A Ranger For Christmas (Linda Lael Miller Presents; Men 0f The West Book 40)

by Stella Bagwell

  Oh, Lord, what was happening? What was she doing?

  “Viv, are you okay?”

  The huskily spoken question brought her gaze up to his face and the moment their eyes met, she felt something pierce the middle of her chest.

  “Uh—yes, of course. I’m...sorry, Sawyer. I didn’t mean to...cling to you like that. It’s just that—” Shaking her head, she looked away from him, then swallowed hard. “Come on, let’s go back down to the victim. We can search the rest of the trail later on.”

  “Right,” he said. “The paramedics should be arriving soon. One of us needs to be at the trailhead to show them the way.”

  “I’ll go down and wait for them.”

  She turned and started down the rocky path, only to have Sawyer catch her by the arm.

  “Wait, Viv.”

  She paused, but couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Especially with his hand wrapped so possessively around her upper arm. Just the simple touch of his fingers jolted her senses.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Would you rather me stay with Mr. Roberts?”

  “No. I...want to make sure you’re all right.”

  She’d never be all right, she thought ruefully. Or, at the very least, never be the same now that she’d stood in the circle of his arms. But she couldn’t let him know that.

  “Don’t worry,” she assured him. “I’m not going to take the vapors on you.”

  His fingers eased against her flesh, then moved gently up and down her arm. Vivian knew she should step away and put a decent amount of space between them. But his touch was something she couldn’t resist.

  “No,” he said with a dose of humor. “I don’t believe you’re the fainting kind. But in case you need me, my cell is in my pocket. Ring it.”

  Yesterday, in spite of her protest that she didn’t need it, he’d given her his personal cell number. Reluctantly, she’d added it to her contact list, while promising herself she’d have to be in a dire emergency before she’d call it. Yet today it was a comfort to know she had that connection to him.

  She gave him a thumbs-up and hurried on down the trail, while thinking she was growing far too close to him in far too short a time. But how on earth was she going to stop this rapid fall for the man, when everything inside her heart was pining to be near him?

  Chapter Six

  More than two hours later, after Stan Roberts had been hauled away in an ambulance and his wife notified, Vivian and Sawyer gave all the information they had to the local law officials, then headed back to headquarters to give Mort a detailed rundown of the incident.

  “This is not the norm around here,” Mort said to Sawyer. “Yes, accidents happen, but it’s rare that assaults occur. I’m just glad the Christmas festivities haven’t yet started. We don’t want park guests to get spooked and think it’s unsafe to spend the holiday with us.”

  “Are you going to put out bulletins advising folks to be vigilant while out on the hiking trails?” Vivian asked.

  “That won’t be decided until I talk to my supervisors,” he told her. “It would be nice if the culprits can be apprehended. That would solve a lot of problems.”

  “After things settled down, Sawyer and I made the trek over to the valley, but we didn’t see anything out of the ordinary over there. I doubt the creeps that jumped Mr. Roberts went that far on the trail,” Vivian said to Mort.

  “Viv and I showed the deputies where the altercation occurred, but they didn’t find any kind of clues at the spot. Guess Mr. Roberts’s descriptions are the most they have to go on. Unless they find any park visitors who might have seen a pair of suspicious characters.”

  Raking a hand through his rusty red hair, Mort paced around the small office for a brief moment, then paused to look at the both of them.

  “Guess it’s a little late in coming, but good work, you two. You handled everything right.”

  Not everything, Vivian thought. She’d come close to having a meltdown. If it hadn’t been for Sawyer comforting her when he had, she’d probably have collapsed to the ground and sobbed uncontrollably. The uncharacteristic reaction had left her more than unsettled, it had left her doubting her ability as a ranger.

  “Thank you, Mort,” Sawyer said. “I may not have handled the situation like Louis, but I appreciate your praise.”

  He leveled a droll look at Sawyer. “While you’re here at Lake Pleasant, don’t be thinking you need to be like Louis. You need to be Ranger Whitehorse and nobody else. Got it?”

  Sawyer grinned at the backhanded compliment. “Yes, sir. I got it.”

  Mort glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s only an hour before your shift ends. You two have already done enough for the day.” Mort motioned them out of the office. “Go over to the cantina and have some coffee or something. I’ll see you two Monday.”

  Outside, the two of them walked around the end of the headquarters building and across a grassy slope toward a small building where snacks and drinks were always available to rangers and park maintenance workers.

  “I never imagined today to turn out like this,” Vivian said as she walked alongside Sawyer.

  “That’s one of the things I like about being a ranger,” Sawyer said. “You never know what’s going to happen from one day to the next.”

  “So you like the unexpected,” she stated. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “Well, I’ll put it this way. I wouldn’t want every day to be this challenging.”

  The cantina was a dark brown building made of cinder block with a deep porch that spanned the front. A few small tables and chairs were scattered beneath the sheltered space for those who wanted to take their refreshments outside.

  Sawyer opened the door, then followed Vivian into a long room furnished with utility tables and folding metal chairs.

  “Wow, this is cheery.” Sawyer shut the door behind him and gazed around at the Christmas decorations. “Someone has gotten into the spirit.”

