Her gaze moved to Talon’s slack face. He had a beautiful mouth. His nose was strong and had been broken a few times from what she could tell. Talon had a square face, a lean, hard jaw most likely, but the beard covered it up, so she couldn’t really tell. Her lower body clenched. Surprised, Cat had never felt that reaction before. She felt her womb flooding with heat and it made her feel achy. Needy. Talon Holt was ruggedly handsome. She remembered briefly meeting his gray eyes that, despite the fever, contained hard intelligence. Even as sick as he was, Cat had felt the intensity of his eyes upon her. It excited her and scared the hell out of her.
She moved her fingers gently down Talon’s slack forearm, which was lightly dusted with dark hair. For whatever crazy reason, Cat wondered what his hand would feel like exploring her. It was such a ridiculous response that her breath hitched. Get a grip, she ordered herself.
Cat unlooped her stethoscope from around her neck and once more listened to his lungs. She tried to ignore the sexual reaction she had to touching him. His shoulders were broad and his chest massive and well sprung. A dusting of black hair across his chest narrowed downward toward his blanket-covered waist. He was a powerful man, physically speaking, even if he was sicker than a dog right now. Listening intently, Cat could tell the extra oxygen, in addition to him being levered up into a Fowler’s position, was putting less stress on Talon’s lungs. A little relief fled through her. The antibiotics should kick in shortly.
“Hey,” Griff called from the door. “Safe to come in?” he teased.
Cat headed toward the door. “Yeah, it’s safe. Come on in.”
“Miss Gus is asking to see Talon.”
“Oh.” Cat quickly went to Zeke, grabbing a hold of the dog’s leash. “Okay, I got him.”
Griff opened the door.
“Well,” Miss Gus said, holding a bowl of water in her hands, “can you make friends with Zeke for me?”
Zeke was looking at the silver-haired woman, suddenly tense and alert.
“Zeke, allow,” Cat told the dog firmly.
Instantly, Zeke thumped his tail and began to pant.
“Good doggie,” Miss Gus murmured, coming forward with a slight limp. “I got water for you, boy. You should be glad to see me.”
Cat held on to the leash, worried Zeke might do something. But as Miss Gus slowly bent over and set the bowl of water down in front of the dog, he thumped his tail in a friendly fashion and whined.
“Good boy,” Gus praised, reaching out with her parchment-thin hand and gently patting the dog’s head. “Now, you need to drink.”
Cat was amazed when the dog instantly dipped his head, eagerly lapping up the water. She grinned at Gus. “You have a way with animals.”
“I have a way with everyone!” Gus snorted, putting her hands on her hips, grinning widely.
Cat chuckled and released the leash, allowing it to fall beside Zeke. Gus was dressed in a long-sleeved red blouse with a blue apron around her tiny waist. She always wore black wool slacks because of the chill of the long winter in Wyoming.
“That you do,” Cat warmly agreed. Even though Cat’s grandparents were dead, Miss Gus had taken her under her wing and treated her like a granddaughter.
Gus turned, looking over at Talon. “How’s he doing, honey?”
“A tiny bit better. The oxygen is helping him a lot.”
“Come around yet?”
Cat shook her head. “He was very dehydrated, Miss Gus. And he’s got a really bad case of pneumonia. He’ll eventually become conscious, but I don’t know when.”
Patting Cat’s arm, Gus said, “If anyone can pull him through, you can.”
A fierce love for the old woman flowed through her. “He’s going to need a lot of prayers, too, Miss Gus.”
“We can do that.” She crinkled her face and looked up at Cat. “Hungry?”
Groaning, Cat said, “Yes, I’m starving.”
“Go on out to the kitchen. I got a plate of vittles waitin’ for you. I’ll stay with Talon until you get back.”
Griff set a bowl of kibble down in front of Zeke. “Val’s got the coffee poured for you, Cat.”
Cat hesitated, not wanting to leave Talon. It was a silly, emotional reaction. Zeke dived into the bowl of kibble as if starved. “Okay. I’ll be back as soon as I finish.”
*
VAL MET CAT out in the kitchen.
“How’s Talon doing?”
