Cowboys & Kisses

by Summers, Sasha

  Wyatt’s truck was still here. I pushed open the door. “Wyatt,” I wheezed. “Wyatt!”

  Wyatt popped up from the couch, bleary-eyed. “Allie?”

  I slid down the door frame. “Scorpion. Think I’m allergic.”

  He jumped over the back of the couch, picked me up, and headed toward his truck.

  “Shoes? Sh-sh-shirt?” My tongue was swelling.

  “Don’t need ’em,” he said, opening the door while balancing me.

  “Need…” I shook my head. “Benadryl.”

  “I’ll get it.” He ran back inside and came back—with Benadryl and boots but no shirt.

  Five minutes later we were on the road to the nearest emergency clinic…ten miles to go.

  “You sure you took two of them?” Wyatt asked for the fourth time.

  I nodded, my breathing loud in the cab.

  “How do you feel? What can I do?” he asked.

  I listed into him, shivering a little. He pulled me close, making me warmer in an instant.

  My phone rang but I let Wyatt answer. “Dax? Wyatt. Call your folks. Allie got stung by a scorpion…a few times. Allergic…headed to the ER… Molly can tell you.”

  I must have fallen asleep against his shoulder. Next thing I knew I was waking up in a hospital bed feeling fine. Well, almost fine. I definitely felt like I’d been stung by a scorpion on the neck, cheek, and arm.

  “Hey,” I said to Dax and Wyatt.

  Wyatt had his hands covering his face. When I spoke, he looked up. He was so freaking happy and reassured, I smiled, forcing my attention to Dax, who was watching the two of us with a self-satisfied grin.

  “You just have to be the center of attention,” he said.

  “Screw you,” I said, and sucked in a deep breath. “I can breathe.”

  Wyatt’s voice was amused. “That’s a good thing.”

  “A definite improvement. Nothing like seeing your sister passed out, put on oxygen, and getting some big-ass shot to liven things up.”

  I smiled. “I try.”

  “Folks are on the way,” Dax said. “Heads up.”

  “Great.” I frowned.

  “Allie, it’ll be okay,” Dax assured me.

  “Says the golden child,” I replied, without bite.

  “They’ll be relieved.” Wyatt’s voice was troubled.

  “Maybe,” I mumbled.

  “Allie…” Dax shook his head. “Come on.”

  I held up my hand. “Okay, that was a low blow, but—”

  “I know they’re hard on you,” Dax admitted. “Dad’s hard on you.”

  It took everything I had not to cry. I wanted to cry. I nodded, but decided changing the subject might be the best thing to do at this point. “So how long have we been here?” I asked.

  “Half an hour maybe.” Wyatt shrugged. “We walked in, they gave you a shot, you started breathing. Once you were breathing, everyone calmed down. I know I did.” He stood up, pacing the room.

  “I stopped breathing?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Almost. You were pretty grey…” His voice was rough.

  “Man.” Dax stood up. “Thank you. Seriously. You saved her life.”

  Wyatt’s eyes fixed on my feet, his face hard, the muscle in his jaw flexing and unflexing. I remembered his face, the unfiltered fear, when he’d picked me up. I thought he’d talked to me, saying my name over and over, on the way here, but that was a little foggy. I thought he might have said a few things a boy had never said to me before, but there was no way I could be sure of it. I knew he cared about me, he’d told me as much. He cared about me and he’d cared for me—over and over again.

  “Yes. Thank you,” I said, aware that my voice was soft and wobbly and not caring in the least.

  “Allie…” Wyatt shook his head, running a hand over his face. He paused, then reached out and held my toes through the sheet. He was warm, but his fingers were shaking.

  “Be right back.” Dax all but ran out of the partitioned room.

  “Wyatt?” I wanted to reach out to him. I wanted him to hold me close. His eyes bore into mine, haunted and exhausted and so damn gorgeous. What could I say to make him feel better? To thank him. “I’m sorry—”

  He shook his head. “Uh-uh. You don’t get to own a scorpion bite. Or an allergic reaction. This could have happened to anyone, so you can’t blame yourself. Got it?”

  How did he know? “But—”

  “But nothing. I’ve lived here my whole life, been stung more times that I can remember. Hell yes, it hurt more than a fire ant, but I didn’t stop breathing.” The last few words were so anguished I held my hand out.

