Riding the Storm

by Julie Miller

  Hell. If she could read a man’s moods, maybe she’d have found one of her own and fallen in love by now instead of ruling southeast Texas as every man’s best buddy or kid sister. Joaquin didn’t count. She’d been able to read her husband like a book. Of course, there’d never been any real passion between them to muddy up her perception, either.

  Not that she was feeling passion toward Nate Kellison. No, sir. That tingling sense of hyper-awareness could be attributed to any number of things.

  Like annoyance. Irritation.

  Fascination. He was wounded, after all.

  Oh, hell.

  Fortunately, her personal life wasn’t the issue right now. Ignoring the sensation of whiskey-brown eyes searing holes into her back, she went through the mental checklist of questions she should ask in this type of emergency. “Did your water break?”

  “No. But after three kids, I know a contraction when I feel one.” Lily exhaled a deep, stuttering breath. For the first time, Jolene heard the hint of fear in her friend’s voice. “The baby’s coming early. And I think she’s coming fast.”

  Jolene checked her watch. Eight-fifteen. The Rock-a-Bye Ranch was a good twenty to thirty minute drive from town. “What do you mean by fast? You know that labors tend to be shorter with successive pregnancies.”

  “I guess I mean unexpected. This hit me all of the sudden this morning while I was fixing breakfast. Just before the rain started. With the boys, I had a real urge to cook and clean two or three days before they were born. But not this time. I haven’t got a single casserole in the freezer, and this place is a mess.” Lily tried to sound hopeful, while Jolene’s concern mounted. “That means she’s a girl, right?”

  Because the nesting instinct hadn’t kicked in yet? “Um, I can’t tell you that, Lily. What about the radio? Can you call Deacon back to the house to drive you in?”

  “That old coot? Deacon keeps the radio turned off because he says it spooks his horse. Unless he calls in again, I won’t hear—”

  A low-pitched moan. Another contraction. Jolene checked her watch and her notes and heaved a worried sigh. “Ho, boy.”

  Lily’s fifteen minutes plus the five they’d been talking made her contractions just twenty minutes apart.

  “This just feels different, Jolene.” Lily was practicing her Lamaze breathing again. “You know how badly Gabe and I want a girl. We’d be happy with another boy, too. I just want him or her to be healthy. But to be honest, I’m a little worried. The timing feels off.”

  Off was not good. Alone at the ranch, twenty minutes from the nearest help, was definitely not good.

  Jolene started to pace. “Lily, put your boys in the car and come into town. Especially if you think something’s wrong. We’ve got staff on hand at the fire station who can monitor the baby’s progress and help deliver her.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Deacon’s last transmission was from down by the highway. He said the traffic’s already lining up into town, that Sheriff Boone’s out there trying to make sense of things and get the cars moving. What if we get stuck?”

  “Take the backroads, then. You know the way.”

  “I guess I could do that.”

  Jolene’s own stomach constricted in sympathy as Lily caught a sharp breath. “Lily?”

  “Don’t worry. That wasn’t a contraction.” A pain that wasn’t a contraction was supposed to reassure her? “Maybe we could get there before the rains make a mess of those old gravel roads.” Lily covered up the phone and hollered, “Boys!”

  A sudden image of Lily’s old station wagon, mired axle-deep in the mud, flashed through Jolene’s mind. Gabe had no doubt taken their newer, more reliable vehicle to Dallas to pick up Lily’s mother. Three boys—two, five and eight—buckled into a rattletrap car, their pregnant mother in labor in the front seat. Rains and wind and flooding on the way, maybe even the hurricane itself.

  Not good at all.

  Decision made, Jolene stopped in her tracks, her resolve as determined as her posture. “On second thought, stay put. I’m coming to you.”

  Was that audible sigh one of relief?

  Jolene quickly scratched a note for her father. “You sit tight, Lily. Make yourself as comfortable as you can and give the boys something to keep them busy. I’ll grab a med kit and head on out to the Rock-A-Bye right now.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Hey. This is what I do. We’re neighbors. We’re friends. I know somethin’ about birthin’ babies and I’m on my way.”

