by Vonnie Davis
“I keep thinking of her long black hair and how it’s gone.”
Storm jerked off his boots, tugged on his black jeans and zipped the fly. “It’ll grow back.” He sat on the seat of the cruiser and yanked on his socks. “Thought you were over her.”
Jackson tipped a bottle of beer to his lips and took a long drink. “I can’t get over her. Lord knows, I’ve tried. I’ve loved that woman since we were six years old.” He motioned to Storm with his beer bottle. “You know that. We were the Texan three musketeers—you, me and Sunny. Wasn’t I drunk for a month after she married that no good Abbot?”
“That you were.” Storm dragged on a boot.
His friend took another drink and then belched. “Got drunk for two weeks when I found out she was pregnant.”
“You were downright pitiful. Like you didn’t think married people had sex.”
Jackson drained the bottle and reached into the cooler for another. “Sawyer should be my son. She should be my wife. And, dammit, she should be healthy.”
Storm dragged a black T-shirt over his head. “Give me the keys. No way I’m letting you drive.”
“My Sunny...”
He stuck out his hand. “Keys, Jackson.” He’d drive the cruiser home, drag Jackson’s sorry butt inside and pour him onto one of the sofas. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was play nursemaid to a drunken lovesick pup, even if the pup had been his closest friend since first grade. For sure he didn’t want to hear someone lament about his twin sister losing her hair and maybe losing her battle with leukemia. He refused to accept the pain of that reality.
Jackson handed his keys to Storm before pulling the last bottle of beer from the cooler of ice in the cruiser.
****
Rachel still reeled from the effects of that sizzling kiss when she turned off Longhorn Road at the two yuccas next to a large, gnarled live oak. Her little red Beetle bounced on the dirt road that led to the Triple-S Ranch.
The naked stranger, whoever he was, packed quite a sexual punch. She hadn’t responded like that to a guy in, well… She glanced in her rearview mirror. “Never. I’ve never reacted to a guy like that. And a stranger, to boot. Oh, Rachel-girl, what were you thinking back there? You weren’t thinking, were you? You were having a taste of full-moon madness.”
She grinned. “And a taste of macho male.” He was cherry cheesecake and caramel-swirl ice cream and double-fudge brownies all rolled into one. As a diabetic, she avoided all three. Even so, she still fantasized about them, just like she was in hormonal fantasyland over this stranger. Avoidance was the key here. Thank goodness she’d never see him again.
She’d kissed him back, for heaven’s sake—a stranger—and she’d enjoyed every second of his lip lock.
His ramblings about her eyes were more than a little odd. Since she’d never been to Texas, there was no way he could have seen them before, not her eyes, anyway. Maybe he’d just had too much to drink. Still, he was a hunk. The trite phrase tall, dark and dangerous most definitely described him.
She felt downright pitiful. Ten minutes after his kiss, and she was still humming with desire. She lifted a slender shoulder in defiance at that thought. After all, it was better to be alone—safer to be alone.
When she eased her car to a stop at the security gate, she leaned out and punched in the security code Sunny Abbot had e-mailed her. The double wrought-iron gates, bearing three large intersecting S’s, creaked open. Rachel drove on, relieved her long journey was almost over. A mile and a quarter of private dirt road and she’d be there.
As promised, Sunny had left the outside lights on for her late arrival. Sunny was Rachel’s new patient. The twenty-nine-year-old woman had acute lymphoblastic leukemia.
When Sunny’s first round of chemo failed, she’d researched online for alternative treatments. Sunny told Rachel she’d read her article on the emotional benefits of treatment at home and how that edge often tipped the scales toward remission. Intrigued, Sunny had checked out Rachel’s credentials with the Leukemia and Lymphoma Research Society and, finding them to be impeccable, contacted her.
Rachel held a master’s degree in nursing. She was also trained and certified in acupuncture, massage and other holistic training methods. She’d carefully and expertly combined the two disciplines, making a name for herself in the private nursing field for critically and terminally ill patients.
Sunny had hired her to come to her home, the Triple-S Ranch, saying she needed a miracle. Rachel prayed God would grant one to her new patient.
