by AE Rought
“Oh it is.” She leaned close, her voice in a whisper. “Last year, Slade drank a few too many at the decorating party. He staggered out the back door, and—”
“Hey, you two.” Slade’s voice was muffled through the wall. “I hear whispering. Rosie, you aren’t telling her the decorating party story already, are you?”
She put a finger to her lips and I nodded. “Of course not, Slade.”
We gathered the drinks and carried them to the table along with a loaf of bread and dish of butter. I sat for a moment, a thick slab of buttered bread in my hand enjoying the quiet, peaceful feeling from being in a real home, with real food and people who intrigued me. The bread was warm and honey sweet. I ate the entire piece and buttered another. Slade, however, shook a layer of Tabasco on his stew thick enough to choke a lesser person. “Holy cow, Slade. How do you even taste the food?”
He stopped, spoon in mid air, looked at his bowl and then at me. “Y’know, I’m not sure if I do anymore.”
I cocked an eyebrow at him but said nothing. Rosie, however, had a good laugh. “He’s always used lots of Tabasco. His brother uses lots of pepper.”
“I haven’t heard much about a brother.”
“Beau is a feisty, headstrong type. You’ll like him. And I have a sister too.” He shoved another spoonful of stew in his mouth and chased it with a swig of coffee. “Never get to see Joeley anymore. And Beau is off with my parents on business, so it’s just us and the guests.”
“Sounds like great company.” I stuffed a spoon full of stew in my mouth. One delicious bite led to another, and then another. “What’s in this stew? It’s the best stew I’ve ever had.”
“Our own ranch-raised beef and venison, then just the regular vegetables.”
“Venison?” The food lumped in my throat. “Deer meat?” I struggled to swallow. When I’d forced it into my stomach, I drank half of my water.
Slade stifled a laugh. “Yes, Miss Jensen, deer meat.”
Suddenly I was fuller than on any holiday. The stew sat like a rock in my stomach—a heavy, gravy covered deer-meat stone. Images of Bambi’s mother ran through a repeating loop in my brain.
“I’m sorry. I guess I should have made it with just beef.” Rosie offered me more bread. I was certain nothing short of a surgical sponge would help soak up the nasty feeling in my stomach.
“No, it’s okay. I’ve just never eaten,” I shuddered, “deer before. No one in my family is a hunter.”
“Well, the good news is, until you knew what was in it, you were liking it just fine.” Slade set his spoon down. “So, it’s just a mental thing.”
Oh, yeah, thanks for that. A lot of good it does me now. “I think I’m done. I haven’t eaten much in the past few days and, um…the stew and bread was an awful lot.”
Slade leveled a finger at me. “Shouldn’t you take your medicines, Miss Jensen? The pamphlets say to take them with food.”
Medicine on top of deer meat? Oh dear God. “I think I’m going to skip them tonight. It’s nearly bedtime and I am tired of taking medicines. They were always shoving a pill at me in the hospital. I think I can make it through the night.”
My body, however, displayed solid evidence of my lie. My shoulder ached, the strained muscles tired from all the activity. Right arm tucked tight to my side, I folded my napkin and put it back on the table. Slade rose before I could even push my chair back.
“Let me help you.” He reached out to support me by my left arm. “We’ll take your stuff up to your room, and then I’ll show you the bath.”
It wasn’t possible to wash away the creepy-crawlies in my stomach. But a hot bath at least provided an escape from a deer meat dinner I couldn’t stomach more of. I clung to the hope it would soothe my achy body too.
“Yes please. A bath sounds wonderful.” I turned to Rosie. “Please excuse me, Rosie.”
“Of course, dear. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“That would be nice.” I shook her hand again. “We’ll have coffee and talk.”
Slade scooped up my bag and led me back through the great room and up the stairs that rose behind the fireplace to the second floor. The wooden stairs creaked with each footfall, and the warmth from the smoldering fire radiated through the wall and filled the staircase. I didn’t realize how tired I was, how drained, until the penetrating heat washed over and through me. Exhaustion went in front of me, and I had to push it up the stairs.
