“Beer would be great.” He nodded thanks, before heading into the living room.
A frown covered her face, sinking into a brief wave of disappointment that settled in her chest. Obviously, he hadn’t learned his lesson. Maybe he should’ve been charged with DUI. Truth be told, she could use a beer herself.
She collected a couple of bottles of beer from the fridge and assembled a large plate of deli meats, cheeses, and crackers, along with a big bowl of green onion potato chips. After all, it wasn’t exactly like either of them was going to sleep any time soon. Balancing the plate and bottles so she only needed to make one trip, she headed to the living room.
He looked up at her and took a plate. “Hey, thanks. Just what I need at the moment. It’s been a long time since dinner.”
She set the beers down on a couple of coasters on the large coffee table, while he placed the bowl of chips in the center. He took the cold bottle of beer and pressed it to his red face.
“So. What did Peter say?” Trying to sound casual didn’t work. She failed to keep the tension out of her voice.
After a long pull of his beer, he unceremoniously stuffed a ham-and-cheese cracker sandwich into his mouth. She sat on her hands, fighting the urge to fidget. She rocked back and forth a little, aware he was deliberately taking a long time to answer—and that couldn’t mean anything good.
“He wasn’t there. Must have changed his mind about staying the night.”
“Wasn’t there? What do you mean, he wasn’t there?”
“Just what I said. Peter’s truck is gone. There was no one in the bunkhouse.”
“Nothing taken, or messed with?”
“No. Just like this place.”
She tightened her grip on her beer bottle. “So all we’re dealing with is three loose dogs and an unexplained open door.”
“That’s right.”
Her teeth sank into her lip. If that’s all then why am I scared to death?
She couldn’t help but curl up tighter on the end of the couch, hugging her knees with her arms. A fire swam through her body, her skin sensitive to the cloth touching her skin. Droplets of perspiration beaded around her hairline.
“Look, I know your father likes Peter, and trusts him. But do you?” John asked.
“No.” She reached over and grabbed a cracker from the platter. “Don’t like him. Don’t trust him.” She held the cracker to her lips, nibbling on it like a small animal.
“I don’t like him, either. He’s a putz.” He shoved another cracker sandwich in his mouth. Apparently he was happy to use food as a distraction, just like her.
“A putz?”
“Yeah. You know. An idiot. Somebody who doesn’t know what’s going on around him. And doesn’t care.”
She reflected on Peter’s attitude, how oblivious he was to how badly received his attempts at ingratiating himself were. “Sounds about right.”
“Trust me.” He took another swig of beer. “You have nothing to worry about with the guy. If he doesn’t stay in his place, he’ll be out of a job.” He shoved a third cracker sandwich into his mouth. “So, where’s your father again, exactly?”
A few crumbs flew out of his mouth and landed on the coffee table. She giggled as he quickly brushed away the crumbs, his face turning beet red. She scooted off the couch and knelt beside Koda, and gave her a good scratch behind her ears. “He’s at the Cattle Ranch Association quarterly banquet.”
“Sounds like an interesting evening. That a big deal locally?”
“Pretty boring, actually. But he and Linda seem to enjoy it. Guess it’s fun for old folks.” She bit her lip to stifle her laugh. “Maybe you’d like it.”
She turned, hiding her grin until a fluffy pillow collided with her head.
“Quit calling me old,” he said before packing more food into his mouth.
“I call it as I see it.”
“Guess someone needs glasses,” he said. “I’m thirty, not three hundred. I’m not even in my prime yet.”
“Oh, really.” She hoisted herself up and walked to the hall closet. Her hands rested on the handles of the bi-fold doors and she took in a deep breath. The tension in her body left. She was grateful she didn’t have to be alone tonight, not to mention surprised at how much she enjoyed his company.
Grabbing an armload of pillows and throw blankets, she kicked the door closed with her foot and made her way back the living room.
“You can stay if you want,” she said, as casually as she could manage. “At least until my dad gets home.”