Before being contacted to come to Texas, she’d taken two weeks in the mountains of Colorado to rejuvenate emotionally from Kyle’s abuse and to complete more research. Being so far away from her home in Yazoo City, Mississippi, had distanced her from the dangerous man who’d haunted her dreams and made her waking moments a nightmare.
On Rachel’s third day at the beautiful mountain lodge with its hushed cool serenity and long hiking trails, she received her first e-mail from Sunny. After a flurry of emails and phone calls, she’d accepted the job. Rachel decided to come directly to Texas from Colorado. By taking this extra layer of caution—not going home to Yazoo City before coming here—she hoped to throw her ex-fiancé further off her trail. She’d also asked Grace, who was taking care of her plants in her absence, to overnight the title to her SUV so she could trade it in for a new car before she left Colorado. That SUV held some painful memories.
Perhaps, while in Texas, she could decide where she’d relocate. Going back to Mississippi, where she’d be subjected to Kyle’s continual harassment, was no longer an option. His violent tendencies had increased—thus her need for the gun. She didn’t like living in fear. Nor was she proud of herself that during her period of mourning for her father, she’d allowed Kyle to take over her life. While in the mountains of Colorado, she’d vowed she’d never let another man tell her what to do again. From that point forward, her life was hers to control.
This job had come at an opportune time for her. For some reason, she’d formed a quick connection with Sunny. The two women had e-mailed often during the past week, building a level of trust before her arrival. She found forging friendships with all her private patients helped in her treatments—and, eventually, their recovery.
She parked her car near a crepe myrtle in front of the large ranch house and raised the Beetle’s tan canvas top. Bending and stretching once she got out of the car, she worked some of the kinks out of her body. Not the sexual kinks, of course. A smile played on her lips. Who was that man with the midnight eyes and skilled lips? She’d never know. Perhaps that was for the best. Men seemed to equal trouble.
Visions of a hot shower and comfy pajamas propelled her. She hefted two suitcases and her laptop from the trunk and headed for the wide steps leading to the large front porch. White rocking chairs and potted plants graced the covered veranda. When she reached the carved wooden door, adorned with a gleaming brass knocker shaped like a Texan longhorn, the door suddenly opened.
An older Mexican woman, her salt and pepper hair combed into a large bun at the nape of her neck, held one finger to her lips in a gesture to be quiet. “Miss Dennison?” Her Mexican accent tinged her words. Rachel smiled and nodded. “Miss Sunny is trying to get little Sawyer asleep. He’s having a bad night. Welcome.” She waved her inside and smiled.
Rachel could hear the fitful cries of a little boy upstairs. Sunny had written little vignettes about her son in many of her emails. She was divorced and the single mother of an active three-year-old, which only made her disease more heartbreaking. Sawyer needed a healthy mother. Rachel was determined to see he had one.
“I’m Noella, the housekeeper and cook. Follow me. I take you to your room. I can see you are tired.” The woman, wearing a green dress uniform and white apron, took the largest of the suitcases from Rachel and lead the way toward the curving staircase. Just then the child upstairs began screaming for a drink of water.
Noella paused on the bottom step, shook her
head and once again whispered, “I think I should take care of little Sawyer when he’s like this. It’s too much stress for Miss Sunny, but I say nothing.”
At the top of the steps, Noella turned left. “This is Miss Sunny’s wing.” She gestured with her hand as she tiptoed down the thick carpeted hallway. “You have the room across from Miss Sunny and little Sawyer,” Noella whispered before opening the door and tiptoeing into the room.
Rachel followed the housekeeper into the bedroom illuminated by lamps on either side of the white bed. The walls were covered with yellow and pink daisy wallpaper. The drapes at the two windows were white. “This was Miss Sunny’s room when she was growing up.” Noella turned on the lamp on the white desk, further illuminating the room. A yellow love seat welcomed. So did the vase of yellow and white daisies on the desk between the windows.
“The room is lovely.”
The housekeeper’s eyes softened. “I made everything fresh and welcoming for you. Sí? A box arrived for you yesterday. I took the liberty of unpacking it and placing the books and journals on your desk.”
