He slid his arm around her shoulders and guided her to the couch, getting her to lie down. “Are you cold?”
Sky felt better lying down, her head on a pillow that Gray provided. “I feel better now that you’re here,” she murmured.
Gray sat on the edge of the couch, his hip against hers. Frowning, he nudged strands of hair sticking to her damp brow. “I’ll tell Iris and Rudd you’re not feeling well. You need to rest, Sky.”
Sky nodded. “I’d like to take a few hours off and let my stomach settle,” she whispered. Looking up into Gray’s shadowed face, her gaze resting on his mouth, remembering the hot, scalding love he’d shared with her last night, she managed a partial laugh. “Maybe we aren’t getting enough rest at night,” she suggested as she slid her fingers around his lower arm that was deeply tanned. “Maybe months of sleep deprivation has caught up with me?”
Gray grazed her brow with his thumb. “Maybe it is. You’ve been through a lot of stress with those two guys on the loose.” Gray knew it had weighed heavily on Sky, her worry that he’d get attacked in town by them. “I just think you’re fretting too much, baby.”
“Oh, those two guys still on the loose?” Sky sighed. “Maybe...”
“You’re a natural worrywart,” he accused, watching her tenderly. She was a natural mother, Gray thought, her attention always on others, not on herself. And all of August, she’d been heavily involved in major babysitting with little boys and girls. Sky was like a mother hen, and these children were her chicks. Gray knew how much focus and energy that took, and Sky was still healing.
“My mother said that growing up I was like a brooding hen.” Sky laughed softly, absorbing Gray’s touch, watching the green and gold in his eyes chase away the brown.
“How so?” Gray asked, watching her mouth. No one kissed the way Sky did. She could barely graze his lips, and his entire lower body exploded to vivid, throbbing life. The woman was certifiably hot and sensual.
“Well, being an only child,” Sky said, giving him a fond look, “I didn’t have any siblings to play with. My mother had a chicken coop. I made it my business as a little kid to help the hens that had chicks, to help herd them around in the yard.” Placing her hand across her belly, she felt the nausea lifting. It had to be Gray’s powerful, quiet presence that made the difference. “My mom would find me out in the yard using my hands to herd the chicks here and there. I thought I was doing a good job, but my mother would always pick me up and take me out of the coop. She would hold me and tell me that the mother hen would always take care of her babies without me acting like a herd dog.” Sky sighed and closed her eyes. “A really happy memory of my childhood.”
“You had a lot of them,” Gray agreed, grazing her pale cheek with his fingers. “You look tired, Sky.”
Lifting her lashes, she made a face. “Can I blame you?” She grinned up at him.
Gray nodded. “Sure can.” He frowned and searched her cloudy-looking eyes. “Having you in my bed, in my arms, is like being constantly teased. You touch me, kiss me, and I need you, Sky. I’m never not hungry for you, baby.”
“Well,” she murmured, raising her brows, “I think that makes two of us.” She shook her head. “And I like it. I don’t grow tired of it, either.” Her lips twisted upward.
Gray grinned and shook his head. “Me, neither,” he rasped, trailing his finger down the long curve of her slender neck. “You make me happy, Sky, in every possible way, on every level of myself,” Gray confided, serious and holding her softened gaze. “Maybe I need to leave you alone and let you get more sleep.”
Sky shook her head. “I’m fine, Gray. I saw Jordana last week, so don’t even go there. I can’t stand the thought of you ignoring me in your bed. I love having your body wrapped around mine. I love the way you touch me, make me feel good. I’ve never been so well loved as by you.”
Gray leaned down, placing a chaste kiss to her brow. “Thank you, but I think you’re tired because you’re not getting decent enough sleep. Your body is still healing.” He slid his hands around her face, holding her shining eyes that held what he was sure was love for him in their cobalt depths. “I’ll never not hold you in my arms or curl around you and hold you while you sleep.”
The calloused warmth of his hands made her sigh. “Okay, so long as you don’t send me back to my room. Because if you did, McCoy, I wouldn’t sleep at all.” She made a sound of disgust. “The nightmares would probably come back.”
