Rescued by the Colton Cowboy

by Deborah Fletcher Mello

  “That sounded like an old man burp. That’s not pretty, kid. Boys will think it’s funny when you’re nine. But it won’t be cute when you’re nineteen.”

  Lyra burped again.

  Palmer chuckled softly. He nuzzled his face against her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of baby powder. “Old Jack and I will always be here if you need us, okay? Don’t you ever forget that,” he whispered against her cheek.

  Palmer felt his heart swell and the wealth of emotion surprised him. His concern for the baby’s well-being was tangible, building like bricks on a wall. He instinctively knew he would fight tooth and nail to keep her from harm, and nothing and no one would keep him from protecting her.

  He sat her on his lap, one large hand supporting her belly and the other gently caressing her back. Together, they were comfortable in the small recliner that decorated the room.

  Lyra suddenly screeched, throwing herself toward Jack, who’d dropped his head onto Palmer’s thigh. She grabbed two fistfuls of fur and held on, attempting to chew on the animal’s ear. Jack licked her face, washing away remnants of milk with his tongue.

  “Eww!” Palmer exclaimed, frowning. “Dog drool. Now you need a bath, little girl.” He shook his head, holding her upright as she clawed at his dog and the dog nuzzled her in return. He felt a smile, full and expansive, lift his lips and chuckled again. “Something tells me you two are going to be trouble together.”

  Chapter 8

  Soledad’s eyes misted with tears as she tried not to cry into the royal icing she was preparing for the cake. Eavesdropping on Palmer as he’d tended to Lyra had pushed her to the edge of emotional overload. She was surprised by his tenderness with the baby, most especially knowing his disinterest in having children of his own. But he’d been so sweet and funny and entertaining that it had served to remind her of all the good that could be found in people if one just took the time to look.

  For a man who was not interested in being anyone’s father, Palmer played the role quite well. Had Lyra been blessed with a dad like that, things would be vastly different. Annie would still be alive, her little family at home and happy. Soledad would be in the bakery putting the finishing touches on the next day’s orders...and Palmer Colton would only be a fleeting fantasy. She couldn’t help but wonder if they would ever have become friends if she hadn’t shown up needing to be rescued. She suddenly thought of Gavin and how horrific he had been as a father and as a husband, and her stomach flipped remembering that he was still out there. Still a threat to their safety.

  It had gone quiet in the other room, just a low hum echoing out of the speaker. Then Palmer began to sing. He was a pitch-perfect baritone, his voice thick and rich like sorghum molasses. Soledad stopped what she was doing to listen as he serenaded Lyra. It took her a moment to realize he was singing “Can You Feel the Love Tonight?” from Disney’s The Lion King and singing it quite beautifully. By the time he finished, happy tears were streaming down Soledad’s face and she’d ruined a batch of her icing.

  * * *

  Palmer woke with a start. Lyra lay asleep on his chest, the two of them still sitting in the oversize chair that adorned the room. The little girl actually snored, and her soft snorts made Palmer smile. He took a slow, deep breath. As he blew it out, his chest falling, Lyra jumped ever so slightly. Palmer tapped her gently against her back.

  He looked around the room, not knowing what time it was or how long he’d been asleep. So much for being a helping hand in the kitchen, he thought. He could only begin to imagine what Soledad must be thinking about him. Jack was sprawled across the queen-size bed, alone. There was no sign of Soledad.

  He shifted forward in the seat, then stood slowly. Moving to the crib, he laid the infant down gently, then draped a cotton receiving blanket over her. He stared down at her, bemused that she could slumber so peacefully. He wondered if she had always been an easy baby or if there had been days and weeks of endless screaming and hours of no sleep for her parents. He brushed the pad of his finger across her forehead, taking a wisp of hair out of her face.

  She was a cute little thing. And if she were his, there was no way he’d ever let her out of his sight. How her father could put her at risk baffled him, and then he thought of his own sperm donor and things he had done. Not everyone was meant to be a parent, Palmer thought, and too many folks should never have had kids.

