Dylan's Last Dare Read online

  Oh no, she couldn’t lose it before she got a chance. She shook her head. “Trust me, I can handle anything that Dylan dishes out. I just have to figure out a way to make him want to try therapy.”

  “Well, I hope you make it. Oh, by the way, the parallel bars are being delivered within the hour. Just tell me what you want removed from the room.”

  “We can do without the bookshelves, the recliner chair and coffee table. If it’s not too much trouble. That will give us room for the weight bench and bars.”

  “This is the easy part,” he assured her. “Dealing with Dylan’s temper is the difficult task. Maybe I should be here when he sees what’s going on.”

  “No. That’s why you hired me. I have to be the one he communicates with. Your brother is used to getting what he wants. He has to learn that if he wants to walk again, he has to work at it.”

  Wyatt grinned. “I’m beginning to believe you can do it. It’s been a long time since Dylan hasn’t been able to sweet-talk a woman into getting his way.”

  Brenna tensed. The man was hard to resist, but not for her. Right. She knew if Dylan Gentry wanted to, he could make her forget her own name. She just had to keep that fact from him. “You don’t have to worry about me being charmed by your brother. I’m his therapist…that’s all.” It would be a long time before she would allow herself to be interested in any man, much less a danger-loving man like Dylan Gentry.

  By 11:00 a.m. the furniture had been removed and the parallel bars and weight bench had been set up in the living area, leaving just enough space for the TV and sofa. Brenna decided that her patient wasn’t going to have enough energy left after therapy to do anything else but watch TV.

  Speaking of her patient, she hadn’t seen Dylan since earlier in the morning. Well, it was time he came out of hiding. She went to his bedroom door and knocked.

  There was only silence and she knocked again. “Dylan,” she called.

  No answer.

  “Dylan? I’m fixing some lunch. Is there anything special you want?” Her job description also included making meals and some light housework. She didn’t mind, since she was living here, too.

  No answer.

  “Dylan?” She knew he had to be hungry, because he hadn’t had breakfast. “Are you all right?” She turned the knob and pushed open the door to find a large bed with Dylan Gentry sprawled across the center. A colorful quilt covered part of his body, but his glorious chest was bare. No red-blooded woman would deny that the man was beautifully built.

  Surprised at the sudden rush of feelings, she refocused her thoughts and moved to the bed. He was her patient. That was all. She called his name again. When that didn’t wake him, she touched his foot. “Dylan, you need to get up.”

  The man opened his eyes, revealing mesmerizing silver-blue pools that immediately locked on her. A hint of a smile creased his sensual mouth.

  “Well, hello, darlin’.” He stretched his arms over his head, lazily. “I was just having this great dream, but you’re so much better.”

  The husky tone of his voice sent a warm shiver though Brenna as she saw the true side of the charming bull rider that all the ladies drooled over. Well, she didn’t have the time or the desire.

  Brenna pushed away from the doorjamb and moved to the bed. “Well, you’re not dreaming now,” she said. “It’s reality time.”

  His smile only grew as he rolled to his side and reached out to touch her arm. “The real thing is so much better.” His voice turned husky. “Why don’t you climb into bed and let me show you.”

  If his sexual advances were supposed to scare her off, he was wrong. She had heard similar words so many times before. Jason used to sweet-talk her every time he wanted his way. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you get up and eat something, then do a short therapy session.”

  “The only place I’m headed is the bathroom, then back to bed.” He sat up and the covers dropped to his waist as he reached for the wheelchair. Brenna was quicker and pulled it back, away from his reach.

  “What the—?” His dark eyebrows drew together as he frowned at her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “You’ve been spending far too much time in this chair. You need to get ambulatory. You’re weakening your good leg by not using it.”

  “So what if I am?” he said. “That’s my business.”

  “And you’re my business.”

  “You’re fired. Now get out.”

  She folded her arms. “Make me,” she challenged.

  Pain flashed across Dylan’s face and Brenna wondered if she’d gone too far. She went into the living room, grabbed the walker and returned to the bedroom. “Here. From now on you’ll use this to get around.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” he said, disgust in his tone.