Gray released her after kissing the tip of her nose. “Try and leave my bed,” he warned her, giving her a mock look of sternness. “And you’re right. Since we’ve started sleeping together, you haven’t had one nightmare.” That, in and of itself, to Gray, was startling. It was the nightmares that frequently kept him awake and caused his sleep deprivation.
“Because you make me feel safe, Gray,” Sky whispered, sliding her hand up across his jaw. “In your arms, I feel the world melt away. I always feel safe when you’re near me, bed or not.”
“I’m a big, bad guard dog.” He chuckled, understanding. Threading his fingers through her hair, he asked, “Is there anything I can get you? Some water? Juice?”
“Some orange juice with ice in it sounds really good.”
He patted her hip. “Okay, stay where you are, and I’ll get you some.”
Sky felt incredibly happy as she lay there, hands across her belly. No man had ever shown her such kindness or sensitivity. Beneath that hard SEAL game face of his was a man who could be tender. And that was something Sky had never known existed before Gray. Closing her eyes, Sky listened to him putter around in the kitchen, never feeling more fulfilled. Or happier.
* * *
GRAY WAS COMING into the house with a bouquet of red roses to celebrate the end of the dude-ranch season at the Elk Horn Ranch. The last six families had left Sunday morning. Now, beginning on September first, the entire ranch would swing its full attention to branding and vaccinating cattle and taking care of many other ranch demands. The cattle would be trucked south for the winter because Wyoming had such harsh winters they wouldn’t survive it. The buffalo that occupied part of the ranch would survive without a problem. Bales would be taken out to them by a tractor hauling a flatbed. The rugged, thickly furred beasts would handle Wyoming blizzards and survive. The cattle, however, would not.
Gray was looking forward to getting back to ranching work. Opening the door, he stepped in, looking for Sky. Worry ate at him because since that bout with flu she’d had two weeks ago, she’d never really bounced back from it. He found Sky in the living room with her knitting needles, working on a blue-and-gold afghan that she’d wanted to make for him. It was to celebrate the Navy colors as a reminder of his time in service. She looked up as he came in the door.
“Wow,” she said, putting down the needles. “What’s this? Flowers?”
Grinning, he closed the door and walked into the living room, handing them to her. Sky’s face, always looking tired since the flu, smudges beneath her beautiful eyes, lit up with pleasure. She took the bouquet, making a happy sound, her lips curving upward as he sat down next to her. “Celebration time,” Gray said, looking at the huge afghan spread across her lap. “We survived the dude-ranch portion of our lives here at the ranch.”
Her cheeks colored slightly as she inhaled the scent of the roses.
“Mmm, these are beautiful, Gray,” Sky sighed, her hands on the bouquet in her lap. “Thank you. They’re lovely.”
“What I’m looking at is lovely,” he said. Worried, Gray nudged some strands from her cheek. “Didn’t you sleep well last night? Bad dreams?” Because the purple shadows beneath her eyes concerned him.
“I did,” Sky protested. “I’m just...well...feeling tired, Gray, that’s all.”
“Maybe you should get checked out by Jordana?” He picked up her slender fingers and pressed a kiss to them.
“Maybe you need a B12 shot? Or have anemia? You’ve been working nonstop since you got here. It could be catching up with you.” Since she’d been sick, Gray had forced himself to give Sky more sleep. If they made love, he didn’t keep her up all night, loving her a second and third time. And some nights, he stilled his own hunger for her sake, drew her into his arms to allow her to sleep deeply for eight healing hours. She looked fragile. Almost haunted. He knew PTSD was a multipronged monster that lived within a person. Was another facet of Sky’s torture raising its head of late?
Making a noise of protest, Sky said, “She just saw me, Gray. I’m fine.” Sky gave him a beseeching look not to worry about her. She gently touched one of the red rose blooms. “These are gorgeous.” She leaned forward, sliding her hand against his jaw, placing her lips against his. “You always surprise me in the best of ways, Gray.”