  Jack suddenly nuzzled his hand for attention.

  “You need to go out, Jack?” Palmer questioned. “Come on, then,” he said as the two eased out of the bedroom and headed for the kitchen.

  It was dead quiet in the front room. Soledad’s carrot cake sat on the counter and it was exquisite. The three tiers had been covered in fondant. She’d piped a floral design in black royal icing, the detailed outline showcasing her talent. He wasn’t sure how she’d finished the areas of color that gave the cake its stained-glass effect, but he was duly impressed with her work. He imagined her friend Rachel would be, as well.

  Soledad lay on the sofa, her back propped on a mound of pillows. She’d wrapped one of the wool blankets over her torso and was sleeping soundly. Palmer found himself staring, awed by how beautiful she was. Her hair was loose, the length of it framing her face. The warm temperature in the room complemented her olive complexion. She was glowing, and looked as angelic as Lyra when she slept. Jack nuzzled his hand again, more persistent about going outside.

  “Okay, dog. Okay,” Palmer muttered, tearing his eyes from the young woman. “You’re a nuisance, do you know that?”

  Jack panted, clearly disinterested in Palmer’s opinion. When Palmer opened the door to let him out, he took off running, disappearing into the darkness.

  When Palmer turned back around, he was surprised to find Soledad sitting upright, staring at him. She pulled a hand to her eyes and rubbed the sleep away.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “I didn’t mean to doze off,” she answered, giving him a slight smile. “You and Lyra were napping so peacefully I didn’t want to wake you. I sat out here to catch my breath and that’s all I remember.”

  “I hadn’t planned to fall asleep, either,” he said. “I think the stress of the past forty-eight hours finally caught up with us both.”

  “I’m actually surprised I was able to relax,” Soledad said with a soft sigh. “I feel safe here.”

  Something in her words suddenly had him thinking about the future and what time would eventually bring to them. What would happen when it was all over, and they went back to their own circles? When she no longer needed his protection, and they went back to being passing acquaintances? He was glad she felt safe, but he couldn’t let himself forget that it was only temporary. That he couldn’t keep either of them forever. A wave of melancholy hit him in the chest and he blew a wistful sigh past his lips. He shook the thoughts from his head and changed the subject as he moved to the refrigerator. “I’m hungry. Can I get you something?”

  “What are you having?”

  “I have some sliced turkey in the fridge. I can make us sandwiches,” he answered.

  Soledad nodded as she threw her legs off the sofa. “A turkey sandwich works for me. Do you have any cranberry sauce?”

  He grinned. “That’s the only way to eat a turkey sandwich.”

  “It would be sheer perfection if you also had some stuffing.”

  Palmer laughed. “You’re a foodie after my own heart. Tell me you also like grilled cheese.”

  “I’ll have to make you my very special grilled Swiss on rye with bacon and tomato.”

  “Okay, that does sound good, but not as good as my four-cheese grilled cheese on toasted garlic bread. Or my grilled Brie with ham, caramelized onions and apple compote.”

  “I do my grilled Brie with candied bacon and apricot jam.”

  “It sounds like you and I are going to have to have a grilled
-cheese runoff to find the best sandwich.”

  Soledad laughed. “You’ll lose. You know that, right?”

  “Says you, but I’d put my money on me and my favorite cast-iron grilled-cheese pan. I bet you don’t have a pan specifically for grilled cheese.”

  She giggled. “You might have me beat there.”

  “The pan is important to the artistry of grilled cheese. Much like your cake pans are important to your cakes.”

  “Touché!”

  He grinned, the smile full and wide. She made him laugh, her quick wit fueling the smart quips. He liked that she didn’t take herself, or him, too seriously. He suddenly realized he was going to miss it when she wasn’t there anymore, the thought like a punch to his midsection. He took a deep breath and held it.

  Palmer suddenly cocked his head to the side. His mood shifted from relaxed to tense in the blink of an eye as he tossed her a look. “Did you hear that?” he breathed loudly as he hurried to the door.

