Shades of Grey

by Sam Crescent

  Turning back to the house, Travis trotted to the French doors and looked inside. Sarah was still reading, oblivious to what had occurred right outside her window. He watched her for a while, mind filled with images of them together, in the past and the future. Memories of her riding the horses, hair swinging, ass raised from the saddle, her thigh muscles prominent beneath her skin-tight jeans. In the future he pictured her much the same way, except he rode beside her and she looked at him in the way a woman looks at a man when she’s in love.

  Not going to happen.

  The sting of something hitting his foot made Travis yelp before he had a chance to stop himself. Pain bloomed, radiating up his leg and burning through his muscles. A shuffle, barely discernible because of the pelting rain and bouts of thunder, alerted him to the fact that, once again, he wasn’t alone. He twisted around, grimacing at the ache in his foot, and saw the retreating figure of Clark jumping over the fence and disappearing into the darkness.

  How the fuck didn’t I hear him?

  Too busy entertaining fantasies, that’s why, asshole.

  He cursed himself a little more, felt the shift start to take over—and panicked. No, no way could he shift. Not now, not here.

  Aww, fuck.

  Too late. He slumped to the floor, his foot on fire, the rest of his body burning just as bad. The shift seemed to take forever, and, by God, it hurt. It didn’t usually, so what was different about tonight? He felt woozy, lightheaded, and, as the final vestiges of his wolf vanished, he looked through the French windows to check on Sarah.

  She stood staring at him through the glass, a frown creating deep crevices in her forehead, her mouth open in shock. Had she seen him shift?

  Jesus, no. Please, not that…

  She wrenched open one door and stood in the frame, hands jammed on her hips and fire in her eyes. “Travis? What in the hell are you doing out here?”

  “I…” He couldn’t manage much more than that.

  “And naked—naked in my damn backyard!” She stepped out into the driving rain, walking towards him barefoot. “Of all the people to label a pervert, I’d never have picked you, Travis Williams. Get the hell up and explain yourself!”

  He stood, difficult with the pain in his foot, and opened his mouth to speak.

  Before he had the chance to form words, Sarah said, “Oh my God. Your foot. It’s bleeding!” She knelt, hair plastered to her head now, rain running in rivulets down her face. “Oh, shit. You’ve been shot!”

  What?

  Travis glanced at his foot. A bloody mess marred the webbing between his big toe and the next.

  That fucking Clark…

  “Who the hell did this?” she demanded, standing and holding out her hand.

  “I don’t know.” He took her hand and allowed her to lead him into her living room. “The floor. I’m going to get it filthy.”

  “Fuck the floor!” she snapped. “I’m more interested in your foot.”

  Normally, he’d have wished she was more interested in his cock, but now wasn’t the time for such thoughts. As though knowing he’d been shot had given his body permission to react, the pain grew more intense. It was only a flesh wound, but, shit, it killed like a mad bitch.

  She closed the door, snapping the lock into place. “Get yourself into the kitchen. I’ll clean you up. And maybe you can explain why you’re naked while we’re at it.”

  He lowered his head and walked to the kitchen as best he could, wishing other circumstances had led to her seeing him naked. Still, at least she knew what he looked like unclothed now. The best he could do was let her clean then dress his wound and get the hell home. He’d make up some bullshit about why he was on her property at night and hope he convinced her.

  He sat on a pine chair at the table and lifted his foot, balancing it on his knee. Sarah bustled in, draping a blanket around him then going to the cupboard under the sink where she kept her first-aid kit.

  “So,” she said, dropping it onto the table and taking off the lid. “What the fuck were you doing out there with no clothes on? You got some kind of fetish or something? Enjoy dancing naked in the rain, is that it?”

  Travis almost laughed. “No, no, nothing like that. I saw someone walking towards your house with a gun. I’d just got out of the shower…” There, that should do it.

  “And?” She took his foot in hand and began cleaning it with sterile wipes.

  It stung.

  “So, I didn’t think. I went out to follow and—”

  “Got shot your goddamned self. Wonderful.”

  “That’s about the measure of it.”

  “Well, as you know, I can take care of myself. Thanks for thinking of me and everything, but I really don’t need you babysitting me. I’ve lived here long enough alone since my daddy passed away, and I manage just fine. I have a gun in every room and intend to use them if anyone dares to break inside. So, next time you’re naked and you see someone headed here, pick up the phone instead, all right?”

  Travis nodded. He hated lying to her, but what could he do? If he told her it had been Clark and she questioned the bastard, he might tell her she’d had a wolf in her yard. It was highly unlikely she’d put two and two together—people around here still didn’t believe in shifters—but he didn’t want to take the risk.

  “Now then,” she said, “once I’m done here, I’ll make you some tea and get you some clothes. You can take the spare room for the night, if you like, or I’ll drive you over the field to your place. Whatever you want.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Yes, well, you won’t be thanking me in a minute. You really ought to have this stitched or it’s going to get infected. So, grit your teeth and hold on for the ride, nude boy.”