Cat sat down and told her. She grabbed the cup of coffee and took a sip. “This is great. Thanks, Val.” The red-haired woman sat down opposite her. Val’s hair was pulled back in a long ponytail. She wore a heavy cream-colored fisherman knit sweater, jeans and boots.
“Someone should call Sandy Holt,” Cat said between bites.
“I’ll do it,” Val said. She frowned. “Sandy’s not in good shape. Should we tell her how bad Talon is?”
Cat shook her head. “Just tell Sandy that Talon’s here and a little under the weather.”
“She’ll want to know when Talon can see her.”
“Sandy’s immune system is really down,” Cat warned. “As long as he’s sick, he can’t visit her or she could contract the pneumonia. It might finish her off.”
Val nodded and picked up her cup of coffee. “That’s what I was thinking. Maybe we need to tell her he’s got pneumonia and she’ll understand why her son can’t see her right now?”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Cat said. “But say it in such a way that she doesn’t worry. The poor woman has enough stress.”
“I know,” Val said softly. “I feel helpless.”
“Me, too.” Cat knew Val had left her career as an Air Force officer to come home to help Gus keep the Bar H alive. She wasn’t a woman who scared easily at all. And once a week, Gus and Val went to visit Sandy Holt. Talon’s mother was destitute, having lost her job at Mo’s Ice Cream Parlor two months ago because the cancer had come back and was twice as virulent as before. Cat made a point of dropping in to read to her and stay with her for at least a couple of hours once a week. Gwen Garner, who owned the quilting store, had a number of quilters who came over to visit weekly with Sandy and help her where and when they could. Cat felt her heart twinge. Now her son was in dire need of help himself. But that was what a small community did—it rallied those who were weak, sick or in need of help.
“Do you think Talon can talk to her directly?”
Shaking her head, Cat said, “He’s unconscious. And he’s got major trouble breathing. I’m hoping—” and she held up crossed fingers “—that he responds to the antibiotic. Maybe in a couple of days he can talk to her.”
“It sounds like Talon should be in the hospital.”
“Really. But it’s going to take two days to clear the roads after this blizzard leaves,” Cat griped unhappily. She finished everything on her plate and took a sip of her coffee.
Val frowned. “That bad?”
“Yeah. I’m sure they’d put him in the ICU if we could get him to the hospital.”
“Could he die?” Val asked, worried.
“I don’t think he will,” Cat said. “He’s young and he’s strong, although, he’s terribly underweight and dehydrated.”
“Gus said Talon was wounded a year ago. Bad wound, whatever that meant. He might have just gotten out of the hospital?”
“I saw a lot of scars on his back and shoulders.” Again, Cat’s heart ached for Talon. Thanks to an abusive father, she was usually wary of men. Inexplicably, Talon had worked through the protective walls she had up against men in general—he’d gotten to her—and that was disconcerting. But she couldn’t dwell on this right now.
Val stood. “God, the guy has been through his own hell,” she muttered, going to the coffeepot and pouring herself another cup.
“You were in the military,” Cat said, watching her come back and sit down. “What do you know about SEALs?”
“They’re Navy black ops. I worked with them on some missions over in Iraq when I was stationed in the Middle
East. I was an intelligence officer in the Air Force and, sometimes, we’d have joint missions with them, Army Special Forces and Air Force PJs.” She sipped her coffee. “Those guys go where angels fear to tread, Cat. They’re the best of the best at black ops. And they take the fight to the enemy. No fear.”
“Assertive?”
Val smiled a little. “For sure. Type-A personalities with egos just as big. They’re used to working as a team. Even though SEALs are U.S. Navy, they are found globally on sea, air and land. Talon was with SEAL Team 3 from what his mother told me. He was a shooter. A guy who was out with a rifle fighting Taliban and al Qaeda over in Afghanistan.”
“I know nothing about the military,” Cat admitted. And then she brightened and grinned over at Val. “With the exception of you, of course.”
“I’m a cowgirl now,” Val said, smiling.
Cat nodded. “And you met Griff in the process.”