At the top of the steps, a long hall stretched across the length of the house. Slade turned to the right and stopped at a door two doors down from the stairs. “This will be your room.”
A bed occupied a corner, and an entry to the adjacent bath stood past the foot of the bed. Moonlight poured through the window and spilled over the rug in the center of the floor. Near the window sat a Mission Oak rocking chair and a highboy chest of drawers.
I looked at the quilt hanging from Slade’s arm. A pang of separation anxiety wavered through me. The quilt was one of the tangible constants I’d had since the accident. “Slade, can I keep the blue and white quilt in here with me?
“Actually, the blanket comes from this room, Miss Jensen.” He stepped into the white moonlight and laid the quilt on the bed along with my bag of clothes. “I believe Mother hoped you’d be coming back here.”
Woman’s intuition? I thought. Witch’s intuition? It might have spooked some people. I took comfort in a hint of metaphysical connections.
“Works for me.” I opened the bathroom door and peeked in. “Is this my bath?”
“Well, in warmer weather, when the ranch house is full of guests, it is a community bath, but you and I will be the only ones here for the winter. It is fully stocked with towels and such in the cabinet and soaps, shampoos and lotions on the shelves by the tub.”
“Oh…okay.” Mental note—lock the hallway door. I turned to Slade then, wanting to express my appreciation for all he and his family had done for me. “Slade, I just want to thank you for giving me a job and a place to stay. You are a good man.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Jensen.” His smile was warm, and his eyes blazed.
I batted my eyelashes. “Please, call me Kally.”
“My, aren’t you insistent?”
“Yup, I am.” I inched closer, his dark bangs brushing the blonde wisps before my eyes. “And I can be a downright ornery kind of stubborn if I’m ignored.” Tipping my head, I gave him a warning smile.
He winked. “Well, I do appreciate a challenge.”
“Yeah?” I took a step back. The heat rising between us made me dizzy. “Well, right now my challenge is getting washed up and into some pajamas.” I inclined my head toward the bathroom door, an obvious hint for him to make himself scarce.
“If you don’t need me for anything else, I’ll take my leave and see you in the morning.”
“I’m a big girl. I’ve been bathing alone since I was six years old.”
“What a crying shame.” His smile was playful when he tipped his hat. “Good night, Miss Jensen.”
“Good night, cowboy.”
His absence left the room empty and cold. I watched him walk out and then go to the door at the end of the hall. The door closed behind me with a soft click, and then I rummaged through the bag and found a package of panties. I did not find pajamas. A search of the bureau only turned up spare blankets. The long underwear shirt Slade had wrapped me in the first night lay folded at the bottom of the bag.
Close enough, for tonight, anyway.
The tub was old, a claw-footed porcelain one with a deep basin. I loved tubs like this. The hard rubber stopper plugged the drain, and hot water was soon filling the tub. Nosing through the cabinet, I found a washcloth and towel. The shelves yielded a grand assortment of bar soaps, body washes, shampoos and conditioners. I rounded up a selection of lavender products and returned to my bath. I hung my clothes on a waiting rack of antlers, and stepped into the bath. My toes tingled with the heat, but I settled into the hot water and drew th
e warmth in.
All the tensions, the traumas I’d experienced in the past week came crashing in when I should have been relaxing, enjoying a hot bath in a resort ranch. The last beating by Matt…his hands around my throat, his breath heavy and wet in my hair… The relief at finally finding the strength to leave the bastard. Losing my wallet. Crashing my car. Hanging helpless in a cowboy angel’s arms…
Tears bubbled up. The washcloth soaked up my tears. Nothing, however, could contain my sobs. I was indebted to a stranger, sitting in the bathtub of his home, tired, aching and bawling like a baby. My right shoulder throbbed when I tried to raise my hand above my head. I dropped my hands back into the bubbled bathwater, clutching the shampoo bottle and sobbing.
Knuckles rapped against the hallway door. I had forgotten to lock it. “Miss Jensen, are you all right?”
No!
I couldn’t lie and tell Slade I was fine. My self-pitying sobs took all my breath. Slade knocked again. I sucked in a breath and tried to steady myself. I wiped my tears with the washcloth, but only succeeded in wiping more water across my face.
