Colton's Ranch Refuge

by Beth Cornelison

  “Geez, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be dumping this personal mess on you.” She sniffled again and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Forget I said anything.”

  He stood and crossed the room, headed for the door. Great. She’d run him off with her moping and complaining. She slid down in the bed, wanting to pull the covers over her head and hide for...oh, a few weeks would be good.

  But instead of leaving, Gunnar picked up a box of Kleenex sitting on the dresser top, plucked out a couple as he crossed back to her and handed her the tissues.

  Her heart thumped a beat, both in gratitude for his kindness and relief that he wasn’t leaving her alone in the dark, gloomy room. As she blew her nose and wiped her eyes, Gunnar stretched out on the bed beside her. He opened one arm to her and tugged gently at her elbow with his other hand, coaxing her closer. “Come here.”

  Violet hesitated only a moment before scooting sideways to snuggle against his chest. He draped his arm around her shoulders and drew her closer still.

  “Look, I know there’s nothing I can say to make you feel better about the crap your husband put you through, so I won’t even try. I respect you too much to feed you meaningless clichés.”

  “I don’t expect you to—”

  “But,” Gunnar added, cutting her off, “the guy had to have had a screw loose somewhere to have cheated on a smart and beautiful wife and two great kids.”

  She opened her mouth to defend Adam, but the truth was Adam did have emotional issues and a chemical dependency. Not that either was an excuse for his infidelity, though.

  “Of course, that’s just my opinion, and you didn’t ask so—” Gunnar shrugged “—next topic.”

  “Right.” She shoved thoughts of Adam aside and rested her head on Gunnar’s shoulder. The scents of laundry soap, vegetable soup and baby bath clung to him. He smelled like home and hearth and family. It was so ordinary, and yet he made the scents sexy.

  Having Gunnar hold her helped quiet the restless loneliness and worries plaguing her yet also reenergized the hum of attraction she’d felt from the day he stormed up to her, demanding she move her bus from his driveway. Had that been less than a week ago? So much had happened in the past few days to change her view of him...and yet the underlying crackle of attraction was the same. Had maybe even grown stronger with all she was learning about him.

  “Tell me more about the movie you’re filming in town. What kind of scenes did they need our ranch for?”

  She launched into a synopsis of the movie’s plot and the shooting schedule, and soon they’d fallen into a comfortable exchange about new scripts she was considering, cute things the twins had done this week and Gunnar’s memories of growing up in Eden Falls.

  “There’s a place not far from here, a walking trail that ends at a waterfall, that’s a great place for picnics.” Gunnar tucked a wisp of her hair behind her ear. “Maybe when your leg’s feeling better I can take you and the boys up there. I think they’d like it.”

  “I know the place you mean. The falls was one of the first places the movie crew scouted when we arrived. I think Mac plans to shoot the love scene there.”

  Beside her, Gunnar grew still. She angled her head and saw the muscles in his jaw pulsing as he gritted his teeth.

  “Do my love scenes bother you for some reason?” She studied the hard set of his mouth, intrigued. She remembered his reaction to the steamy film clip of her he’d found on the internet. He’d acted almost...jealous. The prospect tantalized her.

  His eyebrows dipped in consternation, but he gave his head a stiff shake. “Why should they? None of my business.”

  “It just seemed like...you were upset. You tensed up.” She smoothed a hand along the taut corded muscles of his arm, stroking her fingers to his fist to illustrate her point.

  “Yeah, well...” He rolled his shoulders as if trying to loosen the tension stringing him tight, then sighed a gush of breath. “All right, yes. It bothers me.”

  The corner of her cheek tugged up, and she playfully goaded, “Why?”

  He jerked his head toward her. “Why?” he echoed, incredulous. “I... Hell.”

  Suddenly he rolled to his side so that his wide shoulders and sculpted chest hovered over her. His hazel eyes lasered down at her with breath-stealing intensity, and the air between them sparked and crackled. A low, frustrated growl rumbled from his throat, and a heartbeat later, his mouth descended on hers.

