Rancher and Protector

by Pamela Britton

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  “So far, from what we can tell, he suffered a grand mal seizure. He’s autistic, isn’t he?”

  The name tag pinned to his white coat said Dr. Salazar. “He is,” she said. She seemed to have lost the ability to project.

  “Then I’m sure you know these kinds of seizures aren’t unusual for a child with autism.”

  “He’s never had one before.”

  “I know, and that’s reason to be optimistic. This could be something simple. A deficiency in salt, perhaps. Then again, it might be something more serious. It’s too early to tell.”

  She nodded.

  He patted her on the back. “There’s a waiting room down the hall. Why don’t you and your husband stay there? I’ll have someone come get you just as soon as we know anything more.”

  He’s not my husband.

  “Thanks,” was all she managed to say.

  Colt guided her to the waiting room then, his big hands so warm. He was such a comfort to her. She didn’t know what she would have done without him. She’d never felt such a keen sense of loneliness.

  “It’ll be okay,” he said softly.

  “Will it?”

  Nothing in her life was okay. She’d lost her parents when she was five. Her sister had died fifteen years later. She’d had to bury everyone who ever meant anything to her, except Dee. And now Dee was in the hospital…?.

  “I promise you. It’ll all be fine.”

  He’d sat next to her, tipped his hat back, then pulled her into his arms. How long he held her in silence, she didn’t know. She sank against him willingly, and slowly allowed her stress to bleed into him.

  “My parents and my sister died in a car accident,” he said at last.

  She gasped, leaning back. “How old were you?”

  “Seventeen.”

  All she could do was shake her head. “I hardly knew mine,” she whispered. “They died when my sister and I were really young.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t think you’d killed them.”

  She lifted her head. “What?”

  She heard him swallow, watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “I’d told my dad I could handle it.”

  “Handle what?”

  “Changing the brakes. I’d been in auto shop since my freshman year. Rotors were simple. But…” His eyes had gone as dark as obsidian. “I blew it.”

  She clutched his arm.

  “They never officially blamed me.” He swallowed again. “But I knew.”

  “Oh, Colt. You don’t really think—”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I do. I went to the accident scene. Saw the scars on the pavement. One of the tires came off. I must not have tightened the lug nuts all the way. And my family…”

  He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

  “But the police. They never said…”

  “I was seventeen. About to graduate high school. I suspect they knew, too. They just didn’t tell anyone. And why would they? From where they stood it was an accident. I’ve mulled this over long and hard. In the end I think they figured, why ruin my life? So they never said anything.”

  She couldn’t imagine… No, that wasn’t true. Actually, she could put herself in his shoes. She’d heard about her sister’s accident from a cop at the door. She wondered what she would have done if they’d told her she’d been responsible for her death.

  Like Logan.

  She straightened suddenly, struck by how all this must have affected Dee’s dad. Had she thought to ask him? Had she even cared?

  She felt ashamed.

  “What did you do?” she asked.

  “Graduated high school. Managed to qualify for the high school rodeo finals, don’t ask me how. One of my teachers took pity on me, encouraged me to go to college.”

  “Did you go?”

  “I didn’t want to, but, hell, it was a free ride, so I went.”

  A cowboy with a college degree. Who would have figured? “How old are you?”

  “Thirty. You?”

  “Twenty-nine.”

  “We’re almost twins,” he said with a small smile.

  “You compete in rodeos,” she said slowly.

  He smirked. “You make it sound like I sell drugs.”

  With Logan as her single example of a rodeo performer was it any wonder? “I just wouldn’t have figured a rodeo cowboy as the college type.”

  “I did what I had to do.”

  So he could make it through. She read the unspoken truth in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she said gently.

  “No,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  “What do you have to be sorry about?”

  But he never had time to answer. “Ms. Brooks?”

  “Yes?” She looked up.

  Dr. Salazar smiled from the doorway. “CAT scan looks good. Potassium levels were so low we’re treating him for dehydration. He’s awake now if you want to see him.”

  “Yes, of course.” She dived out of Colt’s arms. “But, wait, you’re telling me he’s okay,” she said as she and Colt followed him out of the room.

  “I think so,” the doctor said. “We’ll need to keep him overnight to get him rehydrated. There’s a facility across the way. Rainbow House. It’s a place for families to stay during times like these. You’d be right across the street.”

  Good Lord, she hadn’t even thought that far ahead.

  “All right.”

  “I’ll make the arrangements,” Dr. Salazar offered.

  And then they were in Dee’s room, and Amber spotted him in the bed, awake and staring into his corner of the room. He seemed bewildered.

  “Hey,” she said softly.

  “We’re going to continue running tests,” the doctor murmured. “But I’m leaning toward dehydration. Kids like these…”

  He didn’t finish. She knew the difficulty of caring for an autistic child.

  “Is it possible to bring a dog in here?” Colt asked the doctor.

  “No,” Dr. Salazar said. “No dogs. I’m sorry.”

  Colt bent toward her and whispered in her ear, “Maybe we can sneak Mac in here by putting him in a bag.”

