Phyllis and Roy were screeching like two idiots at each other, and Sawyer knew that the sheriff needed Rebecca. Immediately.
Sawyer needed her, too.
He just needed to get them all out of this insane situation so that he could tell her so.
When the thumping on the outside door began again, startling Phyllis and Roy, Sawyer moved swiftly. He could hear Rebecca calling his name through the heavy wood even as he deftly disarmed Phyllis. She clawed at his shoulder and he pushed her down into a chair with a firm hand. He didn’t take his eyes from Roy as Taylor darted around to her dad and yanked at him. Sawyer cursed even as he dove for the floor, taking Phyllis with him just as Roy’s shotgun discharged when Taylor jostled him.
Phyllis lay sobbing weakly against the tile floor, but she was unharmed. Everyone was unharmed except for the wall clock that had been shattered with the shot. Everyone except the sheriff, who was still on the floor.
Moving fast, Sawyer took the shotgun from Roy, who was staring at the clock as if he couldn’t imagine how it had gotten shot to pieces. Sawyer unlocked the door and scooped Rebecca against him for a hard kiss before he turned her to see the distressed sheriff.
She rushed over to Dylan and took over. She was in control of the emergency so capably that Sawyer felt a lump in his throat. He was so damned proud of her.
He had to get it through to her that he was in this for the long haul. But getting through to her was going to have to wait for a while.
At least until they took care of Bobby Ray. Sawyer cradled the two shotguns under his arm and wearily locked both Phyllis and Roy into cells at opposite ends of the hallway. Taylor and Dylan were holding each other as if they would never let go. He hoped they didn’t.
Leaving Newt to disperse the crowd who’d gathered, Sawyer locked up the guns and went to Rebecca’s side. “What can I do?”
She gestured and moved to Bobby Ray’s head and lowered her mouth over the sheriff’s. Sawyer knitted his hands together and held them over the sheriffs chest, pressing rhythmically when Rebecca told him to.
By the time the emergency helicopter arrived, which Rebecca had had the foresight to summon, Bobby Ray was stabilized, and Sawyer was exhausted. But Rebecca kept right on going, issuing instructions as she ran alongside the stretcher and the EMTs who carried Bobby Ray toward the chopper that had landed in the nearby park. Leaning against the cold brick building, Sawyer watched Rebecca hug Bobby Ray’s tearful wife and help her into the helicopter that would take them to the hospital in Gillette.
And then it was all over.
The helicopter took off. The townsfolk went back home. They went to their beds, to their phones to continue gossiping, to their chores. It was nearly dawn.
Rebecca started walking down the middle of the street toward Sawyer. Her heart was beating unevenly and her breath was choppy. She wanted to run into his arms and kiss his unharmed face. She wanted to yell her head off at him for scaring her half to death.
He walked toward her and she knew that her life was never again going to be simply content. Her feet dragged to a halt when she was within arm’s reach of him.
“I loved Tom,” she said baldly. “I was...content. And he was happy.” Her eyes burned. “But he was never you. And he never... moved me the way you did.” She held her blowing hair out of her eyes. “I don’t know where you and I go from here, Sawyer.”
He closed the distance between them and his hand, big and warm and gentle, cupped her cheek. “As long as you admit we’re going somewhere,” he said huskily, “we’ll figure it out.”
Rebecca leaned her cheek into his hand. Then she was in his arms and it was the only place she wanted to be. “Take me home, Sawyer.”
“I’m going to stay there with you if I do, Bec.”
She pressed her lips to his hard jaw that was cold from the night air. “Yes. I know.”
A sigh shuddered through his broad frame and he turned her toward her Jeep, driving them home in silence. When they arrived, Sawyer stopped in the middle of her living room where the lights of the Christmas tree ghttered colorfully. “And I used to think nothing exciting ever happened in Weaver.”
Rebecca pressed her cheek to his chest and felt a weary tear slide down her cheek. “Nothing much did, Captain, until you came back to town.”