  “I’m breathing,” I murmured.

  He took my hand, holding it in both of his. His warm brown gaze never left my face.

  “Because of you.”

  He didn’t say anything, but his face…his eyes…his posture said a lot. He was holding back, everything about him was rigid—on edge. The crease on his forehead deepened, killing me. Finally, he reached down, to touch me, but stopped.

  My heart lodged itself in my throat. I don’t know what I wanted, but not this—not Wyatt all stressed out and tense and worried. “Wyatt…”

  He blinked, releasing my hand and stepping back. He looked…uncertain, guilty. Dammit. He…he was amazing.

  “The doc is talking to your parents on the phone now. I think you’ll be going home soon,” he said.

  “And you can get some sleep. And find some clothes,” I said, trying to tease, to ease the tension hanging between us.

  “I don’t look good?” he asked, staring down at the blue hospital scrub top.

  “Um…” I shrugged. You’d look good in anything. “Not the way I’m used to seeing you, I guess.” I prefer you all virile cowboy, shirtless and a little bit sweaty.

  Dax came in, eyeing the two of us. He sighed and handed me a cup. “Drink this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Just water,” he said with a laugh. “You’re supposed to be drinking lots of water.”

  I emptied the cup, loving the cold all the way down. “Oh, thank you.” I finished, handing him the cup.

  “More?” he asked.

  “Allie?” My mother was crying as she joined us behind the fabric partition in the ER.

  “Mom, I’m okay,” I assured her, even as she wrapped me in a tight embrace and sobbed. “I’m not a fan of scorpions, but I’m fine.”

  She laughed. “We’ll have pest control come out.”

  “I was out running. I don’t think it’s economical to have all…how many acres is it, Dad?” I asked.

  “A lot,” my father answered.

  “Right. It happens. Wyatt said he’s been tagged lots of times.”

  “Too many to count,” Wyatt agreed.

  “They’re everywhere, June,” Dad said to my mother. “Now we know she’s allergic, we can be prepared if she gets stung again.”

  My mother’s grip relaxed a little. “I’m so sorry we weren’t here.”

  “Mom.” I pulled back. “Chill. You and Dad should do…what married people do. Being here wouldn’t have changed what happened.”

  She smiled, touching my cheek. “When did you get so smart?”

  “She got it from me,” Dax answered. “It’s been a slow learning process, let me tell you.”

  I ignored my brother. “Wyatt’s the hero. He got me here.”

  I saw his face turn red, then a pale white, staring hard at the floor.

  “Sounds like a rough time.” My father looked at Wyatt. “You okay, son?”

  It didn’t bother me when Dad called him “son.” I’m not sure why. Maybe it was because I knew Wyatt was on his own. Or that it was obvious Dad truly liked Wyatt. Or that I cared for Wyatt. A lot. Too much. But I wanted him to have…affection. And attention. He deserved it.

  “Not gonna lie, sir.” Wyatt smiled a little. “It shook me up.”

  My mom stood up, hugging Wyatt tightly. He hugged her back. I saw the way his hands fisted
against her back, saw the way he hid his face against her shoulder. And felt my heart swell.

  I love you, Wyatt.

  Oh God. I do. I love him. Dammit. I love you.

  “Can we get out of here?” Dax asked. “I know Wyatt’s not a fan of hospitals either.”

  Wyatt straightened, looking a little less anguished, but my mom hooked her arm with his as she spoke. “Yes. Allie needs to eat something. Peggy’s?”

  Dad nodded. “Sounds good.”

  “Sorry I’m not up for cooking right now,” I said, sitting up and swinging my legs out of the bed. Wyatt’s grin made my pulse pick up. Without thinking, I smiled right back.

  I love you.

  This could be a problem.

  “Need help?” my dad asked, turning to me.

  Wait. He was looking at me. Really looking at me—making actual eye contact.

  “I’m…I’m good,” I managed. “Thanks.”

  He smiled a little, and nodded. “You’re tough stuff, kid.”

  I’ve had to be.

  I tried to muster up attitude and anger, but I was too tired. I was just happy to be here, breathing, with my family. And Wyatt…who was, really, part of the family at this point. To me, he was definitely someone special.

