Colton First Responder (The Coltons 0f Mustang Valley Book 4)

by Linda O. Johnston

  Some of them had spouses or significant others there, too. Savannah was happy when she sat at Grayson’s right side, and to her right were his brother Callum, with whom she understood Grayson was very close, plus his fiancée, Hazel Hart, and Hazel’s adorable daughter, Evie, a five-year-old who had long brown hair and a fun, outgoing personality.

  The kind of daughter Savannah might wish for someday.

  And that thought caused her to look toward her left, where Grayson sat.

  At that moment, he was looking in her direction, too—though not directly at her. He appeared to be observing little Evie, as well.

  Was he interested in having kids, too? Savannah had never asked him that.

  Could she, would she, like an ongoing relationship with Grayson, including a marriage and kids? At that moment, with his family around, and with her own life a whole lot better than it had been, Savannah had to believe she would, in fact, like it.

  But would Grayson?

  “So what do you think of my family?” Grayson whispered into her ear.

  “They seem like nice people,” she said noncommittally. “This is certainly different from how I was brought up. My family’s a lot smaller.”

  “Well, maybe you need a larger one,” Grayson murmured, then appeared to realize what he had said and took a swig of beer from the stein on the table at the far side of his salad bowl. “Or you should have had one to help you through the mess you just went through a lot better than I could help you.”

  Savannah was amused at his attempt to back down from what he had said—even as she began to ponder how she really would get along with his family...if.

  “No one could have done better than you,” was all she said.

  She didn’t have an opportunity to discuss what he meant any further, since it seemed his family members wanted to get to know the strangers in their midst a bit more. From Ace to attorney sister Ainsley, Rafe, twins Callum and Marlowe, and ranch foreman Asher, they all started asking her questions. Savannah concentrated on their names, wanting to remember them even if she didn’t know who else they had brought to this dinner. Her mood was high, thanks to her exoneration—and she had something to announce that she hadn’t yet told Grayson, either. This seemed like a good enough time to let him know.

  “And it’s now official,” she said, looking at him. “I received a call from Police Chief Al Barco before. All charges against me have been dropped.”

  “I knew that,” Grayson chimed in. “Barco let me know he’d told you, and it’s in the media today, too.”

  And Savannah could only laugh as the others in the room congratulated her.

  They next held a detailed conversation with Jace, who told them about a really awful childhood, where his mother was hardly present. But his attitude, at least, was good.

  That led to their last major discussion of the evening—about Payne Colton, who remained in a coma. Savannah felt so sorry for him, and for all his children. She wished she could do something to help.

  And maybe she could—at least a little. She would encourage Grayson to go see his dad tomorrow.

  So when the time came for Grayson to bid her good-night, she invited him into his own guestroom for a nightcap.

  And more. A lot more.

  * * *

  What a night.

  It had been enjoyable to spend time with his siblings and their significant others—and that cute little Evie.

  Grayson liked kids. Did he want them someday? Yeah, quite possibly—if he ever got married.

  And at the moment, after spending the night again with Savannah and having incredible, though protected, sex...

  Well, marriage wasn’t out of the question. He cared for her. Probably loved her.

  But he recognized that, thanks to her particularly ugly divorce and what happened after that, she probably would never want to marry again.

  When he left the ranch, he dropped Savannah at his office. She’d said she intended to go talk to his first responder staff again soon. Seemed like she might actually be interested in becoming a first responder, and working for him. Being with her every day like that sounded great. And maybe being with her every night, too?

  The thought had definitely crossed his mind. And not just once.

  But for now, he was on his way to the hospital. Savannah had urged him, after that wonderful family dinner at which his dad couldn’t be present, to go visit Payne.

  He’d promised to do so. And now, he was walking through the medical facility’s front door again.

  He had noticed the Affirmation Alliance Group’s table across the street again and ignored it.

  But when he ran into Selina in the lobby this time, too, he wanted to turn around and leave again. Instead, he confronted her. “Well, hello again,” he said to his former stepmother. “I hope you’re just leaving, since I’m coming in.”

  “Oh, I think you’re just leaving, too,” she said with a sadistic grin and started to rail at him about being a miserable son and worse—so Grayson turned his back on her and, yes, left.

  But this time he didn’t go to his car. Instead, he walked around the hospital till he reached another door. He went inside and hurried through the sparkling, crowded hallways, past nurses and doctors in their respective scrubs, to his father’s room.

  It was a private room, and the door was being watched by a private security guard hired by one of Grayson’s siblings. Grayson showed his ID and was allowed in.

  It was hard to look at the powerful, egocentric Payne Colton that way, lying unconscious in the hospital bed, hooked up to IVs and monitors.

  “Hi, Dad,” Grayson said, then sat down carefully at the edge of the bed. His father’s skin was pale, his eyes closed, but at least he appeared to be breathing—with help. “Sorry I haven’t spent more time here, but I’ve been busy.” Which was true, though not much of an excuse. He talked for a while about the earthquake and helping a woman unjustly accused of a murder and more. Did his father hear any of it? He doubted it.

