Chelsea set the bottle of ibuprofen on the end table and, studying Jake with a worried gaze, she cuddled back inside the throw. Mentally she reviewed what she knew about concussions. Did she need to keep him awake tonight or was that an old wives’ tale? What other symptoms should she be watching for?
And what would she do, stranded as they were, if Jake’s concussion became a real medical emergency?
Chapter 7
Darkness settled over the house as night encroached, and the residual heat in Mr. Noble’s living room dissipated as the outside temperature dropped and snow piled up. The wind picked up, driving the snow harder and stirring drafts from the chimney that made the fire in the grate dance and writhe. A powerful gust blasted the house, rattling the windows and howling in the eaves.
Chelsea suppressed a shiver and shifted uncomfortably. “Man, that wind sounds spooky.”
“Reminds me a little of the sandstorms in the desert. When the terrain is flat, with no buildings or trees or other landscape to block the wind, it can gust forty or more miles an hour, kicking up sand and debris until there’s nothing but a suffocating cloud of grit blowing around you. You can’t breathe without choking on the dust.”
Chelsea narrowed a speculative look on him. “Why do I think you’re not talking about the dust storms in California?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Because I’m not.”
She shook her head in awe. “You’ve traveled all over the world, haven’t you?”
He shrugged one shoulder and poked at the fire. “I wouldn’t say all over the world, but...I’ve worked a lot of foreign locations. It’s the nature of my job.”
She propped her elbows on her bent knees and her chin on her hands. “Where have you been?”
Jake leaned back against the sofa and stretched his arm along the cushions. “I did some work in Colombia recently. Iraq and Afghanistan, as you probably guessed. A couple other places in the Middle East I can’t tell you about.” He gave her a wry grin. “Indonesia. Mexico.” He rubbed his chin. “Jamaica.”
Chelsea sat straighter. “Jamaica? What kind of security job did you do there?”
His grin spread. “Bikini inspector. That’s where my class went for our senior trip in high school.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes.
Jake chuckled. “You didn’t specify work travel.” He nudged her foot with his. “So where have you traveled?”
She groaned and propped her chin on her hands again. “Nowhere,” she grumbled. “Well, Dallas. San Antonio. Oh, and we went skiing in Steamboat Springs one year.”
“What do you mean, nowhere? I hear Steamboat Springs is great.”
“Compared to West Bumbleshmuck, Texas, maybe. Compared to Jamaica or Colombia? Not so much.”
He screwed his face in a skeptical frown. “You would not have liked the parts of Colombia I visited. Definitely not on the tourist maps.”
“Maybe so, but at least you’re not in a rut. Your life is exciting, interesting. Challenging.”
“But also dangerous. Often tedious. Frequently dirty, smelly and bug-infested.”
“But important.” She met his gaze with an honest enthusiasm. “What you do saves lives. Am I right? You make the world safer for the rest of us boring people back home.”
Another shrug. “Well, yeah, I suppose. And boring is your word, not mine.”
“And you love your job.” She flashed him a lopsided grin. “Admit it. Even with the dirt and smell, you love what you do. It’s an adrenaline rush. A reason to get up in the morning. It’s a roller-coaster ride, the Peace Corps and a Jason Bourne movie all rolled into one!”
He sputtered a laugh. “Um, wow. I don’t know if it’s all of that.” He cocked his head and sent her a crooked smile. “I think you’ve mistaken me for some kind of saint-superhero hybrid.”
She opened and closed her mouth, then turned her gaze back to the fire. “Well, you saved my life. That makes you something of a saint in my eyes.”
He grunted and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m no saint, Chelsea. I’m glad I happened along when I did and could get you out of harm’s way, but—” another dismissive shrug “—I was just doing what I’ve been trained to do.”
In other words, he’d have done the same for anyone. So don’t go forming any attachments or lopsided bonds with him.
Chelsea felt a small pang of disappointment, but schooled her face to hide any reaction. Jake might be kind, thoughtful and handsome as the devil, but the little touches, the sweet smiles of encouragement, the friendly banter had nothing to do with her and everything to do with Jake’s character. As if an über-gorgeous warrior hero would fall for a plain-Jane country girl. Dream on.
