by Christa Wick
“You’re the boss,” she said, her words starting to slur from the painkiller.
Gaze jumping between Ashley’s trusting, beautiful face and the luscious body I wanted to hold and stroke, I backed out of the room and returned to the kitchen.
I pulled two frozen ice packs from the refrigerator. I had picked up several re-usable ones at the pharmacy plus the chemical kind that were instantly cold but only good for one use. I put the re-usable ones in the freezer and returned to the bedroom.
I didn’t expect any different, but Ashley remained as I had left her. The t-shirt didn’t cover as low as I thought, giving me an inviting view of pale, rounded thighs disappearing into lace panties. Further up Ashley’s body, the thin material tented where it reached her erect nipples.
The sight of her took my breath away all over again. Knees banging together, I made it to the closet and grabbed a couple more t-shirts to use as a barrier between the ice packs and her skin. Slowly and oh-so-carefully, I placed the packs then crawled onto the bed next to her.
"I wish…" Her lips continued to move, slow but restless as the medication claimed more of her control.
"Wish what, Ash?"
Chewing at one corner of her lip, she reached out, found my hand and dragged it until it rested atop the front panel of her panties.
"Hadn't said no," she slurred.
But she had, and with the medication flowing through her blood, she was in no shape to say "yes."
With my head by Ashley’s, I stroked softly against the front of her mound, my fingers never dipping beneath the fabric that separated us. I stroked until she fell asleep. Staring at her relaxed features, I waited until the time for icing expired. Refastening the boot, I kept checking her face for any sign of discomfort.
Finished, I pulled the blanket over Ashley. I caressed the line of her mouth once and then I kissed her.
“My baby,” I repeated before returning to the front room to spend the night sleeping on the recliner.
18
Ashley
“Desk and outreach only,” Moske bellowed as he repeated his command. “And you can kiss your intern goodbye. I’m sending Crane up to Kalispell where they actually need help.”
Teeth sinking into a pencil so I wouldn’t bellow back, I waited until the man ran out of steam.
“In fact, I’ve got just the outreach job for you coming up,” he yelled, the sound of him furiously striking at his keyboard audible over his warbling baritone. “There’s some Pioneer Women’s thing…I’ll email you the details. You’ll need to find a historical outfit. At least the dress will hide your cast. Your appearance was already an embarrassment.”
I opened my mouth and let the pencil fall to my desk. Glaring at the phone, I tightened my grip on the receiver. Not only had Moske just said he was taking me off the case and putting me in a dress, but he wanted to bring my weight into it, too?
“It’s not a good thing when your supervisor feels sorry for you, Callahan.”
“No, sir,” I monotoned.
“It’s actually pretty pathetic.”
I stayed silent. I certainly wasn’t going to agree with the blowhard on that point.
“Can’t snap my fingers and make you thin, but you will stop being pathetic, Callahan. You will obey me,” he snarled. “This thing at the LC isn’t worth pursuing. Use the time to finish clearing Deacon’s junk out of the office. Send it to storage if you don’t want to shred it. When he dies, I’ll just order it incinerated.”
Hearing the venom in Moske’s voice, I picked up my pencil and jotted down a note.
Moske dislikes Deacon?
“Yes, sir,” I chirped. “Looking forward to that email, sir.”
My tongue retracted like I’d physically licked the man’s boot rather than pretending to do it with my patently fake enthusiasm for his suggested tasks.
“Anything else, sir?”
“No!” he snapped. “You’ve wasted enough of my time. You tell Crane he’s to report to Barr Monday morning.”
“Roger that, sir.” I hung up at the same time, the muscles of my face finally relaxing. At least Moske had given me one last day of using Thomas. That was better than a kick to the shin.
I winced at the thought of an actual kick.
“You okay?” Thomas asked, coming in with takeout for our lunches.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “You’re to report to Kalispell Monday.”
Sinking into the chair on his side of the desk, he groaned. “Not Barr again.”
“Sorry. Moske said I was to kiss you goodbye.”
The kid rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to think what Walker Turk would do to me if you did.”
I dropped my chin, my hand moving swiftly to cover my mouth. I’d had Tuesday and Wednesday alone in my apartment with Walker. The man had been insanely sweet, taking care of me like no one ever had. That I allowed all the coddling both pleased and confused me.
It wasn’t really my bag, was it? Letting someone look after me, letting go of the reins of control for any amount of time. Was it just my leg, or would I be able to give up some of my precious self-determination after my body healed?
I worried that, if I couldn’t, Walker would leave just like Nolan had. And, unlike Nolan, I knew I would miss my lumberjack cowboy if he faded from my life.
“Well,” I sighed, handing Thomas a sheet of paper filled top to bottom with my messy scrawl. “Get this done before you go and you won’t have to find out.”
He looked over the tasks I wanted him to complete. We both figured the raft wouldn’t have any prints and it would take weeks to get the results if it did because there was no active case at the moment. But the raft was brand new and expensive enough it would have been purchased at an outfitter instead of the sports section at a discount department store. So, among other things, I tasked Thomas with sending the picture from the driver’s license and the trail cam capture of the giant to all the outfitters between Billings and Willow Gap.
