Colton's Ranch Refuge

by Beth Cornelison

  * * *

  By Friday, Violet had spent four and a half days cooped up in Gunnar’s guest room, and she was getting stir crazy. When Gunnar came in to get her breakfast dishes and asked if he could do anything else for her, her reply was immediate and firm. “Yes. Get me out of here.”

  He stilled and frowned, his gaze assessing, and she knew he was thinking about their kisses last night, his openness about his PTSD and his abrupt departure from her room. An unspoken tension hung in the room that she knew needed to be addressed—once she knew what to tell him.

  “You want to go back to the movie set or to California or—?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing that drastic. The front porch will do. Maybe the boys can play in your front yard, and I can get some fresh air. As great as you’ve been, taking care of me and my boys, letting me convalesce and invade your sanctuary...” She plowed her fingers through her short hair and blew out a deep breath. “I’m not used to being idle for so long. I’m tired of being in this bed, working crossword puzzles and playing Angry Birds on my phone. I need a change of scenery.”

  He folded his arms over his chest and regarded her with a thoughtful expression. “It’s pretty cold outside.”

  “The boys have coats and hats, and I can take a blanket.” She glanced to the window where November sunshine streamed in. “C’mon. It’s a beautiful day.”

  He flipped up a palm and stepped toward her bedside. “Derek didn’t say you couldn’t. Why not?” As she tossed back the covers, he handed her a bathrobe from the end of the bed, wrinkling his nose at the wrap. “This thing is covered in cat hair.”

  Violet grinned. “I know. What can I say? It’s Romeo’s favorite place to sleep, and I love having him and Sophie cuddle next to me.”

  His gaze darted to hers, and the heat in his eyes told her he was remembering how he’d been the one snuggled next to her last night. Her heart pattered, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. She’d promised herself that their kiss had been a one-time thing, an impulsive act that she wouldn’t beat herself up over but also wouldn’t repeat. But, oh heavens, the man’s kiss had teased her imagination through the long hours she’d spent with little else to do but dwell on how skillful his lips were.

  When she hadn’t been obsessing over his kiss, she’d mulled over what she could do or say to ease his grief and guilt over the bombing and concluded there was nothing she could do. Gunnar needed to talk to a professional counselor. He needed time to put the events in perspective and the guidance of someone who could help him cope with the traumatic events he’d witnessed. He needed the love and support of his family and friends, which he clearly had. For that much, she was thankful.

  What he didn’t need was the media circus and unrelenting spotlight the paparazzi would put on him if she were part of his life. Remembering this would help firm her resolve to fight the temptation to kiss him again. Besides, she’d already had a relationship with a man in a losing fight with personal demons, and she couldn’t put herself or her children through that turmoil again. When she’d married Adam, she’d thought she could change him, save him. She’d been wrong, and she had the scars on her heart to prove it.

  While she pulled on the bathrobe, Gunnar opened a cedar chest under the window and pulled out a patchwork quilt.

  “Oh, wow,” she gasped. “Gunnar, that’s beautiful. Is it handmade?”

  He unfolded it with a quick shake, revealing the intricate detail. “Probably. I bought it in town from an Amish crafts sale. Piper saw it and insisted it was perfect for the cabin. Frankly, I just think she likes spending my money.”

  “Speaking of money,” she said, unsure how to raise a touchy subject, “I want to pay you for my time here. I know you spent a lot buying baby-proofing stuff and—”

  “No.” He shook his head and held up a hand. “No chance. I was happy to do it.”

  “Gunnar,” she pressed, not wanting to make him uncomfortable but unwilling to be a financial burden on him either—not when she made ridiculously generous sums for her movies. “I know you’re not working now, and I’ve heard how little the military pays...”

  “Stop.” His expression drilled her, but he seemed more amused than irritated or embarrassed. “I don’t need your money.”

  “But I heard you talking to Tate the other night, and I know he’s hit you up to bankroll his investigation into the online sex ring...”

  “You heard that, huh?” He twisted his mouth in consternation.