  Chapter Two

  Sarah finished dressing his foot, worried in case she’d done it wrong. A bullet wound was completely different from the odd graze or cut, despite the confidence she’d displayed when she told him she’d sew it… That had been a ruse, the protective guard she put in place so no one knew she felt vulnerable at times—not only vulnerable in certain situations, but there was also the fact that this was the closest she’d come to a naked man.

  Can a man really be that well built from working on a ranch?

  Her mouth watered, and a tightness gripped the pit of her stomach. No man had ever made her feel this way before.

  What was it about Travis Williams that made her weak in the knees?

  “I really think you should go to the hospital.” She gathered her supplies and got up from the floor, trying to keep her eyes averted, but who in their right mind could stop looking at such male perfection? Long, straight black hair that fell to just past his shoulders, a strong, square jawline speckled with stubble that would rasp her cunt if she gave him the chance to get anywhere near her? She licked her lips and hated herself for seeing more of her employee than she wanted to.

  Sarah placed the soiled wraps into the bin and her first-aid kit back in the cupboard under the sink.

  “Right, tea…tea…” she mumbled, trying to get her head in working order.

  Oh, my God! Travis Williams is naked in my house.

  She pressed a hand to her heated cheek, then filled the kettle with enough water for two, afterwards pulling cups down from the cupboard, silently chanting what she had to do next. Turning everything into a list helped her to not dwell on the ranch hand—granted, the sexiest and most intriguing of ranch hands—sitting in her kitchen, bandaged and in need of care.

  She turned to ask Travis how he liked his tea, jumping when she collided with his chest, the shock causing her to let go of a cup.

  In a blur of motion Sarah couldn’t be sure she’d seen right, he caught the cup then held it in front of her face.

  “Sorry for startling you,” he drawled.

  The blanket she’d given him was wrapped around his hips sarong style, his chest exposed and close. All she would have to do would be to stick her tongue out to lick a line down that very masculi
ne chest…

  Focus, Sarah, focus.

  With shaking fingers, she took the cup.

  “You know, it’s rude to sneak up on people,” she accused, turning her back to him.

  Instead of taking the hint and moving away to give her some space, he drew nearer. His hands came to rest on the counter to either side of her, trapping her. Why did she like being closed in by his arms and body tonight, when if he’d done this another day she’d have given him hell? Sarah shut her eyes to try to control the pounding pulse in her neck and heart. When that didn’t work, she opened them.

  Her breath coming in shallow pants, she reached for the tea caddy.

  “Do you have one sugar or two?” she asked, trying to pull away from his invading presence.

  Was he sniffing her hair?

  Sarah put the pot that held the teabags back on the counter with a slam, spun around and pushed at his chest. Travis didn’t move an inch, but she gave him another shove and he backed up a step.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, folding her arms under her breasts. The act reminded her how simply dressed she was in her nightie. Her nipples puckered, grazing the cotton fabric. Surely they were responding to the cool night air and not this alarming man standing in front of her—a man who had never alarmed her before tonight. But then he’d never been half naked in her kitchen before, either.

  “I’m sorry, Sarah…” He stopped suddenly and looked all around them.

  Sarah frowned at his peculiar behaviour.

  “I’ll be back,” he said.

  Oh, no.

  “I don’t think so. Sit down and have some tea,” she ordered, pointing a finger at the seat he’d just vacated.

  The kettle finished boiling and she placed a teabag in each cup. “Do you take sugar?” she asked.

  “What?”

  With a sigh of frustration, Sarah asked the question again.

  “Two, please.”

  A few minutes later, she returned to the table with the steaming cups of tea. Travis glanced at them and then looked about again. He seemed on edge.

  A wave of thunder echoed round the house.

  “They did say it was going to storm. Are you afraid of storms, Travis? Is that why you’re behaving strangely?”

  He turned his attention back to her, and once again Sarah was struck by his deep, sea-blue eyes. How many times had he looked at her with those piercing blues, which seemed to see inside her down to the very depths of her soul?

  “I’m not afraid of anything,” Travis said.

  Her body responded, her nipples hardening to tight points at his blatant display of masculinity. She took a sip of her tea, trying to bring some normality back to her thoughts. Why, out of all the men available, was it Travis, the latest guy to start working for her, who had her so intrigued?

  Sarah hadn’t always been known for her sensible actions—she’d had to learn to be the way she was. To fight her own battles and always come out the victor no matter what the odds. After all, she was alone on this huge ranch in the middle of nowhere where God knew what could happen and no one would get to her in time.

  She could look after herself and didn’t need anybody—especially a man—telling her how to live her life. An invasion of wonderful memories of her father came to mind, and she released a sigh in protest then took another sip of tea. When alive, Daddy wouldn’t have allowed anything or anyone to hurt her, no matter what. Even when she’d gone into town, people had treated her with respect. Now, though, it seemed most single men were seeing her as an easy target—a woman who needed a man to run this ranch. Including that disgusting Clark James. That man gave her the creeps with his sneering mouth and perving hands. After only a few minutes in his company, she wanted to run home and take a long, steaming bath to rub his very essence away. In recent weeks he’d become way too familiar. The occasional brush of his body as he passed her in the hallway, even when there was plenty of room. A hand that seemed to have a mind of its own, twirling some of her long black hair.

