Stony jostled her broken wrist when he picked her up to take her inside the hospital, and the brief agony jolted her awake. But she couldn’t seem to get her eyes open. Tears of pain seeped from her closed eyelids.
“Sorry, Tess,” Stony said. “Hang on, and the doctor can give you something for the pain.”
Tess drifted in and out of consciousness, aware of the murmur of voices, the sting of an injection, the buzz of the X-ray machine, the warm wetness of the cast being applied around her thumb, from the middle of her right hand halfway up her arm.
She heard the word “concussion” and realized that was probably why she felt so woozy. So it wasn’t only the lack of sleep that made her feel so impossibly tired. She heard the doctor say she would have to stay overnight so she could be watched. But she couldn’t stay, because she had to go pick up Rose from Mrs. Feeny.
“No,” she muttered. “Can’t stay. Have to go home.”
“Be reasonable, Tess,” Harry said. “You’re in no condition to leave the hospital.”
“Have to get Rose.”
“Who’s Rose?” she heard Stony ask.
“That’s her daughter,” Harry said.
“She has a daughter?”
The shock in Stony’s voice made her smile. She wasn’t sure if the expression got to her face.
“An elderly lady keeps the little girl for Tess while she works. Mrs. Feeny, I think,” Harry explained.
Mrs. Feeny was very strict about Tess picking up Rose on time. Otherwise the old woman charged her triple. With all the extra she was going to have to dole out for the doctor, she needed every penny she had.
“Have to pick up Rose.” She tried to get up, but a palm flattened her.
“I’ll do it,” Stony said.
“The kid doesn’t know who you are,” Harry said. “I’ll do it.”
“I said I’ll do it,” Stony countered. “After all, this is my fault.”
Tess wanted to smile again. Stony sure had changed his tune. Maybe he was feeling guilty. He ought to. This was all his fault!
She welcomed Stony’s offer to pick up Rose. For some reason, Rose had taken an instant aversion to Harry. Her daughter had a way of making her feelings known. Tess licked her dry lips and said, “Okay, Stony. Pick up Rose.”
“Tess, you don’t know a thing about the man,” Harry said. “He—”
“Don’t interfere, Harry,” Tess murmured.
“You heard the lady, Sheriff. She can make her own decisions without any help from you.”
Tess realized she hadn’t told Stony what to do with her daughter. “Take Rose home,” she added.
“I’ll do that,” Stony said. “Don’t worry, Tess. She’ll be safe with me. I have lots of room at my place.”
His place?
She had meant take Rose to her own home. Of course, he didn’t have the key, and Mrs. Feeny, who was also Tess’s landlady, was hardly likely to let a stranger into an upstairs apartment in her own home. So maybe it was better this way. Only, she had no idea where Stony lived. How would she find him when she wanted to reclaim her daughter?
She managed to force her eyes open a crack and sought out Stony’s face. “Take me, too,” she said. “Rose needs me.”
“For heaven’s sake, Tess,” Harry said irritably. “You’re in no condition to do anything but lie flat on your back in bed. Stay here in the hospital where you belong.”
The situation was desperate. She reached out and grasped Stony’s hand. It was big and warm and callused. His strength made her feel safe. “Rose needs me,” she repeated. “Take me, too.”
“All right,” he said. “I’ll take you both to my place.”
“Promise?”
“I said I would.”
He didn’t sound too happy about the situation, Tess realized. But she wasn’t about to let him out of his promise.
“Thank you.” Her eyes sank closed again.
If she could rest for a couple of hours, she would be fine. Stony could pick up Rose and come back for her. She would rescue her daughter from the clutches of the interfering stranger...as soon as she could get her eyes open again.
Chapter Two
“WHERE AM I?”
“You’re at my place, a cabin along the river about twenty miles from town. Don’t you remember the ride here in my Jeep?”
“I...sort of. It’s all kind of fuzzy.”
