High Country Rebel
Lindsay McKenna
Will a new love summon old enemies? Battle-weary former Navy SEAL Talon Holt's top priority is to defend his own. With a military dog to care for and his traumatized soul to mend, he hitchhikes from California to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, hoping for a fresh start and to be with his ailing mother. But he can't outrun the ghosts of war - especially when a ferocious storm forces Talon to accept the help of paramedic Cat Edwin. The gorgeous rescuer wants to heal his wounds inside and out, but the fear in her arresting blue eyes calls to his instinct to protect. Trust just doesn't come easy to Cat, who, thanks to a troubled past and a violent ex, tries to keep Talon at arm's length. Yet attraction draws them together despite the very real danger each of them brings to the other. Now Talon is driven to save Cat, even when it leads to a high-country showdown that could cost them loveand their lives.Talented Lindsay McKenna delivers excitement and romance in equal measure. - RT Book Reviews
Will a new love summon old enemies?
Battle-weary former Navy SEAL Talon Holt’s top priority is to defend his own. With a military dog to care for and his traumatized soul to mend, he hitchhikes from California to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, hoping for a fresh start and to be with his ailing mother. But he can’t outrun the ghosts of war—especially when a ferocious storm forces Talon to accept the help of paramedic Cat Edwin. The gorgeous rescuer wants to heal his wounds inside and out, but the fear in her arresting blue eyes calls to his instinct to protect.
Trust just doesn’t come easy to Cat, who, thanks to a troubled past and a violent ex, tries to keep Talon at arm’s length. Yet attraction draws them together despite the very real danger each of them brings to the other. Now Talon is driven to save Cat, even when it leads to a high-country showdown that could cost them love…and their lives.
Praise for
LINDSAY McKENNA
“McKenna skillfully shows that it’s all about the romance and not only the sex. After all, hard work, honesty and trust is what western romance is all about.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Wrangler
“McKenna’s latest is an intriguing tale…a unique twist
on the romance novel, and one that’s sure to please.”
—RT Book Reviews on Dangerous Prey
“Riveting.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Quest
“An absorbing debut for the Nocturne line.”
—RT Book Reviews on Unforgiven
“Gunfire, emotions, suspense, tension and sexuality abound in this fast-paced, absorbing novel.”
—Affaire de Coeur on Wild Woman
“Another masterpiece.”
—Affaire de Coeur on Enemy Mine
“Emotionally charged…riveting and deeply touching.”
—RT Book Reviews on Firstborn
“Ms. McKenna brings readers along for a fabulous odyssey in which complex characters experience the danger,
passion and beauty of the mystical jungle.”
—RT Book Reviews on Man of Passion
“Talented Lindsay McKenna delivers excitement and romance in equal measure.”
—RT Book Reviews on Protecting His Own
“Lindsay McKenna will have you flying with the
daring and deadly women pilots who risk their lives.…
Buckle in for the ride of your life.”
—Writers Unlimited on Heart of Stone
High Country Rebel
Lindsay McKenna
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader,
Former Navy SEAL Talon Holt knows all about loss. He lost both his father and stepfather and, later, his best friend. Now, his mother is sick and he is needed at home. Fresh from a veteran hospital and suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, Talon finds his way home to Wyoming, his loyal dog, Zeke, by his side. Love is the last thing on Talon’s mind.
Cat Edwin, paramedic and firefighter, drives through a blizzard and discovers a man and dog near death. Little does she realize that her compassionate act will change her life. From the beginning, Cat is powerfully drawn to this rugged soldier, though she fights it. Her history with relationships is rocky at best, especially since her last boyfriend is now stalking her.
With a little help, Talon gets back on his feet to be the loving son his mother needs. What he doesn’t expect, however, is to find love for himself. The struggles of coming home could weaken a lesser man, but Talon calls on his years as a SEAL. He needs everything he’s learned to protect Cat from a lethal element in her past. When Cat is surrounded by danger, all Talon can think is that, once again, he will lose someone he loves. And that just can’t happen again.…
I hope you enjoy this story! To stay up with my latest books, run over to www.lindsaymckenna.com (http://www.lindsaymckenna.com).
Lindsay McKenna
To the many men and women volunteers
of Operation Gratitude.
To Carolyn Blashek, whose vision has created this wonderful charity that supports our brave and courageous military men and women.
To Linda Landau, who works for this charity
and who I get to call a friend.
Please join me and many others
on December 7, 2013, in Van Nuys, California,
as we all celebrate the one millionth box being sent overseas to military personnel, who always treasure
a thoughtful gift from this charity.
