But even giant angels got cold, and the warmth of the fire definitely wasn’t reaching this room. Creeping to a closet across the room, she hunted for a blanket.
She found a few clothes hung by category—shirts, then sweaters, then pants—and some shoes and boots lined up neatly on the floor. There were plenty of blankets on the bed, but they were all beneath the sleeping Griff.
Sitting on the side of the bed, she reached out, tentatively, and pushed a shock of dark hair back from his forehead. She suspected he wouldn’t want to be seen this way, with his defenses down, but she couldn’t help staring. Something in her heart yearned to soothe him, to find her cowboy angel under all the layers of pain.
She huffed out a quiet laugh. Something in her heart yearned for a lot of other things, too, but she’d learned to give it a stern “no” when it asked for too much. Her heart—or was that her libido?—was like an untrained puppy that tended to get overexcited and wanted to jump on…on certain people.
“No,” she whispered.
Griff stirred and her heart fluttered like a startled sparrow. What if he looked up and found her staring at him? He’d think she was some kind of creep. But then he shivered, ever so slightly, and folded his arms around his chest like he was cold, and her foolish puppy-dog heart quivered in response.
Danger, she thought. That puppy is out of control.
Reluctantly, she dragged herself downstairs and put a couple more logs on the fire like a responsible housemate. Then she headed up to her own bed in Jess’s room, careful not to look at the inviting fan of light that stretched from Griff’s door.
* * *
Riley didn’t know when she’d fallen asleep, but she woke to the moon riding high in the sky, flooding the plains below in a mysterious, silver light. What had woken her up? A low call. Some sort of bird?
She sat up, staring out the window. The tall pines that grew beside the house tossed their frosty Muppet-monster heads while the wind roared around the eaves. Stars hung peaceful and unblinking behind the moon.
She was starting to settle down when a hoarse shout shattered the silence. She leapt to her feet, heart hammering, reaching for Bruce with one hand and finding him beside her. True to form, he’d followed her upstairs and stood beside her bed with his ears perked up, staring at the door.
Should she race toward the noise to help or run away? It must have been Griff. It sounded like he was fighting monsters in there.
Well, if he was, she was going to help him. Hunching her shoulders, she folded her arms across her chest, shivering in her worn pajamas. The floorboards froze her feet as she trotted across the hall to find Griff lying with his back to her, facing the wall.
As she entered, he let out a groan.
“Griff? Griff, you’re dreaming.”
He curled his body tighter, folding his legs to his chest as if to protect himself. His eyes were squeezed shut, his arms folded.
She didn’t want to wake him; she wanted to get the heck out of there. He might wake up flailing, angry, looking for something to hit. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been that convenient something when a man needed to release some hallucinatory rage.
But this was Griff. She owed him.
Steeling herself, she sat cautiously on the side of the mattress. When he didn’t react, she took a moment to collect herself, breathing deeply, thinking calm thoughts. Setting a hand on his arm, she tensed, half expecting him to roll over with fists flailing, but he only twitched. His mouth worked for a moment, and then his face seemed to relax.
She’d done that. She’d stayed, she hadn’t run, and she’d helped him. Her heart was still thrumming with panic, her muscles twitching with the need to move, but she stroked his hair from his face until the anger and fear flowed out of his features and he was her giant angel again.
Bruce sighed, circled a few times, and lay down on the braided rug by the bed. Closing his eyes, he dropped instantly into a deep doggy sleep.
Riley hadn’t slept much, and the poison gas from the truck was still fogging her mind with a heavy fatigue. She wanted to stay and make sure Griff was okay, but she was so, so tired. She needed to lie down, just for a minute, and what the heck? He’d never know.
Easing down beside him, she lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling. It was freezing in here. How could he sleep without a blanket? Apparently, his internal furnace was set on high, because he kept her warm even as she did her best not to touch him.
Shivering, she grabbed a corner of the quilt and rolled over, wrapping herself like a burrito. She ended up snugged tight against his back, warm at last. Hey, they were friends, right? She’d just rest for an hour or so, and go back to her room before he woke.
Wrapping one arm around his waist, she tucked her head into the back of his neck and slept.
Chapter 13
Griff woke to a cotton-candy sky, low clouds tinted pink by the reflection of the rising sun. As he stretched cautiously, he realized a lot of his aches and pains were gone, along with the tension that had plagued him since he’d gotten home. Best of all, his mind felt clear, with none of the hangover feeling he’d had for months.
He started to rise, then realized he wasn’t alone.
Darn it, the dog was too big to sleep in the bed.
He turned, started, and paused, propping himself up on one elbow.
Riley lay beside him, her pale face sweetened by sleep. Her lips, with that delicate Cupid’s bow in the middle, were relaxed, slightly open. Long, pale lashes shaded her cheeks. In the pink and gold of dawn, she looked like a fairy maiden, enchanted by some sleeping spell.
Where the hell did that come from? He hadn’t even liked fairy tales when he was a kid. Jess was the one who always begged for those silly stories. He’d been more a Frog and Toad kind of guy.