  “If you can balance on the back of a bull, Mr. Dylan ‘The Devil’ Gentry, surely you can manage a walker.”

  He dropped backward on the bed. “I’m not using any damn walker…I’ll crawl first, so you might as well give me back the chair.”

  “Physical therapists are a stubborn bunch. And since you’re the one who has to use the bathroom, I think I can wait you out.”

  He pulled the quilt over his head and let out a string of colorful curses.

  Brenna knew if she was going to work with Dylan, she couldn’t let him get away with sleeping all day. She also knew that if he complained enough, Wyatt would fire her.

  “You’re behaving childishly, Mr. Gentry,” she said as she took hold of the edge of the covers and yanked them away. She bit back a gasp, discovering the man was naked underneath. Quickly she diverted her eyes to his face, only to catch a satisfied grin from Dylan.

  The man had absolutely no problem with his nudity. “Since we’re getting so familiar with each other, don’t you think you could call me Dylan? Bren.”

  She dropped the blanket on him. “I’ll call you whatever you like as long as you get up and attempt to cooperate.”

  He looked thoughtful. “All right, I’ll get up, but only if I can use crutches.”

  “But your balance…”

  Another grin. “Lady, like you said, my livelihood was dependent on my balance. Besides, I’ve used crutches a few times over the years with other minor injuries. So if you want me up, just bring me the damn things.”

  She left the room and by the time she returned with lightweight crutches, he’d managed to put on a pair of sweatpants. “This is against my better judgment,” she told him. “You could fall.”

  “Darlin’, I’ve been falling all my life,” he said as he scooted to the edge of the bed.

  “Not on my watch,” she argued, then braced herself in front of him, planted her legs and helped pull him onto his good leg. Surprisingly, he did the task easier than she had expected. She helped him with the placement of the crutches, and walked along with him to the bathroom. She started to go in with him, but he stopped her.

  “Whoa, this is where I draw the line. Sometimes a man has to go it alone. This is one of those times.”

  “What if you fall?”

  “Then I pick myself up.” He took another step inside and closed the door in her face.

  “Just call out when you’re finished, I’ll come get you,” she said through the door.

  “I’m sure I can figure it out,” she heard him say.

  “You just think you can, Mr. Dylan ‘The Devil’ Gentry.” She pivoted and marched to the kitchen, praying that she could survive this next month…and this man.

  Dylan cursed as he stumbled coming out of the bathroom. Although he wasn’t very good at it, he liked to be up, at least on his one good leg, but he wasn’t going to let Ms. Farren know that.

  With the crutches securely in place under his arms, he slowly made his way to the kitchen, still peeved he hadn’t scared her off with his seduction routine. He found her at the stove, humming a song. Well, she wouldn’t be singing for long, not after he tossed her out.

  “As soon as you finish here, you better go pack your bags because you’re not staying.”

  She turned and came to his aid. “Let’s get you to the table, Dylan. The soup is nearly ready.”

  It did smell good, and he discovered he was hungry. He thought about telling her he didn’t need any help, then her hands were on him. Although her gesture was clinical, he liked her gentle and warm touch. He also liked her nice scent, fresh…feminine. At the table, she was careful of his injured leg, and helped him into the chair. Then she came back with two bowls and placed one in front of him and took the seat across from him.

  Brenna placed a napkin on her lap and looked up. Dylan couldn’t help but notice how pretty she was. Not in a traditional beauty-queen fashion, but with startling warm, honey-brown eyes that seemed to hold such wonder and innocence, and her mouth had him wondering how it would taste. Her skin was flawless, despite a soft sprinkling of freckles across her pert nose.

  No, he couldn’t have her around. He didn’t need anyone seeing him like this, especially a woman. “Look…you’ve got to face it, this isn’t going to work. I don’t want you here. So why don’t you just leave?”