For more information, visit
www.opgrat.wordpress.com (http://opgrat.wordpress.com)/2013/02/26/save-the-date-one-million-care-packages-and-counting/
Contents
Chapter One (#uce16f251-b7dd-5d4c-bb09-c883aec4d807)
Chapter Two (#uf3e64ce7-f736-5caa-ac66-2c636a900753)
Chapter Three (#ue1ad0fed-2a58-5d09-bb3d-1bf74e06bb06)
Chapter Four (#u72fa24e2-1bad-5908-927d-439aeacdecac)
Chapter Five (#u7da2ed79-230d-55e5-9af8-6faaa83e0867)
Chapter Six (#u5198c8b4-39f2-558e-95bb-dd5193d21a75)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
TALON HOLT KNEW he was going to die. It was just a question of time. He slogged through the foot of snow quickly piling up on Highway 191 to the Bar H outside of Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Zeke, his U.S. Navy SEAL combat assault dog, a Belgian Malinois, walked at his side, looking up, a worried expression on his black face.
As he gripped the leather leash, Talon gasped for air. They were at five thousand feet in the middle of a late-May blizzard, no less. He could barely see the Snake River hundreds of feet below and to his right. On his right was a rocky, craggy mountain rising 6,200 feet, hidden by the blizzard.
He wiped his mouth, head down, the wind howling and gusting, beating against his wet, cold body. Miles earlier, it had rained. He and Zeke were drenched as they slogged alongside the muddy berm of the highway.
Talon had been born in this area so he knew he was in trouble. Few cars or trucks were on the road because of the unexpected blizzard.
What made his problem worse: the PTSD symptoms acquired during his tenure as a Navy SEAL. Talon couldn’t just hop on a plane, ride in a bus or be inside any enclosed area if a panic attack hit him. When medically and honorably discharged from the SEALs, he had to walk from Coronado on the West Coast back home to Jackson Hole. He knew the journey would get dicey.
Lucky for him now, he wore his Navy camo coat and he had gloves. He took the wool blanket out of his sixty-five-pound rucksack and wrapped it around Zeke. The Belgian Malinois, who was often mistaken for a German shepherd, was not prepared for a blizzard, either. Zeke was short-haired and needed the protection. Talon tried his best to keep his loyal dog dry and warm.
He was so close to getting home. God, hadn’t he suffered enough? Done enough for his country? Ever since the Taliban had captured him and Hayden, his SEAL partner, his life had disintegrated before him. They had been jumped by the enemy and Zeke had escaped and taken off. The dog had run thirty miles over rough, mountainous terrain to Camp Bravo, a forward operating base in Afghanistan.
He wouldn’t be alive today if Zeke hadn’t done what he did. After regaining consciousness in the hospital at Bagram Air Base near Kabul, he learned that Zeke had barked furiously, getting the SEALs’ attention at Bravo. Zeke had led a six-man SEAL team back to where he and Hayden had been captured and were being tortured. During the firefight, Zeke had taken a bullet in the shoulder, nearly died himself.
Talon tried to shake off the memory of the torture. His gut churned with cramps from not eating for three days. He had to get home. He had to make it to the Bar H.
But would he survive? With every short, shallow breath that tore out of his mouth, Talon wheezed. His lungs were filling up with fluid, and he desperately needed antibiotics and pure oxygen. He cursed his bad luck. In his soggy mind, the fever making him hallucinate, Talon figured he had about a mile to go.
He was either going to die of pneumonia out in this storm or he was going to die of hypothermia. How ironic was that? He’d survived gunshot wounds and torture only to freeze to death out in this damn blizzard? If Talon hadn’t been so exhausted, he’d be pissed.
The sky was a dark, gunmetal gray. He knew it was probably around seven in the morning, but it looked like early dawn due to the heavy, dark clouds carrying the brunt of the blizzard. Talon stumbled over his own feet and fell hard on the berm. He threw out his hands, releasing the leash. Zeke stopped, wagging his long brushy tail, whining and licking the side of his face as Talon struggled to sit up. The world whirled around him and Talon cursed softly, tightly shutting his eyes. Come on! Dammit, if he could survive BUD/S training to become a SEAL, he sure as hell could get through this!
Gasping, grunting, he used every last bit of his strength and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet.
He leaned over, placing his gloved hand on Zeke’s strong back, which had carried so many loads for him over in Afghanistan for three years. He groped for and found the leash. Talon awkwardly patted his dog’s head, saw the worry in Zeke’s large brown eyes. Zeke deserved a helluva lot better than being out in this deathly blizzard.
Talon winced, lowering his head against the stinging bits of ice and snow striking his face. Hayden’s screams of pain haunted him in his nightmares. He’d never get his friend’s cries out of his head. And it drained Talon’s will to live. Add to that his mother’s battle with cancer.
Talon doggedly pushed forward. He felt Zeke’s comforting weight against his knee. The dog was shepherding him along. Zeke was a bona fide hero. He had been awarded a Purple Heart and a Silver Star by the Navy for his heroic efforts to save his and Hayden’s lives. Only, Hayden hadn’t survived. Shit.