Apparently he liked fairy princesses better than toads now, because everything in him yearned to reach for this one, pull her close, and make love in the morning light. He wanted to bury all his pain inside her, let her warm his heart back to life.
And why not? She was here, wasn’t she? Her room was across the hall. Why was she here if she didn’t want him?
She opened her eyes, and he watched her work her way out of sleep like a swimmer rising to the surface of a deep, dark lake. Her eyes were soft and gentle as a doe’s and filled with compassion and understanding.
He wished, with a sudden and unbearable need, that they could stay like this forever. She didn’t have to touch him or kiss him or make love. She just had to look at him like that. He felt warm. Right. Blessed.
Then her eyes widened, and he saw the snap of awareness as his presence registered.
“Griff.” She jerked to a sitting position, her body suddenly tensed for flight.
With a grunt, Bruce shot up beside the bed from where he must have been sleeping and joined her in staring at him. The dog’s slightly crossed eyes made him look kind of goofy, and Griff almost laughed.
“Hey.” He did his best to look harmless, which wasn’t easy. He had the perfect face for a soldier, with features created for emotions like anger, disapproval, and hostility, but he needed to erase all that, because while he still didn’t know why Riley was in his bed, he wanted her to stay.
“I was just… I have to go,” she said, wrapping her arms around her slim body and shivering. “I came in because…” She scanned his face and seemed to come to some decision. “Because I was cold. I don’t know how to turn on the heat in my room.”
He almost snorted. He was pretty sure Riley could install an entire HVAC system without a manual, so she could probably manage the thermostat that was right beside the door, in plain view.
But if she wanted an excuse to curl up beside him, he wasn’t about to take it away.
“Maybe it’s broken,” he said.
If it isn’t, maybe I can break it somehow.
&nbs
p; “So I have to go,” she said. “I have to, um…”
She glanced out the window. The snow must have continued to fall all night. His father’s fence was buried halfway up the posts, and the cattle stood in a miserable, white-dusted knot by the barn.
Her eyes widened. “Your dad told me if the snow got this deep, I should call Jeb Johnson to come feed the cows.”
“We don’t need Jeb. I’ll take care of them.” He flashed her a smile, hoping it was gentle enough to soothe her fears, but her eyes stayed wide and frightened.
He didn’t know how to soothe her, so they’d get up now and escape this room where the shimmering warmth of their embrace still hovered in the air. They’d both be safe then—for a while.
* * *
Riley was flipping an omelet when the front door opened. Griff entered along with a snow-covered Bruce and a swirl of white flakes borne on a puff of wind. Stamping snow off his boots, Griff shrugged off his coat, then tipped his hat and smiled.
Oh my. Riley almost dropped the pan, because there he was—the cowboy Griff she’d been looking for. It wasn’t just the boots or the snowcapped black felt Stetson. It was the way he was moving—with casual grace and confidence. And the way he was smiling—free and easy and real.
Toeing off the boots, he chuckled as snow cascaded from his shoulders and the brim of his hat.
Griff. Chuckled.
“Did you feed the cows?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’ll need your help for that.”
“Okay. Want an omelet first?”
“Do I ever.”
She tried to smile, but it trembled at the edges, because what must he be thinking? He’d woken to find her curled up next to him like a lost kitten at best. At worst, she’d come across like a floozy hoping for some action. Either way, she was hardly showing him the fierce, independent woman she’d vowed to be, especially since she couldn’t tell him she’d gone into the bedroom to take care of him. He wouldn’t want to hear that.
“How were the horses?” she asked.
“Good.” The smile widened. “You know that one bay?”
“Bay?” she asked.
“That’s what we call a brown horse with black legs.”
“We?” She arched an eyebrow.
“Horse people. Cowboys, I guess.”
She nodded, swallowing down her foolish cowboy dreams, and served the eggs while he settled himself at the table. She’d been worried she’d made too much, but judging from the way he tucked into the food, he’d worked up an appetite.
“That bay Arabian and I weren’t getting along too well, because… Well, we got a bad start.”
“I noticed he seemed kind of scared,” Riley said. She didn’t tell Griff the bay had been her favorite or how much time she’d spent soothing him when she’d been feeding the horses. “I named him Spook.”
“That’s about right.” Griff laughed. “He let me get a halter on him. Major victory. I turned him out with the others, and now he’s kicking up his heels like a colt.”
“The others seem so steady.”
“They probably had their share of problems, too,” Griff said. “My dad’s always bragging about the bargains he picks up at auctions. The truth is, the horses he buys are just about wrecked, but with a steady hand and some patience, they’ve got a chance at a decent life. They’re never bargains, though.”
Humor danced in his eyes, and Riley did her best not to stare—but it transformed him. Made him look younger, more approachable. Safer.
“He ends up spending more on vet bills and training than he could ever sell ’em for,” Griff continued. “But it’s sure a good deal for the horses.”
Riley felt a rush of fondness for Griff’s dad. Griff had never gotten along with him, but Heck Bailey had always been kind to her. Come to think of it, she was probably a lot like those horses. No bargain and just about wrecked—but saved, just in time, by this town, this home she’d found.
“That’s nice of your dad.”