Chelsea dragged her gaze away from his magnetic blue eyes and tried to calm her racing heart. Crushing on the hunky soldier who saved your life was to be expected, right? She just had to keep her feelings—and his lack thereof—in perspective.
“In my view, you’re a hero, too,” he said.
She scoffed a laugh. “What?”
He turned up a hand as if the answer should be obvious. “What you do helps save lives.”
Chelsea shook her head. “Don’t pander to me.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Said the pot to the kettle, Miss You’re-a-Saint-to-Me.” He aimed a finger at her. “Don’t sell yourself short, Chelsea. What you do is important, too. I hope to God if my dad needs blood while he’s in the hospital that there’ll be some available...maybe even some you drew from a donor.”
She flashed him a small grin, appreciative of his kindness. “Let’s hope so.”
She’d always viewed her job as contributing something to society, worthwhile. But hardly heroic. She was a cog in the wheel that helped keep all the moving pieces working. Phlebotomy paid the bills, and for that she was grateful. But compared to the work Jake did, she was small potatoes. Still, his kindness, trying to buoy her spirits and crediting her for helping save lives, touched her.
Not only was Jake drop-dead gorgeous, but he was also a gentleman and good-hearted. A warrior with a heart of gold. She had to be dreaming....
* * *
Brady peered out the window at the snow piling up and chuckled smugly. The timing of this storm couldn’t have worked better for him if he’d planned it. The cops would be kept busy helping stranded motorists, handling medical emergencies, dealing with panicky citizens who’d lost power. Roads were impassable thanks to the mounting snow. And the only two people who could tell the police which direction he’d fled would soon be frozen to death, if they weren’t already.
Brady shivered at the thought. A nasty, miserable way to die, for sure, but the damn nosy cowboy deserved as much for shooting him.
He rubbed his aching leg, then hobbled back to the couch where he’d piled extra blankets for the night. He’d cleaned his gunshot wound with alcohol, which had burned like hell but was better than risking infection, then shredded a bedsheet to make himself a bandage. The wound would heal in time, and he’d be no worse for wear. He was lucky on that count, but having a gimpy leg slowed him down. Until he was across the border in Mexico, he needed all the speed and stealth possible.
Brady leaned his head back, savoring the soft cushions, and let his eyes slide closed. Yep, this snowstorm was sure a lucky break for him. He had a safe hideout and time to regroup before making his final run to freedom.
* * *
“Do you want me to get you another blanket?” Jake asked later that evening. “The temperature in here is dropping fast now that it’s dark outside.”
After eating some dinner, they’d raided Mr. Noble’s bathroom cabinet for toiletries and found new toothbrushes, unopened deodorant and clean washcloths. She felt better having freshened up and now was snuggled under a coat and two blankets.
Chelsea shook her head and sent him a grateful smile. “I’m okay. I can even feel my toes again. Look.” She lifted the quilt from her feet and wiggled her toes. “Movement and everything. I can even make the Vulcan
salute with my feet.” She parted her middle toes while keeping the others closed. “Live long and prosper!”
“Such talent,” he said, flashing a wry grin.
She laugh. “I know, right? My mother’s so proud.”
When he chuckled, his eyes lit, and the warm glow in his handsome face stole her breath. She even found his chipped bottom tooth sexy. She wanted to pinch herself to see if she was dreaming. Then again, if she was hallucinating in some hypothermia-induced dream state, she didn’t want to wake up. She was stranded with a gorgeous cowboy/supersoldier who was doting on her every need. Homicidal escaped felon, murdered neighbor and massive blizzard aside, she was loving the current situation.
Enjoy it while it lasts. Men like Jake didn’t give her the time of day under normal circumstances. Soon enough the storm would clear, Jake would make good his promise to capture Brady, and her cowboy rescuer would ride off into the sunset without looking back. No doubt, to him she was just another damsel in distress, another rescue mission, another notch on his sniper rifle.