“Yeah. Sure. I can stay if you want me to.” He didn’t sound too eager to accept the invitation, but she didn’t care. Regardless of her attraction to him, his presence made her feel safe. Or safer than she would alone.
Better make sure he doesn’t get the wrong idea. She tossed John a pillow and a couple of blankets, keeping a few for herself. She plopped onto the sofa on the other side of the room, grabbed the remote control for the television, turned it on, and started flipping through the channels. “Anything you care to watch?”
He bent over, untied the laces of his boots, and placed them next to the couch. “Yeah. The back of my eyelids. Keep the volume down, please.” He sprawled out on the couch and closed his eyes, shielding them with his forearm.
“Hangover much?”
“More like your driving,” he teased, stifling a yawn.
She lifted one of the throw pillows, poised to launch it at him just as he peeked out from under his arm and raised one hand. “Don’t do it.”
She pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes. “Jerk.”
“Careful now, princess. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were flirting with me,” he teased and closed his eyes again. “You’re kind of cute when you’re pissy.”
Her mouth fell open. Did he really? That was one of the least original things to say to a woman—as well as the most insulting. Her head tilted to the side, noticing how he carefully positioned himself, keeping a pillow firmly over his lap.
The realization of what he was likely hiding with that pillow curled through her lower belly, filling it with fluttery warmth. She nudged her thighs more tightly against each other. Heat and wetness built where her thighs met.
A subtle creak in the floorboards squashed her mood as quickly as it had begun. Katie cleared her throat, tucking her knees to her chest. She turned her attention to the TV and hoped it would distract her from her fear. And from the echoes of her arousal.
Chapter 16
A soft moan cut through the silence of sleep. John forced his eyelids open, yet remained still. Some nights he heard sounds—sounds that weren’t there. But it wasn’t the firm mattress of the bunkhouse beneath him, it was the slippery surface of a sofa. Another moan reached his ears.
Did the intruder return while he was asleep?
A softer moan. This time a woman’s.
Must be a movie. What the fuck is she watching? He inched his arm to his forehead to see what was on the screen. Of course. He should have known. Why did it have to be that movie? Why were people going crazy over a glorified porno with bondage? If he was lucky, Katie would be asleep and he could turn this crap off. Or at least switch over to another channel.
His eyes took a couple of seconds to adjust to the dimly lit room. He turned his body, hoping the remote would be on the coffee table. His muscles ached and he didn’t want to get off the couch. As his shoulder hit the leather of the couch, his breath caught.
She was definitely not asleep.
His eyes widened at the sight—remote in one hand, while her other hand disappeared beneath the blanket spread over her knees. Her lips parted, and her glossy eyes focused intently on the screen. His eyes traveled down to her spread legs. Even covered, he could make out the circular motion of her right hand.
Just ten feet away from him, she was touching herself.
“Oh, fuck!” He gasped.
She squealed, dropping the remote like a branding iron that had just burned her. She
scrambled to find the remote on the floor, tossing the blanket around and shooing away the startled dogs, still half-asleep.
“I—I thought you were asleep!” She overreached, but with her legs tangled in the blanket couldn’t right herself in time. With another shriek, she rolled onto the floor in a tangle of blanket and dogs.
A short bark of laughter erupted from his chest. The scene was comical, but it wasn’t laughter that had his pulse racing. Beneath the blanket on his own lap, his dick stood at full attention. The knowledge that Katie—the woman who lit up his body like a Christmas tree—had gone at it all by herself, without caring one bit he was lying just a few feet away from her, spoke directly to the man in him. His muscles twitched from arousal, and he gripped the blanket on his lap tightly, fighting for control of himself.
He tried hard to smother his arousal, forcing his body to lie perfectly still, unsure about what to do. Her obvious embarrassment could send her into one of her hurricane tirades, and a fight was the last thing he wanted.