The doorknob turned slowly, the latch clicked and the panel eased inward. A draft breezed through the open crack, and I saw the crown of Slade’s wavy dark hair. I was naked, so exposed, and more of his head appeared with each escaping sniffle. Frantic for cover, I reached for another washcloth, spreading them across my breasts before Slade peeked around the door. His eyes were shadowed. “I heard you crying. Is everything all right?”
I should have said yes. He would’ve left me alone then. Instead, I held up the shampoo bottle, sobbing. “My sh-shoulder hurts and I c-can’t wash my own hair.”
“I can fix that.”
The shadow left his brow, and a soft smile warmed his cheeks. His eyes sparkled a snow-bright blue. The expression was hard to resist. He opened the linen cabinet and took out a few towels. He unfolded and held a hand towel out for me. I held it a moment, my eyes locked on his. His lashes dipped only a little, but the minute expression spoke volumes. I nodded, laying the towel on top of the thin washcloths to cover my breasts. The second towel cushioned his knees when he knelt behind the tub.
Oh God, he’s behind me. Matt was behind me, his hands around my neck. Fear rose up in me. My muscles tightened, and my shoulder hurt more.
Slade saved my life. He has only ever offered kindness.
“Tip your head back.”
A knot of fear sat in my gut, keeping company with the venison rock. Numb and disbelieving that a man would help me with something so trivial, I obeyed. Slade emptied a porcelain pitcher of its collection of hand towels, and then he sank the pitcher’s mouth below the water’s surface. I closed my eyes when the pitcher’s lip passed my face, and he poured the hot water over my hair. The heat soothed my skin and muscles—his quiet presence soothed my frayed nerves. He lifted the shampoo from my hand, and the herbal aroma swathed my sinuses when he poured it on my hair. Then, he worked gentle circles along my scalp and neck.
If I had been a cat, I would have purred. I could only manage a murmured “thank you”.
“I’m happy to help.” His hands drifted to my shoulders, his strong fingers working out knots from months of hunching my shoulders in self-protection. My stomach flipped and my nipples tightened in an odd mix of excitement and misplaced fear when his fingertips brushed my collarbones, but there Slade stopped. He retrieved the pitcher, dipped it and then doused the bubbles from my hair. He rinsed my hair a second time, dried the pitcher with the towel he had knelt on, and then replaced the pitcher and contents at its decorative post.
“Next time you need help, don’t hesitate to ask. I hate to hear a lady cry.”
Could you be any more perfect?
“Thank you, Slade. I promise I am usually very self-sufficient.” My gaze fell despite the smile on my lips. “I normally wash my hair just fine.”
He wiped stray bubbles from the back of his hand and turned to leave. He paused with his back to me and his hand on the door. His bangs slipped forward slightly when he turned. “Well, I don’t mind helping.” Then, he stepped into the hall and shut the door.
I quivered in his absence. The fear I fought came back and sickened me with my inability to control it. Shell shock? Gun shy?
Abused.
The fact was, I was battered and bruised, both outside and in. Matt had beaten me so far down I couldn’t relax beneath the caring hands of a cowboy who intended nothing more than my aid. I had flinched when it wasn’t necessary and I felt so foolish. I needed to learn an elemental truth in this life. Not all men are bad, not all men are attached to fists. Some men care and protect. The lesson I needed to learn? Slade wasn’t Matt.
And I couldn’t do a damn thing about it until I learned who I was. A year under Matt’s tyrant rule had changed me, stolen my confidence and sense of self.
The drain unplugged with a firm tug and a gurgle. The lavender had not cleansed away all of my tensions, though in my heart, I felt better, more settled—a broken bone in a cast. I’d found solid footing beneath me for once. I allowed the drain to take away the water and hopefully the negative energies cluttering my aura. The nap of the towel could not scrub away the conflicting emotions in me. I pulled on a clean pair of panties and Slade’s shirt and then walked back into the bedroom.
The quilt Bonnie used to swaddle me was spread out over the bed, and the blankets were turned down. Even my two stuffed friends were propped before the pillow. Oh God. He is such a good guy.