  Vivian looked up at the gold-and-silver tinsel draped from the ceiling, the red bows fastened to the corners of the tables and a small decorated spruce standing in one corner.

  “It certainly looks festive,” she agreed. “And we’re the only ones around to enjoy it.”

  He said, “The rest of the rangers are out making sure their areas are secure before the shift changes. We’d still be out, too, if we hadn’t had to report to Mort.”

  She let out a heavy breath. “I don’t know about you, but I’m glad that’s over. Mort is a stickler for details. And following protocol. I think he was pleased with the way we handled things, though.”

  “Why wouldn’t he be? We did all we could do.” He pulled out a chair near the end of a table. “Here, take a seat and relax,” he invited. “I’ll get us something to drink. What would you like?”

  She eased into the chair and after pulling off her hat, combed fingers through her tousled hair. “Coffee would be nice. If it looks fresh.”

  At the end of the room, he passed through a small doorway and into a kitchen area where the refreshments were stored, along with a coffee machine, microwave and refrigerator.

  “From the looks of the pot, I think it’s just been made,” he called back to her.

  “Great,” she replied, while fighting the uncharacteristic urge to drop her face in her hands and weep.

  After a short moment, he appeared at her side holding two foam cups and a candy bar. He placed the items on the table, then eased into a chair next to hers.

  “The coffee on the left is yours. The pastries were all gone,” he said, “but I found a chocolate bar. I’ll halve it with you.”

  Smiling wanly, she shook her head. “Thanks, but the coffee will be plenty for me. You eat it.”

  She reached for the cup and took a careful sip of the steaming brew.
It was flavored just right with cream and sugar and she darted a surprised look at him. “This is good. How did you know what I wanted in it?”

  A suggestive grin spread slowly across his face and Vivian found she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his lips or ignore the rapid thump of her heart.

  “Yesterday you shared some from your thermos with me. I remembered how it tasted. Sweet. Like you.”

  Ever since she’d stepped into Sawyer’s arms and laid her cheek against his chest, she’d purposely avoided making eye contact with him. She was afraid if she did, he’d be able to read all the incredible emotions she’d felt in those moments. That he would somehow see those very feelings were still stirring inside her, confusing her, yet at the same time were filling her with longing.

  She forced herself to stare straight ahead at a spot on the wall. “I’m not sweet. And I’m not strong. And I’m—” Something inside her suddenly crumbled and before she could stop it, moisture was burning the back of her eyes. She blinked several times, then said in a strained voice, “I’m sorry, Sawyer.”

  “For what?” he asked earnestly.

  Her eyes blurred with unshed tears, she turned toward him. “For being such a mess today.”

  “But you haven’t been a mess today, Viv. You’ve been great.”

  She shook her head. “Maybe on the outside. On the inside—”

  “Listen, if you’re referring to that...whatever you want to call those few moments on the trail when I consoled you, then forget it. We weren’t rangers then. We were just two humans.”

  He certainly had that right, she thought. When his arms had come around her, she’d never felt so human in her life.

  “Maybe so. But I need to explain, Sawyer. When I first spotted Mr. Roberts lying on the ground behind you, I—well, it was like seeing my father all over again.”

  His black brows pulled together to form a look of confusion. “Your father?” he asked. “That first day we met, you told me he died from an accident.”

  She nodded. “That’s right, I did. But actually, my family isn’t sure it was an accident.”

  Sawyer shook his head. “Maybe you should start from the beginning,” he suggested.

  She released a heavy breath and sipped her coffee before she finally replied, “I happened to be home on the ranch that day. I’d taken off work to take Hannah to the doctor for a bad case of hives. We’d just gotten back home from the clinic when I heard a commotion downstairs. My mother was screaming at one of the ranch hands—something she never did. By the time I reached her, my brothers were already there trying to calm her down. When they told me the ranch hands had found Dad out on the range dead, one boot still hung in the stirrup, I was in total disbelief. Before anyone could stop me, I ran out searching for him.”

  “You found him,” he stated flatly. “And it was bad.”

  Choked with painful emotions, she reached over and curled her fingers tightly over his forearm. “The cowboys had laid Dad out on the ground in front of the stables. He looked like Mr. Roberts, only hundreds of times worse. Seeing that man today, all beaten and bruised—It brought all those awful memories back to me and I...didn’t handle it very well.”

  His hand slipped over hers and Vivian was struck by its strength and warmth. She wished she could fold her hand around his and keep holding on. But anyone could walk through the door at any moment. It would be mighty hard to explain why two rangers were holding hands.

  “You said something about your family doubting it was an accident. What do they think happened?”

  Extracting her hand from beneath his, she placed it safely in her lap. “Oh, it was obvious that the horse had dragged Dad for a considerable distance. But we don’t know why or how the incident occurred. My little brother Joe is a deputy sheriff for Yavapai County. He’s been working on the case for years now, hunting for clues and trying to patch them together. He and my brothers believe Dad was initially attacked and the dragging was a cover-up.”