Rachel thumbed through the medical journals and books, making sure Grace had packed all she’d asked for and, of course, her dearest friend had. There was an envelope she’d open later, when she was alone. “Thank you, Noella. I’ve worked very hard doing extra research about Sunny’s leukemia.” She pivoted in the housekeeper’s direction and smiled. “I have hope.”
Noella crossed herself. “Sí, we need hope. I pray for my Sunny every day.”
“I’ve been praying, too. Praying and developing a wellness plan to make her stronger for the next round of chemotherapy.”
The housekeeper nodded and wiped a tear. “Good…good. She’s not as weak as she was two months ago when her chemo ended. Even so, she’s like a shadow of our Sunny.”
“I’ve helped other patients become stronger. My goal is to do the same with her.”
“Thank you. She’s like my daughter, you see. I carried her into this house when her parents brought her home from the hospital. Her proud papa carried in his son.” Noella blinked several times as if trying to gain control of her emotions. She cleared her throat. “Miss…Miss Sunny gave me your dietary requirements. I have food in the refrigerator labeled with ‘sugar free’ notes. My sister, Juanita, is diabetic, too. She struggles with her sugar levels. She eats too many tortillas, but I say nothing.”
“You’re most kind. I’m sorry to put you to so much trouble. I can do my own cooking while I’m here.”
Noella appeared insulted. “I have cooked for this family since Mister Sawyer Blackhawk and Colleen were expecting the twins. No one has complained in the twenty-nine years I’ve been here.”
Oh dear, wrong move. “I’m sure you’re a fantastic cook. Why else would the family have kept you on all these years? I only offered to cook to save you some work. This large house must keep you quite busy.”
The snubbed woman wiped a tabletop with her white apron. “I am very organized. You will see in your time here.”
“I’m sorry, Noella. I didn’t mean to cause offense.” Getting off on the wrong foot with the family’s longtime housekeeper wasn’t the best way to create a harmonious atmosphere for her patient.
“I will cook for you. Sí?” She fixed her determined gaze on Rachel.
Ah, here was a defining moment in what she hoped would be a friendly, working relationship. Rachel smiled. “I love Mexican brown rice and chicken.”
“Tomorrow I make for you.” The housekeeper nodded, seemingly appeased. “You will eat it. Sí?”
“Absolutely. I’ll be looking forward to it. I usually eat a light snack before I go to bed to keep my glucose levels even throughout the night. Would you mind if I raided the refrigerator later?”
Noella headed for the door. “My kitchen is always open. Just clean up after yourself. I want no dirty dishes in my sink. Miss Sunny is usually up by nine. I think she should sleep later, but I say nothing.”
Rachel unpacked her clothes and put them away before heading for her longed-for shower. Her adjoining yellow bath was stocked with lots of plush towels and pretty soaps. In the shower, hot water sluiced down her body, stinging her sunburned shoulders.
The naked man’s words came back, the sensuality of his voice haunting her. “Put some aloe on your shoulders tonight. Your skin’s hot.” She leaned her head back, rinsing her hair and recalling the sensations of that kiss. Mercy, the things that man’s lips and tongue did to her mouth. Would she ever be kissed like that again?
****
Getting the cruiser to the Triple-S Ranch was simple. Getting more than six feet of drunken deadweight out of the cruiser, while staring at that red Beetle convertible parked under the crepe myrtle, wasn’t. What in blue blazes was she doing here?
An uneasy feeling niggled at his gut. Why would the young woman with the big baby blues be parked in front of his house? It wasn’t as if she’d picked his address from his pants’ pocket, seeing as how he wasn’t wearing any at the time. Plus, she’d need the security code to get through the gates. He closed his eyes, muttered a curse and accepted the inevitable: Sunny’s new nurse.
After depositing Jackson on the sofa in the den, he knocked on Noella’s door. The housekeeper clasped the lapels of her ancient chenille robe together when she opened her door. “Sí, Master Storm, what is it?”
“I brought Jackson home. He’s sleeping in the den.”
She straightened her shoulders and crossed her arms into her usual stance of annoyance. He’d seen it many times growing up. “Drunk?”