She slid her mouth against his, feeling his lips part, drinking her into him. The moments were heated, and she felt her body respond as he groaned, taking her into his arms, the roses and afghan crushed between them. She drowned in the heat and tenderness of his kiss with her. Gray was treating her as if she were some fragile flower that might wilt if handled too roughly.
The phone rang.
Groaning, Sky lifted her lips from his, breathing unevenly, feeling her womb bubble with need once more. “Do you want to get it?” she asked him. The phone was on the kitchen wall.
“Yeah,” he grunted, unhappy. “Stay put.” And then he shared a warm look with her. “Smell your roses.”
Laughing softly, Sky rearranged the afghan, folding it up and setting it aside on the couch. She loved to watch Gray walk, that boneless male grace of his, shoulders broad and thrown back with natural pride. Sky inhaled the fragrance of the bouquet as he reached out to answer the jangling phone.
“Gray McCoy,” he answered.
Something was wrong. Sky saw his light mood disappear in a second, his game face coming into place. Automatically, she tensed, her hands tightening around the bouquet in her lap. And when Gray turned, looking directly at her, his eyes dark and stormy, her throat tightened. He gestured for her to get up and come over. Her heart took off in a thudding beat as Sky rose and walked quickly to the kitchen. Gray handed her the phone.
“It’s your mother,” he said, his voice heavy. “Your father’s in the hospital again.”
Brows lifting, Sky took the phone, instantly feeling terror rivet her to the spot. “Mom? What’s wrong with Dad?” she asked, her voice off-key, fear in it.
“I’m sorry to call you, Sky, but your dad just went into the hospital. The doctor said he has a blood clot in his lung.”
Sky felt as if the earth had just been yanked out beneath her. She heard a gasp, not realizing it had come from her. Gray came up behind her, steadying her with his hands on her shoulders. “What’s his condition?” she whispered, her voice strained.
“Critical.”
Sky heard tears in her mother’s low, pained voice. “Okay,” she whispered, her mind whirling with the medical information. “I’m coming home. I want to be there for him and you.”
“Your dad asked for you, Sky.” Balin sniffed, her voice tremulous. “The doctors don’t give him much of a chance. You need to get home as soon as you can.”
“I’ll be there,” she promised her mother firmly. Right now Sky knew her parents needed her to be strong. “I’ll call you with airline information as soon as I know.”
Gray watched the color in Sky’s cheeks leach out. She hung up the phone and turned in his arms. Wincing internally, he saw the terror in her eyes.
“It’s my dad, Gray. He’s got a blood clot in his lung,” she choked out.
“Life threatening?”
Licking her lips nervously, Sky nodded. “Y-yes. If the clot leaves his lung and goes to his heart, he’ll die. It’s bad. Really bad. Oh, God...” She pressed a hand to her brow, trying to think clearly. “I—I don’t want to lose him, Gray. I know we’ve had our differences, but he’s my dad....”
“Shhh,” Gray rasped, feeling her tension, the terror and grief tunneling through her. “Let me call the airport. You get packed. Or do you want me to help you pack?”
Sky’s gaze moved restlessly as she tried to harness her emotions and think logically through this crisis. When he eased her away from him, he saw Sky doing just that. After all, she was an R.N. She’d spent years in the emergency room where coolness, calmness and detachment were essential in order to care for her wounded patients.
“Y-yes, can you do that for me?” Sky took a swipe at her hair, pushing it behind her shoulder. “I’ll go pack.” She left his arms, hurrying down the hall to her bedroom.
Cursing softly, Gray pulled out his cell. He had an iPhone and was able to quickly search Google for the airlines that flew in and out of Jackson Hole. Within a minute, he had their schedules, and he picked up the phone, calling the airlines. The good news was a flight was leaving in an hour for Casper, where her parents lived. He made a round-trip reservation, paid for it by credit card and got her seat assignment. By the time he hung up, Sky was carrying a small overnight bag. She was traveling light, and Gray couldn’t blame her.
“I’ve got your flight. One hour from now. I’ll drive you to the airport.” He picked up his baseball cap and settled it on his head. “First, I need to see Rudd or Iris and let them know what’s going on.”