Val’s eyes grew warm with love for her husband. They had been married a year and worked hard to bring the Bar H back from being a total loss. “He’s made it easy to come back.” Val looked around the warm, quiet kitchen. “This place held a lot of really bad memories for me. When Gus broke her hip and I came home to help her, I was really bitter about it at first. But I love her very much. She’s my grandmother and she was so important in my life when I was sixteen and she moved back here to the Bar H. I owed her, so I came back.”
“And Griff made the difference.” Cat knew they were deeply in love with each other. How often had she fantasized about meeting a man she could trust instead of fear?
Val wrapped her fingers around the mug. “Oh, yes, a big difference.”
“I overheard Miss Gus say you were trying to get pregnant?”
Val flushed. “I think I am, Cat. I got a feeling about it.”
“Have you tested for it yet?” she asked, thrilled. Cat loved babies and she’d delivered her fair share.
“No, and say nothing, okay? I haven’t missed a period, but I just feel different. It’s strange,” she said, shrugging. “I can’t put words to it. A new kind of happiness…”
“Fingers crossed,” Cat said. “Your secret’s safe with me, but do let me know.”
“I promise,” Val said, touching her arm.
“Hey,” Gus called from down the hall. “Cat? Talon’s waking up.”
Quickly, Cat pushed the chair back and stood up. “Be right there,” she said, and a new kind of excitement surged through her.
CHAPTER THREE
CAT SHOOED EVERYONE out of the room. Someone in Talon’s shape would easily become confused, with his mental faculties close to hallucinations due to his temperature. Zeke came over to his bedside as she sat down facing Talon, eyes bright and on his master. Talon’s skin appeared less gray and she took a cloth from the nearby bed stand. She gently sponged away the sweat on his brow, pale cheeks and thick, corded neck. Emotions swirled through her. How could one man have such a profound effect on her—and so fast? She watched his lids quiver. Yes, he was beginning to surface.
Setting the cloth aside, she listened to his lungs through her stethoscope. The antibiotics were starting to take a hold. Relief sizzled through her. She heard less crackling in his lungs. The fluids were slowly being reabsorbed by the body. Looping the stethoscope over her neck, she placed two fingers on the inside of his wrist. More relief. Talon’s pulse was no longer bounding. She picked up her thermometer, placing it inside his ear. Looking at it, she saw why he was becoming conscious. The fever was now down to 102°F.
“You’re one lucky guy,” she told him.
His lashes barely lifted.
Cat placed her hand on his. “Talon? Can you hear me? It’s Cat. You’re at the Bar H.”
A woman’s voice cut through the confusion rushing across Talon’s closed eyes. Weak. He felt so damn weak it was pitiful. Yet, when her warm, dry fingers curved over his sweaty wrist, the anxiety stopped. Her voice was low, intimate, and even his pounding heart responded to it.
God, he was thirsty.
It was the thirst that forced Talon to struggle mightily to raise his lids. When he did, his vision was blurred and all he saw was the color red in front of him. Blinking, the red turned out to be a red flannel shirt someone was wearing. It took every ounce of his strength to lift his gaze upward. When he did, he saw an incredibly beautiful woman with exotic blue eyes somberly studying him, her lush mouth pursed with concentration. And when her fingers curved more surely against his large hand, he felt her soft, maternal touch.
“Talon?”
His brow wrinkled. She knew his name. How? His mind wasn’t functioning. It pissed him off because as a SEAL, weakness wasn’t a word that existed in his universe. He forced his lips to open. Only a harsh sound escaped. Had he died? For sure he wasn’t going to heaven. Not in this lifetime. So was she an angel? His mind rolled around like a loose bowling ball with no boundaries.
She was pretty. Her black hair was slightly curled around her shoulders and framed her oval face. There was hidden strength in her face. A patient face. Her eyebrows were arched over those incredible blue eyes. Talon thought he saw her smile. Maybe he wanted her to smile because she looked so damn serious. Why?
And then his fevered mind put two and two together. The woman at his side, leaning forward, was also holding his hand. He liked her hand around his. Her skin was velvet, yet strong, like her. He became aware of the strength in her face. She couldn’t be more than twenty-five or so. And he saw redness around the left side of her slender neck, most of it hidden beneath the red flannel shirt she wore. Why? Was her skin burned from some tragedy?