  “I don’t have shoes.” I noticed my feet were bare, mud still covering my ankles.

  “I have some flip-flops in the car,” Mom said.

  I nodded. “Give me a sec to clean up a little.”

  Mom coerced a few towels out of one of the orderlies and I spent a good ten minutes scrubbing as much mud off of my legs and neck and face as possible. It had dried but it stuck like glue, grey and tacky.

  “This is really gross.”

  Mom handed me a bag. “My workout clothes. They’ll be too big for you, but at least they’re clean and dry.”

  “Thanks.” I tossed the towel in the sink and opened the bag. “I’m still all crunchy.”

  Once I was dressed, Mom leaned closer. “Hurt?” she asked, eyeing the bites on my neck and cheek.

  I nodded. “They each have a heartbeat. And they feel hot.”

  She winced. “Food. Then bed.”

  “I’m fine,” I argued. “I actually feel pretty good.”

  “Because you’re pumped up on epinephrine. I’m kind of expecting you to crash and feel sick within an hour.”

  “Great.” I sighed, shoving my dirty clothes into the bag. “Can’t wait.” She laughed, holding the door open for me.

  Dad was on his phone when we came out. So was Dax. Wyatt was leaning against the wall, his eyes closed. And my heart picked up.

  “Mom,” I whispered softly, “Wyatt needs sleep. He drove in late last night—”

  “Drove in where?” She tried to act casual but I knew what she was asking.

  “To our place. It was storming. Dax was stuck at Molly’s house so Wyatt came straight over because—”

  “Because he knows you’re not a fan of storms?”

  I nodded. “He’s exhausted.”

  She paused, whispering, “He won’t go. Your dad already tried. But I don’t feel good about him driving.”

  He won’t go? Because of me. I was so…confused.

  She spoke up. “Dax, will you drive Wyatt and Allie to the house? Dad and I will pick up some food and follow you.”

  “I’m fine, Dr. Cooper—”

  “Wyatt, please do this for me. I don’t want your falling asleep at the wheel on my conscience, please. Once you have some food in your belly and a nice, long nap, Dax can bring you back here for your truck.”

  “Unless we’re interrupting your plans?” I asked Dax, thinking of Molly.

  “Cut me some slack, Al. I did get here in time to see you, blue and unresponsive. I kind of want to hang out, you know, watch you breathe and stuff for a while. Okay?”

  I smiled. “Okay.”

  We were walking out of the hospital when Levi showed up. He jumped out of his truck, looking sincerely worried. “Allie, honey, you okay?”

  “How did you know?” I asked.

  “My aunt’s a nurse here. She knows I’m sweet on you.” Levi winked. “But don’t tell on her, she’d get fired for telling me.”

  “Oh?” I paused. “I won’t.” We kept walking to Dax’s blue truck. It wasn’t jacked up, with huge tires or fancy metal grillwork—it was just a truck, like Wyatt’s.

  “Ouch,” Levi said, inspecting my stings.

  “You could say that.” I grimaced.

  Levi opened the passenger door for me. “What do you need?”

  “I’m taking her home,” Dax said.

  “I can drive you,” Levi offered.

  “She’s covered. I’m already sort of going that way, man.” Dax tried not to sound impatient.

  “Okay.” Levi nodded. “If you didn’t want to go tubing on the river, all you had to do was say no. You didn’t have to go and get yourself stung.”

  I had to laugh. “You’re hilarious.” He smiled.

  “It’s sweet of you to come check on her, Levi,” Mom said. “We need to get her home. Come on, Allie.” I nodded, climbing into the truck and sliding to the middle.

  “Yes, ma’am. Some R and R is just what she needs,” Levi said. “If I can help, let me know. And Mr. Cooper, sir, I’d be glad to lend a hand at your place.”

  My dad looked surprised. I knew he wouldn’t turn him down; there was still a lot to get done. “I’d appreciate that, Levi. If you’re free Tuesday, I can put you to work.”

  Tuesday? Wasn’t today Sunday? My head felt fuzzy.

  “I’ll be there.” Levi started to close the door, but Wyatt caught it.

  “Hold up,” Wyatt said.

  “Your truck break down?” Levi asked, a definite edge to his tone.