  “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but my door was open and—”

  He waved a hand in dismissal. “Whatever. Just...don’t mention it to anyone. I’d rather my part in funding the operation stay anonymous.”

  She nodded. “Of course. But with so many drains on your account, I can’t in good conscience be another—”

  “Violet, please.” He chuckled awkwardly and scrubbed a hand over his face. “My finances are in good shape. Very good shape.”

  His embarrassed grin intrigued her. “Really? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

  “Really. I invested in a few speculative stocks years ago that tripled in value before the 2008 downturn. Sensing things were about to slide, my broker sold the stocks near their peak value and waited out the market plunge. Then when Wall Street had bottomed out, he bought back those stocks and a couple other bargains, and I rode the wave back up.”

  She arched an eyebrow, impressed. “Mr. Buy Low, Sell High, eh?”

  “Simple but true.”

  She bit her bottom lip and eyed him curiously. She was dying to ask how much he’d made but knew that was far too personal. Apparently, the question was etched in her face, though, because as he draped the quilt around her shoulders, he said flatly, “I’m a billionaire, Violet.”

  Her chin snapped up, and she jerked a stunned gaze to him. “I’m sorry, but was that a B, as in billion?”

  “You heard right. I came home from Afghanistan to find out my investments had skyrocketed, and I have more money than I could ever spend. I’m still adjusting to the idea myself, so most of it is sitting in the bank waiting for the next worthy cause.”

  Violet was so startled that she didn’t know which of the many questions buzzing through her to ask first. Instead, she glanced around his modest cabin and stammered, “But you...you don’t...”

  “Act rich?” He shrugged. “I don’t want a big house to rattle around in by myself, and after being out of country for the past eleven years, I’d rather be near my family than traveling. While I decide what I do want to do with the rest of my life, I’m giving a lot of money to charities—mostly children’s causes around the world. In honor of my parents.” He rolled up his palm casually. “I bought Derek all sorts of medical equipment for his office and opened trust funds for Piper and Sawyer to use for college, but...that’s about it. Underwriting Tate’s undercover op is the least I can do for my brother, especially if it will help bring those Amish girls home.”

  Violet clutched the quilt closed at her throat and gaped at Gunnar. A fresh wave of respect for him flowed through her. How many times had she seen money go to her friends’ and associates’ heads? A windfall in Hollywood often got squandered on fast living and expensive baubles. Yet Gunnar used his money to help needy children and support his family. Layer by layer, she was peeling back fascinating new aspects of Gunnar’s personality and ethics.

  She blinked hard a few times to shake herself from the daze his revelation had put her in. “That’s...fantastic, Gunnar. I’m speechless.”

  “Good. Let’s leave it that way. I don’t want anyone but those closest to me to know the truth, and I don’t like to talk about it much. So...can you play it close to the vest?”

  She nodded stiffly, wondering what it meant that he’d trusted her with his secret. But since he’d shared the truth about his lingering ghosts from the marketplace bombing with her, maybe he figured his bank balance was small beans on the confidentiality scale. Whatever his reason, she was no strange
r to keeping private information quiet and respected his desire for secrecy.

  She had little time to ponder the question further before he swept her into his arms, quilt and all, and headed to the front porch with her. Violet wrapped her arms around Gunnar’s neck and clung tight, even though he held her securely. A giddy thrill chased through her as she nestled against his broad chest and felt the strong and steady thump of his heart against her own ribs. He hadn’t shaved yet, and the shadow of beard darkening his jaw added to his rugged appeal. The morning was cool, as he’d said, but comfortable, and the scent of fallen leaves and rich earth perfumed the air. Violet inhaled deeply, savoring the fresh air, and caught a hint of mingled soap, coffee and man that surrounded Gunnar. The combination of pleasant scents was maddeningly sexy and, at the same time, relaxing to her.

  He settled her in the one rocking chair on the porch, then stepped back, eyeing her. “That work?”