  Lily laughed at the dubious reference to Gone with the Wind. “Okay. Thanks.”

  “Hey, now don’t you go chasing any cattle yourself, okay?”

  “Promise. We’ll sit tight until you get here.”

  Jolene hung up the phone, tore off the note and hurried out of the office. With her father in the middle of outlining the county’s layout and evacuation routes, and everyone listening with dutiful attention, Jolene dashed across the back of the room to the supply shelves.

  She picked up one of the portable paramedic kits, knowing that between it, the emergency supplies in her truck, and whatever the Brownings had on hand at the house, she’d have everything she’d need to deliver Lily’s baby if there wasn’t enough time to get her friend back into town. She silently snapped her fingers in a moment of inspiration and hurried over to the wall of cabinets.

  She opened the first one and scanned the contents. Nope. Moving on to the next cabinet, she spotted the goodies she’d stashed away. She set the med kit on the counter and stretched up on tiptoe to grasp the prize she was looking for. A bag of chocolate candy left over from Easter. She might snitch one to satisfy her own cravings, but she could use them as a reward for the Browning boys in case she had to take care of them as well as Lily.

  Jolene jumped in her boots as she closed the cabinet door and a broad set of blue-clad shoulders came into view.

  “Problem?”

  Pressing her hand to her chest to soothe the startled leap in her heart rate, Jolene looked up past the jut of Nate Kellison’s chin and straight into those omniscient brown eyes. “Nothing that concerns you, California.”

  “Nate.”

  “Right.” She tucked the bag of candy into the pocket of her overalls and reached for the handle of the med kit.

  Before she could leave, his hand settled over hers, pushing the kit back onto the counter. “You’re not going out on a call, are you?”

  His grip was firm, warm—and sent a crazy little frisson of electricity up her arm. His succinct query rolled across her eardrums in a deep-pitched whisper. Dormant emotions awakened inside her at the surprising intimacies of sound and touch, emotions that were all too vulnerable and uniquely feminine. Emotions she quickly shut down by breaking the connection. She slid her hand from beneath his, willing the tingling sensation of his callused fingertips brushing across her skin to dissipate.

  In one practiced, self-conscious motion, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and pointed toward her father, avoiding those eyes that seemed to possess the power to read her silly reaction to his touch. “You’re missing the briefing.”

  The slight turn of his head was all the diversion she needed to grab the med kit without answering his question. But their movements were enough to capture her father’s attention as well. Jolene waved the note at him, indicating she’d leave it in the office. Then she turned her back on Nate Kellison and tried to sneak out without disturbing the rest of the meeting.

  No such luck.

  “Excuse me a minute.” Jolene halted at the sound of her father’s voice following her down the hallway. “Since you picked up a kit, I can guess that you’re not going home?”

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” she apologized. To her chagrin, Kellison had followed her to the door as well. Setting her shoulders, she purposely ignored him standing behind her father. “Lily Browning called. She’s gone into labor, but she’s stranded at the ranch. I’m going to drive out to do what I can to hel
p. If there’s time, I’ll drive her and the boys into town. If not, I’ll deliver the baby there.” She squeezed her father’s arm reassuringly. “It won’t be my first delivery.”

  Mitch Kannon nodded, his tone as businesslike as hers had been. “Give me ten minutes to finish this meeting, and I’ll go with you.”

  She gestured down the hall. “You can’t leave these people right now. You’ve got four virtual strangers who’ll be lost in a minute without your directions, and a handful of locals who are half-distracted worrying about their own families and homes. They’re looking to you for leadership. You have to stay with the command center.”

  “Nice speech,” drawled Mitch. “But I still don’t want you driving that far out into the county by yourself. The weather’s unpredictable right now, and you’re not exactly in the best condition to go gallivanting across the countryside.”