He kissed her with such gentleness that another tear followed the first. Forgetting about the bedroom just a few yards away, she unfastened the buttons of Sawyer’s denim shirt. She pushed it from his shoulders, forgetting years of anatomy, and remembering only the incredible pleasure of being a woman. And of touching this one man. The shoulders with such muscle. The corded neck. The supple skin that covered his narrow waist.
A shiver danced across her shoulders and she frowned slightly, wondering when he’d removed her shirt. “Nice moves, Captain,” she murmured, reaching for the button fly of his jeans, moving her fingers with indecent haste as her weariness was replaced with breathless need.
“Great hands, Doctor.”
Then there was nothing between them but the ghstening red, blue and green light cast by the Christmas tree. Drowning in pleasure from the strong sweep of his palms down her back, over her body, she shuddered and murmured approvingly when he tossed the pillows from the sectional couch onto the floor and drew her down with him, over him.
Needing him more than she needed anything, she guided him—sobbing softly as his flesh found its home inside her—stretching, pulsing, living.
Now that he was part of her, she caught her breath, her furious hurry stilling. She bit her lip, looking down into his face. So male. So strong. His blue eyes burned into her and she breathed his name. “I love you,” she whispered, the relief of it making her weak. “I love you.”
His jaw worked. He touched her cheek. Her lips. Curled his hand behind her neck and drew her down to him, making them both groan with pleasure at the movement. “There’s no more darkness inside me, Bec. Not anymore.”
He caught her lips with his. His hands slid to her hips because they had to move. Had to. And there was no more need for words.
Because their hearts, thundering against each other, said it all.
Chapter Sixteen
They managed to make it to the bedroom eventually. Even managed to get a few hours of sleep when they finally collapsed. Because even though the spirit was willing to make love endlessly, the turmoil of the past days had finally caught up with the flesh.
It was nearly noon when Ryan came bounding in the kitchen doorway, his arms full of shopping bags, and a new ball cap perched on his head. He didn’t seem to see anything unusual in finding Sawyer, freshly showered and wearing nothing but his jeans, sitting at the table, paging through the day-old newspaper—just chattered a mile a minute about the “cool” basement that Mrs. Fielding’s brother had.
Rebecca, however, was a mother above all. She caught her son in her arms and kissed his cheek, hugging him to her. Thanking God and every other kind spirit for what she had.
Ryan disentangled himself after only a moment, though. “Jeez, Mom,” he complained good-naturedly. “Give it a rest, would ya?”
Rebecca caught Sawyer watching her over Ryan’s head. She pushed her fingers into the pockets of her slacks and couldn’t help but smile when her son turned to Sawyer, anxious to show off the purchases he’d made in Gillette.
Rebecca went back to the peanut-butter sandwich she’d been fixing. Ryan pulled open the refrigerator and made an impatient noise. “Mom, I told you that you had to thaw the turkey in the refrigerator. And it takes like two days. It’s still in the freezer. What’re we gonna eat?”
“We’re gonna eat at the big house later today,” Sawyer said easily.
Ryan’s eyes lit up. “Really? Cool.” He sidled over to Sawyer. “Who’s cooking?”
“My brothers’ wives,” Sawyer said. He tapped Ryan’s cap. “They’re good cooks,” he promised.
“Cool,” Ryan repeated. Then he frowned, looking up at Rebecca. “No offe
nse, Mom.”
Rebecca couldn’t help laughing. “Delaney was relieved at the idea, too.” She waved at the clutter he’d brought in with him. “There’s wrapping paper, tape and ribbon on the dresser in my bedroom. Why don’t you get these things taken care of?”
He nodded, gathering up everything and carrying it with him down the hall.
Sawyer tugged her over to his lap. “Who is Delaney?”
“Delaney Vega. She’s got a psychiatric practice in New York. We’ve been friends for years.”
“Oh, female. So I don’t have to be jealous.”
She snorted softly, sighing faintly when he kissed the curve of her shoulder. “As if you’re the jealous type.
“You wouldn’t want to test that out,” he said softly, nudging aside the collar of her shirt so he could taste her skin. “It would be upsetting for us both.”
She shivered with delight. “Ryan could come back in here any—ah—minute.”