  But Grayson found that the subject he talked most about was Savannah, how she had been framed and how her ex-husband had been at fault—and was actually a murderer himself, or at least an accessory.

  The longer Grayson stayed there, the more he wanted his father to regain consciousness and talk to him. Advise him? Probably not, since they had never really agreed on much when Payne was well. But still—

  Being in Payne’s presence this way underscored the realization that life was too short.

  Better to do everything to live it well right now.

  Better to do what Grayson knew he really wanted.

  He had a goal when he left.

  “Bye, Dad. See you again soon.”

  And he meant it.

  * * *

  Savannah had just had another delightful time talking about First Hand First Responders with Grayson’s employees. They were going on a training mission together later that afternoon, which happened often when they weren’t on assignment, since they needed to remain fit and smart and skilled.

  It sounded enticing to Savannah. Would she be able to undertake initial training and join them soon?

  She hoped so. And if she didn’t have the stamina to become a first responder like them, she was still determined to help in some way, maybe raising money for his agency so it could grow and help more people.

  But at the moment she was waiting for Grayson to come back to his office and pick her up. He’d called and said he wanted to show her something early that afternoon, and she had of course agreed.

  She was watching for him, though, through the window in the lobby of his office building—and saw Norah’s amusement as she watched Savannah keeping an eye out for Grayson.

  And then, there he was, with his car parked right in front of the building. Savannah didn’t wait for him to come in. She rushed out the door
and got into the passenger seat of Grayson’s rental SUV. “So will you tell me now where we’re going?” she asked.

  “Nope. You’ll see.” Grayson shot her a particularly sexy grin, which made Savannah’s body react, but her mind was stewing. What was this man up to?

  He drove out of town and into the familiar forest. They even passed the site of the destroyed van from days earlier—though it felt like weeks ago.

  “Are we going to the fishing cabin?” Savannah finally asked.

  “Good guess.”

  “Why?” was her next question.

  “You’ll see,” was the frustrating answer.

  They soon arrived. Savannah got out of the car, as did Grayson. They entered through the window since they had locked the door when they’d left before. There was still no sign of whoever the owner was, so they had the place to themselves.

  “Please sit here,” Grayson said, moving Savannah’s favorite chair out from under the table and taking her hand to help her into it.

  Strange. She didn’t need assistance, and he surely was aware of that. But she appreciated what seemed like a caring gesture.

  She appreciated what came next even more.

  “Savannah,” Grayson said, sitting down on a chair beside her. “I would never have thought that I’d help to save a woman from being unjustly accused of murder, let alone that it would change my life so much.” He was looking straight at her with his emotional blue eyes, and Savannah felt her own tear up. “But it did. And I’m glad I can help. I’m glad I met you. And I want you to stay in my life.”

  “Oh, Grayson.” Savannah’s voice choked up, so she moved forward till she stood in front of him. He rose, too, and held her tightly against him.

  “You’ve met my family now,” he continued, and she felt his chest vibrate with his words. “And though I try not to get together with them a lot, they are part of my life. They would be...well, I’m hoping you are okay with them, and will remain part of my life, too. Savannah, I love you.”

  He took a step back. Again he looked down at her, and she responded, “I love you, too, Grayson, Colton family ties and all. And I enjoy families. I want kids someday. Your kids.”

  Grayson laughed. “And I want yours, too. But, after all you went through, are you willing to trust another man?”

  “Yes,” she responded vehemently. “If that man is you.” She tried to move even closer again, to kiss him.

  But Grayson pulled away, making Savannah feel bereft. Only temporarily, though.

  Grayson got down on one knee and pulled a small box from his pocket. Savannah heard herself gasp. “Is that—”

  “Savannah Murphy Oliver,” Grayson said, “Like I said, I love you. Will you marry me?”

  Savannah nearly screamed her answer, even though, if she’d asked herself before, she’d have hesitated or worried or—

  “Yes,” she cried. In moments, after he placed the ring on her finger, she was in the arms of the man who had cared for her, believed in her, saved her life and her future—and now wanted to share his future with her. “Yes, Grayson,” she repeated to the man she loved. “I love you, too.”

  “Now that’s the kind of first response I like to hear,” he said, and placed his lips on hers once more.

  * * *

  Don’t miss the previous volumes in

  Coltons of Mustang Valley series,

  Colton Family Bodyguard by Jennifer Morey

  Colton’s Lethal Reunion by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Colton Baby Conspiracy by Marie Ferrarella,

  Available now from Harlequin Romantic Suspense!

  Next month,

  check out Book 5—

  In Colton’s Custody by Dana Nussio

  and Book 6—Colton Manhunt by Jane Godman—

  both available in March 2020!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Cowboy’s Vow to Protect by Carla Cassidy.