The past was overlaying the present. The fever had him in its grip and Talon wasn’t sure if he was in a Wyoming blizzard or back in a snowstorm in the Hindu Kush Mountains of Afghanistan. And when the fever rolled out like a tide in his head, Talon would realize he was in Wyoming, trying to reach the Bar H. Trying to get close enough to home to ask for help, to let his mother know he was near.
Since his mother had contracted breast cancer, Talon had sent most of his paycheck to her because she couldn’t afford the horrendous, mounting medical bills. He’d wanted to help her as much as he could. As a result, when he got wounded and discharged, he had no bank account except for five hundred dollars in a savings account to get him home to Jackson Hole. And that money was mostly gone as he walked across half of the United States to reach Wyoming.
Jesus, the fever was messing with his head. Talon’s breath was ragged and fast. Dizziness struck him in waves. His lungs were drowning in fluid and he couldn’t get the oxygen he needed. No oxygen, no strength. Only brute determination kept him going.
A blast of frigid air struck Talon. He slipped, lost his footing and went down. Hard. His head slammed into the snow and the berm below it. Darkness took him briefly.
He felt his dog’s tongue licking his bearded cheek. As he fumbled, tried to rise, the last of his strength ebbed. He was going to freeze to death out here.
Talon lay there gasping for air, feeling the bubbles of liquid in his lungs. Death stalked him. He closed his eyes, cheek pressed into the snow, feeling nothing because his flesh was numb. Something snapped deep within. Something so primal, so visceral, that all he could do was lie there, helpless. Just as he’d hung helplessly, strung up, his wrists tied with ropes over an overhead beam, toes barely touching the dirt floor. He was forced to watch Hayden being tortured. Oh, God...
Talon wanted death to take him. He was so very, very sorry he wouldn’t be able to help his mother. She was a survivor. Grief and sadness wound through him like a cold, icy river flooding him. He was so dehydrated he couldn’t even cry.
His SEAL team friends would find out sooner or later that he’d died of hypothermia on an unnamed highway somewhere in Wyoming during a freak blizzard. What a screwed-up ending.
Talon closed his eyes.
Well, it looked like the blizzard was going to kill him. It felt good to just rest. To lie on his side, the snow all around him.
Zeke whined and paced around him, licking his face, trying to get him up. A hoarse sound scraped out of his throat. It was as close to a sob as he would get under these circumstances. Talon wasn’t afraid to die.
Zeke lay down next to him, his moist, hot breath across his face. In Afghanistan, in the cold mountains, Zeke was like a warm, living blanket to Talon. He would lie at his side, their bodies glued to each other, keeping one another warm through those icy, frigid nights. He couldn’t let Zeke stay out here. The dog would die in the blizzard, too.
And that was what forced Talon to try to get up. To move. Gasping, his breath noisy and ragged, he struggled to move his numb legs. They were weighted down, hard to move. For a moment, the fever receded and Talon’s head cleared. His black lashes froze to his cheeks and he couldn’t force open his eyes. Somehow, he managed to pull his hand up, scrub his face and force the lashes to break free. Blinking rapidly, Talon got them open. Up! He had to get up! Zeke couldn’t freeze out here. Talon couldn’t let that happen.
Just as Talon got to his feet, wobbling and staggering around, he saw headlights come out of the thick veil of snow. Blinking unsurely, he thought he was seeing things—hallucinations due to his high fever.
Zeke whined, placing his strong body against Talon’s leg to help him remain upright.
Talon gasped for air, like a fish thrown out of the water. He jammed his hands down on his knees, head down, trying to stay upright as the big, black SUV appeared like an apparition out of the blinding blizzard. It stopped in front of him.
A car door opened and slammed shut.
Jesus, he had to be imagining this! No one in their right mind was out in a blizzard like this. Wyoming people knew to stay home to stay safe. Was this how death happened?
Zeke barked a warning.
There really was someone walking toward him! Zeke was in combat assault dog mode. Anyone making a move toward Talon was seen as the enemy. Zeke’s growl rumbled warningly, and the hackles of fur stood up on his neck.
“Allow,” Talon rasped to Zeke. The command to the dog meant not to attack, but allow that person to touch or be around him. Instantly, Zeke stopped growling and watched the person who was heavily bundled up in a coat.
Talon forced himself to stand. He was so dizzy he had to step back so that he wouldn’t fall over. He tried to focus his eyes on the person coming around the SUV. Whoever it was, he or she wore a down black jacket, white knit cap, a thick muffler around their neck, hands positioned beneath their armpits.
And then the apparition spoke.
“Hey, climb in. No one should be out in this blizzard.”
A woman’s voice. Husky. Filled with concern. She eyed him worriedly, her blue eyes warm. The snowflakes were landing on strands of her black hair peeking out from beneath her white knit cap.
“Hey?” she called. “Are you all right?”
Her hand came to rest around his upper arm, steadying him. Jesus, she’s real! His mind shorted out. He couldn’t talk. He knew he looked like what he was: a homeless military vet. He hadn’t bathed in ten days. His hair was long by military standards. He hadn’t shaved in God knew how long.
