Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set

by Elizabeth Bevarly

  She did, and he scooped her up and carried her to the cab of his truck. She protested all the way, of course, about being able to walk. That he should put her down. That she was perfectly capable.

  But he didn’t listen. He did what his cowboy instinct told him to do. Protect. Take care of her. And that was what he was about to do.

  ****

  Reba tried to be patient as this cowboy, her neighbor, Mr. Parker McKenna, fawned all over her. She sat at her kitchen table and mentally assessed the situation as he rinsed out a washcloth and then sat in front of her, carefully swiping grime and blood from her face.

  He’d pulled back her hair with a clip he found in the bathroom, to keep it from hanging in her eyes. She had no clue when she’d lost the band holding her ponytail.

  This was awkward, and not in the way that she was thinking earlier. She was usually the one to do the caretaking. That’s who she was. Reba Morris definitely wasn’t used to other people taking care of her.

  Who was this cowboy and what was he doing in her kitchen?

  “I’m not thinking straight,” she said aloud.

  He stopped swiping and looked into her eyes. “I’m going to get some ice for that bump.”

  “Okay.” She nodded like a dutiful little girl and wondered if she should sit in the chair and swing her legs like one. Would she get a sucker if she were a good girl?

  Reba, where is your brain? What are you thinking?

  Could she help it if she thought him attractive?

  She felt a little off-kilter. Why would she think of that right now? Her head was killing her. “How can you tell if someone has a concussion, and what do you do for it?” she blurted out.

  He turned back to look at her, the freezer door open. “You think you have a concussion?”

  “I don’t know. I feel fuzzy.”

  “Your body has had quite a jolt. Give yourself time. I’m getting ice for the arm too.”

  She watched as he scooped cubes into two different quart-sized baggies and wondered how he knew where to find those. Then he wrapped each baggy in a thin dishtowel and crossed the room toward her.

  Matter-of-fact. Sure and swift. Do the right thing, Mr. Cowboy Neighbor.

  He sat in front of her on one of her carved-oak kitchen chairs.

  “You hold this one on your arm,” he said, handing her an ice packet. “I’ll hold the one to your forehead.”

  “Goodness, this is unreal,” she said.

  Here she was in her kitchen—her new home, her sanctuary, the place where she was supposed to find herself—being taken care of by someone else.

  Without impositions.

  This wasn’t the plan, was it?

  Or was it?

  “But thank you, Parker. I’m not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t happened by….”

  “I saw your lights spin and flip from the porch. I got there as soon as I could.”

  “Well then, again, many thanks.” You were watching me from the porch? “But I think I’m fine now. I know you’re tired; it’s been a helluva day for you. I’m sure you want to head back—”

  He put a finger to her lips. “Why don’t you stop talking for a minute, and let’s just take a minute to assess everything. Make a plan for what else needs to be done.”

  “No plan,” she said. “I’m fine here.”

  “Let’s make sure you don’t need to go to ER.”

  She shook her head. “No ER. I’ll be fine.” Her insurance was still being worked out, and she hadn’t had time to establish a health care provider here in Montana. Getting hurt wasn’t on her radar screen, and she didn’t want to deal with the hospital hassle tonight.

  Not part of the plan.

  Plan. She had to stick with her plan. This hiccup was not going to get in her way.

  She’d carried her plan out nice and orderly, up until now. She’d bought the Crandall place, sold most of her possessions back in Kentucky, and moved here to start fresh. She didn’t have to worry about her job because she carried her job with her wherever she went. Have laptop, will travel. She was here to heal from a few difficult years and, according to her plan, find herself.

  Even indulge in life’s pleasures. Big and little.

  Maybe even all of life’s pleasures. Especially the sexy ones.

  She looked into Parker McKenna’s face. Their gazes tangled and darted off each other. Hell’s bells. What kind of pleasure might this cowboy provide?