  Dee turned his head, looked up at Colt. “Dog.”

  What weight remained on her shoulders melted away. “Yes, dog.” Amber took a seat next to the bed.

  “That’s a good sign,” Dr. Salazar said. “He’s remembering words.”

  Two weeks ago he’d never even used the word, and yet here he was, associating Colt with Mac. With time, perhaps Mac could help Dee’s ability to focus. Perhaps Dee might learn even more words.

  She reached out and blindly grabbed Colt’s hand. Yes, Dee was in the hospital, but she had someone by her side to help her through it, and that meant so much to her. So very, very much.

  “I’ll go get the paperwork for the Rainbow House.”

  They stayed until midnight, when the nurse kicked them out and told them to get some rest. Dr. Salazar had given them everything they needed to use one of the rooms across the street. Amber didn’t think anybody would be there to greet them, but she was wrong. The place was like a hotel, one staffed by volunteers. They were shown to a space that was more like an apartment.

  “If you or your husband need anything, just let me know,” said a perky brunette with thick, straight hair. “You can come and go as you like for as long as you need.”

  She started to correct her, but she was already gone.

  “So, if I decide not to stay here with you, does that mean we’re getting a divorce?” Colt asked.

  Amber smiled, even laughed a little. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  But when she met his gaze, she saw something in them that made her catch her breath.

  “I don’t think I should stay, Amber. I really don’t.”

  He was afraid…afraid of what might happen between them. But she wasn’t. Not in the least. And even though ten minutes ago she would have sworn all she wanted was a pillow and a
bed, now she found herself taking Colt’s hand.

  “Don’t leave,” she said, closing the distance between them. “Not yet.”

  “Amber—”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down. He was so much taller, making her feel feminine and small. She just loved that.

  “I need you, Colt Sheridan.”

  She kissed him. He didn’t move. She nuzzled his lips. He still didn’t move. She ran her tongue across his mouth slowly.

  “Damn you,” he muttered, and pulled her to him.

  Yes.

  His lips had softened, but his body had done the opposite. She could feel the hard length of him nestled against her belly. Every sinewy ridge of his body was pressed up against her. And his mouth…his mouth was so very soft.

  “I want to taste you,” she said, not caring that she sounded brazen. She licked him again.

  He jerked her against him even harder and gasped, “Amber. Jeez. You’re killing me.”

  “I want you,” she moaned.

  And he wanted her, too, she could tell. His eyes were no longer obsidian, but more like warm amber…?.

  She ran her hand up the front of his pants. He gasped again.

  “I don’t have any protection,” he muttered between clenched teeth.

  Well, she supposed that was better than him carrying around something 24/7. “That’s okay,” she said. “We can make it work.”

  When he scooped her up in his arms, she knew how this would end, and that was fine with her.

  He found the bed, set her on a thick, brown comforter. But he didn’t follow her down. She had to grab his hand, had to tug him toward her.

  “Come here, cowboy.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  This was madness.

  Colt should walk away from the bed. At the very least he should tell her the truth about why he’d really come to Camp Cowboy. “If you still want me after I—”

  She slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his jeans and cupped him, “You’re going to kill me,” he groaned. “I haven’t been honest—”

  “Honesty later,” she said softly. “Unless it really is life and death.”

  She reached up with her free hand and knocked his hat off. He didn’t care. If she wanted to feel him inside her, he was beyond resisting. Honesty could wait.

  “Take your clothes off,” he commanded.

  He saw her eyes flare, saw the way they narrowed not with anger, but with passion. She drew away, then pulled the shirt she’d been wearing off in one quick jerk. She never hesitated, and suddenly he couldn’t get undressed fast enough, given how her strip show was causing his body to harden.

  She reached behind her, unclasped her bra. Her breasts sprang free, begging for a man’s touch. Colt dropped the shirt he didn’t even know he’d been holding.

  She leaned back and undid the clasp of her jeans. He did the same. She slid the denim down her legs, slowly, erotically. He mimicked her actions, although he had to kick off his boots first. She’d lost her foot-wear somewhere, but he didn’t have time to wonder where or how, because she’d hooked her thumbs on the sides of her sensible undies. No frilly g-strings for her. Watching her strip them off was just as much a tease as if they’d been lace.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he said, sinking down next to her.

  The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, with her curly blond hair splayed around her head, her full breasts…?. Her hips were tiny compared to the rest of her, and below those hips was an area he wanted to explore, was dying to taste.

  “Come here, Colt,” she said again.

  What did this beautiful, compassionate creature with a heart as big as an ocean see in him?

  He’d lied to her.

  He didn’t want to think about that now. All he wanted was Amber.

  He stepped out of his own underwear. Sank down next to her and once again felt her naked body against his own.

  “Colt?”

  He reached up and captured her left breast.

  “Colt,” she repeated, this time with a sigh.

  His hand dropped, and she lay there compliantly, even parted for him, as he slid his fingers toward her core.