“Good,” Sky whispered, suddenly bereft. She felt so alone when Gray stepped out of the house. The silence surrounded her and made her feel abandoned. Sky knew it was her PTSD, the part she continued to work with. That sense of abandonment had been one of her deepest wounds. Abandoned after the helicopter crash, taken prisoner, tortured for two weeks with no hope of rescue.
Shaking her head, she snapped into action. One of the many things Sky had learned over the past year was to never allow such feelings to overtake and run her. She knew better than to suppress the feeling. And now she let it sit there, but she didn’t give it any more emotional energy. Her detachment as a nurse was coming in handy and had helped her become stronger as a result. And right now she needed to call on every reserve she had to be there for her mother and father.
Gray stepped back into the house, his game face on. Sky moved toward him, picking up her purse. “I’m ready,” she murmured.
“I wish I could go with you,” Gray said, sliding his arm around her shoulders, leading her to the door.
“You can’t. No one else knows the feeding schedule and care of all the animals at the center, Gray.”
He scowled, his mouth thinning. That was the one caveat in running the center; only Gray knew the animals enough to feed and medically monitor them. Sky was learning from him, but now she was leaving him, and there was no way Gray could be with her as much as she needed his company. She walked out the door and down the walk to the garage where the silver pickup truck with the Elk Horn Ranch logo on the doors was parked.
“I wish someone else did know how to take over my job,” he grated. He opened the door for Sky and took her “go bag,” as she called it. Once Sky was in, Gray handed it to her and shut the door. His mind whirled with worry for her. Sky hadn’t been doing well the past two weeks, for whatever reason. As he climbed in and started the truck, Gray felt the fine, raw edge of fear starting to stalk him.
He glanced over at Sky. He could tell by the set of those lips of hers that she was steeling herself against emotions to come. Who wouldn’t under these circumstances? He wanted to howl out his frustration as he backed the truck out of the driveway and aimed it down the two-mile road to the highway.
“What can I do to help?” Gray demanded, picking up her hand. Her flesh was cool and damp.
“Just be here for me,” she whispered, feeling tears burn in the backs of her eyes. Sky swallowed convulsively. “I’ll call you the minute I land.”
He squeezed her fingers gently. “Keep me in close touch.” He gave her a swift glance. “You aren’t going through this alone. All right?”
His low, grating words vibrated through her pounding heart, cut through the terror that her father might die. Gray’s hand was warm and dry around hers. She wanted to absorb his calm and quiet strength right now. “Yes, I understand,” Sky said, her voice low. She wanted to cry so badly. “God, I don’t want my dad to die, Gray. I—I need to make peace with him about...”
“About his reaction to your PTSD symptoms,” Gray growled. He felt desperation curl in his tightened gut. “Listen, your father loves you. You know that, Sky. He was never like that with you before this. I know in my gut, he’s got PTSD himself. Maybe—” his voice dropped with barely held emotions “—maybe he’s going to talk to you about it.”
Her fingers trembled as she touched her closed eyes, fighting back the need to weep. “I—I think you’re right. He couldn’t stand having me live under the same roof with him having those awful nightmares.” She sniffed.
“Hang in there,” Gray murmured. “I’m with you, baby. All the way. You know that, don’t you?” He wanted to pull the truck over, stop and hold Sky. Keep her protected for just a second, but he couldn’t. They were up against a looming deadline to get her to the airport and get her through security in order to catch that flight to Casper.
“I—I know,” Sky whispered, her voice raw. She lifted her hand away and pushed the tears off her cheeks with trembling fingers. The anguish she saw burning in Gray’s eyes lanced through her. There was no question he loved her. She loved him.
“We’ll get through this, baby. I’m there for you. No matter what happens,” Gray promised her thickly, seeing the airport road sign coming up. His throat ached with tension, with so many things left unsaid between them. Swallowing hard, pain in his knotted stomach, Gray worried this crisis could rip Sky apart. It was a test. One hell of a test.
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