  “I can’t.” She placed her spoon on the table. “To be honest, I need this job. But more important, Dylan, you need me. If you ever want to walk again, you need my determination, my drive to push you hard. You need someone who won’t let you bully them. Who won’t let you slack off. Oh, you need me all right—that is, if you ever want to regain the use of your leg.”

  Her optimism was contagious, but he couldn’t let himself hope. “But I’ll never climb back on a bull again.”

  She huffed out a breath. “Aren’t two national championships enough? Besides, aren’t you a little over the hill for a bull rider?”

  Even though her comment wa
s true, it still stung. Over thirty, everyone knew a rodeo rider was pretty much used up. He’d planned that this would be his last year. Of course, if he’d won the championship again, he probably would have gone another year on the circuit. “I was on top this year. I was headed to the national finals in Las Vegas.” He paused, realizing his frustration. “How would you feel if you couldn’t do your job?”

  “It would be rough. But I’m trying to build my career, you’ve had years of success. Isn’t being on top a good time to get out? Look at Michael Jordan, he retired.”

  “Then he returned to basketball.”

  She thought again. “How about football players John Elway and Troy Aikman? They retired because of injuries that threatened their lives,” she added. “They found other things that were important to them. Surely you’ve made enough money to start over with something else. Besides, Dylan, you can’t even walk right now. How can you think about going back?”

  “That’s what I mean,” he stressed. “So, what’s the use of me killing myself if it’s all for nothing?”

  Brenna’s eyes flashed as she got up from the table. “The use is that you have other things to walk for. Your family. Your brother, his wife and their children.”

  Dylan was never one to do much with family. Wyatt had been the only relative he had had, until last year when they’d learned their father’s true identity. A bronc rider named Jack Randell. After the discovery, Wyatt immediately had to come to San Angelo, Texas, even bought the old Randell family ranch, the Rocking R. Dylan had wanted no part of the Randells, but Wyatt had gotten close to his half brothers, Chance, Cade and Travis, and their other illegitimate half brother, Jared Trager.

  And since the accident, Dylan had been stuck here. “That’s Wyatt’s family, not mine.”

  “It’s yours, too,” she insisted. “Family can be important to your rehabilitation.”

  He didn’t want to hear any more. “What is it going to cost me to get rid of you?”

  Brenna crossed her arms over her breasts. Just the simple movement was erotic. Oh, God. He couldn’t have her living here.

  “Why don’t I make a deal with you,” she began. “How about you cooperate with me for two weeks?” She raised her hand to stop him. “Just hear me out.”

  He hesitated, then gave a nod.

  “If there isn’t any progress by that time, I’ll leave.” She lowered her hand. “Now, I have terms. I want you to get out of bed every morning by seven o’clock, you’ll need to spend the allotted time on the parallel bars and work twice a day with weights. And I will work you hard, Dylan. Harder than you’ve probably had to work in your life, but I also believe that together we can get results.” She looked him in the eye. “You can walk, Dylan. I believe it. So, how much are you willing to do for that? How much are you willing to do so you can get out of the wheelchair, to walk on your own?”

  Dylan didn’t want to just walk, he wanted to go back to what he had loved to do: bull riding. He wasn’t afraid of work. Hell, he grew up with hard manual labor, handling rough stock for rodeos. But this was all he’d ever wanted. And even if he was retiring, he wanted to go out on top. He was Dylan “The Devil” Gentry.

  “I want to get back to rodeoing. Can you help me do that?”

  He watched her hesitate and his heart sank into his gut. Then her eyes darkened with determination. “It’s going to cost you extra, but I feel if the desire is there, you can do anything.”

  “I know I have the desire, but do you, Brenna? Can you put up with my nasty attitude and bad days, and make me the man I used to be?”

  “I hope by the time I’m finished you’ll learn that being a man has nothing to do with the size of the bull you ride.”

  She made him want to do a lot more than just walk. He shook away the distracting thought. “Can you do it?” he challenged. “Will you do it?”

  Brenna’s gaze locked with his. There was a flicker of vulnerability before she masked it and nodded. “Why do I feel like I just sold my soul to the devil?”