An inconvenience on his way to see his dying father.
Jake put another log on the fire and stirred the coals with the poker. “So your parents picked a pretty good time to take a cruise. Hawaii beats a snowstorm any day in my book.”
“Yeah,” she answered distractedly, her thoughts churning. Chelsea chewed her bottom lip, her heart heavy when she thought of what Jake might be missing. When her mother had been hospitalized last year, battling cancer, Chelsea had told her she loved her every day as she left the hospital for work, fearing her mother would take a sudden turn for the worse and she’d miss the chance to say goodbye.
Jake finished stoking the fire and sat back on the floor, leaning against the sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He pulled a blanket around his shoulders and stared into the now-crackling blaze.
Sadie got up from the spot where she’d been sleeping and curled up next to Jake’s legs, propping her chin on his knee with a whine.
Jake rubbed the Australian cattle dog’s ears. “Good girl, Sadie.” As he stroked the dog’s head, his expression grew pensive. “Did I tell you that when I opened Sadie’s cage, she ran straight for the stable where Mr. Noble was? She knew something had happened to him and was determined that I follow her.”
Chelsea pressed a hand to the ache that swelled in her heart. “That’s so sweet. And...heartbreaking.” She sighed. “I promised her earlier that I’d take care of her until I found her a new home. All of his animals will need new homes.”
Jake glanced at her. “Do you know if he had family? It’d be their say what happens to the animals.”
“I think they had grown children. In Oklahoma, maybe? My parents will know how to reach them, I bet.”
Jake’s hand stroked down Sadie’s back, ruffling her fur. “Dogs can be pretty amazing.”
Chelsea cocked her head. “I agree, but...exactly how do you mean?”
He didn’t answer right away, and his expression said his thoughts were miles away.
“I was on assignment with a small team of guys in Afghanistan a couple of years back,” he said at last, his eyes trained on the fire in the grate. “Our mission was to find this guy believed to be the head of a local terror cell. We stayed in this little town for weeks getting to know the locals, learning what we could.” He paused and scratched Sadie behind the ear. “Well, there was this dog, a stray that kinda adopted us—which is to say we felt sorry for him and fed him scraps from our dinner, gave him water, patted him...”
“And made a friend for life,” she finished for him with a smile. “If he was like most dogs.”
Jake sent her a quick smile, then stared at Sadie again. “He was. Stuck to us like glue, our friend to the end...”
A cold apprehension skittered down her back. “Wait. This dog isn’t going to die at the end of this tale, is he? ’Cause I don’t think I can handle another heartbreaking—”
He flashed her another grin. “No, he lives.”
Chelsea exhaled in relief and wiggled her fingers at him. “All right, then you may continue.”
“So this dog, we called him Rex, hung with us most every night to get fed and patted and to huddle near our fire, but he disappeared every day to do who-knows-what dog stuff, right? Which was fine with us, because we had our own work to do, and the dog could potentially have been in the way.”
“The dog belonged to the terrorist,” Chelsea guessed.
Jake drew his eyebrows together and sent her a bemused look.
Her eyes widened as she played her hunch forward. “The dog was a spy!” She waved a finger at Jake as her scenario unfolded in her head. “It was wired for sound, and the terrorist found you through the dog’s surveillance equipment. A chip in his collar!”
Jake rubbed his chin and gave her a level look. “No.”
“Oh.”
“Do you want to hear this?”
She gave him a sheepish grin. “Sorry. Continue...please.”
“One day we got word from a local that the guy we were after had just gotten back from a trip. He was going to be at a certain home for a party that evening, so we prepared to raid the home and take the guy prisoner.” He paused and cast her a side glance as if expecting her to interrupt again.
She waved a hand. “And?”
“And we showed up at the house, and as we were told, the guy was there. We made our move, but the guy wasn’t going to go quietly. He grabbed a woman, held a gun to her, classic standoff situation. He shot at us, we were pinned down, he was cornered in an alley behind the house...you get the picture.”
