The Cowboy and the Doctor

by Eve Gaddy

  “What can I do to help?” Dylan asked.

  “Help me put some of the stuff from my closet in a bag.” She handed him another plastic trash bag. “Jeans, shirts, boots, tennis shoes, scrubs. Basically whatever will fit in the bags. I’ll need to pick up some baking soda and some other supplies to get the smell out of my clothes.” She knew about baking soda, but she’d have to read up on what else to do to get rid of the smoke smell.

  “Were you supposed to work today?” he asked, beginning to sort through the closet.

  “Yes, but I called the hospital and told them what happened. The schedulers said they’d take care of finding someone to work for me.”

  “For how long? I suspect you’ll need a few days, at least.”

  “They’ll do their best but I’d be surprised if I can get off for more than a couple of days.”

  “Sean said he’d talk to some people about pitching in for you.”

  “That’s sweet of him. Thank him for me.”

  “Are you supposed to talk to the fire inspector later?”

  “Yes. He’s supposed to call me.”

  “Maybe he’ll be able to identify who did it.”

  “We know who did it. The same man who left that note.”

  “May said they need proof. Physical evidence that points to a suspect. And not to talk about it, either.”

  “I know. She told me the same thing.” A bomb. Attempted murder. God, what next? “May said the police will have someone watch the house until after the fire inspector does his thing. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do when the cops finish with it. The damage to the outside wall leaves my bedroom wide open for any vandal or looter who wants in.”

  “Luckily, there aren’t a lot of those in Marietta.” Dylan walked over to her. “Maybe you can hire a night watchman until it can be repaired. We’ll figure it out.”

  “I know.” Fighting tears, she swallowed hard. She couldn’t remember the last time she really cried. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel things. She did, sometimes too much. But her job was such that she couldn’t afford to cry whenever something went wrong, or someone died, or anything bad happened. Those situations came up too often. No one wanted a trauma surgeon who couldn’t hold her shit together.

  That frame of mind spilled over into her personal life.

  Dylan pulled her into his arms and hugged her. “Sam, it’s okay to be upset. You don’t have to be so stoic.”

  She put her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. God, she wished she could let go. But she couldn’t. She didn’t dare. “Yes, I do.”

  He rubbed her back comfortingly. “Why? There’s no one else here but me. And I sure as hell won’t hold it against you.”

  “Because...it’s the only way I can function. I need to be in control of my emotions. I’m a surgeon, Dylan. I can’t afford to—to fall apart.”

  He didn’t say anything at first, just looked down at her, frowning. Then he said, “You’re not at the hospital. You’re not performing surgery. You’re a woman whose home was set on fire by a fucking maniac with a bomb. You’re entitled to feel whatever you feel.”

  “Of course I feel it! Just because I’m not breaking down in tears doesn’t mean I’m not sickened and scared about what the son of a bitch is planning next.” She pushed herself away from him and went back to tossing things into the bag. “Who the hell could it be?”

  “Didn’t you say May emailed you some pictures of suspects?”

  She nodded. “I haven’t had a chance to look at them.”

  “We can do that after you get some sleep. Where’s your computer?”

  “In the den, I think. I’ve got my tablet in my purse.”

  “Why don’t you go get your computer and whatever else you need from the rest of the house and put it in a pile? I can finish gathering your clothes while you do that.”

  “All right. Dylan?” He looked at her. “Thank you for being here.”

  “You don’t need to thank me. I love you. Where else would I be?”

  “I’m a very lucky woman.”

  He gave a wry laugh. “First time I’ve heard having a stalker described as being lucky.”

  “Not that. But I’m lucky to have you.” She kissed him and left to gather her things. The knot in her stomach wouldn’t disappear until they caught the man who’d done this. But until then, what new hell would he come up with since his plan to burn her alive hadn’t worked?

  Chapter Twenty

  Later that evening Dylan and Sam were finally able to sit down and look at the pictures of the suspects that May had emailed to Sam. He’d been busy with the ranch chores and as far as he could tell, Sam hadn’t sat down all day. She’d spent the day going back and forth between the ranch and her house. And she’d been on the phone nonstop too. Neither of them had gotten any sleep, and though Sam maintained she was accustomed to sleepless nights occasionally, Dylan thought she looked fragile enough to break.

  He didn’t like it. He hated seeing her so upset, and knowing there was nothing he could do to help her. Sam was one of the strongest women he’d ever known, but the fact that some crazy had set a fire in order to kill or maim her had done a number on her. Not that she’d admit it.

  They ate a late dinner that Glory had left for them.

  “Poor Shadow,” Sam said, glancing at him curled up on the floor beside her. “If I’m anywhere near him he won’t leave my side. And Glory said he frets whenever I leave him.”

  “He’s protecting you.”

  She reached down to stroke his head. “He sure did. You told me he’d protect me before I ever took him home. I couldn’t imagine why I’d need protection.”

  “I didn’t think you’d need it either. But Shadow seemed like a loyal dog, and he is.” Thank God. Changing the subject, he asked, “Do you want a glass of wine with dinner?”

