening.”

Her words chill me to the core—or maybe it’s the grain of truth I sense in them that make me doubt the sanity of getting Cash back on his feet.

“I had no idea.”

“This is what I wanted to ask of you. Please, make this clear to him. He hasn’t been listening to his family. Maybe a stranger, a professional who’s seen many injuries, will get the message across.”

“I can try.”

“Thank you,” she says. “Trent said there’s something about you, Erin. I think I agree. We all want him to walk again. But we also want him to return to the city, to that job of his, away from this brutal sport and the things that tempt him. If you could kill that passion of his, we’d all be grateful to you. God knows, all the Boyd boys have their vices, but none of them is ready to break their neck in the process. Not like Cash is.”

Kill that passion.

She looks so hopeful; I find myself nodding my head, even though I don’t even know how to get through to Cash, let alone talk him out of risking his life for fun.

Why the hell would he even listen to a stranger when his own family’s wishes mean nothing to him?

“I’ll try my best,” I repeat.

“Thank you,” she says. “I want to give you something.” She retrieves her handbag and adds before I get a chance to decline, “It’s just a little something to show you my gratitude.”

I peer at her, uncomfortable, as she retrieves her purse. “No, please.” She looks up, a frown perched on her forehead, as I continue, “I’m not doing this job for the money. I do it because I love it.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” I nod in the hope she won’t persist. Trent’s already paying me too much for doing nothing. I can’t take her money, as well, and then end up crushing her high hopes.

It wouldn’t be right.

She looks at me for a few seconds, then stashes the purse away. I can sense the change in subject before she speaks. “So, you are from Chicago?”

I nod.

“Is there someone special waiting for you back home?”

“I’m not seeing anyone,” I say, unsure where she’s headed with this.

“Your heart isn’t back in Chicago then.”

I laugh. “No, it certainly isn’t.”

She regards me intently for a few moments. “A man’s heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps. Proverbs 16:9. You see, I believe everyone should be where their heart is, be it a place, a person, or even something they love doing.”

“In that case, my heart’s a nomad.” I clear my throat to get rid of the sudden cotton sensation coating the cave of my mouth.

I thought my heart had found a home. Now I’m sure that home was rather an old, dilapidated tool shed than my castle in the sky.

“You’ll find it someday. Maybe even sooner than later.”

“I’m not sure I want to,” I mumble. “I haven’t been excited about a place or a person in a very long time.”

“Let me tell you something. I’ve been married three times. But I haven’t given up hope on meeting that someone special one day, even though I’m not even sure the right one would put up with me.” She laughs at my expression. “I can be quite overbearing. Bossy. Independent. Not many men are strong enough to deal with that.”

“There’s someone for everyone,” I offer even though I don’t believe that myself.

Shannon glances at her watch. “I would love to chat with you some more, but I’ve got to go,” she says and jumps to her feet, back to her previous chirpy self. “The fridge is stocked up. I’ll be back in a few days. If you need anything—”

“The list, I know.” I follow her out into the hall.

She opens the door but stops in the doorway. “One more thing. The family’s having a little get together this weekend. Nothing major.” She waves her hand in the air. “We insist that you come. We all want to meet you.”

I freeze on the spot, my hands suddenly cold and clammy. She’s just being friendly; I’m aware of that, and yet I can’t shake off the sudden tightening sensation squeezing my chest. While I don’t mind meeting my patients’ relatives, this does feel a little too personal.

“I don’t think Cash should be moving around too much.” My voice comes out a little too shaky.

“That’s why we’ll be hosting it in his backyard,” Shannon says, oblivious to my reservations. “I’ll call you with the details, but don’t tell him. We need to rely on the surprise element of it. Otherwise, he might throw the door in our faces and lock himself inside for the next few weeks. That’s what he did last time we tried to cheer him up.” She winks at me.

I’m not sure whether she’s joking or being serious, so I just nod my head.

Shannon grabs me in another tight hug, and then she’s out the door, leaving me with a sense of unease in the pit of my stomach.

As I clean up the kitchen, her words keep ringing through my mind like an echo.

Prior to his accident, Cash suffered a head injury. And yet he continues to risk his life.

I want to help him, I really do. But what if I get him back on his feet only for him to climb on the next bull?

Maybe next time he won’t be so lucky and survive a fall.