“Yeah, well.” He ducked his head and concentrated on his food. “He’s a lot better with horses than he is with people.”
“I see him at the diner sometimes.” She slid her gaze sideways to see if this was a safe subject. Judging from the way he was ladling eggs into his mouth, he wasn’t bothered by it. “He seems to do okay with people then. He flirts with the waitresses, but respectfully, you know? And he tells those awful jokes.” She couldn’t help smiling at the thought. He told the kind of jokes little kids tell, and half the time, he was the only one who laughed, but it didn’t seem to bother him.
Griff shrugged. “I know. Everybody loves him. But somehow, nothing I did was ever good enough.” His face darkened with a memory. “I don’t mind being bossed around by my superiors in the military. Lives are at stake. But the cows weren’t going to explode if my roping wasn’t up to snuff.”
“Yeah, I don’t like being bossed, either,” she said. “Ed lets me do my own thing, and that’s the way I like it.”
“Nobody needs to boss you,” he said. “You work hard. That’s just how you are.”
She flushed and glanced his way. His eyes were fixed on her with that look again, that fondness. That was all it was, but holy cats, he sure looked good in that hat. Suddenly, she needed a steady hand, just like the horses. His steady hand.
She needed to stop thinking like that. Sleeping beside Griff had been nice, but those shouts last night had reminded her that he’d come home with issues. Deep-seated issues that tormented him even in sleep.
What had happened to him? She knew there’d been an explosion. The local paper had reported that two of his men had been killed and several injured. Griff had carried the wounded out, risking his own safety repeatedly. She didn’t know how many lives he’d saved, and unless he talked in his sleep, she’d probably never know. She sure wasn’t going to ask him and make him relive it.
But right now, looking at his bright eyes under that hat, no one would ever guess there was any darkness in him at all.
“Once we get those cattle fed, I might spend some time with old Spook. See if I can get him used to me handling him.”
“That would be great. Your dad said I shouldn’t let him out of the barn, but you know what you’re doing. I hope you can help him.”
Or he can help you.
It was pretty obvious the horses were already helping him, making him her cowboy again. Well, not her cowboy. But the one she remembered. Even though he hadn’t liked working with his dad on the ranch, even though he thought he’d been born to be a soldier, she’d always known he was cowboy to the bone.
“If the snow holds off, we’ll see if we can pull your truck out later,” he said.
“Okay.” Her heart did a happy little flip. He was mellowing, becoming his old self. She wasn’t afraid anymore. Cowboying was good for Griff. And when he was like this, she could believe he was good for her.
“I’ll call Ed,” she said. “Let him know I might be here a while.”
Chapter 14
Ed raced for the phone like a teenage girl expecting a call from her crush—if the teenage girl was secretly seventy-two years old and hobbled by arthritis. His heart was thumping hard and he almost twisted an ankle, but he made it before Carol, who’d started answering the phone as if she owned the place.
Glancing at the screen, he saw it was the call he’d been waiting for.
“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” Riley said. “Great, actually.”
“You want me to come get you? Roads are better today, and I think the Ford would make it.”
“Oh, you and your Ford.”
He couldn’t help smiling. They had a running joke about his old truck versus her toy pickup. “It’s not stuck in a drift,” he said.
“True. But I think that was the driver, not
the truck.”
He laughed. “I can’t believe you admit that.”
Carol came in from the kitchen where she’d been rearranging the cupboards. He’d asked her not to—they were the way Ruth had left them, and that felt sacred to him—but she’d ignored him and had spent the morning bustling around making disapproving noises as she tore the kitchen apart.
“Who are you talking to?” she hissed.
“Riley,” he whispered.
“Well, I need you,” Carol said.
He shook his head, pointing at the phone, and she frowned, then stood there, tapping one foot and listening to every word he said.
“Ed?”
He turned his back on his sister. A small rebellion. Baby steps.
“Sorry, Riley. Carol had a problem. We’re good now.”
He’d always tried not to lie to Riley, but that was a whopper. He rubbed his chest, trying to soothe the ache.
“Do you need me for anything?” she asked. “Is Trevor helping you with the store?”
“There’s not much to help with. We had a run on snow shovels yesterday, and we sold just about all those Muck boots you brought in. That was a good idea, hon,” he said. “But since then, nobody. The roads are too bad.”
“That’s kind of good,” she said. “Gives Trevor time to just wander around and familiarize himself with the stock.”
“You’d think so.” Ed didn’t tell her the boy wasn’t out of bed yet. She’d just worry.
“Well, if you’re okay, I think I might stay here after all,” Riley said. “It’s a big house, and Griff’s been… He’s been really nice.”
“That’s fine, hon. You sure you’re okay there?” He knew Riley’s blunt, bold facade hid a sparrow’s heart, beating fearfully behind that determined walk, that harsh laugh.
“He’s a gentleman. Don’t worry.”
Ed found himself squinting, as if that would help him hear better. Didn’t Riley sound a little different? And was she really staying because Griff was a “gentleman,” or was something going on between them? For her sake, he kind of hoped there was. Rumor had it Griff had done himself proud over in the Middle East, and Riley needed a hero.
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