“Yes, ma’am. He was crying in his beer about Sunny.”
Noella crossed herself and shook her head. “They should have married, our Sunny and Jackson Cole. His love for her is strong. He’s ten times better than that worthless mofeta she married. Thank you for telling me. I’ll take care of Jackson in the morning. Poor man. He’s heartsick, but I say nothing.”
“Whose red car is out front?”
“Rachel, Miss Sunny’s new nurse.”
Storm swore and ran a hand through his long black hair.
“Is that any way to talk?” Noella slapped his side with her robe’s fabric belt and then crossed herself again. “You be polite to Rachel. You show that young lady the manners Noella teach you. Sí?”
“Do I have a choice?” He reined in his temper at Noella’s sour expression. “You know I had reservations about hiring her. All that holistic mumbo-jumbo. Massages for cancer.” He snorted. “Acupuncture, for God’s sake.”
So her name was Rachel. Yeah, the name fit—feminine, soft, delicate. He could still feel the softness of her lips and did a mental head slap. He’d kissed Sunny’s nurse. Just how was he going to handle this fine state of affairs?
Noella’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t care for your attitude, young man. How would you like to fix your own meals?”
“Blackmailer,” he grumbled.
“Miss Rachel brought hope into this house tonight. She told me herself she has hope for our Sunny. I feel it already. It radiates from her like heat from an oven. There’s something about her. You will sense it, too, once you meet her. She has…” Her hands fluttered as if searching for the right words. She patted her heart. “She has deep kindness, a goodness of the soul. I sense this.”
He leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and studied the housekeeper’s face. She’d nail his hide to the barn door if he shared what happened earlier. Worse, she wouldn’t cook for him for a month, and he did enjoy eating. Noella was right. There was definitely something about the woman he’d kissed on Longhorn Road, but he doubted it was the same worthy quality the housekeeper was referring to. “I hope she’s good for Sunny. Hope she takes care of her the way she should.”
Noella put her hands on his forearms. “That’s the real issue here, isn’t it, my son? You think it’s your job to take care of us. Especially, your sister and her child. You resent that someone else might take over your job as caregiver.”
“No, that’s not true.” He looked over her shoulder to the television playing in her sitting room, trying to calm himself. How did she know? Noella always identified what was going on in his mind, almost before he did. It was eerie and damned annoying.
“Isn’t it? From the time your mother left, you became everyone’s protector. Almost as if you took care of us, were perfect for us, we wouldn’t leave you the way she did.” Her dark eyes bore into his, making him feel prickly in his own skin.
“That’s bullshit.” Noella’s eyebrows rose when his vocabulary turned too colorful for her tastes. “Sorry, ma’am…nonsense.”
She squeezed his arms and smiled. “Oh? And is it nonsense that from the time your mother left, I never had to carry in the groceries by myself? Hmmm? Even now, you always manage to be nearby when I come back from shopping.”
He shrugged as if it were no big deal. She was right, of course, but he’d never admit it.
“When I am sick, who brings me a cup of tea? Who drives me to the doctor?”
“That’s only because you’re too stubborn to go.”
“Son, don’t deny your caring nature. It doesn’t make you weak for one moment. You are as strong as any two men. You are intelligent and you keep this place profitable. Your ranch hands hold you in high regard. No one takes care of his animals like you do. These are qualities to take pride in. Sí? Take pride also in that you care deeply for those around you. Too many men are self-centered. You, my handsome one, are not.”
She’d chipped away at his exterior, and his defenses came down. “It’s just that I’ve taken care of Sunny all my life, especially since she left that cheating husband of hers.”
“Yes, you brought her home two days before she delivered little Sawyer. Her spirit was broken, wasn’t it?” Noella shook her head and clucked her tongue. “So sad to see her suffering, but you forced her to go on. Also, her little bambino brought her happiness again.”
“He’s brought us all happiness. Something we needed after Dad died. Guess it’s no secret little Sawyer is more than my nephew. He’s like my own son. I was with her in the delivery room. The doctor put that squalling, wiggling child in my hands, and it was instant love.”