  Chapter 10

  The first touch of his lips sent a paroxysm of sweet sensation coursing through her. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her brain short-circuited as his mouth directed hers with a seductive finesse.

  She didn’t think about what was happening. Gunnar’s kiss felt too good to analyze whether it was a smart choice for her. She simply plowed her fingers into his tousled hair and melted in his arms. Violet savored the gentle suction of his kiss, the heady play of his tongue tracing her mouth, the tug of his teeth nibbling her bottom lip. When his hands stroked up under her pajama top, his calloused palms scraping lightly against her skin, she surrendered to the heat that clamored inside her.

  This sensual escape was just what she needed, what she’d secretly craved all week while cooped up with the brawny and fiercely handsome ex-soldier. Gunnar covered her breast with his hand, gently flicking her nipple with his thumb, and thoughts of her attack, of delayed filming schedules and of her rambunctious twins fled her mind. Gunnar’s mouth molded hers, demanding her full attention. His deft caresses left her head spinning and her body vibrating with a growing need. Clearly being mindful not to disturb her injured leg, he pressed her into the mattress, evidence of his own desire nudging her intimately. That skillful duality of arduousness and care was evident in other ways, as well. His commanding kiss left room for her to refuse him if she chose. His hands explored boldly, yet she’d never felt more protected or cherished.

  Simply put, she wanted him. She promised herself not to second-guess the hasty decision to give herself over to something that was purely physical release, solely about chemistry and need and opportunity. No regrets. She knew instinctively that she could trust Gunnar, that she was completely safe with him. But ultimately, the choice became moot.

  Gunnar raised his head, breaking their kiss and sucking in a lungful of air. “That’s why.”

  She blinked, confused by his statement, and had to think back to the conversation that had preceded their intimacy. Do my love scenes bother you...?

  “Oh,” she said breathlessly, continuing her streak of brilliant responses for the evening.

  He cradled her cheek with one hand and swiped at her lips with his thumb. “I’d have thought it was obvious. Hell, even Piper picked up on the fireworks between us the day we met.”

  She smiled up at him, loving the teasing glow that danced in his eyes and tugged at his mouth. “True. But sometimes a girl needs confirmation of her feelings, reassurance that what she feels is returned.”

  “Feelings confirmed, Tinkerbell.” He smacked a light kiss on her lips before rolling away and flopping back on the bed. Drawing a deep breath, he added, “But...”

  She shifted toward him and laid her fingers over his mouth. “No buts needed. I think I know where you’re going.”

  “You do?”

  “Hmm, let’s see...it’s too soon. Too fast. We barely know each other. We’re in totally different places in our lives. There’s the kidnapping case, my kids, the movie I’m filming to complicate things. Different coasts. We want different things. Have different needs—”

  “Wow,” he said, lifting his eyebrows and raking his fingers through his hair. “I was just going to say we should wait until your leg had more time to heal.”

  “Oh.”

  Damn it. She really needed to work on her replies. She sounded like an airhead.

  But Gunnar left her off balance, tongue-tied. He surprised her, confused her, intrigued her.

  “But you’re probably right about all that other stuff.”

 
Did she detect a note of regret in his tone?

  He reached for her and toyed gently with the shell of her ear, tugging on her lobe. “I know we’re too different. And I’m not looking to start anything that would inevitably end. Probably end badly.”

  “Really?” Violet cocked her head, battling down the disappointment that squeezed her heart hearing him agree so readily with her assessment. “You think it would end badly?”

  He hesitated before answering. “I wouldn’t mean for it to. I’d never want to hurt you intentionally, but...” He flipped up his palm casually and sighed dramatically. “How could you help but fall for me and all my natural charm and animal magnetism? Giving all this up—” he gestured from his head to his feet “—would break your heart when it was over.”

  His cheek twitched, and she snorted a laugh. “Ri-i-ight. Gotcha.”

  When his grin brightened, the sight of his lopsided smile made her pulse trip. Maybe his comments weren’t too far from the truth. Already she felt stirrings of an affection that went beyond the sexual sparks that arced between them. In the past few days, she’d seen another side of the surly oaf she’d pegged him for that first day.