She saw the dog, suddenly becoming wary.
“Won’t hurt you,” Talon forced out, his voice rough and barely intelligible.
“Good to know. I’m Cat Edwin. Come on, I need to get you inside my SUV.”
Her hand became firmer on his arm as he tried to take a step toward it. Everything whirled and he halted, shutting his eyes. “Pneumonia,” he muttered.
“Yeah, I hear it. You need medical attention pronto.” Cat slid her arm around his waist and pulled his one arm across her shoulder. “I’ll help you into my SUV. What’s your name?” He looked awfully familiar, but she couldn’t place him. Right now, she didn’t have time to figure out why.
Cat slowly guided him toward the passenger side of her SUV. The man could barely keep his feet beneath him, his knees continuing to collapse beneath him.
“Talon,” he managed, his feet barely working. In the next breath, he rasped, “Holt.”
Cat gasped. Now she knew who he was. Sandy Holt’s son! “Okay, Talon Holt, hang on.” Cat reached for the handle and pulled open the door. “Let’s get you inside. You’re wet and freezing.”
He hesitated. “My dog...”
“He’s coming along, too,” she reassured him.
Talon grunted and worked to climb into the SUV. He had a helluva time getting into the seat and she practically shoved him into the SUV. Zeke jumped into the front, sitting on the floorboards between his legs, facing him.
The door slammed shut. He could feel heat in the SUV. It felt wonderful. Talon lay back, closing his eyes, gasping for air, his lungs hurting with each wheezing breath.
Cat climbed in and shut the door. “I’m going to the Bar H. It’s about a mile up the road. The roads are closed beyond that. I’ll get you to the ranch and try to help you there.”
He had to be dreaming. Talon couldn’t answer, too weak to speak. He felt Zeke’s warm, wet tongue licking his hand. Just as she put the SUV into motion, his last memory was of Cat Edwin’s face. She was attractive, slightly curled strands of black hair across her broad brow. He liked her large, readable blue eyes. Talon had seen every emotion in them. Her face was oval with wide cheekbones. Her nose was clean with slightly flared nostrils. He especially liked that wide, soft mouth of hers. If Talon had been healthy, he sure as hell would have wanted to know her a lot better. And with that last thought, he sank into unconsciousness.
CHAPTER TWO
CAT FELT A sense of urgency. As a fire department paramedic, she took one look at an unconscious Talon Holt and knew he was in serious shape. The snow was dumping in buckets and she could barely see ten feet in front of her SUV as she drove slowly through the foot-and-a-half snow on the highway. If it weren’t for the snow poles placed every tenth of a mile, she might literally drive off the road and slide down the rocky slope and into the churning Snake River below. Not what she wanted to do.
Blindly, she reached out for the fire department radio she had installed in her SUV. She needed to call the Bar H and let them know she was coming in with a sick passenger.
“Hey, anyone awake at the Bar H? This is Cat. Over.” Her heart was pounding a little harder in her chest. The man, who lay slumped, his head tipped back, touched her for some reason. Cat had taken care of hundreds of sick and dying people over the years. What was it about this man that moved her emotionally? Cat had no answer. His beard was scraggly, his hair longish, dirty and unkempt. And that dog of his, Zeke. The animal’s large, intelligent brown eyes never left his master’s wan face. She swore the dog looked as worried as she felt.
“Cat? Don’t tell me you’re out in this godforsaken blizzard?”
A smile twitched at her lips. “Hey, Miss Gus. I figured you’d be up by now.” Gus was eighty-five years old and the matriarch of the Bar H.
Gus snorted. “I was just cooking breakfast for Val and Griff. I didn’t think you’d come in this morning with this blizzard.”
“Yeah,” Cat said with a chuckle, “but I really wanted to learn to can fruit and veggies with you and Val today.”
“What a sucker for punishment you are, my dear,” Gus cackled.
“Listen, I just picked up a man on this highway a few minutes ago,” Cat told her. “He’s in rough shape. I’m bringing him to you, Miss Gus. He needs to be in the E.R. but there’s no way I can make it ten miles back to town in this blizzard. Can you get Griff to meet me out front? The guy is unconscious and has a bad case of pneumonia.”
“Who on earth would be out in this weather?” Gus demanded.
Cat cast a quick glance over at the man. She could smell him. “He told me his name. Talon Holt.”
“Lordy!” Miss Gus exploded. “Talon Holt? He’s Sandy Holt’s son!”
“One in the same.” Cat gulped and felt a lump form in her throat. “That’s right. I knew there was something familiar about him.”
“Sandy said her son, who was a U.S. Navy SEAL, was wounded a year ago. She told me he was coming home, but didn’t say when. Said he was coming with a dog. Is there a dog with him?”
“Yes,” Cat said, driving carefully, feeling the SUV begin to slide a little. She eased off the gas. There was no way to hurry in this stuff. “I remember Sandy saying he was wounded.”