“When you’re done with that, tape up the boxes.”
“It’s a shame,” Thomas said, looking at the stacks that surrounded us. “Except for Moske, everyone says Deacon was a great agent.”
“Except for Moske,” I replied. “Everyone is right.”
19
Walker
I didn’t leave Billings when Ashley went back to work. I drove her to the federal building in the morning, took an early lunch with Emerson then returned to Ashley’s apartment and managed my timber operations from a cell phone and laptop. A little after four, I got in my truck, returned to the federal building and waited for her to finish her day. Just as I had each night from Monday forward, I slept on her recliner, my longer, wider frame spilling over.
I didn’t have to sleep on the recliner. She told me that point blank. We both trusted I could keep my hands to myself no matter the temptation she presented. But Ashley didn’t need jostled in the middle of the night. And I needed a break from being next to her, feeling her heat, hearing her breathe. Too much of that and I would confess my love.
Yeah, love. And, if Ashley was as sane as I thought she was—as sane as I used to think myself—such an outburst of devotion and admiration would send her hobbling away as fast as her soft cast and crutches would allow.
Come Friday, I had plans that didn’t include another uncomfortable night in a house with next to no furniture. I packed a bag for Ashley, its contents everything I could think of that a woman would need for a weekend at the ranch. Tossing the luggage in the back of the truck's cab, I pulled into the parking lot behind her office a little before five and waited.
At ten after five, Ashley and Thomas exited their building. Standing by the passenger door, I waved. I would have driven right up to the building, but she’d insisted she wanted me to park.
So I waited, the caveman part of my brain wishing I could scoop her up, carry her to the truck and tuck her safely into the cab.
“Off to Kalispell, is it?” I asked as Thomas reached the truck with Ashley.<
br />
The young man handed me Ashley’s computer bag.
“Believe me,” he complained. “I’d rather stay here. They’re putting a database together and Barr is just going to shovel data entry and testing onto me.”
“You haven’t even realized the worst part, have you?” Ashley snickered, her shoulder against the truck to shift the weight off her leg. “You’re going to be the poor schmuck who knows that database the best. And when the agency makes you an offer—”
“No.” Thomas whipped his head side-to-side. “I’m not going to be that intern.”
Ashley patted his chest the way a big sister might. “Then I suggest you walk very carefully along the tightrope between winding up the database guy or the intern who didn’t get an offer.”
“But you’ll put in a good word for me, right?” he asked, his face turning a queasy green.
“Of course,” Ashley answered with another pat then reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “Especially if, while being intentionally slower at those database tasks, you follow up on this list.”
He unfolded the sheet, head bobbing as he read. Finished, he slid the list into his back pocket. “Consider me your man in Kalispell.”
Swinging his hand forward, Thomas offered it first to Ashley then to me.
“You’re welcome in Willow Gap,” I told Thomas right before the kid took off at a light jog toward his own vehicle.
“Now,” Ashley said, beaming a smile at me. “Want to tell me why you looked suspiciously nervous when I came out of the building?”
I could have lied, said I was worried that she might have overexerted the bad leg, but as soon as we pulled out of the parking lot and headed north, she would know there was more to my answer.
I gestured for her to step away from the rear door. Reaching into the back of the cab, I unzipped the bag I had packed, flipped the lid and moved so she could inspect the contents.
“Probably more than you need for a weekend.”
“A weekend where?” she softly inquired.
“Mama’s. Unless there’s some kind of Fish and Wildlife emergency, I’ll bring you back Sunday night.”
“I understand your need to return to Willow Gap,” she started.
“That’s not it.” Opening the passenger door, I motioned for her to get in. “No point you standing on that leg while we talk about it.”
Ashley passed the crutches off to me then accepted my arm as a brace stepping up. Her lips mashed together so hard their edges turned white.
“Okay?” I asked.
She nodded, her expression drawn tight with pain.
I stowed the crutches then climbed behind the wheel. Twisting in my seat, I looked at her.
“I’m not criticizing your lack of furniture,” I began. “I understand why you’re waiting. But being in bed with the cast is hurting other parts of your body. There’s also more than one walk-in shower with handrails at the ranch. I don’t have any nails left to chew through while you’re cleaning up behind a closed door.”
A wan smile softened her features.
“You’re right, but I don’t want to impose on your mother.”
“It’s not imposing. She’s excited to see you again.”
Reading the retreat in Ashley’s body language, I reached over and squeezed her hand.
“She’s in the Pioneer Women’s Festival, too. Wants to help you with your outfit. She already has one that she just needs to alter a bit once she has your measurements.”
I could see Ashley thinking the offer over. That she had to think about it, evaluate it, made me a little sad. I had heard Ashley’s side of the conversation with her parents the day after she went to Urgent Care. I was pretty sure she only called them because I expected it. To me, the conversation sounded like her mother had moved straight from a brief report that Ashley was in a cast to talking about a community plan the woman was working on.
I couldn’t imagine any of my relatives doing that, couldn’t imagine the way the call had ended less than five minutes after it started. But knowing just how brief and distant the mother-daughter talk was gave me a foundation for understanding Ashley’s hesitance in all things personal.
