by Lara Lacombe
“I’ll let you finish up,” he said, pushing off the jamb and straightening. “I hope you know that if you ever need a sympathetic ear, I’ve got two.”
“Thanks, Mac.” Tears prickled her eyes and she blinked hard, turning back to the computer in the hopes of hiding her reaction. She heard his footsteps as he walked away and let her shoulders slump. Mac was a sweet man but she couldn’t talk to him about her problems.
Not when they all centered around his son.
Thorne hadn’t said one word to her since that night three months ago, unless you counted hello and goodbye and “let me find Mac for you.” And she didn’t. Those were the polite sentence fragments strangers used, not the language of two people who had shared their bodies with each other.
Even now, a shiver of arousal tripped down her spine at the memory of that night. Being with Thorne had been amazing. Their chemistry had been electric, with none of the awkward fumbling that often accompanied her first time with a man. She and Thorne had moved in a seamless rhythm, as if they had read each other’s minds and knew exactly where to touch, how to move to give and receive pleasure. She’d never felt such a profound physical and emotional connection with a man before—being with Thorne had truly rocked her world.
Which had made it all the more painful when he’d pulled away from her in the days after their encounter.
It had been three months since that night, and in all that time, they’d only exchanged a handful of words. Her calls to him had gone unreturned, and when she’d dropped by the ranch to talk to him, he’d been “too busy” to see her. Maggie hadn’t been expecting a proposal or a declaration of undying love, but she didn’t understand why Thorne was giving her the cold shoulder. At first, she’d thought he was feeling shy. After all, things had gotten intimate very quickly and it was possible he was a little unsure of how to act now that the nature of their relationship had changed. But every time Maggie saw him he seemed to go out of his way to avoid talking to her. It didn’t take long for her to get the message that he wasn’t interested.
Ordinarily, she would let it go and try to move on with her life. But Thorne’s current behavior was so at odds with the way he’d treated her that night that she couldn’t stop wondering where things had gone wrong.
Had she said something? They hadn’t really done much talking, but perhaps she’d made a comment in an unguarded moment that had rubbed him the wrong way. If that was the case though, why hadn’t he bothered to tell her? She felt a flare of irritation that straightened her spine. If Thorne was upset with her, the least he could do was respect her enough to tell her why. This wasn’t junior high; they were both adults, and he needed to act like one.
It was the lack of closure that bothered her the most. If she knew what he was thinking, why he had changed his mind, it would be easier for her to move on. But his silence only provided space for her imagination to run wild, conjuring all sorts of explanations for his sudden reversal. She was tempted to force the issue, to grab his arm the next time she saw him and drag him into an empty room so they could talk. She deserved to know why he was treating her like a stranger! But something told her even if she did manage to catch Thorne alone, he wouldn’t open up to her.
“It’s better this way,” she murmured. After their night together, her crush on Thorne had morphed into a full blown infatuation. Even now, her heart ached at the thought of what might have been between them and the relationship they could have built together. But she deserved better than to be treated like a mistake. She deserved a man who wasn’t ashamed to be with her, who was proud to stand by her side and wanted to be a part of her life. She had hoped Thorne was that man, and it would take time to deal with her disappointment at finding out he wasn’t. At least she had found out his true feelings for her before she’d fallen all the way into the emotional quicksand of love. His silent rejection hurt, but she had learned a valuable lesson. The next time she met a man, she wouldn’t be so quick to involve her heart.
Working quickly, she put the finishing touches on Mac’s books and shut down her laptop. She really needed to talk Mac into moving his records and paperwork to a digital filing system—that way, he could simply email her the information and she wouldn’t have to come out to the ranch every few months. Although it was nice to get out of Shadow Creek and to see the horses and cattle up close, with her growing client list she simply couldn’t afford the commute time.
And if she was being truly honest with herself, she didn’t want to risk seeing Thorne.
She put on a brave face every time their paths crossed, which fortunately wasn’t often. But it was hard to pretend like nothing was wrong, and it was equally difficult to keep her anger and frustration bottled up inside. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold her tongue, and the last thing she wanted was to make a scene at Mac’s ranch; she couldn’t let her personal problems interfere with her professional duties.
“That’s what I get for mixing business with pleasure,” she muttered to herself. Lesson learned.
Maggie rose and slid the computer into its bag, then glanced around to make sure she’d gathered up everything. The place was orderly as always, the afternoon sun glinting off the metal handles of the filing cabinets that lined the far wall of the office. Maybe it was a little ridiculous to ask Mac to change a system he’d spent twenty years using, but in the end it would make his life easier.
Change was good, even though it was sometimes difficult.
She stepped out of the office into the barn and took a deep breath. Even though she was a city girl, Maggie had always loved the smell of a barn; the sweet scent of hay, the warm whiff of the horses and the potent tang of manure all combined in an instantly recognizable and deeply appealing aroma. Being in the barn, even if only for a few moments, had a relaxing effect on her.
At least, it normally did.