  “Dad! My condition doesn’t make me stupid.” Jolene didn’t know whether to smile or frown at his flare of old-fashioned chauvinism. Opting for her most indulgent smile, she cradled the curve of her belly. “We’re in perfect health. I’m done with morning sickness and nap attacks. The pregnancy is progressing fine. Nothing’s going to happen to me or Junior just riding in the truck.”

  He shook his head. “You and I both know that’s not the problem. With you, it’s never just a ride in the truck.”

  “Lily’s waiting, Dad.”

  “Can I help?” Mr. California wasn’t content just observing her business, he had to butt in.

  Bristling at the intrusion, she glanced over her father’s shoulder. “No.”

  But Mitch angled himself to include Kellison in the discussion, ignoring her dismissal. “A friend of Jolene’s is stuck out at her ranch. Just went into labor with her fourth baby.”

  “Fourth?” Kellison’s eyebrows rose. “The baby could come fast, then. Within a few hours.”

  Jolene backed toward the door. “Exactly. I’d better get going.”

  Mitch stopped her. “Honey, why don’t you stay and man the phones until Ruth gets here.”

  “Dad—”

  “I’ll go.” Kellison’s statement was directed at Mitch. “I’ve been trained to deliver babies under a variety of conditions.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “You’ll need Cheryl and Amy here to handle the more serious patients as they come in. Your daughter can stay in the office.”

  Of all the annoying, arrogant… Jolene planted her empty hand on her hip and squared off against the visiting paramedic. “Do you know the way to the Rock-a-Bye Ranch, California?”

  “It’s Nate.” He turned to her father. “You got a map?”

  “I know the way,” she insisted. “We’re wasting time discussing this.”

  Oh, no. She could read the decision on her father’s face.

  “You’re right about needing the doctor and trauma nurse here,” Mitch said. “You go with her, Kellison.”

  “Dad—”

  “He’s a trained paramedic.”

  “Which is why you need him here,” she argued. “For real emergencies. I can handle this and be back in no time.”

  “Listen, young lady. What I need right now is to not worry about you or Lily Browning. Kellison goes with you, or you stay put.”

  Father and daughter glared at each other. But the silent battle of wills didn’t last for long. Once Mitch Kannon dug in his heels, he couldn’t be budged. And as much as she loathed the idea of being assigned a baby-sitter while she made a routine call at a friend’s house, Jolene didn’t want to cause her father any additional worry when she knew he had a whole county and hundreds of additional evacuees to protect.

  “All right.” Watching the worry ease from her father’s expression made agreeing more tolerable.

  He hugged her and kissed her goodbye. “Be sure to call in and keep me posted.”

  “I will. Love you.”

  He winked. “Love you.” Then he released her and grasped Kellison’s shoulder. “You’ve got the most important job in the county, as far as I’m concerned. Keep my little girl safe.”

  “Dad—”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Chief?” Doyle Brown called from the end of the hallway. He pointed to his watch. “You said to keep an eye on the time?”

  “Let me know if Lily finally gets her girl,” Mitch ordered over his shoulder as he hurried back to the main room. The phone rang in the dispatch office as he passed by. “And so it begins,” he muttered, just loud enough for Jolene to hear. “Doyle! Come answer this phone.” She watched her father disappear around the corner and take command of his audience once more. “All right, boys and girls, let’s get down to business…”

  Nate Kellison pulled a blue ball cap from his back pocket and slipped it into place over his head. The letters CBFD, embroidered in white, stood out in sharp contrast against the dark material. Neat and tidy and in control. Lordy. Wasn’t this going to be fun?

  His fingers brushed against her arm. “Shall we?”

  Feeling betrayed by the heat that rushed to her elbow in response to his touch, Jolene headed toward the door. But she didn’t get a chance to escape.

  Kellison pried the med kit from her hand and reached around her to open the door. Jolene spun around, narrowly avoiding bumping into his chest. “I’m not an invalid. I can take—”

  Her words stopped as abruptly as she had. He wasn’t an extraordinarily tall man, maybe six feet, like her father. But up close like this, with her eyes mere centimeters from his chin, his arm circling around her without quite touching her, he seemed much bigger, stronger than his lean build would indicate. Her pulse tripped a beat. She stood close enough that her nose could detect he wore no cologne, no aftershave. But the clean, distinct smells of soap and man addled her thinking long enough that she didn’t finish her sentence.