Tess’s gaze darted from the male face bathed in shadows beside the bed, to the natural pine log walls, to the wedding ring patterned quilt that covered her, and back to the face made even more attractive by a night’s growth of beard. The faint mauve light filling the window across the room suggested it was nearly dawn. The snow had stopped, but it weighted down the branches of the Douglas firs outside the cabin, creating a real-life picture postcard.
She reached for her head with her right hand before a sharp pain and the weight of the cast reminded her that her wrist was broken. She switched to the left and gingerly touched the lump on the back of her head.
“Does it still hurt?” Stony asked.
“My scalp’s a little tender, but my head doesn’t ache like it did.” She realized what was missing and sat up with a jerk that made her dizzy. “Where’s Rose?”
“Still asleep.”
“Where?” she insisted, reaching out to clutch Stony’s forearm. It was as hard as a rock. She realized what she was doing and let him go.
He gestured with his chin. “Right there beside you.”
Tess realized why she hadn’t seen the child. The bed was huge, and Rose was curled up in a pile of sheets and blankets on the other side. Tess took another look around at the heavy pine chest, the rocker with clothes thrown over the back, the man’s wardrobe, and realized she must be in Stony’s bedroom.
“I thought you said you had plenty of room,” she accused. “Rose and I are in your bed, aren’t we?”
“It was the only one in the house big enough for the both of you,” he admitted with a crooked smile. “Rose refused to sleep by herself.”
Tess turned back to her daughter and leaned over to brush a red curl from her daughter’s cheek. “Did she give you a lot of trouble?”
“No more than two or three green-broke broncs.”
“Oh, dear. I was a little afraid of that.”
“We got along fine, once she figured out I wasn’t going to give up or give in.”
Tess flushed. “She is rather strong-willed. I suppose I let her have her own way too often.”
“She’s spoiled rotten,” Stony said flatly. “And she has a temper.”
Tess opened her mouth to defend her mothering tactics, then realized Stony hadn’t been completely successful in controlling her daughter, either. After all, Rose had ended up sleeping in the same bed with her.
“Perhaps she is a little spoiled,” Tess conceded, brushing at the stubborn curl that had found its way back to Rose’s cheek. “But she’s had to cope with an awful lot over the past year.”
Stony shifted from the chair beside the bed to a spot on the mattress near her hips. Tess tensed at the intrusion on her space. However helpful he had been, Stony was still a stranger. And she was in his bed wearing no more than—Good Lord—one of his T-shirts!
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that. I mean, about how you and Rose have been getting by,” Stony said.
His voice had that rusty gate sound, as though he hadn’t used it much lately. It rumbled over her, sending a shiver up her spine. She wasn’t sure whether it was the threat he presented, or the temptation, that had her inching away from him.
“We’ve been just fine,” Tess said.
“Don’t bother lying.”
“I—”
“I spoke with your landlady.”
Tess sighed. “I’m only a month behind on the rent.”
“You had to give up your phone two months ago. And I didn’t see much in the cupboards to eat. How the hell you two have managed to make it this far, I’ll never know.”
Tess felt the anger rising and struggled to control it. Rose hadn’t learned her redheaded temper; she had inherited it from her mother.
“I’d like to know what your plans are now that you’ve been fired,” Stony said.
“I don’t see how my future plans are any of your business,” Tess retorted. “I’m sure I’ll find something—”
“You can work for me.” Stony interrupted her.
Tess was speechless. “Doing what?” she managed to say at last.
He made a broad gesture around the bedroom. “I could use a housekeeper, and I know you can cook. I couldn’t pay much, but I could give you free room and board. It would give you somewhere to stay and food in your mouths, at least until your wrist is healed.”
Tess took a second look around the room. This time she noticed the layer of dust on the wardrobe, the stack of dirty, rumpled shirts on the rocker, the horse magazines strewn across the floor, the empty beer can on the chest. It was clear the man could use a housekeeper. But if he had really wanted one, he could have hired one long ago.