For the first time, Maggie wrinkled her nose at the familiar odors. Something seemed off about the smell—the hay emitted a sickly sweet fume that nearly gagged her. And the horse sweat had a musky tang that turned her stomach. But it was the scent of apples that sent her running out of the barn in search of fresh air; something about the combination of food and manure curdled her earlier cup of coffee and caused bile to rise in her throat.
She took a deep breath and was assaulted this time by the smell of fresh-cut grass. But at least it was better than the olfactory overload of the barn. Shaking her head, Maggie headed for her car. Its pearlescent white paint sparkled subtly in the sun, a contrast to the dull red of her previous ride. It still felt a little strange to walk out of a building and not see her old sedan waiting for her, but she had to admit, the new car smell was pretty nice.
A movement by the trunk caught her eye and she glanced over in time to see a bird take flight from her trunk, squawking in protest. That in itself was not unusual, but something still seemed strange...
Maggie slowed her pace and squinted at the trunk, trying to put her finger on what she was seeing. Finally, it hit her—the air above her car was shimmering, bending and moving in the liquid, languid dance of heat. She normally saw it in the summer, when the superheated asphalt seemed to melt the air above the road. But why was it happening now?
As she watched, a thin tendril of smoke curled into the air, the wisp so fine she would have missed it if she hadn’t been looking. Realization and shock slammed into her, followed quickly by disbelief. Her car was on fire! But how was that possible?
She glanced around the yard, searching wildly for something she could use to douse the flames. There was a water trough just inside the barn and she ran for it, dropping her computer bag in the dirt.
“Help!” Her mind raced as she searched for something, anything she could use to carry water back to her car. She needed the fire department, but they would take too long to get here. Maybe she could dump enough water on her trunk to put the fire out before it
spread? But why was it on fire in the first place? Cars didn’t spontaneously ignite...
“Help!” she yelled again. Where was everyone?
“Maggie?” She heard her name, barely audible over the rush of blood in her ears. There was a bucket sitting a few feet away, full of grain. She dumped it out and scooped up water from the trough.
“My car,” she yelled, not bothering to look back. “Call the fire department!”
She ran back outside, water sloshing over the sides of the bucket and soaking her clothes. Smoke was pouring out of her trunk in earnest now, the stench of it filling the air and burning her nose. There was a shout behind her but before she could respond, the world exploded in a ball of heat and light.
Chapter 3
Thorne reached the barn door just in time to see Maggie’s car explode.
He caught his breath and threw up a hand to shield his face as a ball of fire shot into the air. A loud boom shook the building, startling the horses inside. A chorus of panicked whinnies rang out, but Thorne couldn’t spare a moment for them.
He had to find Maggie.
The stubborn woman hadn’t listened to him when he’d called out to her. And whose fault is that? he thought bitterly. He hadn’t exactly been treating her well lately.
His heart in his throat, he scanned the dooryard for Maggie, straining to see through the smoke that now obscured most of the area. He considered calling 911, but by the time the ambulance arrived Maggie might be dead. There was no time to waste. He stepped into the yard and immediately started coughing as the thick, black fumes filled his lungs. He pulled a bandana from his back pocket and clamped it over his nose and mouth, but it didn’t help much. He had to find Maggie and get them both out of here, the sooner the better.
“Maggie!” He shouted her name, hoping she would hear him. But his stomach dropped as time ticked by without a response.
Was she dead? Just the thought made him want to vomit, but he had to consider the possibility. She’d been standing awfully close to the car when it exploded. He could still see her, arms wrapped around the bucket of water as she charged forward to save her vehicle. If only he’d been able to stop her!
He scanned the ground, his growing panic making it difficult for him to see. Oh, God, please let her still be alive!
“Thorne!” He heard his name from the direction of the barn but didn’t stop searching. “Thorne, come back! It’s too dangerous!”
“Help me find Maggie!” She was still here, he knew it. And he wasn’t leaving without her, no matter how much smoke filled the air. The car was a raging inferno now, and the sparse patches of grass near the dirt of the drive were turning black from the heat. It was only a matter of time before a spark caught one of the nearby buildings on fire...
The cries of the horses grew louder, and Thorne realized the other hands were busy moving them out of the barn. Good—that was one less thing to worry about.
He staggered through the smoke, tears streaming down his cheeks. An odd shape on the ground caught his eye, and he turned, blinking hard and squinting to focus.
It was a shoe.
“Maggie.” He tried to shout her name, but the smoke and his fear caused his throat to lock up. He ran over to find her lying on her back, her eyes closed and her face too pale for his liking.
For a split second, he froze, fear locking his muscles into place. She was so still... He’d never forgive himself if she was dead. If he hadn’t treated her so badly after their night together, she would have listened to him, would have waited for him to catch up instead of running headlong toward danger by herself. This was all his fault...
His hand shook a little as he reached out and gently placed his fingers on her throat. Her pulse beat sure and strong, and the breath shuddered out of his lungs in a gust of relief. She was still alive!