  “I’m sure you can,” he answered for her. “I’m just following your father’s orders.”

  Her gaze was automatically drawn to the tense line of his lips, which softened as he spoke. But the air outside the open door gusted, blowing a fine mist against her skin. The chilly dampness took the edge off her indignant temper and cooled the sensation of heat radiating from his body into hers.

  Jolene backed up a step and tilted her chin. “Why don’t you like me, Mr. Kellison?”

  She reached out to retrieve the med kit, but his grip tightened around the handle and wouldn’t budge. “I don’t know whether I like you or not, Jolene. I don’t even know you.”

  She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms. “And yet you keep looking at me with the judgment of Solomon in your eyes.”

  “Do I?”

  “Yes. And it’s very disconcerting.”

  “Then I’ll quit looking.” Jolene’s heart raced as he stared at her for an endless moment, searching her face as if—as he’d promised—this was to be his last look and he wanted to remember every ordinary detail.

  Finally the scrutiny was too much and she lowered her gaze to the triangle of white cotton T-shirt that showed beneath the unbuttoned collar of his uniform. “Mr. Kellison. You’re staring again.”

  She was suddenly aware that her lip gloss had gone the way of her roll and milk. She hadn’t taken the time to put on any other makeup that might give her some semblance of feminine beauty. The maternity overalls she hadn’t fully grown into hung like a sack from her shoulders, hiding what little figure she did have.

  Still, the intensity of his look made her think he saw something else in her. Something that made her wish…

  Jolene started as he tapped the point of her chin with one blunt fingertip and urged her gaze back up to his. But there was nothing romantic or even reassuring in the familiar gesture. He just wanted her attention.

  “My mistake,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “I’ll haul. You drive.”

  The imprint of his touch remained when he pulled away. He glanced over his shoulder as he turned and strode out into the rain. “And it’s Nate.”

  CHAPTER
THREE

  THE JUDGMENT OF SOLOMON?

  Hell. Just what had he revealed in his unabashed study of Jolene Kannon-Angel? Those true blue eyes of hers were pretty hard to ignore, especially when they were focused his way. Nate thought he’d sensed trouble, and his instinct had been to find the source, to do what he could to help.

  And then…well hell, even when she turned on that attitude, it was hard to look away. He’d dated prettier women, made friends with decidedly less-complicated ones. But Jolene…?

  Instincts of self-preservation told him to walk a wide berth around her smart mouth and pregnant belly. But something else—maybe the old soul inside him that had seen too much pain and death in twenty-nine years—warned him to stick close and do whatever he could to keep her and her baby out of trouble.

  Why don’t you like me?

  He honestly couldn’t say whether he liked her or not. They’d known each other for barely more than an hour.

  He hated the distance she insisted on putting between them—defiant glares, refusing to call him by his given name. He wondered what the heck she had against the people of California.

  There were things he did like about her. He liked the color of her eyes, liked discovering that her skin felt every bit as smooth and creamy as it looked. He liked watching her soft pink lips move when she talked—and she talked a lot. He liked that she was so loyal to her father and hometown.

  But he thought Texans were pretty damn foolish to let their pregnant women work in dangerous situations. Yeah, they were shorthanded in Turning Point, and could use all the help they could get. But if that help was a headstrong female like the willowy blond driver sitting across the truck from him, barreling over the rutted gravel roads west of town as if she was trying to lap the competition in a road rally, then he definitely had a problem with how they handled things down here in Texas.

  That’s what he didn’t like.

  Solomon would surely agree.

  Nate bounced off his seat at the next bump, then came back down, relaxing his posture to absorb the jolt. He’d had smoother rides on the back of a bull during his competition days. He adjusted the shoulder strap of his seat belt and let his gaze slide across the truck’s tweedy upholstery to double-check for the umpteenth time that Jolene was wearing hers as well.