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steak.

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Five
     
    THUNK! Colton moaned then cursed a blue streak. Rolled in a sheet like a mummy, he sat up on the floor and peered at the rollaway he had fallen off. His mind slugged in slow motion as he tried to get his bearings. Ah, Kate’s place. The weathered barn stood out the window to his left. Straight ahead were the two windows that looked out over her large yard to a perimeter of woods.
    The scene was encased in the unbearable silence he found surreal on Cutter Mountain. It made him feel like a figure trapped inside one of those dioramas he constructed in grade school.
    A puddle of white sheet draped his lap as he rotated his shoulder and inspected his knee. No metal pins stuck out, so other than the rude awakening, he figured all would be well once the crawl of fire inside the shoulder was extinguished.
    “Kate,” he hollered and did a double take out the front windows. Where the hell was Bobby’s truck? In jerky hops, he stuck one leg then the other into his jeans and searched his pockets for the keys. Barefoot he made his way across the empty foyer and knocked on Kate’s living room door. “Kate?” He jiggled the knob. Locked. Moving on to her kitchen door, he turned the knob and it opened. “Hello? Kate?”
    A flurry of gray cat streaked up the back steps. One day he would have to make amends. At the moment, he needed to find Kate and get his bag out of the truck. More important than his clothes, it held the Tylenol and Vicoprofen for when he was really hurting—like now. Intense shoulder pain always set his gut churning for fear the proverbial slippery slope was his reality. He began rummaging through her kitchen cabinets.
    Near blind with pain, Colton stood at the sink downing several Tylenol with a glass of water. He knew this had to stop if he wanted a stomach that could handle Mexican food at fifty.
    Sudden silence and the general feeling of being watched made him turn to see three sets of female eyes on him. He sucked in his gut.
    Although he wouldn’t call himself an exhibitionist, he certainly had no trouble baring his torso for television ads or magazine spreads. It was the three generations of wide-eyed Crocketts staring at him that made him feel stark naked.
    “Are you Col-Train?” asked the Half-Pint.
    “Some people call me that, but I prefer Colton. What’s your name?”
    “Lindsay.”
    “Very pretty, just like you.” Hell, what did you say to a pint-sized female? Most of his dealings were with star-struck adolescent boys who wanted to be just like him.
    Although Lindsay held little regard for his six-pack abs, he noticed Kate’s eyes making spastic flicks between his face and his waist. Seeing her concern, he was quick to hike up his jeans and snap them shut.
    “Tinkerbelle!” Lindsay squealed with delight when the gray tabby hotfooted it around the corner and screeched to a halt at spying Colton. The cat arched its back to hiss.
    “Tinkerbelle,” Kate admonished the cat and picked him up. Ears pricked forward, the cat shot Colton a deadly glare with eyes the size of marbles along with a soundless display of two sharp fangs. Kate ran her hand over the agitated cat before handing him off to Lindsay. “Seems Tinkerbelle is as shocked to see you in my kitchen as I am. Mom, this is Colton Gray. My first unofficial renter.”
    “Nice to meet you,” said the middle-aged replica of Kate with a polite smile.
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t c-catch your name,” he stuttered. Damn, had heat just spread from his shoulder to his face? He folded his arms across his chest to hide pebbled nipples that spoke of his discomfort.
    “Eva. I don’t believe my daughter mentioned it.” Colton saw the older woman’s eyes light with amusement as she let her gaze show appreciation that went right down to his bare feet. “The town’s buzzing to have such an important sports celebrity in town.”
    “Don’t believe half of what you hear.” He could only imagine the