  It was at times like these, being shown a lack of respect from some men, that Sarah really missed her father—the one man who’d shown her the respect she deserved.

  He’d been the only man she could stomach for large periods of time—until she’d met Travis.

  She glanced up into the eyes of Travis Williams, the man who’d entered her life a year ago and had invaded most of her waking thoughts. He was so different from every other man. He opened doors for her, and argued back at her as if she were an equal. He thought she didn’t know when he got hard, thoughtfully removing his Stetson to hide the tightness in his pants. Sarah was a woman, after all, and knew all about desire and lust, even if she’d never been fucked.

  Travis placed a hand over hers and gazed into her eyes, the kind of stare where she was sure he could see deep into her soul.

  “Where did you go?” he asked.

  “Huh?” She hadn’t been anywhere.

  Lightning streaked and thunder followed, the only noise breaking the silence of the room. They stayed perfectly still for several moments before Travis began talking, rewording the same question.

  “You seemed to be elsewhere just a second ago. Wondered where you went.”

  She shook her head against the fogginess consuming her. She must need an early night. All the hard work of the past few weeks was finally catching up with her.

  “I was just thinking about my dad and how it was different around here when he was alive and in charge,” she revealed, feeling tears well.

  She dropped her head and closed her eyes against the wave of emotion. Her father had always told her crying about something wouldn’t solve the problem—it would still be there after the waterworks were finished.

  Daddy would still be dead and she didn’t have the energy to keep crying over him.

  “He sounded like a good man from what I’ve heard from the folk who knew him,” Travis said.

  “He really was, strong and powerful. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t do and he had the respect of everyone.” She ran a hand through her hair and stretched, trying to work out the kinks in her muscles from sitting absorbed in her most recent crime novel. Memories of her father always hurt. “It’s getting late. Do you want the spare room or would you like me to drive you back over the field to your place?” She really didn’t want to go out in this storm any more than she wanted him in her house, but she would rather have him here than drive late at night.

  “I’ll take the spare room if that’s all right with you.” He drained his cup then handed it to her.

  “Suits me, but I’d better go and get you some clothes. It’ll have to be some of my dad’s old clothing, as I’m sure you won’t want to wear or even try to fit into mine,” she joked.

  He chuckled and stood as she did.

  The gentleman every time.

  “Stay here, I’ll be back.” Sarah left him, moving out of the kitchen and upstairs to the end of the landing. With a deep breath, she opened the door to the main bedroom and was assailed by the smell of a room that had lain dormant and unused.

  The furniture was still in the same place and the curtains drawn. After the burial she hadn’t been able to bear going through his belongings. It had seemed almost like an invasion of his privacy. She went to the wardrobe in the corner, opening the old wooden door handle. He’d made the wardrobe from scratch, treating the wood and carving it all himself as a wedding gift to her mother. Sarah wondered how long it had been since she’d been in here—she half expected moths or something to come flying out at her.

  Nothing. There was just dust, a few layers of it. She’d have to come and clean the mess in the next week. Her father had been a large man, and she knew Travis would fit into his clothes. Travis was a bit taller than her daddy—it would be comical to see his ankles peeking from under the jeans. She took out a shirt and a pair of jeans, closed the door and took one last, lingering look at her dad’s room before closing the door.

 
; Mission accomplished, no tears.

  Sarah made her way back to the kitchen, shocked to see Travis still in the same place she’d left him.

  “You can sit down,” she teased, handing him the clothes. “These should fit, but I figure, if you haven’t died on me by the morning, I’ll drive you over to your place before work starts.” She reached out, touching his forehead. “Are you sure you’re not getting infected?” she asked, her hand burning from the simple touch. His temperature was high.

  Travis took her hand in his and smiled. “I’ve always had a high temperature, part of the family gene pool.”

  Sarah couldn’t stop the frown forming against his explanation—she wasn’t sure anyone could have a temperature that high and still be considered normal. “How does your foot feel?” She may have joked about him dying on her, but she wouldn’t like to deal with a dead employee…and, in truth, she wouldn’t like to see Travis hurt at all.

  “Stop worrying. I’ve told you I’m fine.” He stroked his thumb along her inner palm. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “What do you think of Clark James?”

  The name alone had her cringing.

  “Is that my answer?” he asked, laughing when she pulled the face.

  “Let’s just say me and Clark James don’t dwell all that well. Why do you want to know?” Sarah pulled her hand away from his heat. He was hot all over.

  “I just heard something in town about him being…interested in you.”

  “I don’t like him and let’s leave it at that. It’s getting late and I want to get some sleep before I have to deal with work tomorrow.” She moved to the back door and checked the lock, surprised to see her hand shaking. Fucking Clark James. The man was a creep, and she’d heard the rumours all too well. How he was going to visit her and take what he wanted. Did the jerk really think someone wouldn’t tell her about his intended abuse? One good thing that had come from her father’s legacy was that some people still remained loyal and kept her up to speed about the goings-on in town. As soon as she’d heard that little detail along with a load of other shit, she’d gone and purchased all the guns that were safely within reach in every room.