“Yes. He got wounded a year ago on a black ops mission and Sandy said he was getting a medical discharge sometime soon. Didn’t say when. Sandy told me the name of the dog but I can’t recall it.”
“Zeke?”
“Yes! That’s it! Aside from the pneumonia, how bad off is Talon?”
“Really bad,” Cat murmured, frowning. “Listen, we should use your bedroom downstairs. Can you get it ready for him? He’s soaking wet, freezing and he’s breathing pretty badly. I’ve got to get him someplace warm and dry. Griff’s going to have to help me. I can’t carry him into your house by myself.”
“Griff’s out in the barn. I’ll give him a call to come in. Val and I will get my bedroom ready. About how long before you arrive?”
She grimaced. “I’m barely going ten miles an hour. Probably another twenty minutes if I don’t slide off the mountain.”
“We’ll be waiting for you, Cat. Be careful getting here. There’s a sheet of black ice on that pavement.”
“Great, thanks. Out.” Cat felt her emotions unraveling as she gripped the steering wheel, focusing on the slippery road. All around her were evergreens cloaked in heavy white snow. A black, wet, rocky cliff soared a thousand feet above the highway. On her right a skimpy guardrail was supposed to prevent a car from sliding into a hundred-foot rocky abyss below.
Focus on the road. Get him shelter.
Cat didn’t want to feel anything about this man, this vet, but she did. Talon Holt was pale and unconscious, but she could see the toughness in his face, the kindness in the shape of his chiseled mouth. And yes, he did look a little like his mother.
She white-knuckled it as the SUV slid a little toward the guardrail. Cat didn’t easily panic. As a firefighter, she’d seen just about everything in her twenty-seven years.
She glanced quickly toward Talon, who was frowning, regaining consciousness. Cat could hear his raw, shallow breaths. She turned again to the snow-covered highway. “Talon?” she asked. “Are you awake? Can you hear me?”
Talon heard her husky voice. Weakly, he raised his hand and forced his eyes open. Every breath he took was a labored effort, as if he had an elephant on his chest. He heard Zeke whine, felt his pink tongue laving his hand.
“It’s okay, Zeke,” he rasped, opening his eyes. He’d never been so damned weak. Not even when he’d been wounded in the field had he felt like this.
“Talon?”
The woman’s voice again. He barely turned his head in the direction of the sound. “Yeah?”
“How are you doing?” Cat demanded, guiding the SUV around the last curved corner that would lead to the Bar H.
“I’m not dead, yet,” he rasped.
A good sign, Cat thought. As sick as he was, Talon was being a smart-ass. “I’m taking you to the Bar H. Miss Gus remembers you. I can’t get you to the hospital where you belong. I’m a paramedic. Miss Gus is going to let you stay in her bedroom and I’ll do what I can to help you. Okay?” Cat gave him a quick glance. His eyes were red rimmed, the gray color glowing with fever, his black pupils large. His face bathed in sweat.
“Miss Gus?” His mind wobbled.
“Yes. She remembers you. You’re Sandy Holt’s son?”
“Yeah, I am,” he managed. Barely able to lift his fingers, he grazed Zeke’s wet, damp head. “Look,” he choked out, struggling to breathe, “you need to know about Zeke, here. He’s a combat assault dog. He’ll bite anyone who gets near me. You need to give the command ‘allow’ to Zeke. Then he’ll consider them as a friend instead of an enemy. I can’t have him biting Miss Gus or anyone else....”
Cat nodded. “Okay, I can do that for you. You just rest, Mr. Holt. You’re in good hands.”
Talon heard the sudden emotion in her voice. “What’s your name again?”
“Cat. Cat Edwin.”
Nice name. Cat. Yeah, with those slightly tilted blue eyes of hers, she looked like a cat. Maybe more a lithe, strong, lean beautiful cougar. Closing his eyes, Talon felt the darkness pulling him down again. “I...” And he lost consciousness.
Cat licked her lower lip, worried. The man’s skin had a gray tint now. It meant he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. A very bad sign. God, Sandy Holt couldn’t lose her son, not when she was fighting for her own life. Cat’s heart pounded anxiously.
She could see the entrance to the Bar H through the thickly falling snow. Wind gusts were pushing the snow sideways. Blizzards took no prisoners.
As Cat drove down the long, graveled driveway now covered with a foot and a half of snow, she saw the enormous main two-story log house appear out of the white stuff. Griff McPherson, now owner of the Bar H, stood in the driveway next to the house. Standing around six foot one, he was bundled up in a sheepskin coat, red knit muffler around his neck, cowboy hat and jeans. He had dark hair and green eyes. Val McPherson, his wife, stood on the porch, the screen door open, a worried look on her face.
Cat pulled up as close as she could. She climbed out, calling, “Griff, don’t open that door!”
Griff halted halfway around her SUV, a puzzled look on his face. “Why?”