  “You’re not fine.” Parker stood, pulling the ice away from her head. “In fact, in case you do have a concussion, I need to make sure you don’t go to sleep. Let’s move you to someplace a little more comfortable so you can put your feet up.” He nodded off to her right. “Your living room that way?”

  “Yes. But—”

  Parker took her elbow and guided her to a standing position. “This way.”

  “I’m really okay, Parker. You can go. I’ll stay up and watch late night TV, or work on my project, or bake something.”

  He didn’t acknowledge any of that and marched her into the den, where he quickly assessed the room, and evidently decided the sofa was the best place for her. “There. Does the footrest come up on this?”

  “It does, but—”

  “Good. You sit here. Get that ice pack on your arm. I’ll be right back with the one for your forehead.

  Again, she dutifully sat. Within seconds, he had lifted the footrest by pushing a button on the arm, and she sank back into the soft sofa.

  “Oh, this isn’t good,” she muttered. “This feels too cozy.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you awake.”

  Reba looked up into Parker McKenna’s face, gave him a saucy smile, and burst out with the first words that came to her fuzzy head. “Oh, I look forward to that, cowboy.”

  Then, she winked.

  Chapter Three

  Late Friday night/early Saturday morning

  She winked at him.

  She winked at him?

  His new neighbor, Reba Morris, just winked at him.

  Parker turned away and stared across the room. What the hell was that about? Without looking at her, he headed to the kitchen, certain he’d misunderstood. Maybe it was an eye twitch of some sort. That’s it. It was a twitch.

  Not a wink.

  Beyond the kitchen doors, however, he pulled out his cell phone to see if he had service so he could Google the symptoms for a concussion.

  He didn’t think eye twitching was one of them.

  Neither was winking.

  Parker stared at the phone, which indicated absolutely no bars for service. Reba’s cabin was up in the mountains a bit far, and often service was spotty up here, but—

  And then he shoved it back into his pocket. He didn’t need to Google anything, anyway.

  I look forward to that, cowboy.

  Shit. Reba Morris was coming on to him. That made him sweat, and heat rose to his cheeks.

  Dammit!

  Well, that wasn’t going to happen. He’d never taken advantage of a woman, and he wasn’t about to start now. She was hurt. She had a head injury. That had to be it. And she wasn’t thinking straight, she’d said that earlier, so he had to be the stronger person here and keep things in perspective.

  Even if he did find her attractive—which he did. And even if the crotch of his jeans was growing even tighter than it had on the porch—which it was. Tonight was not the night for canoodling, or whatever they called it these days, with his neighbor.

  Give him a week and maybe he’d change his mind.

  Hell, no!

  No. He wouldn’t change his mind about Reba. In a week he’d be knee-deep in issues concerning his father’s will and dealing with his stepmother and all of his siblings. Ignore it. She’d probably even be embarrassed if she realized what she’d done. Shaking his head, he picked up the leaking ice bag and frowned. He pulled open a drawer and retrieved another baggy, double-bagged the ice, and then headed for the freezer.

  No time for canoodli
ng with his neighbor. No way.

  Although, he couldn’t deny an intense tumble in the hay might do a lot to alleviate some of the stress he’d been under lately. At least temporarily.

  No.

  Get your priorities straight, McKenna.

  He squared his shoulders, fished a few more cubes out of the ice bin and dropped them into the bag—all the while mentally patting himself on the back for thinking that scenario through. But that wink she’d thrown him sure was sexy and inviting, and if it had happened on any other day, in any other place in time, he probably would have seized the opportunity head-on.

  That part that worried him. There was too much going on in his life to bring a woman into the chaos. He had to get his family life straight first. But from the first moment he’d laid eyes on Reba Morris, he’d found her both interesting and charming—

  That come-hither look, the tease in her voice, and the twinkle in her wink?

  Well, those things made a cowboy drop to his knees and beg.

  ****

  Reba waited for Parker to come back.

  Simultaneously, she wished he would just leave.