  Soledad whispered back, “Hear what?”

  As Palmer pulled open the door, the noise was clearer. Jack was barking, making a loud fuss about something. He clearly wasn’t happy. And then the dog cried out as if something or someone had caused him pain.

  “Bedroom. Now!” Palmer snapped as he shut off the lights, darkening the room. The hall gave off just enough illumination for them both to still see. He reached for the rifle that rested by the door where he’d last placed it and rushed out into the late-night air, slamming the door behind him.

  * * *

  Soledad ran quickly to the guest bedroom to check on Lyra. The baby was sleeping, undisturbed by whatever was going on. She debated whether she would stay in place and lock the two of them inside but decided fairly quickly that a good defense was an even better offense. Rushing back to the kitchen, she grabbed the largest butcher knife in his knife collection and braced herself for a fight, her eyes dancing between the door and the windows.

  Waiting for something to happen, for anything to bring this to an end, was painful at best. It had her head spinning and she was feeling completely out of control. Soledad paced back and forth, then hurried to the door and flung it open. She stared out into the dark, hoping for a glimpse of Palmer, or Jack, or any friendly face that wasn’t wanting to cause them harm. She tilted her head to listen for any sound or noise that would calm her nerves and let her know that all was well.

  But calm didn’t come, terror taking its place instead. Gunshots rang through the air. Bang! Bang! Bang! One explosion after another echoed too close for comfort. The shots sounded like they were being fired from a small-caliber handgun, and knowing that pushed her emotions right to the edge. She heard Palmer’s rifle fire once, and then hearing it a second time sent her over the edge into an abyss.

  The next few minutes felt like an eternity. Panic washed over Soledad in heavy waves. Her mind was mush, every awful thing she could imagine once again playing out like some dark thriller on a big screen. She cursed. Loudly. The level of profanity was the stuff of sailors and adolescent boys discovering they could use their lengthy list of bad words in a complete sentence.

  Unable to fathom who was shooting, or what she needed to do, Soledad slammed the door closed. She backed herself against the counter, prepared to knife any stranger who came through the door.

  It suddenly felt like a perfect storm had converged around them. Just as Soledad mentally prepared herself for the worst, the house alarm sounded, a deep, loud siren that screeched like fingernails against a chalkboard. Just then, Palmer came barreling through the entrance, shouting her name. Jack limped in beside him, panting heavily. A streak of bright red blood matted the white fur on his chest. The house phone began to ring, and as if on cue, Lyra started crying at the top of her little lungs.

  * * *

  Palmer moved to Soledad’s side, pressing a warm palm to her cheek. “Are you okay?” he asked, his gaze skipping over her face as concern seeped from his eyes.

  She shook her head, tears beginning to rise in her eyes. “No. You scared me. I thought you were dead!” She tossed the knife in her hand onto the marble counter.

  He smiled. “I don’t plan to go down that easy. Besides, I still need to get myself right with God. Maybe go to church a time or two,” he joked.

  Soledad rolled her eyes skyward, not at all amused at his attempt at humor. She was Catholic and you didn’t play when it came to the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. “Was it Gavin? Was it him shooting at you?”

  Palmer shrugged. “Probably, but I’m not sure. They were too far away for me to see exactly, but they shot first and I shot back! I think I hit whoever it was. He’s bleeding, I know that.” He moved to the alarm box and entered in the passcode to stop the siren. Lyra was still crying, her wails having transitioned to a full-scale sob.

  The phone had stopped ringing but began again. “That’s the alarm service,” Palmer said. “I’m sure they’ve already dispatched the police. You’ll need to stay out of sight unless you’re ready to come out of hiding.”

  “No,” she answered with a shake of her head.

  “Then my bedroom is the safest place. Lock the door. The room is soundproof, so even if Lyra cries, they won’t hear you.”

  Soledad eyed him oddly. “Why is your master bedroom soundproof?”

  “I’m a screamer when I orgasm,” he said nonchalantly.