  “I’d better not. I’d probably fall asleep in my plate.”

  “You can have one before bed, then.”

  “Okay.” They ate in silence for a bit then Sam said, “I talked to the arson investigator earlier. He questioned me, not that I think anything I told him helped. The bomb makes it clear the cause was arson, not accidental. He should receive word on the samples he sent off of the bomb and the accelerants used.”

  “That’s something, I guess. Have you talked to May again?”

  “Yes. She didn’t say anything new. Just that they’re investigating and not to talk to anyone but the police and my insurance company about the fire. I’m to send the insurance company a police report of the fire.”

  Noticing Sam was looking more drawn and tired by the minute, Dylan said, “We don’t have to look at those pictures tonight. You need sleep.”

  “No, I want to get it over with. I don’t expect we’ve seen any of these suspects around Marietta. But we have to look.”

  He didn’t argue. Partly because there was no point to it and partly because he thought it might make her sleep easier anyway.

  May had sent seven pictures of possible suspects along with a picture of Gary Baxter, the murderer who was presumed dead. They looked through the digital pictures together. None of them sparked any instant recognition. Disappointing, even though neither had expected that to happen.

  Dylan picked out one of the seven pictures and said, “Something about this one is familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “Let me mag it up.” She did so and they both stared at the picture.

  He looked like a mountain man. One who hadn’t seen a razor or a bath in months. Long, brown, bushy hair, a mustache and full beard was an effective screen for what he really looked like. His eyes, a strange silver color, held an insolent gleam, and his posture, even in a mug shot, was arrogant. Dylan could easily see the man beating up a woman or a child and enjoying it.

  Sam peered at the picture and frowned. “That’s Bill Wade. He went to prison for domestic violence and assault. Not too long before the Baxter case. He didn’t quite manage to kill hi
s wife, but it sure as hell wasn’t for lack of trying,” she added. “From what I understand, his wife, ex-wife, rather, managed to disappear during the time he was in prison. I testified against him, so he could easily have it in for me.”

  “Have you seen him anywhere in Marietta?”

  She shook her head regretfully. “No. He’d be hard to miss if he still looks like that. Not to mention his eyes are distinctive.” She shivered, which she tried to cover up.

  “Maybe he doesn’t. He could have changed his appearance.”

  Sam shut down the computer. “He could have, I guess. Hopefully it will come to you why he looks familiar. In the meantime, I’ve got to get some sleep.”

  “I’m with you there.”

  As tired as she was, Sam had thought she’d go right to sleep. No such luck. Dylan held her in his arms spooned together, back to front. Every now and then she thought he kissed the top of her head, though it was so gentle a touch she could be imagining it. Closing her eyes, she sought sleep again. Instead scene after scene of fire, smoke, sirens and the charred remains of most of her bedroom flashed through her mind.

  “Dylan? Are you asleep?”

  “No. But I thought you were. You’re bound to be exhausted.”

  “I am.” Beyond exhausted. “Every time I close my eyes I relive those first moments after Shadow woke me. The sound of the breaking glass, the fire from the bomb, and then when I turned on the light, smoke, fire and pure paralyzing fear. If it hadn’t been for Shadow I’m not sure I’d have gotten out of the bedroom in time.”

  “Yes, you would have. But thank God for Shadow all the same.” His arms tightened around her. He kissed the top of her head. “I can’t sleep either. Seeing your house, especially your bedroom, brought it home to me how close I came to losing you.”

  She turned in his arms and kissed him. “Make love to me, Dylan,” she whispered, and kissed him again.

  He pushed up the T-shirt she’d worn to bed and slipped it off over her head. He kissed her lips, the slow, deliberate thrusts of his tongue into her mouth mimicking the final act. Licking, kissing, he worked his way down her neck to her breasts, teasing and caressing each one until her nipples were hard, begging for more. Sam tugged on his hair, saying, “Kiss me.”

  He kissed her mouth, long and slow, arousing in itself.

  “Now just lie back and let me love you,” he said. She tangled her fingers in his hair and let him work his magic.

  He moved down her body, licking, sucking, kissing. Her back arched, her hips bucked as his fingers toyed with her, dipped inside her, played with her. She did what he’d asked, letting him arouse her, take her on a sensuous journey into oblivion. His mouth took the place of his fingers, teased her until she came, screaming.

  He thrust into her swollen flesh with long, driving strokes, faster and faster, her hands clutching his butt, pulling him ever closer until he drove into her a final time and came deep inside her.

  After a while, he rolled to his side, taking her with him. They slept in each other’s arms, tangled up in each other for the remainder of the night. In the morning she woke to Dylan’s kisses, his hands caressing her. Before long he was above her, sliding inside her, riding her gently until she climaxed as if in a dream.

  “Am I awake?” she wondered aloud.

  “I’m pretty sure you are,” he said, chuckling.

  “Dylan?” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Then pulled back to look into his eyes, mossy green and full of tenderness. “I love you.”

  Dylan stared at Sam. Did she mean it? Did she really love him or did she just think she did because she was glad to be alive?

  “Yes, I mean it. I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”

  “I didn’t realize I was so easy to read.”