Her gaze shifted back to Stony’s face. “Why are you willing to do this for me?”
He frowned and rubbed his thumb along his lower lip. “I don’t have any designs on you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
She flushed. Because the thought had occurred to her. “I never—”
“Don’t bother lying again. You’ve been itching to get out of here ever since you woke up.”
She heard the irritation in his voice. His thumb never stopped that lazy trail from one side of his mouth to the other. She felt a surprising curl of desire in her belly and jerked her gaze away from his mouth back to his eyes. That was no better. They were dark and fierce and feral. They made her feel hunted. She lowered her lashes to hide from him but felt her body quiver in anticipation of the need to fight or to flee.
“The way I figure it, I owe you a job,” he continued, apparently unaware of her agitation. “I’m the one who got you fired—even if you should have quit a long time ago.”
“And worked where?” she demanded, incensed at the implied criticism. “There aren’t too many waitress jobs in Pinedale.”
“Couldn’t you do something else?”
Her anger died, consumed by frustration at her lack of education. She had a high school equivalency degree, but she had believed that was all she would ever need. She had never considered the necessity of any further formal education because she had been perfectly happy being a wife and mother. She had been very good at her chosen profession.
“I had a job I was happy with, until it was taken away from me.”
“Well, there you go. What was it?”
“Housewife.”
She saw the stricken look on Stony’s face and realized she shouldn’t take out her bitterness over Charlie’s death against him. “I’m sorry. Ever since Charlie got himself killed, I—” She took a shuddering breath. She wasn’t used to speaking aloud about Charlie, and the sudden lump in her throat surprised her. She had believed she had come to terms with Charlie’s untimely death. Apparently not.
“Was Charlie your husband?”
“Yes. Charles Lowell. He was a butcher at the local grocery store. Or so I thought. He was caught rustling cattle and was killed in the gunfight that followed.”
She looked up and discovered Stony staring at her grim-lipped. His face had paled, and his eyes narrowed to slits. “It’s not a pretty story,” she admitted. “I was devastated, because I was caught off guard. I had no idea Charlie was involved in theft of any kind. I’m afraid I wasn’t myself for a long time after that.”
“Didn’t you have any family who could have taken care of you?” he asked.
“I’m an orphan. And Charlie’s parents are dead. It was—and is—just me and Rose. The sheriff’s office collected some money for us. Looking back, I suppose it was strange for them to do such a thing—but it got us through the first few months. When I was myself again, I looked around and realized I would have to get a job. Bud was the only one who would hire me without experience.
“I think he did it because he thought he could pressure me into sleeping with him. I’m sure he had no idea I would resist his advances so long or so completely.” Her lip curled up on one side. “I guess he finally ran out of patience.”
Stony grunted in sardonic agreement. “Will you take the job I offered you, or not?”
She twisted the sheet in the fingers of her good hand. She didn’t have any choice. It was take his job offer or starve. But she didn’t like it. Stony made her nervous. He made her skin tingle. He made her feel things she didn’t want to feel.
Nevertheless she said, “I’ll take the job.” And then qualified her acceptance. “But only until my wrist heals, and I can decide what to do with my life.”
Or until the day came when it was no longer safe to remain with the lone wolf whose den she had invaded with her cub.
* * *
HE HAD KILLED HER HUSBAND.
Stony wished he had inquired about Tess’s last name sooner. He had been shocked to hear her husband was Charles Lowell. He had been tracking that particular gang of rustlers for several months before he finally caught them in the act, and he had been forced into the gun battle that ensued. He had performed his job with the ruthless efficiency that had earned him his reputation, and Charles Lowell had died.
His identity as a range detective who hired out to large cattle spreads wasn’t generally known, and Stony needed it to stay that way in order to infiltrate the roving bands of rustlers that plagued the vast Wyoming ranges. The police had cooperated and kept his name out of the local paper. For some reason, Tess Lowell had never asked the identity of the man who killed her husband, or she would have known who he was.