  How could she have been such a brazen hussy to wink at him and say what she had said? Embarrassed didn’t cover how she felt right now. Good Lord, the man was probably hiding in the kitchen.

  But no. He burst back into the room and, without eye contact, sat right next to her on the sofa.

  “Get that ice on your arm,” he ordered.

  She stared. “Yes, sir.”

  He gave his head a quick shake. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so gruff.”

  Let him off the hook, Reba. You probably scared the shit out of him. “No worries. I’m sure you have a lot of other places you’d rather be tonight, and it’s been a long day. In fact, truly, Parker, I am fine. You can leave.”

  “No.”

  Reba sighed. Pig-headed man. She attracted them. Her husband was the same, until he’d fallen too sick to challenge her. Much. Even then, she caved to his whims all too often.

  But that’s what people do when the one they love is dying. Give them what they want—often to the sacrifice of your own needs. And she had happily done so.

  Not thinking of that now.

  His voice softened. “Let me get this on that goose egg again.” He lifted the new ice bag to her brow. “It’s gone down some.”

  “Good,” she replied. “It felt huge earlier. Am I cut up?” He’d not let her look in the mirror earlier when they came in.

  “A little. It’s not as bad as I thought. That one cut on your nose bled the most, and it’s actually small. You’ll be fine.”

  Reba sighed. She wasn’t a vain woman—well not much anyway—but she hated the thought of her face being messed up. “Thank God my nose isn’t broken,” she said.

  He chuckled. “It’s not.” Then he added, “But you are going to have one hell of a black eye.”

  Reba jerked out from under the ice bag and looked at him. “What?”

  He lowered his hand holding the ice. Looking her in the eyes, he lifted a forefinger and traced a line under her left eye. “You’re all puffy and bruised here. It’s already turning purple.”

  The light touch of his finger sent a small shiver down her spine that she fought to stifle. “Anything else?” She bit her lip.

  Slowly, he nodded. “Yes.” Tenderly, he dragged the same finger over her eyelid, just beneath her brow. The motion tickled and tingled. “Here. Swollen already and bruised. Sorry to say, it’s turning an ugly blue, almost back.”

  “Oh. Great.”

  But she couldn’t ponder that long because she was caught up in his gaze. Parker’s eyes were the deepest shade of brown, and Reba wondered to what depth a woman could sink into them. He was drawing her in, mesmerizing her with his glare. “I’ve never had a brown eye before.”

  “Brown?”

  “Oh, I mean black.” Shit, Reba!

  Parker chuckled again. “You’re right. You are not thinking or talking straight. I’m a little worried about that bump. Maybe I should have taken you on in to Livingston.”

  Reba saw the concern in his eyes as he brushed her hair back from her forehead, inspecting her goose egg. “It’s big, isn’t it?” she said.

  “Yes, but it was puffing out, which I hear is better than pushing in. It’s going to be tender for a while, and you’ll likely bruise there too. I see a couple of weeks of dark glasses in your future.”

  He smiled then, and Reba felt that smile land on her heart. A little, anyway. It danced and spun and then sank in and took hold. Oh, my.

  His fingers lingered at the corner of her eye, his knuckles gently grazing her skin, and Reba found herself licking her lips as Parker’s gaze shifted to connect with hers. She watched the darkened intensity of his gaze; his eyelids drooped half-closed as he looked to her lips.

  Go for it, Reba. Live life. It’s way too short. The wench was back.

  “I want to kiss you,” she whispered.

  She startled herself by saying those words. And she was a little frightened, again, when he didn’t jerk back and hightail it into the kitchen, as he had earlier. But what scared her most was when he leaned in and placed a soft, magical kiss on her open mouth.

  ****

  Every fiber of Parker McKenna’s being told him to retreat. His head shot signals to his feet, telling him to stand up and move away. His heart urged him closer into Reba’s embrace.

  She pulled back slightly, her lips a breath from his, her mouth parted. Her breathing came in quick, short pants, branding the scorching heat of their kiss on his lips. She didn’t move and neither did he. They stayed close, eyes closed, breathing each other’s breath.