  “Nope,” Wyatt said, sliding onto the bench seat beside me.

  For the first time, I glanced at Wyatt. It was hard to miss the tension. Levi’s jaw bulged while Wyatt’s nostrils flared. Great.

  Dax started the truck. “See you later,” he said.

  Wyatt pulled the door shut, making the frown on Levi’s face turn ugly.

  “Looks like Tuesday will be interesting,” Dax groaned.

  I smacked him on the shoulder. “You okay?” I asked Wyatt.

  Wyatt’s smile was tired, drained, but at least he was still smiling. “You’re asking me?” He nodded. “I’m good.”

  “You’re so full of shit,” Dax murmured.

  Wyatt laughed. I sighed, resting my head on the back of the seat. “Are you okay?” Wyatt asked.

  I turned my head, still resting it on the back of the seat. Heavy-lidded brown eyes were waiting for me. Seriously, I could look at him all day. A heavy stubble covered his jaw. I saw the muscle tighten there, clench, and looked up into his bloodshot eyes. He was watching me…and he looked so freaking gorgeous I didn’t bother pretending I wasn’t admiring him. He pressed his eyes closed, taking a deep breath.

  “Comfortable?” Dax asked me.

  I nodded, but didn’t look away from Wyatt. When he opened his eyes, I arched a brow. He shook his head, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. I smiled back.

  Dax took the corner hard, sliding me into Wyatt—who caught me, his arm steadying me against him. Perfect.

  “Deer,” Dax murmured.

  Whatever. Possible, but not likely. All that mattered was I ended up exactly where I wanted to be, burrowed into Wyatt’s side.

  He held me close for a minute, relaxing his hold enough to slide his hand up my back, under my hair. I shivered. His hand rested lightly on the back of my neck, warm, intimate, tingle-inducing. He pressed my head to his chest, slouching against the seat enough that we were both comfortable. I was, at least.

  I lay there, watching the scrub top he wore beat in time to his heartbeat. His breathing slowed, his hand sliding down to rest at the base of my spine. I was strangely relaxed but totally aware of his every twitch.

  The drive home was nice, but not long enough. Not nearly long
enough.

  10 CHAPTER TEN

  “We’re here,” Dax announced unnecessarily.

  I sat up and Wyatt opened the truck door. He held it open, standing back for me. I climbed out after him, walking between the two of them up the steps and into the house.

  “Recliner,” Dax commanded. “I’ll get you some water. Chill.”

  Wyatt handed me the remote control.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Dax shook his head. “You can’t just hand over the power like that. I know she’s wounded and all, but she might put on some chick-flick or something.”

  I laughed, turning on the TV, and searching until I found a soccer game. Dax sighed. “Could be worse,” I said. Dax rolled his eyes and headed for the kitchen while Wyatt stood there. “Sit.” I pointed at the couch. “Before you fall.”

  He flopped onto the couch, listing to the side. I really wished I was there on the couch with him. My hand fisted around the remote. Yes, I’d used him as a human pillow on the way home, but that didn’t mean anything…as long as I didn’t act like it meant anything. I mean, I’d have flopped on Dax if he hadn’t been driving, right? Sure.

  So treat Wyatt like Dax… I swallowed. Was I really going to try to convince myself that Wyatt was anything like Dax? That the feelings I had for my brother were anything like what I had for Wyatt? I mean, I guess they sort of were. I loved them both.

  I glanced at him, and he looked at me. “You okay?” he asked. I nodded. His gaze turned heavy and intense. “Allie…” He sat forward. “I’m sorry—”

  Mom and Dad arrived just then, breaking the tension in the room and dragging Wyatt into the kitchen with them. While everyone ate in the kitchen, I was banished to the recliner—giving me plenty of time to wonder what the hell Wyatt was sorry for. I was the one who kept throwing herself at him before telling him I wasn’t interested.

  Mom tucked a blanket over my lap. “You might get a chill.”

  “A chill?” I shook my head, my argument only half-hearted. “It’s like a hundred and three degrees!”

  “Outside, yes,” she countered. “So hush. Eat.”

  I sighed, but smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

  I was feeling rotten, both physically and emotionally, and the burger held about as much interest as taking a chemistry test. I hated chemistry.