A new wave of electricity rushed through him when she stood up, finally having freed her legs from the blankets. Her shorts were missing. He stifled his groan, disguising it as a chuckle. A real chuckle followed, even louder. He couldn’t help it.
“What’s so funny?” She whipped around, growling at him.
“Aren’t you too old to be wearing white cats with pink bows on your underwear?”
Red crept up her neck and cheeks. She tried to throw the blanket around herself, but Nickel, thinking this was a game, tugged at the end of it. She stumbled and sat down hard on the floor.
“You’re some kind of klutz, aren’t you, princess?” He took a deep breath, and walked over to her, extending his hand to help her up. As she reached up and grabbed his arm for support, he noticed her gaze fall. Noticed her breath hitch. And he swelled even more.
When she finally stood, she closed the distance between them and pressed her body against his. Both their breaths shook. She pressed her tongue to the seam of his lips, delving inside his mouth with a fiery, desperate passion. Holy fucking shit! This was nothing like his fantasies. His blood sizzled every time she ran her velvety tongue over his. Holy fucking shit. He groaned when her arms reached up and tangled around his neck, feeling the beating of her heart against his chest. Her own hammered as his hands rested below her ears, his thumbs caressing her cheeks as their tongues mingled.
Her eyes flew open when they pulled apart. She backed up quickly, taking shaky, shallow breaths as she smoothed her hair. “I’m going to go upstairs. I’m—I’m sorry I woke you up.” She grabbed the blanket, pushed past him, and ran for the stairs. The three dogs took off, right on her heels. They all bolted up the stairs together, as if running from something terrifying.
His head dropped down, eyes settling on the outline of his erect dick, visible through his jeans. Maybe she was terrified. But the internal joke didn’t calm his nerves. His hand ran over the nape of his neck, recalling how she’d stiffened at their first introduction, and how she startled whenever he took a sudden step in her direction. Many times he’d caught her standing with her arms wrapped around herself like a barrier.
Fear chased away his arousal, and anger made its presence known as his mind ran through all the options of what could’ve happened. The blank distant stare at the police station, and the worried looks Mitch and Linda always gave her. The way she retreated whenever he got too close.
His stomach turned sour. Her occasional limping and the faint scars and unevenness on her pretty face. The anxiousness that consumed her when they’d come home to find the door open, insisting someone had gotten into the house. The way she’d practically begged him to sleep in the same room with her, when he knew she despised him.
His fingers laced through the short strands of hair on top of his head. Someone had hurt her. Really hurt her. There was no other explanation. It all made sense. Dr. Evans had lectured him enough about how trauma survivors put up barriers to keep people away. Stop. This isn’t about me.
But tonight. What happened? Was that the real Katie—free and risk-taking? Did she like him? Maybe? He settled back on the sofa, frowning up at the ceiling. A cushion dug into his shoulder blades and he rolled onto one side to extricate it, wincing as that set off a chain reaction in his muscles. He shut his eyes, running his hands over his face. Had whoever was responsible for Katie’s injuries returned to hurt her again?
I am not going to let that happen.
He twisted his neck until he felt the bones crack and release a flood of relief to the rest of his body. God, I really am getting old. And soft.
He needed a distraction so he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He opened his email, clicking through messages he hadn’t checked for days. Some of them were from men he’d deployed with. Most of those messages simply read, “Miss ya, buddy.” Or, “Do you want to create a memorial for McDonald?” Or, “How are you handling recovery?”
The emptiness in his heart, the numbness pounding in his brain, the sheer nothingness that took hold of his soul threatened to engulf him entirely. His fingers gripped the phone so tightly the case creaked in protest. He swiped the program closed without responding to anyone. He couldn’t answer those questions. Not yet, anyway.
And maybe never.
Chapter 17
Sunlight danced across the kitchen’s glossy stone floor, reflecting onto several objects and familiar furnishings. The cheerful light promised a good day ahead. But a nagging anxious feeling wouldn’t release its grip on Katie. The possibility of an intruder left her unsettled, even after the embarrassing encounter with John. Her arousal had consumed her the previous night, and the movie just tipped her over the edge.
