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He leaned back in the chair beside the bed, a bare couple of feet away from the one Kaitlyn had been sitting in. He couldn’t really put a name to the feeling that had come over him, only knew that a large part of it was thanks that she’d had this man in her life. And that made him smile.

“Next?” he said.

Nick frowned. “Next what?”

“Next question in the third degree,” Ry said, keeping his smile in place. It wasn’t difficult, because he was truly glad Kaitlyn had had this caring man in her life.

And why it mattered to him so much was something he’d have to think about later.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Kaitlyn sat onthe edge of the bed in the room Ry had gotten for her. She felt a little numb, as if her nerves had been on overload until Nick got through this, and now, exhausted, they were shutting down.

She looked around. It was a room that could be anyplace at all…except for the Lone Star on one wall, and the old photographs on the opposite wall of various railroad yards, the industry that had built Temple when in the 1880s several railroads made the town a division point. It had been mostly shacks, tents, and saloons then. She doubted any of them, if they even still stood, had the history of the Last Stand Saloon.

They say back in the beginning Temple was nicknamed Tanglefoot, because it was hard to walk down muddy streets if you were drunk.

Ry had said it in the lobby, gesturing toward an even larger photo of the old west version of the town in the lobby. She’d given him a doubtful look, thinking he was making it up just to distract her, but the clerk at the desk had backed him up. Then again, he was the one who’d told Ry the story in the first place, they both admitted with a laugh.

Well, part of it fits, because tangled is definitely how I feel right now.

She sighed, wishing she could avoid the rest of the evening and have it just be morning and time to go get Nick out of the hospital. But at the same time, she was—rather breathlessly—looking forward to the time in between. And spending it with Ry.

Of course, that might not be his plan. After all he’d done, maybe he’d just want some peace and time away from her.

She heard a sound, realized it was her stomach growling. Odd, she hadn’t felt hungry. Maybe those nerves had shut down, too. But on the heels of that sound came a knock on her door. A two-tap; short, sharp and quick. She knew who it was without getting up to look, because who else would it be? Telling herself it was silly to think that she’d somehow known he would knock on a door exactly that way, she got to her feet. And because she’d been a woman alone for years now, she did take the cautious look through the peephole in the door.

Every weary nerve in her body snapped back to life.

“Tired but not dead, huh?” she muttered, then shook her head. She wasn’t just talking to herself, she was talking to body parts. Just because when she’d looked, he’d both been far enough back to avoid the distortion of the fisheye effect of the glass, and been looking off to one side, at another guest passing by, and she’d gotten the full punch of his profile.

Her finger itched for the camera shutter, and she wondered if she would ever tire of taking photos of him. Judging by how many she’d taken yesterday, she doubted it. Put him in front of her and she was like someone with a full auto machine gun, the snapping of the shutter nearly constant. That’s when she wasn’t in video mode, trying to capture the way he moved.

She reached for the doorknob, consoling herself that at least he didn’t know this was unusual for her. For all he knew, she always took gigabyte upon gigabyte of images.

He was turning back as she pulled the door open, touching a hand to his head as if he were tipping a hat to the older woman with the man walking past. Cowboy hat or not, Ry had the manners. Kaitlyn knew she didn’t mistake the woman’s appreciative look, which despite her age was likely as much for his looks as his courtesy. Which she completely understood.

“Hey,” he said, that lethal smile flashing. “I’m starved. Are you up for going somewhere for dinner, or you want me to go get something?”

Kaitlyn just stared at him. The combination of that smile, her nerve endings deciding that this man required a response no matter how numb they were, and the utter oddity of someone besides Nick worried about whether she ate or not, was overwhelming. She knew she was standing there dumbstruck, but she simply could not think of any words.

His brow furrowed slightly when she didn’t speak. “There’s a little place right across the parking lot the guy at the desk says is good. Of course he would, since it’s close, but hopefully it’s edible. If you’re too wiped—and I understand if you are—tell me what you want and I’ll bring it back.” He smiled again, a little more hesitant now. “I’ll even call and read you the menu if you want.”

“I…” She swallowed, tried again. “No, it’s all right, I’ll go.” Wait, that sounded like she wanted to go alone, and she didn’t. She definitely didn’t. “Let me get my wallet.”

“You won’t need it, unless you want a drink.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Alcohol. Wouldn’t blame you after as wound up as you’ve been. But now you know Nick’s going to be fine, so if you want a beer or some wine or something—”

“No.”

He looked suddenly chagrinned. “Damn. I’m sorry, Kaitlyn. I forgot.”

She knew he meant he’d forgotten she didn’t drink, but she was stuck back on not needing her wallet. Was that his tactful way of letting her know he was paying? As he had for these rooms, and gas, and the most valuable commodity of all, his time?

How was she ever going to pay him back for all this?