She did, and another chill ran through her, imagining Jake in such a dangerous position. Her chest tightened realizing how casually he told the story, as if he were describing a trip to the grocery store or a baseball game. Life-or-death situations were his job, his normal.
She thought of how terrorized she’d been when Brady pulled the gun on her. She’d cooperated with him out of blind fear and the instinct to stay alive. But Jake...
“We didn’t want to hurt the woman, of course, but we knew if it came to it, we’d have to. He was too valuable of a target, and civilian casualties...” He frowned. “Well, they happen sometimes.”
Chelsea swallowed, not liking the direction the story was going. Her fingers curled into the blanket around her shoulders, her attention fixed on Jake.
“And?” she reluctantly prompted, drawing out the word.
“From out of nowhere, Rex came charging onto the scene. Apparently he’d followed us and saw the guy shooting at us, read the situation and...took action.”
Chelsea felt herself leaning forward in anticipation. “How?”
“Rex ran right up to the guy and bit down on the terrorist’s leg, growling for all he was worth. Caught the guy completely off guard, and put quite the hurtin’ on him.” Jake lifted a corner of his mouth and ruffled Sadie’s fur as if congratulating her for Rex’s accomplishment. “Ole Rex served as enough of a distraction that the woman was able to wiggle loose of the guy’s grip. We dropped him with a leg shot, and Rex kept him busy until we moved in and subdued the terrorist for transport to our base of operation.”
“Rex was protecting you,” she said, feeling her heart melt.
“Yeah.” When Jake turned toward her, she’d have sworn his eyes were damp. Knowing her hard-core soldier had a soft spot for his one-time pet only endeared him to her more. He cleared his throat and added, “Ole Rex had seen what guns did, knew we were in danger and took it upon himself to help us out.”
“So...what happened to Rex?” She wrinkled her nose and bit her lip, dreading the answer.
“We took him back to our base, and last I heard, they were training him to work with the military police.” Jake patted her leg, and the warmth of his touch sent a sweet frisson spiraling through her. “He was being well cared for and loving the attention of his trainers.”
She settled back, savoring the glow Jake’s story stirred. “You’re r
ight. Rex was amazing. Courageous and loyal and protective...”
A comfortable silence fell between them, punctuated by the pinging of icy snow as it hit the windows, driven by the raging wind. Her fingers and toes tingled as they thawed out, and the energy her body had spent keeping her warm and surviving the hypothermia left her exhausted.
Stretching out on the floor and propping her head on her folded arms, Chelsea tried to sleep, but the howling wind and pinging snow were an ever-present reminder of the day’s tumultuous events. She turned toward Jake and studied his chiseled profile. She’d always imagined someone with such a perfect straight nose, kissable lips and square jaw would be making movies about special ops soldiers, not actually doing such dangerous and demanding work.
He shot at us, we were pinned down....
Jake’s eyes were closed in slumber, but even with him asleep, she felt infinitely safer than if she’d been enduring this nightmare alone.
Heck, who was she kidding? If not for Jake, she wouldn’t be enduring anything. She’d be dead—frozen to death in the trunk of her mother’s Cadillac. Her parents would have returned from Hawaii to learn their only daughter had perished at the hands of an escaped criminal. Her heart squeezed thinking of her parents’ grief, and another ripple of fear spread through her. Brady was still out there....
She scrunched sideways, scooting a few inches closer to Jake. Then a couple inches closer. And another couple inches—
Jake’s arm snaked out from his blanket and wrapped around her waist. She swallowed a startled gasp as he pulled her backward until they were spooned together, bodies touching from shoulders to feet.
“This work better for you?” he asked, his warm breath fanning her ear.
“Um, yeah.” Chelsea felt the flush of embarrassment sting her cheeks and was grateful the darkness hid her telltale blush. As his body heat penetrated her clothes, she drew a mental picture of his male physique and taut angles pressed intimately against her. Her entire body thrummed with a sexual awareness. Dear Lord, he smelled good...like pine and fresh air and manly musk. Having his arm around her, holding her close, with her head pillowed by his muscular arm was an experience straight out of her dreams.
Cowboy's Texas Rescue Page 8