I dropped yesterday’s clothes on the rocking chair in the corner. Sitting atop of the highboy was half of a peanut butter sandwich, a glass of milk and one of my pain killers. A tear, for once of happy origins, welled in my eye. I never wove a spell, but he was weaving one of simple human magick on my heart. The sandwich and milk soothed the icky dance my stomach did around the venison, and the medicine was fast acting.
The pillow cradled my head and my two stuffed animals lay beneath my right arm, propping it up. Sleep crept through me, warm and fuzzy like bunny slippers on a cold morning. My eyelids fell and I slipped into a deep, healthful rest.
Washing her hair…
Touching her skin…
Breath hitched in his throat. Slade leaned his head against his bedroom door. The handle was in his hand. He wasn’t going to use it, but he needed to hold onto something.
Kally was naked. She was beautiful. And she was so vulnerable he didn’t dare touch her any more than he had, no matter how much she’d flirted beforehand.
His heart slammed, his blood pulsing behind his eardrums and the fly of his jeans. Yes, he was definitely male. He was horribly aroused and didn’t want to be.
Pacing the confines of his room, Slade struggled to derail the desire surging along his veins. He was taking care of Kally, nursing her back to health, back to wholeness. This was not the time for sexual wants to get in the way. There were too many clues, too much evidence saying Kally had been abused. Slade knew she needed to find herself before he should even consider intimacy, let alone lust after it.
It’s going to be a tough night.
He kicked a stray sock at the hamper. It dangled on the edge and then flopped down in front of the door. One look at light under the door conjured images of her soft skin beneath his fingers. The scent of lavender and jasmine drifted down the hall, torturing him. The fist he curled rivaled the tightness in the front of his jeans.
Yup. A very hard night.
Desperate for a distraction, Slade dragged his range bag from the closet, laid a towel out on his bed and field stripped his gun. He pulled patches of cotton and cleaning products from a pocket and forced his mind to the task of cleaning. He might be able to chase out thoughts of Kally. He wasn’t sure about his dreams.
Morning came early and quiet. I would have easily gone back to sleep, but those new room jitters shook me awake when my eyes opened. I wasn’t scared, I wasn’t sad. It was a tad unsettling to be in a fourth room in a week’s span. A yawn rumbled through me,
followed by an upper body stretch stopping at my right shoulder. Then, I climbed from the bed and straightened it before walking to the window.
Weak light filtered through the panes when I pulled the muslin curtains back. A ceiling of gray rose above the vast landscape. Snowflakes danced an erratic ballet. Even with the overcast sky, the Wyoming countryside stretched forever, a visual expression of endless possibilities.
“It’s a fairyland.” I reached out and drew a heart in the ice on the windowpane.
“Don’t know about a fairyland, but Jack Frost certainly visited last night.”
Slade stood behind me, his presence warm and comforting on a cold morning, yet I flinched when he touched my shoulder. He pulled his hand away, leaned forward and drew an arrow through my heart on the window. Slade turned from me, offering up a perfect view of his Wrangler butt. No jeans had ever fit a man better. His T-shirt clung, second-skin tight, white and displaying his lean muscled upper body. My heart flittered, jumping into a stilted rhythm.
“I thought you might like some fresh coffee.”
He held out a mug of steaming coffee with one hand, and the other returned to his hip, the thumb tucked into the corner of his jeans pocket. The vapors drifted up, obscuring his face, and then he blew the aroma of roasted Arabica beans toward me. My stomach growled and a weak smile bloomed on my lips. “The coffee smells really good.”
“So how about you drink it and then come and help me with breakfast?”
Ah, normal life.
I was acutely aware of my bare legs. Slade’s long underwear shirts only hung far enough down to cover my butt. “Can I get dressed first?” I nodded to my clothes still sitting in the rocking chair. “My legs are a little cold.”
“How about you pull on a pair of my pajama pants and take it easy this morning? After breakfast, we can discuss what you can do here at the Fourth Moon and call your sister and Ilene. Then, I thought we’d take a ride into town for supplies and maybe some more clothes.”
Mentally, I added clothing onto the list of things for which I intended to pay the Carlsons back. “Deal.”