  His face split into a beautiful smile that set her heart aflutter.

  Because she had.

  Chapter Two

  Early the next morning Brenna stepped outside on the porch, hoping the brisk air would help her recent queasiness. What she didn’t expect was to find Wyatt Gentry’s four-year-old daughter, Kelly, sitting on the step.

  “Well, good morning.”

  Smiling, the cute little blonde stood. “Hi, Miss Brenna.” Under a heavy nylon jacket, she wore a pink sweater with blue corduroy pants and a pair of boots. She came up another step. “You remember me? Kelly. I live in that house.” She pointed to the large ranch house about a hundred yards away.

  “Yes, Kelly, I remember you.” Brenna hugged her own heavy sweater closer to ward off the January cold. “What are you doing out so early?”

  “I’m going for a ride on my pony, Sandy. My daddy is going to take me.” She frowned. “But I don’t know where he is.” She glanced at the cottage door. “Is he inside with Unca Dylan?”

  “No, but your uncle is awake. You want to come inside?”

  The girl shook her head, a mixture of fear and sadness in her eyes. “No. He doesn’t like me.”

  “Oh, sweetheart. Your uncle was hurt in a bad accident. He’s just having a rough time trying to make his leg work again. I bet soon he’ll be happy again.”

  “Then will he like me?”

  “I think he already does,” Brenna tried to assure her. “But let’s give him a few weeks and when he’s feeling better you can come by for a visit.”

  The child smiled. “I like you,” she said as she studied Brenna. “You’re pretty. Do you have any little girls who are four?” She held up the same number of fingers.

  Brenna shook her head as she held a protective hand over her stomach. “No, I don’t,” she said, feeling a sudden yearning. “Not yet.” She prayed that the baby growing inside her would be born healthy. If she survived the next few months, this job paid well enough to guarantee that she could stay home with her child for those first few months, but she still couldn’t give her baby a father.

  A man’s voice drew their attention and they both looked toward the barn to find Wyatt. Kelly’s face lit up and she took off running. Brenna waved and watched until the girl jumped into her father’s arms. The scene reminded her of her own father, Sean Farren. There was nothing like the secure feeling parents gave a child. Brenna was a little ashamed she hadn’t told her parents about the baby—the baby she had conceived out of wedlock—with a man they’d never met.

  Brenna knew they’d be disappointed with their oldest child and their only daughter. She was the first Farren to bring home a college degree. She also thought she’d be bringing a husband, but that had changed with Jason’s hang-gliding accident and death. Just days later she’d discovered she was pregnant. With no other options, she had to come home to her family’s ranch.

  That was the reason she needed to have a job that paid enough to allow her to raise her child and not have to depend on Mom and Dad. Tugging her sweater around her, she knew she had to tell them. She’d seen the subtle changes in her body. At three months, she was beginning to lose her waistline. It wouldn’t be much time before her secret was out.

  Brenna walked back inside the cottage. This was to be her home for a while. But what would happen with her job when Dylan Gentry discovered her condition? Would he send her packing or would she be given the chance to help him back on his feet?

  She hoped the latter. At least she didn’t have to worry about the man being attracted to her. Most men ran from women with children. Too bad she couldn’t say the same. The handsome bull rider was dangerous in more ways than one. She would definitely have to keep her head, and her distance.

  Brenna glanced around the small but comfortable room. The cottage had been recently remodeled by Wyatt and Jared Trager. There were new windows, kitchen cabinets and countertops. The doorways had been widened and new hardwood floors had been laid throughout, making it easy to get through with a wheelchair.

  Suddenly Dylan’s bedroom door swung open and he came out with the aid of his crutches. She stayed rooted to the spot, waiting to see if he needed her assistance. By the looks of his sure, smooth movements, he was handling them very well. She figured he did everything well. There was one problem she thought, eyeing his perfectly proportioned body, his broad shoulders and bare chest. How could she get him to wear more clothes? Pregnant or not, her hormones were racing full speed, especially with a good-looking man around all the time.