  “Perfect. Except...there’s no chair for you. You aren’t going to leave me out here without company, are you?” She tipped her head and flashed a lighthearted grin, although his dark mood and abrupt departure last night still hovered at the edges of her thoughts. She waited, taking her cues from him. She wouldn’t push him to talk about it if he didn’t want to.

  A car pulled up to the cabin, stalling any response he would have made. “That’s Derek with your boys. I’ll be right back.”

  She craned her neck to see around a natural stone pillar and smiled as she watched Derek and Gunnar get Mason and Hudson out of their car seats.

  Mason spotted her immediately and wiggled to get free. “Mommy!”

  Hudson’s head came up, and he searched for what his brother had seen. When he saw her, he, too, struggled to get down, whimpering for her. Derek gave a wave from his car and called a greeting before climbing in the front seat and driving away.

  Gunnar carried the twins to the porch, one under each arm like sacks of potatoes, as their legs pumped and their arms stretched out for her. “Mommy! Mommy!”

  Her heart swelled with love. “Hi, guys! I’ve missed you! Come give me a kiss.”

  Gunnar set them down on the porch, and her twins ran to her. They threw themselves against her legs, pulled at the quilt to climb into her lap and babbled happily. Like excited puppies, they squirmed and giggled and clutched her neck. She hugged and kissed them one at a time, carefully holding their feet away from the wound on her injured leg...until Hudson decided Mason had been cuddled long enough and launched himself onto her lap, knocking into her wound.

  “Yeowch!” she cried as pain slid through her.

  Gunnar lunged forward and grabbed both toddlers off her in seconds. “Sorry. My bad. I shouldn’t have let them climb on you.”

  “Don’t be silly. Getting hugs from my babies is the best medicine there is. I’m fine.”

  “Just the same...let me see if I can distract them with some yard toys so you can relax.” He carried the boys down to the yard and used his feet to pile up some leaves. He dug a couple of their toys out of the diaper bag but needn’t have bothered. Mason and Hudson were fascinated by the crisp and colorful autumn leaves. They crunched, threw and rolled in the fallen foliage, laughing for all they were worth.

  Gunnar returned to the porch, wearing a satisfied grin. “That’s such a great sound, babies laughing.”

  Violet nodded her hearty agreement, glad to see Gunnar smiling after being so tense and guilt-ridden last night. “The best.”

  He turned to observe the twins for a minute and chuckled. “I’ve babysat those critters for three days now, and I’ll be damned if I can tell them apart yet. They’re carbon copies of each other.”

  Violet wrinkled her nose in disagreement. “Oh, not so. They’re different in a lot of ways.”

  “All right,” he said, closing the distance between them. “Enlighten me.”

  “Well, for starters, Hudson—”

  Gunnar bent at the waist and scooped her into his arms again, lifting her as easily as if she were one of the toddlers. Turning, he sat down in the rocking chair with Violet draped across him. With her bottom snuggled in his lap, his muscular arm across her back and her legs dangling comfortably over the arm of the rocking chair, she was cradled against his warm body and secure in his embrace. For a moment, the intimate position scattered her thoughts, and all she could do was stare up into his incredibly sexy hazel eyes, remembering the feel of his lips on hers and his hands on her skin.

  “You were saying? Hudson...” he prompted.

  “Oh...uh, right.” She swallowed hard, trying to moisten her suddenly dry mouth. “Hudson loves nothing more than to explore new places. To climb and run and make noise. He’s both fearless and fiercely protective of his brother.”

  Gunnar’s expression said he was absorbing the information and processing it.

  “Mason is the intellect. He figures out puzzles and games first. He likes to observe and absorb information. He remembers people and places, and he loves story time and snuggling. You may have noticed he saw me first when they got out of the car. He’s more alert to things and people around him.”

  He lowered his brow a bit and nodded. “Okay.”

  “And Mason talked first and has a bigger vocabulary, while Hudson sets the pace and leads his brother into mischief.”

  Gunnar snorted. “Tell me about it. In three days, they’ve found more ways to make a mess than I thought possible.”