  “To me you are.” She kissed him again. “And I really do love you. I have for a while now.”

  He took her face in his hands and kissed her. “I love you too.”

  “Much as I’d love to stay here, I have a wad of people to meet at my house.” Sam got out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom. A few minutes later he heard the shower come on.

  He got up and pulled on his jeans to take Shadow out. He’d been whining for a while now. Dylan was fairly certain that any attempt to separate Shadow from Sam for bedtime would be a complete waste of time. A good thing, really, since the dog had already proved himself by getting her out of that fire.

  Who the hell was out to get her? Damn it, he should be able to protect her, but he couldn’t. He smiled a little. She’d be the first to say she could take care of herself and wouldn’t especially welcome him hovering over her.

  But now she was living with him. He wished it had been voluntary rather than necessary, but he’d take it whichever way it happened.

  Dylan took Shadow out then left him in the kitchen with Glory while he went back upstairs to get dressed.

  Sam was just finishing getting dressed. “I heard some good news yesterday, but I never had time to tell you. And then the fire put everything else out of my head.”

  “No surprise there. What’s the news about?”

  “Gretchen Hoffman. The people at the women’s shelter where she went after she left the hospital were able to help her find a job in another city.”

  “That’s great. So she hasn’t gone back to the son of a bitch.”

  “Far from it. I think she’s left the state, although they wouldn’t tell me where she went. And she filed for divorce.”

  “Are you surprised?” Dylan asked her.

  “A little bit. She seemed unsure what she wanted to do, even after what she’d been through. What about you?”

  “Definitely. After you told me the statistics of how many women go back to their abusers, I’ve been worried as hell that Gretchen would become one of those statistics.”

  “Fortunately, she didn’t. Because of you.”

  “Me? You’re the one who got her to the hospital and convinced her to give the women’s shelter a try.”

  “But you’re the one she called. You’re the person she turned to. And you didn’t let her down.”

  “You’re giving me too much credit. We both helped her.”

  “I don’t have time to argue about who helped her more. We’ll call it a draw.” She sucked in a breath and squared her shoulders. “I’m going to the house. Is it all right if I leave Shadow here?”

  “Of course.” He walked to her and tipped up her chin, looking into her eyes. “Will you be okay? I can come with you if you want.”

  She reached up to touch his cheek. “I really appreciate the offer but I know you have a lot to do here. I’ll be fine.”

  He pulled her close and kissed her. “Call me if you need me. I have people who can handle things here if I need them to.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  In the two weeks since the fire and Sam moving in, Shadow and Trouble had grown even closer. The dog and the stallion clearly had a special bond. When she wasn’t working at the hospital, Sam usually took Shadow with her. But since she worked a lot that left Shadow with Dylan a good bit of the time. He liked Dylan fine, got along well with the rest of the dogs, horses, barn cats and other assorted animals and people.

  But he flat-out adored Sam and Trouble. Dylan had worried a little at first that without Sam around Shadow might run off, but he needn’t have worried. The dog apparently knew a good thing when he had it.

  Sam hadn’t had much free time to spend with Trouble, but something had mellowed the stallion. Dylan suspected it was his bond with the dog that had done it, or certainly contributed. At any rate, Trouble allowed Dylan to start training him. When Shadow was around the horse was as gentle as a lamb. One afternoon Dylan left Trouble in the round pen with Connor and Shadow in his usual spot nearby while he went to the tack room to get a lightweight saddle to try on the horse. He’d just gone inside when he heard the door open.

  “Hey, I wondered where you were. Connor said he thought you’d come in here.�
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  Sam came in, shutting the door behind her.

  “Hi. I didn’t expect to see you back this early. Not that I mind,” he added, pulling her into his arms and kissing her. It didn’t take long until he thought about doing a lot more than just kissing. Sam put her arms around his neck and leaned in to him. She must have come straight from the hospital because she still wore her scrubs. He slid one hand over her butt and pulled her closer. “I missed you.”

  Sam laughed but didn’t move away. “We saw each other this morning.”

  “So? Morning was a long time ago.” He reached behind her and locked the door.

  “Don’t you have work to do?”

  “Nothing that can’t wait.” He slipped a hand beneath her scrub top and rubbed her breast through her bra. They kissed, tongues tangling, straining against each other. “I want you,” he told her, pushing her top up and pulling it off over her head before tossing it aside.

  Her hand was rubbing his cock through his jeans. “I could kind of tell.” Since she’d started unbuckling and unzipping him, he took that as assent. He boosted her up and she wrapped her legs around him, while she still tried to work her hand down inside his boxers. He sucked in a breath when she found bare skin.

  Looking around for a place to sit, he spied a wooden chair. He carried her over to it, let her slide down his body, wringing a groan from both of them.

  “Take these off,” she said, trying to push his jeans down his legs.

  “You first.”

  She stood back, untied her scrubs, let them drop and stepped out of them. Dylan managed to yank off his boots and push his jeans and boxers down and off. Sam pushed him back to sit on the chair and he helped her climb on top of him. “You still have on your panties.”