“He can get used to his parents kissing each other,” Sawyer murmured. He turned her until she faced him and did just that.
Rebecca opened her mouth to his. Loving the taste of coffee, the rough glide of his tongue, the mobile press of his lips. She loved him. But she still needed air, and she broke the kiss, dropping her forehead to his shoulder. “Thank God you were there last night with the sheriff. He’s going to survive because you kept him alive. I was so frightened when I heard the shots.”
“Me, too.”
He kissed her mouth closed. “Only a fool doesn’t feel afraid when there are loaded weapons being waved around by people on the edge.”
He cradled her face in his hands, looking her straight in the eye. His eyes were so blue, so intense. “You are an incredible doctor, Rebceca. I was in awe of you.”
Rebecca’s eyes flooded.
Sawyer made a rough sound and shook his head, kissing her thoroughly.
“You cleared out of the motel room,” she said, a few minutes later.
His fingertips massaged the arch of her spine. “Made it halfway to Jefferson’s place before I turned around and came back. Was at Ruby’s nursing a gallon of coffee thinking of plans to get you back when I heard the ruckus at Bobby Ray’s.”
“I hate to think what might have happened if you hadn’t been there.”
“I’m gonna be there a lot more often,” he said.
She frowned, lifting her head to look at him. Whiskers blurred the sharp angle of his jaw, tempting her lips. “Where?”
“The sheriff office.”
“I don’t understand.”
He shrugged—then set her off his lap and stood, crossing his arms across his bare, golden chest. Rebecca took the chair he’d just vacated and watched him; realizing, with a start, that he was nervous.
“I’ll be working there,” he said, giving her a crooked grin. “You can start calling me Deputy instead of Captain.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“At least until they arrange a special election. Then, mebbe, it’ll be Sheriff. Bobby Ray’s been working on me for the last week. He wants to retire. Seeing what’s happened, I’m certain he’ll do it now, rather than later.”
“When did he appoint you deputy?”
“Yesterday.”
“Before I’d signed your medical release.”
Sawyer tugged on his ear, not entirely sure he liked the glint in her golden eyes. “Yeah. I started to tell—”
“Before I’d admitted that I loved you. Before ... everything.”
“I told you I wasn’t gonna leave again, Bec. I don’t know. The accident—I cursed it, because of the amnesia. Still can’t remember how it all even happened. But it brought me back here. To you.” He rolled his shoulders and told her about the court-martial case. About his weariness of it all. “I’ve got twenty-five years in the service, Bec. I did the best I could do while I was there.” He shook his head. “But it’s time I did my best at something that matters more. Becoming the sheriff means I won’t have to hang around you all day long driving you up a tree. I would have found something else, if not that—because I wasn’t going to leave you again, no matter how much you expected me to. I want you to be my wife.” He watched tears collect in her eyes. “Hell, sweetness. Don’t do that. I should’ve told you yesterday, but every time I opened my mouth, nothing came out the way I wanted—”
He caught her when she sprang out of the chair and into his arms.
“I want to be your wife. Captain, Deputy, Sheriff—whatever you are. I love you.”
Relief made him weak. Holding her, though, made him strong. Stronger than he’d ever been without her. “I love you, too, Rebecca.”
“So does this mean that you guys are gonna date now or something?”
They both whirled to see Ryan watching them, his young face wreathed in smiles.
“Or something,” Sawyer said, tucking Rebecca’s silken head against his chest. “That okay with you?”
Ryan made a production of considering that. “Yeah. It’s cool.”
Rebecca sniffled against Sawyer and pushed out of his arms, linking her hand with his. “There’s something else that I hope you’ll think is cool,” she said.
Sawyer went still. And listened as Rebecca calmly told Ryan that Sawyer was his biological father. That she’d loved Sawyer years ago, but circumstances hadn’t let them be together.
Ryan tilted back his ball cap and looked up at Sawyer when she was finished. And Sawyer thought he’d never prayed more in his life that he measured up.
“I got your blue eyes,” his son said after a moment.
Sawyer nodded. He realized he was crushing Rebecca’s hand in his and consciously loosened his grip.