Cat hurried through the snow and came up to him. “Talon has a combat assault dog with him. I have to open the door myself or he’ll attack you.”
Grimacing, Griff’s brow rose. “How do we get Talon out of there, then?”
Cat clumped through the snow and struggled over to the passenger-side door. “Come and stand over here, behind me. I’ll open the door and give the dog a command. It’s supposed to make Zeke think you’re a friend instead of an enemy.”
Griff nodded. “Okay,” he said, worried.
Cat opened the door. Zeke immediately growled, his gaze fastened on Griff. “Zeke, allow,” she told the dog in a firm voice. To her relief, she saw the Belgian Malinois relax. She turned to Griff. “I’m getting the dog out of here first so we can pull Talon out.”
“Will Zeke attack Val?” he demanded.
Cat scowled. She noticed a leash trailing off Zeke’s collar. “Probably. Hang on, I’m going to grab his leash and keep him with me so he can’t go anywhere.”
Griff nodded and walked around the SUV, calling to his wife, telling her to stay in the kitchen with Miss Gus because the dog would bite. His wife nodded, closed the porch door and disappeared inside.
“Okay,” he said, “bring the dog out.”
Cat was hoping like hell the military-trained dog wouldn’t chew off her arm as she reached for the leash. Zeke thumped his tail, looking at her with a happy expression, pink tongue lolling outside of his black muzzle.
So far so good. Cat tugged on the leash and Zeke lifted his front legs, leaped over Talon’s thigh and landed in a snowbank.
“Good boy,” she murmured, patting Zeke’s head. Wrapping the leash around her fist several times, Cat pulled the dog aside so Griff could get in there to help Talon.
“Your turn,” she told Griff, moving back from the opened door.
Griff moved in and hauled Talon out. He grunted as he took the man’s full weight. Cat quickly got involved, heaving one of Talon’s long arms across her shoulders. Between them, they dragged him up the porch stairs and into the house.
The warmth of the woodstove hit Cat. Zeke obediently walked at her side, his head swiveling toward the kitchen as they passed it.
And then Cat saw Miss Gus, her silver hair like a halo around her head. The woman was at the kitchen sink. Val stood next to her in a protective gesture, partially in front of her, a concerned look on her oval face.
“The bedroom’s ready,” Miss Gus hollered.
“Great,” Cat grunted. “Thanks...” Talon Holt was heavy and two inches taller than Griff. Together, they got him into the room.
Griff maneuvered him to the bed. “Cat, can you get that door shut?”
Cat released Talon and quickly did as Griff ordered. He didn’t want Zeke out wandering around. “Got it,” she said, breathing hard. She took Zeke aside and said, “Sit.” The dog did. “Stay,” she ordered, hoping he knew the command. He did, fortunately.
“Damn, he’s soaking wet,” Griff muttered, getting Talon’s long legs straightened out across the bed.
“He’s in bad shape,” Cat agreed, breathing raggedly. “Listen, can you get my medical bag out of the Cherokee? It’s on the backseat.”
Standing upright, Griff took off his gray Stetson, hitting it against his thigh. “Yeah. Be right back.”
The door closed. Cat gave one look at Zeke, who was sitting, fawn-colored ears with black tips up, alert. He hadn’t moved, which was good. She quickly went to work, shucking the wet clothes off Talon’s body. Her fingers were shaky as she moved Talon around to haul off his jacket. Griff came back with the medical bag.
Zeke thumped his tail. Griff gave the Malinois a narrowed-eyed look as he set the bag on the bed. “Need some help stripping him?”
“I do,” Cat huffed. “He’s heavy.”
“He’s a big man,” Griff muttered. He got out of his sheepskin coat and threw it and his hat on a nearby overstuffed chair.
Together, they stripped Talon of every article of wet clothing. Cat had seen a lot of naked people in her time and tried not to look too closely at Talon. His flesh was cold and nearly gray. She got out of her jacket and dropped it onto the floor, grabbing her medical bag. As Griff layered several blankets over him, she listened to his lungs through the stethoscope.
“Damn,” she muttered. “Griff? Get at least six pillows and pile them under his shoulders and head? He’s got so much fluid in his lungs that he needs to get his upper body lifted up or he’ll drown in this shit.”
“Got it.” Griff left and closed the door.
Cat heard the thunk of his cowboy boots along the wooden floor. She listened closely to both of Talon’s lungs, trying to ignore the powerful breadth of his chest. She ran her fingers gently across his naked shoulder. He was hypothermic. Her heart twinged as she saw his ribs. He was pathetically thin for his height and body build. Why was he starving? When she pulled some skin between her thumb and index finger from his tightly muscled forearm, the skin stood up. It didn’t immediately snap back down, which meant he was severely dehydrated. How long had Talon gone without food and water? She took his temperature and it was a 105°F, an indication his body was fighting hard to survive the infection. His pulse was pounding erratically, his blood pressure too high. All indicators of major war for survival taking place within his body.