“Mama doesn’t invite people over if that’s not what she wants.”
Bringing Ashley’s hand to my lips, I kissed at the inside of her wrist, her pulse fluttering at my touch.
“You’re right," she said. "I’d love to go.”
Grinning, I leaned across the center console, tilted her chin up and pressed my mouth to hers, the warm pliancy of her lips making my own pulse race wildly.
Settling back into my seat, I turned the key in the ignition.
“Right then, let’s get you home.”
20
Ashley
Home, I thought, sitting on one of the two couches in the great room of the Turk ranch house. That’s what Walker had said. Certain I was overthinking things, I couldn’t help but wonder if he meant his home or a place that was, or at least could be, my home, too.
Something in the way he had said it, his tone, his smile, the green eyes glittering at me—one or all of those things had set my mind to speculating. It didn’t clear things up that he actually owned a house on the other side of the county.
“This,” Siobhan said, coming through the doors from the dining room with a tray in hand. “Is Betty Rae’s Mint Elixir. If there’s ever going to be a cure for the common cold, this will be it.”
“Ash busted her leg,” Sutton deadpanned from where he sat on the opposing couch. “You sure you work law enforcement, baby girl?”
“You can pour your own, Sutton Lee,” she grumbled. She put the tray down and filled a cup for me. “It’s good for restoring energy, I find. Definitely makes for an awesome hangover cure.”
“Thank you.” I took a sip and then another, the flavor rolling around on my tongue. “Well, I don’t feel my bones remodeling, but it certainly is refreshing.”
“Oh,” a feminine voice chirped. “I hope Betty Rae brought more than one gallon over.”
I recognized the speaker as Sage, Adler’s wife, before the woman came into view. Adler followed her into the seating area a few seconds later. Leah walked with him, her small hand curled around his pinkie finger. The conch was missing, but she was back in the grass skirt, the garland of fabric flowers double looped to form a crown instead of worn around her neck.
“You come up with anything?” Adler asked after giving his cousin a peck on the cheek.
“I’ve been to every outfitter and every other kind of business in the county with pictures and questions about the raft,” Siobhan answered.
She took a seat on the same couch as me while Adler sat next to his brother, Leah on his lap and Sage on his other side.
“Is that a ‘no’?” Sutton asked.
Siobhan pinched the pleat on her uniform pants, her gaze flicking at Sutton.
“Nothing yet,” she admitted. “At least now that we have Joyce Franco’s complaint, we don’t have to leave it to the Feds.”
Casting a guilty look at me, Siobhan smiled.
“No offense.”
“None taken,” I answered. “I’m glad for all the help your office has provided.”
“No,” Sage warned in a low voice as Leah seemed to take an interest in how the furniture had been rearranged because of my arrival.
Both Sutton and I needed to elevate our legs, Sutton his right and, for me, the left one. We each had an ottoman and faced one another on our respective couches. Together with the coffee table between the two couches, the ottomans eliminated the regularly placed walk-through.
“No, Honey Bee,” Sage warned again as Leah slid off Adler’s lap and got on her hands and knees. “What does Gam-Gam say about crawling under tables out here?”
Leah lifted her head, just her big green eyes visible. She stared directly at me, her gaze dancing with a mischief that, in turn, brought a smile to my lips.
“Oh, she’s got an appreci
ative audience,” Sutton laughed. “You’re not getting her to behave now.”
“Honey Bee,” Adler growled.
The tone wasn’t mean, but it sobered the little girl. Her shoulders lifted and held, the small mouth forming an argumentative pout.
“You follow Gam-Gam’s rules out here and we’ll make a blanket fort for reading time.”
The toddler’s face opened in wonder. Her hands lifted in the air, the palms exposed and fingers dancing. Climbing back onto her uncle’s lap, she patted his face.
“That’s my Addy.”
“I’m not sure which one of them has the other trained,” Sage laughed.
“Honey Bee is the boss,” Sutton answered. “She can even make me want a kid.”
“You know you need a wife first, right?”
Sutton shot his older brother an eye roll while Sage pulled a worried face.
“A wife and someplace closer than Roundup for emergency care!”
She finished with an anxious glance at my leg.
Adler kissed her cheek. “You’ll work it out, love.”
Love…
I let the word echo in my head, suddenly wishing Walker was with me instead of making a quick trip to inspect the work his crew had accomplished while he was in Billings playing nursemaid.
“What’s that you’re talking about?” Siobhan asked. “Are you…uh…”
Falling silent, she moved her hand in front of her stomach in an exaggerated half-circle.
Sage laughed. “No. I’m trying to get a grant for Willow Gap so we can have a local urgent care clinic. It really doesn’t make sense not having one with all the tourists at the parks and all the ranches and timber operations.”
“Good luck finding a doctor,” Siobhan grumbled. “We tried a twice weekly wellness clinic three years ago and couldn’t even keep a nurse.”
Leaning against the couch back, I took a sip of her “elixir” and enjoyed the easy banter between Walker’s family members. It was a little like the exchanges I remembered from my early days of law enforcement. Unfortunately, the more experience an FWS agent had, the more isolated the job became.