  “Colt,” she whispered again, her eyes closing, her head tipping back as he swirled his tongue around her nipple, at the same time touching her intimately. He wanted to see her climax again. Wanted to hear her cries. Had never forgotten what it felt like to bring her pleasure.

  But he wanted…

  That was just it. He wanted, too. Wanted her. Shook from the effort it took not to cover her body with his own.

  His tongue drifted in lazy circles before his teeth lightly nipped her nipple. Her back arched off the bed, and he trailed kisses downward.

  “No,” she said, clutching at his arms, trying to draw him back up.

  He resisted, because he wanted to give her something first. Something she would remember even if she couldn’t ever forgive him.

  Please, God, let her forgive him.

  He tasted her.

  She moaned, her hips rising off the bed.

  He suckled her.

  She cried out in pleasure.

  He flicked his tongue against her core.

  “Colt.” She groaned. “Oh, jeez, Colt.”

  He could feel her trembling, loved the way her movements became more frenetic, drew pleasure from her soft moans.

  “Let go,” he urged.

  In the next moment she was crying out, her pleasure so sweet that he felt his own body spasm in response. Damn. What was it about her? Why did he feel the need to do it again, to stay there and make her cry out a second time, or a third, or a fourth?

  “Now.”

  “Now?” he asked. Now what?

  And since he needed instruction, she pulled him toward her, his body sliding up her own.

  “Now,” she said again, her eyes intense.

  He had no protection. Neither did she, he suspected, but he covered her with his body just the same.

  And yet he couldn’t stop himself.

  His knees nudged hers apart, and she was so soft and wet and warm beneath him that he had to grip the pillow near her head to keep himself from thrusting into her.

  “Colt,” she admonished as he lay poised at her entrance.

  Slow, he told himself. Enjoy it. Savor the moment.

  Because it might not happen again.

  There was only right now, this instant, this one incredible moment when he became one with the most incredible woman he’d ever met.

  I love you.

  He froze.

  “Goddamn it,” he murmured.

  She lifted her hips, wresting control away from him. The second he connected with her warm embrace, there was nothing he could do. He moved into her, closed his eyes, rested his head against the crook of her neck.

  He loved her, he realized, pushing into her.

  “Colt,” she murmured.

  He kissed her neck, drew out, slid in again.

  He loved her.

  He began to move faster. She welcomed every thrust.

  He loved her.

  Tears rose to his eyes as, for the first time, he understood what it meant to make love to a woman. This wasn’t just sex, he thought, kissing her neck, memorizing the taste of her. This was as different from sex as the sun was from the moon. She was sunlight. He basked in her warmth, absorbed her heat and energy, all the while thrusting and thrusting and thrusting…?.

  “Colt!” she cried.

  And this time he climaxed with her. This time he was the one who moaned in pleasure. He found her lips as he slowly, inexorably, became aware.

  A door closed somewhere. The alarm clock next to the bed flashed 12:00 a.m. The room smelled of cinnamon. Or was that Amber?

  “I don’t think I can move,” she said in amusement.

  “I don’t want to move.” He sighed.

  She clasped his head with her hands, forced him to look at her. “I don’t want you to, either.” By th
e light of the clock, he saw what he least expected.

  Tears.

  “Amber…”

  She was falling for him. She might not love him yet, but it was there, right beneath the surface. He could see it.

  And he’d lied to her.

  THEY HARDLY SLEPT, but that was okay with Amber. She marveled at how quickly and…diversely he could bring her to pleasure.

  In the early hours of the morning she finally drifted off to sleep, only to be woken by the shrill sound of her cell phone.

  Dee.

  She scrambled to find her pants, as Colt slept soundly beside her.

  “Hello?” she said, heart pounding.

  “So you are going to answer.” She didn’t recognize the voice.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t recognize the number.”

  Her blood ran cold. “Logan,” she said quietly.

  “When were you going to tell me my son was in the hospital?”

  “How did you find out?”

  “I called the school to check in with you. Your boss told me.”

  Damn it. “He shouldn’t have told you,” she hissed. “I wanted to wait until the doctor was sure Dee was okay before I called. No point in upsetting you unnecessarily.”

  “That’s not your decision to make. I’m his dad.”

  “I’ve got custody of Dee.”

  “You won’t for long,” he said grimly. “Or didn’t you wonder why there’ve been no annoying beeps so far? No message that you’re getting a call from an inmate?”

  She hadn’t thought about it. “Where are you?” she asked, her blood turning cold.

  “All that matters is that soon I’ll be San Francisco.”

  Oh, dear God, he was out. They’d set him free.

  “How?”

  “Early parole.”

  She clutched the phone.

  “He’s my son, Amber.”

  “And he’s my nephew,” she said. “And you should have thought about the consequences of your actions the night you… The day you…”

  She couldn’t finish the sentence, and damn it all to hell, she was on the verge of tears. She’d worried about this for so long, had thought there was no way he’d ever get out of jail before his six years were up. She should have known better. “I have thought about it,” he said. And much to her surprise, he sounded almost sad. “Every frickin’ day of my life I’ve thought about it.”