  Violet rested her hand lightly over his heart and murmured, “You know...I misjudged you.”

  His chest rumbled as he grunted an acknowledgment. “When?”

  “The day we met...when the movie crew was here scouting the ranch for a location shoot.” She tipped her head back so she could judge his reaction.

  He twisted his mouth into a frown. “Well, that wasn’t one of my better days. I can see why I didn’t make a good impression.”

  “Hmm. You were a bit grumpy.”

  He half laughed, half grunted. “A bit?”

  She grinned. “Okay, you were a lot grumpy.” She paused as he met her gaze, then asked, “Why were you in such a bad mood? Do you really hate buses in your driveway that much, or had something else happened to set you off?”

  He stacked his free arm behind his head, while the hand of the arm around her strummed her shoulder. For long seconds he said nothing, and she’d almost decided he planned to ignore her question, when he said, “I’ve had a lot of bad days recently. Grumpy seems to be my go-to mood lately. But that day—” he paused “—I’d...had an attack in town.”

  Violet frowned. “An attack? Of what? Like asthma?”

  He shook his head. “More like a panic attack. Maybe a flashback.”

  She curled her fingers into his shirt and shifted again so she could better see his face. Tension drew his jaw tight, and his heart beat a little harder under her hand. She regretted the lost joviality, but something in his expression compelled her to pursue the topic. He seemed conversely reluctant and yet wanting to talk.

  “Did this attack have anything to do with why you left Afghanistan?”

  Again he lapsed into silence, but she didn’t press him to answer.

  Finally he spoke, his voice no more than a raspy whisper. “A suicide bomber.”

  Her gut clenched. Did she really want to hear the horrors he’d survived? How could she not listen when he’d done so much for her and her boys this week? When he’d sacrificed so much for their country? She held her breath.

  “I don’t know why it’s gotten in my head the way it has. I saw plenty of action over ten years and five tours. I’d seen people die. Other soldiers, even children, women...”

  Violet couldn’t help herself. A tiny gasp of dismay escaped her lips and drew his attention.

  His eyebrows pulled into a frown, and his mouth pressed into a taut line. “You probably don’t want to hear this. It’s not pretty.”

  Pushing up on her elbow, she cupped her hand against his stubble-covered cheek and drilled him with a hard gaze. “No, I want to hear. And more important, I think you need to talk about it. Go on.”

  His chest expanded as he inhaled deeply. His eyelids slid closed, and she felt the tremor that shimmied through him as he dredged up the dark memories that haunted him. “I was in the final weeks of my last tour, on patrol with a couple of buddies from my unit in a small marketplace just outside Kabul.” His nostrils twitched as if he were back among the vendors, smelling the dusty earth, the meats and fruits for sale, the exhaust from passing vehicles.

  “It had been a slow day. Nothing much happening, nothing on our radar, so to speak. I saw this little boy playing in the street, kinda pestering his mom while she worked her booth in the market. He reminded me of Sawyer a little. Mostly because he was about the same age Sawyer had been the last time I saw him while on furlough.”

  Gunnar’s forehead wrinkled as he retrieved the events from that day, thousands of miles away. “He started kicking a hacky sack around and getting in his mom’s way. He knew I was watching, though, so he kept kicking the hacky sack higher and doing tricks and spins to impress me. All his goofing around was really irritating his mom.”

  He tugged his mouth up at the corner in a brief sardonic grin. “But he was really good with the hacky sack, and so I was absorbed in watching him and egging him on with smiles and applause.” Gunnar frowned then. Darkly. “I shouldn’t have been so distracted. I shouldn’t have encouraged him or he’d have obeyed his mother and maybe...”

  A shudder raced through him, and a heavy dread flowed through Violet as she filled in the blanks with the snippets she knew. “The boy was killed by the suicide bomber, wasn’t he?”

  Gunnar’s throat convulsed as he swallowed. He stared blankly at the ceiling and gave a short nod. “They all died. The boy. His mom.” He paused. “My buddies.”