“I’ve been trying not to worry about Dad.” She stood up on her tiptoes to peer out the front window of the kitchen, and then glanced back at John, who stared at her as he always seemed to be doing. She cleared her throat and refocused on the view outside of the window, deciding the best way to handle her faux pas was simply to brazen through it. But she couldn’t push their kiss from her mind. The feel of his lips, the way his heart hammered against her chest. How his pure strength felt soft and tender. And how she wanted more of it.
Besides the kiss, the intruder and her missing father, she further rattled herself by running through possible comments the sexy foreman might make. To her surprise, he made no reference to her moment of abandon, instead greeting her as if it had been any other morning. She felt both relieved and disappointed.
“He should have been home not long after we were. I’ve never known him to stay away all night,” she said.
“You’re sure he’s not here?”
“His car’s not here.”
“Well, yes, but maybe Linda dropped him off for some reason.”
“No.” She shook her head. “The door to his room is sitting half open. His bed hasn’t been slept in.”
“Um—any chance he might have stayed over with Linda?”
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “No! I told you. It’s not like that with them.”
“When was the last time you tried his cell phone?”
“About an hour ago. It just went straight to voicemail.” She pulled out her phone from her pocket and punched in her dad’s number. It rang and when it hit voicemail, she hung up. “I’m getting worried.”
“Did you try calling Linda? You said she went with him last night.” He opened the fridge and began searching through it. “You must have something in there that would make a decent breakfast. Oh—now we’re in business.” He returned to the counter with a slab of bacon. “Perfect.”
She scratched at her forearm. “We could try Linda but I don’t have her new number.”
“Wouldn’t your dad have a copy in his office?”
She ducked out of the kitchen, making for the small back room her dad fondly referred to as his office. The little desk and bookcase were almost dwarfed by his varied collection of treasures. Family mementos
too hideous to be displayed in the rest of the house, but too dear to part with. Pictures she’d scrawled in crayon in her preschool days. Even parts from his first truck, the one she was conceived in. “Dad, the secret sentimental packrat.”
Standing over the desk, she inhaled her father’s usual aftershave. The file she needed was already on the desk. But after scanning the pages, she came up empty handed.
“It’s not there,” she said, returning to the kitchen to find John pouring himself a cup of coffee, the French vanilla aroma filling the air of the room. “I guess he updated the number in his phone but not in her file.”
“We’ll go down to my office. Her number’s got to be there somewhere. And if it isn’t, we can always—” He stopped.
“Always what?” But she knew he would say they could call the cops and check for accidents. “You think…something’s happened?”
“Katie, if anything bad had happened someone would’ve called. The hospital. Or the police. Or Linda. Your dad’s fine.” He winked at her. “I still say they stayed over together somewhere.”
“I told you, they’re not—”
“Come on. We’ll go out to the foreman’s office and see if her number’s in there.” The warmth of his voice and calm in his eyes put her at ease.
A curt, sharp whistle cut through the air. Irritation stung her as Koda trotted into the room and stood at John’s feet. Koda wasn’t just her pet. She needed Koda. Both had suffered horrible traumas and they protected one another. When Koda first arrived, some of the ranch hands had become overly interested in her, not understanding the dog’s need for space. But after she worked with the dog, Koda began to rebuild the confidence to interact with people. The dog had been a godsend, making her feel safe and protected—and she did not want to lose her to this man who simply walked in and took over as though Koda belonged to him.
They got their coats and walked outside into the brisk mountain air. Although autumn was upon them, the fields seemed greener than ever before. The herds of cattle grazed in the distant pastures. A few hundred calves had been born this year. Some would stay on and become replacement cows, but most would go on to dinner tables as some of the finest beef on the country.
Hearts Unleashed Page 11