  Sawyer whistled under his breath. “Clearly, your father was a wealthy, influential man. He might have had an enemy you didn’t know about.” He looked at her, his eyes full of gentle understanding. “I’m glad you told me, Viv. And about today, don’t be scared. Everything will be all right. We’ll be together. Right?”

  Together. Yes. Strange how strongly she’d resisted the idea of having a new partner, she thought. Now, after working with Sawyer these past few days, she’d be totally lost if he suddenly up and left. What did it mean? That she was losing her common sense? Or finally letting herself be a woman again?

  Wake up, Vivian! Can’t you see you’re falling for this flirt faster than a raindrop disappears in the desert sand? Forget about how it makes you feel to touch him. Just think about how your heart will feel once he breaks it.

  Realizing he was waiting on her to answer, she quickly cleared her throat and said, “Yes, that’s right. Uh—together. Until Louis comes back.”

  “Oh, yeah. Believe me, I haven’t forgotten about Louis coming back. Obviously you haven’t forgotten, either.”

  “No,” she replied.

  He tore into the candy bar and, after consuming it in four bites, rose to his feet. “I’m going after more coffee. Do you need yours warmed?”

  “No, thanks. I still have enough.”

  He disappeared into the kitchen area, then after a moment, called to her. “Come here, Viv. I want you to see this Christmas decoration.”

  Curious, Vivian left her chair to join him.

  “This better be good,” she said, as she stepped into the small kitchen.

  Grinning, he folded a hand around her arm and pulled her deeper into the tiny room. “It’s more than good. Look up.”

  Bemused, Vivian tilted her head and then she spotted it. A green cluster of leaves tied with red ribbon was hanging from the ceiling and dangling right over their heads.

  Suddenly her heart was beating hard and fast. He wouldn’t dare, she thought. Or would he? “That can’t be mistletoe! It looks more like sage to me. And sage doesn’t count!”

  Sawyer’s chuckle was full of mischief and something else that sounded very much like desire.

  “You know as well as I do that it’s a clump of mesquite mistletoe and it definitely counts—especially with me.”

  She should run from the room, Vivian thought. She should run from him. But her legs refused to obey the commands of her brain. Instead, she stood rooted to the spot, scarcely able to breathe or think beyond the man standing in front of her.

  Then his hands wrapped over her shoulders and his head slowly descended toward hers and she realized it was far too late to escape. Not that she wanted to. No, from the very first moment they’d met, she’d thought about having his lips on hers. His hands pulling her closer. And closer.

  Sawyer. She tried to say his name, but her throat had forgotten how to work. Instead, the word whispered through her brain like a breeze teasing her skin.

  By the time his lips finally settled over hers, she was already shaking, her heart beating so fast the sound of it was roaring in her ears. And then she ceased to think as everything became a delicious blur.

  The taste of his hard, masculine lips was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before and as he moved them deftly over hers, she forgot about everything, except wanting him.

  Unwittingly, her hands moved onto his shoulders, then slipped upward until her fingers were twining through the black hair at the back of his neck. She thought she heard him groan. Or had she been the one who’d made that needy sound? Either way, it prompted her to move closer and kiss him with reckless abandon.

  It wasn’t until the two of them heard the outer door of the cantina opening that they pulled apart. By then, Vivian was too dazed to move from the spot where they were standing. But Sawyer apparently had far more control over his faculties. Without saying a word, he quickly stepped a
round her and left the tiny kitchen.

  Beyond the open doorway, she could hear him greeting another ranger and as the two men began to talk, she marveled at the casual tone of his voice. He sounded as though he’d been spending these past few minutes reading the newspaper instead of kissing her senseless.

  What are you, Vivian? A silly little sophomore girl in high school? Kissing a woman senseless is all just a game to Sawyer. You need to be laughing about it. Not feeling as though the earth just tilted.

  Drawing in a bracing breath, she wiped a hand over her heated face and walked out of the kitchen to join her partner.

  * * *

  Sawyer pushed the shovel deep into the loamy soil, turned it over, then, moving the tool a few inches over, he repeated the maneuver until a long section of ground was cultivated. Behind him, lying next to a garden rake was a pile of canna and iris bulbs waiting to be planted.

  This morning he’d driven to Camp Verde and purchased the bulbs, along with new fencing material, at a farm and garden center that happened to open early on Sunday. Since he’d returned from town, he’d completed the fence repairs around the chicken coop in the backyard and was now working on a flower bed for his grandmother to enjoy this coming spring.

  With only a huge bougainvillea trailing up one side of the small porch, there were no blooming flowers to brighten up the front of the little stucco house. If the flowers survived, they’d bring a bit of color to the drab yard.

  He was on his knees, digging small holes for the bulbs, when Nashota stepped onto the porch and walked over to where he was working. She was still dressed in the clothes she’d worn to church earlier this morning. A long skirt made of red calico and a dark purple shirt belted at the waist. Strings of coral and turquoise beads hung from her neck. Still a beautiful woman, she looked at least ten years younger than her seventy-seven years. Yet it was the beauty and love she possessed on the inside that made her a special woman to Sawyer.

  “I wondered what you were doing out here. Is that what I think it is?” she asked, eyeing the long flower bed running adjacent to the outside wall of the house.