“I miss my dad,” Ryan said. “My—ah—other dad.”
“I know you do, Ryan.”
Ryan nodded. “He told me when I was little that I was lucky ’cause I had two fathers when some kids only had one. I guess he meant you, huh.”
Rebecca pressed her hand to her mouth.
And Sawyer found himself thanking a man he’d never known—a man who’d been a better man than he—for loving this boy. For being there for them both. “I guess he did,” he agreed rawly. “And you’re smarter than I am because you’ve realized something that I, in my whole life, didn’t.” He held out his hand to his son, whom he knew had a good dose of man in him despite his youth. “Is it okay if I marry your mom, then?”
Ryan’s Jaw cocked to the side in a manner so similar that Sawyer couldn’t believe he’d missed it before. Then his son tugged on the bill of his ball cap, put his hand in Sawyer’s and shook it solemnly. “It’s okay with me,” he said slowly. “But you guys gonna kiss and have babies and junk like that?”
Sawyer’s eyes met Rebecca’s. “It’s a distinct possibility,” he admitted,.
Ryan thought about that for a moment, then squinted up at Sawyer. “What do I call you?”
“Whatever you want.”
“Like Captain? Or Sawyer?”
He nodded and found himself wondering if Squire had ever yearned this badly for a young boy to call him dad.
Ryan tugged again on his cap. “Well, can I ask one more question?”
“Sure.”
“Can you cook? ’Cause I think Mom has got, like, a mental block when it comes to reading a recipe.”
Rebecca made a face. “Oh, thanks.”
Sawyer laughed. And when his son’s eyes met his, he figured that his family was going to come along just fine, regardless of what Ryan called him. “I do a mean lobster,” he said.
Rebecca giggled and wrapped her arms around her two men. “Lobster and peanut butter sandwiches. Who could ask for anything more?”
They could hear a dozen voices and Christmas music and laughter before they even walked in the kitchen door of the big house later that evening.
Rebecca brushed nervous hands down the front of her black velvet dress when Sawyer helped her off with her long coat in the mudroom. Ryan was still outside by the truck
, petting Matthew’s golden retriever. “You sure this looks all right? I’m not overdressed, am I? You think they’ll like us?”
He grinned wickedly, knowing exactly what she wore beneath the formfitting dress. “You look great. You’ve known these people for two years, Bec. Why are you so worried?”
“Because I’ve never been anything but the town doctor to them before,” she said under her breath.
He tilted her head up. Her hair was slightly mussed from the breeze outside and she’d chewed off her lipstick before they’d made it halfway to the Double-C. “You’re beautiful, and they’ll love you as much as I do.” He narrowed his eyes. “I hear Tristan’s voice,” he said. “He’s still unattached. He can love you almost as much as I do.”
Her cheeks colored. So he kissed her for good measure. The squeak of the inner door told him somebody was standing there watching, but he didn’t care. He was going to marry this woman at the earliest possible opportunity.
“Let the doc breathe, son,” Squire said blandly. “Don’t want to suffocate her now that we’ve got her here.”
Rebecca gasped and jumped away from him, touching her hair, her lips, the picture of self-consciousness. Sawyer tucked her fluttering hand in his and glanced out the back door. “Come on in, Ryan,” he called.
Ryan trotted inside and stood next to Sawyer, shrugging out of his coat, which he dumped on the pile of coats already sitting on the washing machine. “Cap, Ryan,” Rebecca prompted.
The boy rolled his eyes and doffed his cap, tossing it on top of the coats. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Clay.” He stuck out his hand at Squire. “I’m real glad we’re here.”
Squire’s head tilted slightly. Then he grinned, shaking Ryan’s hand in return. “I’m real glad you’re here, too,” he said. Then looked at Sawyer. “All of you.”
He backed into the kitchen, throwing his arm wide. “Follow the noise,” he suggested. “Tristan arrived just a little while ago. The girls are upstairs ogling the new baby. Boys are in the basement shooting pool. Ryan, you play much pool?”
A Child for Christmas Page 20