  “Oh, Gunnar,” she breathed, devastated for him, for the grief and guilt and pain she saw in his eyes.

  “I shouldn’t have let him distract me. I wasn’t doing my job, and—”

  His ragged whisper faded, and she stroked his cheek. “And what?”

  “I didn’t see the bomber until it was too late. My buddies did, though. They charged toward the guy on the motorcycle, trying to stop him. They were just three seconds ahead of me, but... it put them in the blast zone. I had a concrete pillar between me and the explosion, so...I survived.”

  Survivor’s guilt, Violet thought, remembering the research she’d done for a role a couple of years ago.

  “Like I said, I’d seen the casualties of war before, so I don’t know why this time felt so different...but it’s stayed with me.”

  Violet couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t imagine watching friends die, seeing a child’s life snuffed out. No wonder Gunnar was haunted. She stared numbly into near space, wishing she knew what to say to make everything better. He’d shared his darkest nightmare with her, and all she could do was shake and lie there like a log. All her brain could conjure were horrid images of what he’d described and asinine platitudes she was certain would do nothing but irritate him. But she had to say something. Her silence was deafening.

  “Gunnar...” Her voice was a croak. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry.

  “The day we met, I’d been in town with Piper and Sawyer. A guy with a backpack rode his motorcycle up onto the sidewalk, and I...freaked.” He shook his head and grunted in disgust. “Piper thinks I’m nuts. And Sawyer...”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face, his expression pure misery, and her heart broke for him.

  “Hell. Who am I kidding? I shoved my kid sister to the ground behind an overturned coffee shop table to save her from an imaginary bomber. Maybe I have lost it. I have nightmares most nights and flashbacks during the day.”

  He turned his head to meet her gaze, and the turmoil in his eyes sliced her to the core.

  “Damn, what was I thinking?” he growled and swung off the bed in one brusque motion. He plowed both hands through his hair and sucked in a shuddering breath. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. The last thing you need is a screwed up vet like me in your life.”

  He stormed to the door, his thundering steps echoing through the dark room.

  “Gunnar, wait!” Violet cried, desperate to do or say some
thing to ease his suffering. But he disappeared into the hall, and she didn’t see him again the rest of the night.

  * * *

  The nightmares were especially vivid that night.

  With a gasp, Gunnar sat up in his bed, startling Violet’s black cat from the foot of the mattress where she’d been curled in a ball sleeping. Bathed in sweat and shaking, Gunnar fought to calm his ragged pulse. Tonight it had been Violet in the marketplace, her boys playing at her feet. Piper and Sawyer had been sitting with him at a café when the suicide bomber sped down the street. His brother and sister had run to save the twins and had been caught in the fiery blast.

  A sob of grief and guilt at the thought of losing his family, the twins...Violet caught in his throat. Tossing back the covers, he staggered to his bathroom and splashed his face with cold water. Gunnar stared into the mirror over the sink and barely recognized the face looking back at him: shadows under his eyes, stubble on his face, creases framing his mouth and eyes. He’d let himself go these past few months, and the stress of the memories that haunted him had taken its toll. No wonder Derek and Piper were worried about him. He looked...old.

  You don’t look that old.

  He sighed, adding “age gap” to his list of the differences between him and Violet. Maybe the thirteen-year gap in their ages shouldn’t matter, but on nights like tonight when his demons haunted him, he felt every one of his thirty-nine years...and more.

  Derek’s plea that he talk to a counselor replayed in his head.

  Gunnar gritted his teeth. He’d told Violet the whole ugly incident—the boy with the hacky sack, his buddies’ three-second lead, his complicity.

  The horror in her eyes said what she hadn’t. She pitied him. She saw the colossal mess his life was and couldn’t run far enough fast enough.

  Gunnar squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth. He shouldn’t have kissed her. No matter how tempting she’d looked or how warm she’d felt pressed against him, he shouldn’t have opened that can of worms. Now he knew just how sweet she tasted and the nirvana he’d be missing when he couldn’t hold her, kiss her... love her. Because he had no doubt he could fall in love with her. He was well on his way as it was.