  Soledad blinked, her lashes batting up and down as she stared at him. “Are you serious?”

  He laughed. “No. I just thought it would lighten the moment.”

  She shook her head. She bit back her snarky response as Lyra’s cries got louder, the baby girl on the verge of hysteria.

  Soledad shook her head. “My poor baby. I need to settle Lyra down,” she said as she scurried down the length of the hallway to the guest bedroom.

  Palmer finally answered the phone. “This is Palmer Colton... Yes...yes...the code is 547893... Yes...there was an intruder... I think I shot him... Yes...thank you.” He hung up, his eyes turning toward Jack, who looked like he’d just gone ten rounds in a heavyweight fight.

  “Hey, big boy,” he said, grabbing a dishrag from the counter and dropping to the floor to inspect the dog’s injuries. He swiped at the blood on the dog’s fur, grateful that it wasn’t his. Jack licked his hand, then lay against the tiled floor and closed his eyes. Giving in to the exhaustion, he began to snore softly.

  Outside, the first police car was pulling onto the property. The car lights were flashing, and the siren sounded. Palmer stood as two additional patrol cars followed behind it.

  Soledad rushed into the kitchen, to the refrigerator. She grabbed a bottle of milk from inside. Lyra was in her arms, no longer crying. The baby looked around, trying to make sense of the moment. Palmer pressed his hand to Soledad’s arm and leaned in to kiss the child’s forehead. Lyra grabbed at his chin and giggled.

  “Do you need to warm that?” he asked, gesturing at the baby bottle.

  Soledad shook her head as she stole a quick glance out the bay window. “I’ll run it under hot water in the bathroom. It’ll warm quickly.”

  He nodded. “Just lock the door. I’ll do my best to keep them out of the house,” he said softly. He gave her a gentle pat against her back, his touch like the sweetest balm. Then he headed outside to meet with the officers.

  * * *

  Palmer wasn’t prepared when the silver Honda Accord pulled in line with the Grave Gulch police cars in front of his home. He had already given a statement to the first officers who’d arrived on-site. They had confiscated his rifle and were now canvasing the property for signs of the intruder who had fired on him and possibly taken a bullet for his efforts. The line of flashlights waving about in the distance was formidable. Their bright glow against the dark canvas was slightly eerie. But whoever had breached the property had come in on foot, not having the code to unlock the gates, and the
officers were walking the fields to make sure there was no body there.

  He wasn’t surprised when Troy stepped out of the driver’s side of the car, but he had not anticipated his cousin Stanton’s exit from the passenger side. He groaned, not in the mood for what he knew would come. The two men hurried to his side and it started as soon as he greeted them.

  “Detective Colton. Mr. Colton. I’m surprised to see you two. What brings you here this time of night?” he said facetiously.

  “We were enjoying a late dinner with Evangeline and Dominique when we heard the call on Troy’s police scanner,” Stanton answered.

  “Are you okay?” Troy asked as the two men embraced.

  “I’ve been better,” Palmer answered. “It’s not every day someone is shooting at you on your own property.”

  “No, it’s not. Did you see who it was? Was it anyone you recognized?”

  Palmer shrugged. “It was too dark. Someone was firing at me and I fired back. Two shots. And whoever it was kicked my dog. But I think one of my shots landed. Either that or Jack bit a good chunk out of him and made him bleed.”

  Troy laughed. “I was wondering where Jack was. He’s usually right by your side.”

  “He was traumatized. He’s in the house, shaking it off.”

  Stanton shook his head. “Do you think this was personal? Did you piss someone off?”

  “No,” Palmer said firmly. “I don’t think it has anything at all to do with me.”

  Troy nodded. “You might be right. We heard from Soledad today. She witnessed that shooting last night. She’s scared and won’t come in. We’ve had teams out looking for the husband most of the day. We think he might still be in the area and we’re sure he’s looking for Soledad, too. Someone trashed her apartment before we got there this afternoon.”

  “You think it might have been him?” Palmer asked.