  At least his eyes were closed. He blinked and opened them in time to see Reba’s flutter open too. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know what got into me. I’m not thinking straight.”

  “That’s my line,” she told him.

  He pulled back. “Maybe so. Maybe that deer kicked me in the head. I don’t usually go around kissing women I have barely met.”

  Reba frowned. “I’m sorry that it was such an insane idea to kiss me. I mean, why would you want to?”

  It was his turn to frown. What? “Reba, I wanted to kiss you. And you said—”

  She held up a hand. “Stop. I know what I said. And what we just did. Let’s just—”

  “Forget about it?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  Easier said than done. “All right.” He rose and stepped across the room to a straight-back wooden chair—the most uncomfortable looking chair in the room—and sat in it, facing her.

  He glanced at his watch. Hours had to pass before he’d feel comfortable leaving her. At the very least, he wasn’t leaving until he could call his friend Mike, who also happened to be his personal doctor, and discuss her symptoms with him.

  Of course, it wasn’t that late, and Mike was used to calls interrupting his sleep, but if he didn’t have to do that, well…

  He’d call as soon as he thought Mike was up.

  Resigned, Parker stared across the room. “Okay, talk to me, Reba Morris. Tell me your life story. Tell me any story. Hell, tell me lies. I don’t care. Just talk and keep us both awake. It’s going to be a long night.”

  He watched her mouth clamp shut, open, and then close again. Then she started. “All right.” She inhaled deep and sighed. “I just moved here from Kentucky, but I’m not originally from there. In fact, I was born on a ranch not far from here. The Crandalls? They are family. I bought this place from my distant cousins. And since we have all night, I might as well start at the beginning….”

  Chapter Four

  Saturday morning

  Parker ambled across his porch, opened the back door, and slowly moved into his kitchen—all the while hoping his siblings were either still asleep or crashing at Liz’s house.

  But hell no.

  “Well, if you don’t look like someone rode you hard and put you up wet.”

>   I wish. The way things had been lately, he could use a sexual diversion.

  He glanced to Mercer, standing by the counter with coffee pot in hand, and figured what she said was pretty much a true statement. He had to look rough.

  The night was long, although pleasant. Turned out Reba Morris was a very nice woman, with an interesting life. He’d heard all about it up until about five o’clock this morning when apparently, he’d nodded off sitting straight up in the chair. He jerked awake to find Reba sleeping too and then quietly left the room to call Mike. The doctor assured Parker that Reba was probably just fine, and that he had done all of the right things, but it wouldn’t hurt for her to follow up with her physician as soon as possible.

  That was a relief.

  Parker didn’t wake her. He left a note on the kitchen table with the instructions from Mike, and then at the last second, jotted his phone number down and asked her to call him later—just to let him know how she was doing.

  Maybe someday he’d get to hear the rest of her life story.

  Where had she ended it? Oh, right. At her wedding.

  Wedding. Interesting.

  He would’ve liked to hear more about that.

  “Coffee is hot, Parker. Want a cup?”

  He nodded and took off his hat, setting it in on the shelf beside the door. He ruffled his hair a bit and ran his hands over his face—a feeble attempt at waking himself up—and then joined them at the table. Mercer put a large mug of steaming black coffee in front of him. He glanced up to his sister. “You’re an angel.”

  She grinned and said, “You look like the devil.”

  “I feel like hell.”

  “How’s Reba?”

  “She’ll be okay.”

  “I hope so because I like her a lot.”

  He agreed. He liked her too, for what it was worth. “She was sleeping when I left.”

  Mercer’s eyebrows arched. “Should she do that? I mean, with a head injury…”

  He waved her off. “It’s okay. I called Mike Attaway. He said she’ll be fine, but she probably needs to follow-up with her doctor. She’ll have a black eye and should probably get that arm looked at sometime today. Shit.”