Zeke whined.
Cat looked up as she looped the stethoscope around her shoulders. “He’s in bad shape, boy.”
Zeke whined again.
“But we’re going to wage a battle to bring him back,” she promised the dog. Getting up, Cat dug into her pack. In no time, she had an IV going into his right arm, full bore, to start flooding his body with much needed vital liquid.
The door opened.
Zeke growled. And then he recognized Griff with six pillows in his arms and stopped.
“That dog is dangerous,” Griff muttered, keeping one eye on him as he shut the door and brought the pillows over.
“He’s okay,” Cat soothed. She stood and Griff lifted Talon’s upper body forward so she could place the pillows beneath him.
“That’s better,” Cat murmured. With Talon slightly elevated, it would help him breathe easier. “Can you get my large oxygen canister from the truck and bring it in?”
“Yeah,” Griff said, “no problem. Be right back.”
Cat pulled out a bottle of antibiotics and a syringe and sucked up a maximum load. She put it into the IV port so it would quickly go into Talon’s bloodstream, where it would do the most good. She listened to his shallow, raspy breathing. Without thinking, she slid her fingers across his wrinkled brow, feeling the cold, clammy sweat. His hair was matted, filthy, and he so badly needed a shower. Worse, Cat saw a lot of scars on his back and across his shoulders. What the hell had happened to him?
After tucking Talon in with the heavy wool blankets, she moved down and felt his toes. They were chalk-white and cold. She sat down and placed her hands over one foot and then the other, trying to warm them up, bring circulation back into them. Cat liked touching this man. Her heart went out to him. Clearly, he had suffered terribly. No military vet should be found sick along a highway like she’d found Talon. He was due better treatment than that.
Griff came back with a large canister of oxygen. Cat covered up Talon’s feet, tucked the wool in around them and stood.
“Thanks, Griff.”
“How’s he doing?” he asked, watching Cat quickly place a cannula around Talon’s head, the oxygen moving directly into his nostrils.
“Not good,” she murmured.
“There’s no way we can get him to the hospital in this blizzard,” Griff muttered, pushing damp, black strands of hair off his brow as he stood watching Cat work over the man.
“I know.”
“Good thing you came along when you did. I’m no doctor, but he looks in rough shape.”
“He’d have died of hypothermia out there,” Cat said, checking the oxygen tank and twisting the dial a little. Talon needed as much pure oxygen as he could get, but she only had four canisters in her SUV. And that wouldn’t last long.
Griff studied Zeke. “I wonder if he’s hungry?”
“Probably. Can you bring in some food and water for him?” Cat didn’t want to leave Talon’s side. She sat down on the bed, facing him, picking up his limp wrist. His pulse thudded like cannonballs through his arteries, indicating how much harder his heart was laboring without the necessary oxygen to push the blood through his body.
“Yeah.” Griff smiled a little. “How about you? Miss Gus is out there making scrambled eggs, hash and toast for breakfast. Want me to bring you in a plate?”
Cat gave him a warm look. “That would be great. I’m starving to death.”
Smiling a little, Griff said, “Coming up. I’ll be back....”
Silence settled in the large, spacious room. Cat continued to hold Talon’s large, callused hand between hers. She wanted to touch him. He might be unconscious, but she knew the value of a healing touch. Only, there was pleasure connected to touching this man, too. Cat moved her long, spare fingers lightly across his forearm. There were so many new, pink scars, along with older white ones, across his flesh. She knew little about SEALs, but his body was proof he’d gone through major combat many times.
Her gaze moved to Talon’s slack face. He had a beautiful mouth. His nose was strong and had been broken a few times from what she could tell. Talon had a square face, a lean, hard jaw most likely, but the beard covered it up, so she couldn’t really tell. Her lower body clenched. Surprised, Cat had never felt that reaction before. She felt her womb flooding with heat and it made her feel achy. Needy. Talon Holt was ruggedly handsome. She remembered briefly meeting his gray eyes that, despite the fever, contained hard intelligence. Even as sick as he was, Cat had felt the intensity of his eyes upon her. It excited her and scared the hell out of her.
She moved her fingers gently down Talon’s slack forearm, which was lightly dusted with dark hair. For whatever crazy reason, Cat wondered what his hand would feel like exploring her. It was such a ridiculous response that her breath hitched. Get a grip, she ordered herself.
Cat unlooped her stethoscope from around her neck and once more listened to his lungs. She tried to ignore the sexual reaction she had to touching him. His shoulders were broad and his chest massive and well sprung. A dusting of black hair across his chest narrowed downward toward his blanket-covered waist. He was a powerful man, physically speaking, even if he was sicker than a dog right now. Listening intently, Cat could tell the extra oxygen, in addition to him being levered up into a Fowler’s position, was putting less stress on Talon’s lungs. A little relief fled through her. The antibiotics should kick in shortly.