“Talon?”
Her voice made him think of warm honey drizzled over his flesh. Talon almost wanted to laugh. As weak and sick as he was, he was thinking about sex. With her. He didn’t even have the energy to smile, much less entertain other things. She certainly inspired his imagination, even if his body couldn’t keep pace with the fantasy he was having about her in his arms, loving her, exploring her, kissing each square inch of that sweet-smelling skin of hers. He saw her lean away, and when she placed a warm, damp cloth against his brow and cheeks, it felt heavenly. He finally realized he was no longer freezing. The warmth of a blanket beneath him radiated heat. He could feel his fingers and toes once again.
Zeke whined.
Blinking slowly, Talon carefully turned his head and focused on his dog. Zeke panted and whined, his big ears up and his eyes dancing with happiness, his hot breath moist across his face. Talon wanted to speak, to pat his dog, but he could do neither. The woman laughed softly.
“Zeke’s been waiting for you to become conscious, too.”
Swallowing hard, his throat dry, Talon closed his eyes, fighting to put one word together. He didn’t want her to stop moving that warm washcloth against his neck and shoulders. God, it felt good.
Talon clung to her warm gaze. Her face was less than a foot away from his, studying him. Was she a doctor? He finally realized that black thing hanging around her shoulders was a stethoscope. Though he wanted to tunnel his fingers through that thick, shining mass of gleaming black hair that softly framed her face, he could barely move one finger.
“W-water…” His voice sounded like the croak of a bullfrog. The woman reached up and then adjusted the IV in his arm. SEALs were trained in giving a team member an IV when they were shot and losing a lot of blood.
How he enjoyed her profile as she turned and busied herself. It was clean. Beautiful. He laughed to himself. Somewhere in his mind, he remembered her name was Cat, appropriate because of her slightly tilted blue eyes. She wore no makeup. And when he flared his nostrils, he picked up her woman’s scent, a special fragrance that was only her. It felt like life to Talon. Hope. Maybe he wasn’t going to die after all?
“Water?” she asked him, looking into his barely opened eyes. They felt cloudy with fever.
“P-please?” he asked. Talon smelled the sweat and filth of his own body. He stank. Yet, this woman didn’
t seem to care or mind as she left his side. Where did she go? Talon didn’t have the strength to move his head to find out. The warmth of the blankets felt incredibly good to him. He hated the cold.
And then she came back. Talon heard her tell Zeke to move and she sat down at his shoulder, her hip brushing his arm. Closing his eyes, he savored her warm, dry arm sliding behind his neck and shoulders.
“Okay, up you go,” she urged.
Her breath was sweet and moist as she leaned down, her face very close to his. Talon couldn’t even help her, too weak to sit up by himself. Yet, amazingly, she levered him up and held him with her woman’s strength. She placed the lip of a glass to his mouth. The water was tepid, but it tasted like heaven. He drank thirstily, some of the water leaking out the sides of his mouth, soaking into his beard. In no time, he’d drained the contents.
Talon closed his eyes, feeling the water inside him, feeling less thirsty. He regretted her lowering him down against the soft, fluffy pillows once more, her arm sliding out from beneath his neck and shoulders. He was a big man, and yet, she’d had the strength to lift him. That amazed him. Granted, she appeared to be almost six feet tall, was medium boned, but she was still all woman. Starving for her touch once more, Talon closed his eyes, feeling better but missing contact with her. Better to imagine it for now. The fever still had him in its grip and his mind bounced around. What would it be like to kiss that mouth of hers? It was a soft mouth, full and wide. The kind a man could drown himself in, explore and make his own. He’d kissed his share of women over his time as a SEAL but her mouth intrigued him more than any other. Would her skin, those faintly flushed pink cheeks of hers, feel like warm velvet beneath his exploring fingertips? Would her hair feel warm and silky as he sifted them through those strands? Talon bet they would.
Cat continued to study him in the silence. The whole scene settled the anxiety that had hovered about him these past few months—maybe years. She gave him peace when he no longer had any himself. Made him feel safe in a world he knew was unsafe. All of this from just her gaze.
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