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  Cowboy's Vow to Protect

  by Carla Cassidy

  Chapter 1

  All of the cowboys from the Holiday Ranch surrounded him. Their fists pummeled him. He tried to defend himself but there were too many of them. Each blow shot pain through him. His ribs screamed in protest and his aching knees finally buckled beneath him. When he fell to the ground they viciously kicked at him. His mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood, even though most of the blows were to his body and not to his face or head.

  Help! The plea screamed over and over again in his head, but there was no help coming. In complete defeat, he curled up into a fetal ball on the lush green grass and prayed for it to stop.

  Flint McCay came awake suddenly. Pain...it racked his body and for several long moments he didn’t move. He stared out the nearby window where the first light of dawn cast slivers of light.

  The dream had been so strange. There was absolutely no way the other men on the Holiday Ranch would ever beat him up. They were his brothers. It was a brotherhood forged in painful childhoods and in second chances and them all growing up together here on this ranch.

  He winced as he changed positions. No, his pain wasn’t from his fellow cowboys. It was from years of his own choices and a recent diagnosis that had unsettled him.

  He groaned as he finally moved to a sitting position on the side of the twin-size bed. When Cass Holiday had hired a dozen young runaway boys to work at the ranch, she’d made sure they each had their own rooms in the building the men referred to as the cowboy motel.

  Each man had a private room with an adjoining bathroom. The rooms were small, holding only a twin bed and a chest of drawers. It was to the bathroom Flint now headed, hoping a long, hot shower would loosen up tight muscles and ease some of his pain.

  Years of bull-riding had taken its toll on him. There wasn’t a bone in his body that hadn’t been broken or sprained over the years. Now he had a trunk full of trophies, shiny belt buckles and ribbons to show for his success, and a body that at the age of thirty-four felt more like that of a ninety-year-old.

  Thankfully, the shower helped and he dressed and headed around the building for the dining room in the back. Most of the cowboys were already there, filling plates from the buffet line Cord Cully, a.k.a. Cookie, prepared for them each and every morning. He also fed the cowboys at lunchtime and dinner.

  “Good morning, Flint,” Mac McBride greeted him as Flint fell into the line behind him.

  “Back at you,” Flint replied.

  He filled his plate with bacon and scrambled eggs, with biscuits and gravy and added a spoonful of fruit salad. He carried it over to one of the picnic tables where Mac sat with Jerod Steen, Clay Madison and Dusty Crawford.

  Flint slid into the seat next to Dusty, who had recently welcomed a baby boy into his life with his wife, Tricia. “How’s that kid?” he asked Dusty.

  Dusty beamed. “Growing like a weed. How’s the cabin coming along?”

  Several months ago Flint had bought a couple of acres of heavily wooded land with a clearing perfect for a small house. The cowboys had all pitched in to help him build a cozy, two-bedroom cabin. It was the place he’d live in when he stopped being one of Cassie’s cowboys. And whether he liked it or not that time was quickly approaching.

  “The furniture was delivered last week and all I have left is to finish putting up a porch and do some trim work,” Flint replied.

  “It sure is a sweet location with all the trees and that little brook that runs through the backyard,” Mac said.

  “Yeah, I got lucky in grabbing it before somebody else did,” Flint said.

  “Do you need so
me help getting the porch up?” Jerod asked. “You know some of us wouldn’t mind coming out to lend you a hand.”

  “No, thanks. I think I can handle it.” The last thing he wanted his friends and fellow cowboys to know about was his weakness...his chronic pain. Besides, he’d accepted enough of their help in getting the place up.

  Cowboys didn’t complain, and at least for now Flint was still a cowboy. He didn’t want to think about what happened when he stopped being a cowboy because the thought scared the hell out of him.

  Breakfast continued with talk about the hot months of summer and the lack of rain. They all discussed cattle and chores and whatever else popped into their minds.

  “Flint, when are you going to find some nice woman to settle down with?” Dusty asked as they were finishing the meal. “You’ve got that great cabin, now all you need is somebody to share it with.”

  “That cabin isn’t meant to be shared. Women are just too...too complex for me,” Flint replied. “I prefer the company of you all when I’m relaxing in the evenings. Besides, what are you doing picking on me? What about Jerod and Mac? They’re both single.”

  “Hey, don’t get me in the middle of this,” Mac protested with a laugh.

  “Me, neither,” Jerod added.

  There followed a rowdy debate between the single men and the committed ones, then with breakfast over they all left the dining room to head out for their morning chores.

  Thank goodness Flint had it fairly easy this morning. Sawyer Quincy, the newest foreman and one of Flint’s “brothers,” had delegated him to cleaning up the barn.

  The morning was already hot and without a breath of a breeze. August in Bitterroot, Oklahoma, could be brutal. In the barn it would even be hotter. He’d need to remember to hydrate himself throughout the day.

  He opened the large barn door and walked in. The barn hadn’t been cleaned up since the winter, when hay bales had been pulled out to take to the cattle and horses in the pastures.