Moving quickly, he ran his hands along her body, feeling for any damp spots that would indicate blood from an injury. When he came up dry, he hooked his hands under her arms and dragged her across the yard. They made it to the relative coolness of the barn just as a fire truck turned off the main road and came screaming up the drive to the dooryard.
The firemen wasted no time attacking the blaze. Under other circumstances, Thorne would have been right in the middle of the response, helping the other ranch hands with the horses and telling the firefighters what he knew about the situation. But he wasn’t about to leave Maggie’s side.
Someone knelt next to him but Thorne didn’t bother to look over. His eyes were glued to Maggie’s face, searching for a sign of awareness, a flicker or a twitch that would indicate she was regaining consciousness.
“What happened?” Mac spoke calmly amid the chaos, and the tension in Thorne’s chest eased at the sound of his father’s voice.
“Her car exploded.” Thorne still couldn’t believe it. Cars didn’t just explode in real life—that was the stuff of movies. Something was definitely off here, but he couldn’t worry about it right now.
“It exploded?” Mac echoed in disbelief. “How in the hell—”
“I don’t know,” Thorne said shortly. “But I watched it happen.” The scene was burned into his brain; Maggie, her body limned in bright light for a split second as the fireball formed, then obscured by a cloud of smoke. It was a terrifying image that would live on in his nightmares for the rest of his life.
Mac gently placed his hand on Maggie’s forehead and she moaned softly in response to his touch. “I can stay with her if you want to check on the horses,” he offered.
“No.” Thorne didn’t bother to elaborate, but he felt his father’s gaze cut over to him in surprise.
There was a brief silence between them as Mac digested his response. “I see,” he said finally, his tone carefully neutral.
The wail of another siren cut through the air, and an ambulance pulled up behind the fire truck. Mac stood and began waving his arms, signaling for the paramedics. They arrived a few seconds later, arms laden with supplies. Mac took a few steps back to allow them access to Maggie, but Thorne couldn’t bring himself to move away. He tried to make himself as small as possible so he wouldn’t interfere with the medic’s exam but he kept a tight grip on her hand. Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay... What he wouldn’t give to see her open those big blue eyes!
“How long has she been unconscious?” asked one of the men.
Thorne jumped at the question, trying to get his brain back on track. It felt like it had taken him forever to find Maggie, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. “Uh, maybe ten minutes?”
The medic nodded and placed a blood pressure cuff around her upper arm. He and his partner moved in a kind of synchronized dance, passing each other instruments and supplies with very little dialogue between them. It was clear they worked well together as a team, and it reminded Thorne of the easy back and forth that developed between a horse and his rider, when man and animal spoke the same language, if only for a little while.
Maggie stirred under the medic’s attention and began to shake her head back and forth. “Stay still for me,” one of the men commanded. The pair of them worked to secure a foam collar around her neck and her eyes flew open in shock.
“What’s your name?” the EMT asked. He gave her a second to respond, then asked again. “Can you tell me your name?”
Thorne held his breath, silently urging her to speak. Was she simply too dazed to answer, or was something more serious going on?
After an endless silence, she spoke. “Maggie.” Her voice was weak and scratchy, sounding as if she’d screamed herself hoarse.
The medic nodded. “That’s great, Maggie,” he said encouragingly. “Can you tell me where you are?”
She frowned slightly. “Mac’s ranch,” she said slowly. “I was working on his books.” She paused, and Thorne could tell by
the expression on her face she was replaying her memories, trying to piece together what had happened. Then everything clicked into place, and her confused expression morphed into one of anxiety. “My car!” She tried to sit up, but both medics held her down.
“Whoa,” said one of the men. “Try not to move, please. You may have a spinal injury.”
She let out a small sound of distress that sliced into Thorne’s heart. “It’s okay, honey,” he said, speaking before he could think twice about it. Given the way he’d treated her lately, she probably wouldn’t take comfort from his presence, but he had to try. Seeing her lying on the ground, bruised, battered and scared, triggered a wave of regret so strong it threatened to overwhelm him. He’d spent too much time pushing her away because of his fears—he owed her more than that, and he wasn’t going to waste another minute before trying to make amends.
She glanced over at him, her eyes wide with fear. He saw her body relax as she registered his proximity, and felt something in his own chest ease. “Thorne?” She sounded lost and a little unsure, but he detected no anger in her voice.
It was better than he deserved.
“I’m here,” he said, pushing aside his bitter self-recrimination. There would be time for that later—right now, he had to focus on supporting Maggie.
“Was anyone hurt?”
He shook his head, marveling at her question. Even in the middle of her own troubles, Maggie was concerned for others. “Just you,” he said softly.
The medics counted to three in low voices; they rolled Maggie onto her side and slipped a long board under her, then rolled her to her back again. They secured her in place with thick black straps at her forehead, shoulders, knees and ankles, and one of the men moved to her head while the other knelt by her feet. In one smooth motion, they lifted her off the ground.
“Thorne!” The change in position seemed to startle her—she thrust a hand out, searching the air for him.