Stony knew he ought to confess immediately and give Tess the chance to spit in his face. But she didn’t have anywhere else to go, and he was afraid she wouldn’t stay if she knew the truth. At least he could give her a place to live until she was well again. She and the kid needed him, and he owed them something because he was personally responsible for the loss of both husband and father, even if the man was a felon.
But he resented the intrusion on his solitude.
He was thirty-three and had lived alone in this five-room cabin, which he had built with his own hands, for the past ten years. He liked the quiet. He had spent many a long winter night before a flickering fire with nothing to disturb his peace but the wind rustling in the pines or the buildup of snow sliding off the steep blue tin roof in thunderous clumps.
When he needed a woman, he sought out one who only wanted the same brief physical satisfaction he desired. Lately he had decided even that sort of relationship wasn’t worth the risk it entailed. His isolation had become complete and comfortable.
Until this redheaded woman and her redheaded child had invaded it.
His attention was drawn to the child, who woke suddenly and popped upright in bed like a jack-inthe-box.
“Mama!”
“Don’t be frightened, Rose. I’m right here,” Tess said, holding out her good arm.
The little girl scuttled across the bed and flung herself across her mother’s body as though she were being attacked by ravaging wolves. She peered up at Stony with green eyes a shade darker than her mother’s and said very distinctly, “I want to go home.”
“I know, sweetheart,” Tess replied, brushing at the mass of bright red curls—shades lighter than her mother’s deep auburn—that tumbled over her daughter’s forehead. “I do, too. But we can’t, not for a little while.”
The child sat up abruptly. “Why not?”
“Because your mother’s arm is broken. She needs to rest and recuperate,” Stony said.
“What’s reputerate?” the child said, her brows knitted in confusion.
“Get well,” Stony amended, amused at the child’s mangled effort to repeat the grown-up word.
The little girl’s eyes widened, and her gaze slid to the cast covering her
mother’s arm. She reached out tentatively to touch it. “Mama’s hurt bad?”
“The cast is there to protect the broken bone so it can heal,” Tess explained.
Tears filled the child’s green eyes and spilled over. Her lower lip stuck out, and her chin trembled. “Mama’s hurt.”
Stony was amazed at the instant transformation. How did the kid do it? He watched her mother fall for the act.
“Oh, sweetheart, I’ll be fine,” Tess said with a hitching sob as she gathered the child to her breast.
Stony snorted. He meant to convey disgust at the ridiculousness of sentimental tears over something that was done and over. He believed the little girl was simply manipulating her mother, for reasons he couldn’t imagine and didn’t care to figure out. Two sets of long-lashed, accusing green eyes settled on him, and the sound in his throat changed to something more contemplative.
“Is anybody hungry?” he asked.
“I am,” Rose said.
Stony’s lips twisted cynically when he saw how instantly the child’s tears stopped. One clung to her lashes and skidded down her check when she gave him a wide-eyed blink.
“I’ll make some breakfast,” he said.
“I’ll do it.” Tess slipped her legs out from under the covers before she realized the T-shirt bared her all the way from her toes to her hips. She flushed and scooted back under the covers.
“Where are my clothes?” she asked.
“I had Mrs. Feeny put some things in a suitcase for you. It’s there in the corner. You can get the rest of your stuff from her later.”
Stony was still having trouble catching his breath after the eye-stopping exhibit he had just witnessed. The woman wasn’t tall, but she had incredible legs, long and silky and perfectly formed. He fought off the image of those legs wrapped around him. His genitals drew up tight in response to such mental titillation.
“I’ll go make breakfast while you get dressed,” he said, backing his way out of the room. He felt perspiration dotting his forehead, even though the bedroom was far from hot. It disturbed him that his thoughts had taken such a decidedly lascivious turn. He had cast himself in the role of guardian. So long as Tess was under his roof, he had to resist any temptation to seduce her. He owed Charlie Lowell’s widow that much consideration.
Taming the Lone Wolf Page 2