  “Hmm...sorry,” she said and glanced to the yard where her boys were frolicking in the leaves. “I know my boys are a lot of work, and you’re a good sport to pitch in with the babysitting.”

  He rubbed her arm and gave her a little squeeze. “Don’t sweat it. I mean, what else is a hermit billionaire like me going to do all day?”

  Billionaire. She still had a hard time reconciling that in her brain.

  She shook her head in wonder, shifting her attention back to Hudson and Mason. “It’s funny how twins can be so different in personality yet share such a close bond.” She looked back up at Gunnar as she explained. “Have you noticed that if one of the boys gets hurt or upset, within seconds the other will sit down with him and join him in crying? And if they’re separated for more than a minute or two, they search the room anxiously for the other and call each other?”

  “Oh, yeah. I noticed the group cry thing on day one.” He rolled his eyes. “So...how do you tell them apart physically? They look exactly the same.”

  She grinned. “There are subtle differences. Mason has a mole on his neck. Hudson’s face is rounder, and he has a cowlick over his right eye.”

  Resting her head on Gunnar’s shoulder as she watched the boys play felt as natural as breathing, and Violet shoved aside the voice in her head that wanted to analyze why. She tipped her head back slightly to see his face, and without thinking about it, she raised a hand to his stubble-dusted cheek. His skin was warm, a pleasant contrast to the cold air, and when she smoothed her hand along his jaw, the scratchy feel of his stubbly beard sent a tingle through her.

  The muscles in his cheek tensed under her fingers as he clenched his teeth, and his grip on her tightened. “I’m sorry...about last night.”

  She sighed and turned his chin so she could look into his eyes. “I’m not.”

  Chapter 11

  “Violet—” Gunnar said with a pucker in his brow.

  “No, let me talk.” A cool November breeze ruffled his hair and raised chill bumps on her arms. She clasped the blanket tighter around her and forged on. This conversation was too important to let him dismiss her concerns. “I don’t regret kissing you because you’re an excellent kisser and it was what I wanted, too. I still want to kiss you—”

  “Vi—”

  She covered his mouth with her fingers when he tried to interrupt. “But I know, for all the reasons we talked about last night, that starting a physical relationship with you is not in either of our best interests.”

  His dark eyebrows drew together, and he gave a quick nod of agree
ment.

  “Pity that it is,” she added, and his cheek twitched in a half grin.

  “As far as what you told me about what happened in Kabul...and in town with Piper and Sawyer—”

  Sighing, he pulled his chin free of her grasp and turned with a dark expression to stare at the yard where her boys were playing.

  “I’m here if you want to talk,” she continued, despite his distancing gesture.

  “I don’t. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  “You’re wrong. The kind of grief and blame and regret you’re dealing with will eat you alive if you don’t get help.”

  “Violet, I can’t talk about it.” The ridges and planes of his face hardened, and her gut knotted with sympathetic pain. “You saw how telling you affected me last night. It hurts too much.”

  She gripped his hand between hers and clung to it. “I know it hurts, but the only way to put the pain behind you is to wade through it. Holding it at arms’ length, shoving it on a shelf in some closet and trying to pretend it’s not there leaves the possibility of it falling off the shelf and giving you a concussion some day when you go in the closet for wrapping paper.”

  Gunnar said nothing, then a beat later he furrowed his brow and shot her a puzzled look. “Wrapping paper?”

  She stroked his cheek and brushed a soft kiss on his stubble. “Oh, so you were listening. Good. You know what I mean. It will be hard to talk about, but it’s the best way to heal.”

  He glanced away again, his expression closed and dismissive. Violet took a deep breath and gave her argument one last shot. She knew she couldn’t make him do anything he didn’t want to, but he meant enough to her that she had to give convincing him her best effort. After that, his recovery was up to him. “I know that you guys, especially you warrior types, think you’re conceding defeat or showing some kind of weakness if you admit you’re struggling with something painful or emotional. But you’re human, and you’re not immune to feelings. Asking for help, getting counseling shows courage and strength, not weakness. You aren’t meant to go through this alone.”