“Hey,” Griff called from the door. “Safe to come in?” he teased.
Cat headed toward the door. “Yeah, it’s safe. Come on in.”
“Miss Gus is asking to see Talon.”
“Oh.” Cat quickly went to Zeke, grabbing a hold of the dog’s leash. “Okay, I got him.”
Griff opened the door.
“Well,” Miss Gus said, holding a bowl of water in her hands, “can you make friends with Zeke for me?”
Zeke was looking at the silver-haired woman, suddenly tense and alert.
“Zeke, allow,” Cat told the dog firmly.
Instantly, Zeke thumped his tail and began to pant.
“Good doggie,” Miss Gus murmured, coming forward with a slight limp. “I got water for you, boy. You should be glad to see me.”
Cat held on to the leash, worried Zeke might do something. But as Miss Gus slowly bent over and set the bowl of water down in front of the dog, he thumped his tail in a friendly fashion and whined.
“Good boy,” Gus praised, reaching out with her parchment-thin hand and gently patting the dog’s head. “Now, you need to drink.”
Cat was amazed when the dog instantly dipped his head, eagerly lapping up the water. She grinned at Gus. “You have a way with animals.”
“I have a way with everyone!” Gus snorted, putting her hands on her hips, grinning widely.
Cat chuckled and released the leash, allowing it to fall beside Zeke. Gus was dressed in a long-sleeved red blouse with a blue apron around her tiny waist. She always wore black wool slacks because of the chill of the long winter in Wyoming.
“That you do,” Cat warmly agreed. Even though Cat’s grandparents were dead, Miss Gus had taken her under her wing and treated her like a granddaughter.
Gus turned, looking over at Talon. “How’s he doing, honey?”
“A tiny bit better. The oxygen is helping him a lot.”
“Come around yet?”
Cat shook her head. “He was very dehydrated, Miss Gus. And he’s got a really bad case of pneumonia. He’ll eventually become conscious, but I don’t know when.”
Patting Cat’s arm, Gus said, “If anyone can pull him through, you can.”
A fierce love for the old woman flowed through her. “He’s going to need a lot of prayers, too, Miss Gus.”
“We can do that.” She crinkled her face and looked up at Cat. “Hungry?”
Groaning, Cat said, “Yes, I’m starving.”
“Go on out to the kitchen. I got a plate of vittles waitin’ for you. I’ll stay with Talon until you get back.”
Griff set a bowl of kibble down in front of Zeke. “Val’s got the coffee poured for you, Cat.”
Cat hesitated, not wanting to leave Talon. It was a silly, emotional reaction. Zeke dived into the bowl of kibble as if starved. “Okay. I’ll be back as soon as I finish.”
* * *
VAL MET CAT out in the kitchen.
“How’s Talon doing?”
Cat sat down and told her. She grabbed the cup of coffee and took a sip. “This is great. Thanks, Val.” The red-haired woman sat down opposite her. Val’s hair was pulled back in a long ponytail. She wore a heavy cream-colored fisherman knit sweater, jeans and boots.
“Someone should call Sandy Holt,” Cat said between bites.
“I’ll do it,” Val said. She frowned. “Sandy’s not in good shape. Should we tell her how bad Talon is?”
Cat shook her head. “Just tell Sandy that Talon’s here and a little under the weather.”
“She’ll want to know when Talon can see her.”
“Sandy’s immune system is really down,” Cat warned. “As long as he’s sick, he can’t visit her or she could contract the pneumonia. It might finish her off.”
Val nodded and picked up her cup of coffee. “That’s what I was thinking. Maybe we need to tell her he’s got pneumonia and she’ll understand why her son can’t see her right now?”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Cat said. “But say it in such a way that she doesn’t worry. The poor woman has enough stress.”
“I know,” Val said softly. “I feel helpless.”
“Me, too.” Cat knew Val had left her career as an Air Force officer to come home to help Gus keep the Bar H alive. She wasn’t a woman who scared easily at all. And once a week, Gus and Val went to visit Sandy Holt. Talon’s mother was destitute, having lost her job at Mo’s Ice Cream Parlor two months ago because the cancer had come back and was twice as virulent as before. Cat made a point of dropping in to read to her and stay with her for at least a couple of hours once a week. Gwen Garner, who owned the quilting store, had a number of quilters who came over to visit weekly with Sandy and help her where and when they could. Cat felt her heart twinge. Now her son was in dire need of help himself. But that was what a small community did—it rallied those who were weak, sick or in need of help.
“Do you think Talon can talk to her directly?”
Shaking her head, Cat said, “He’s unconscious. And he’s got major trouble breathing. I’m hoping—” and she held up crossed fingers “—that he responds to the antibiotic. Maybe in a couple of days he can talk to her.”
“It sounds like Talon should be in the hospital.”
“Really. But it’s going to take two days to clear the roads after this blizzard leaves,” Cat griped unhappily. She finished everything on her plate and took a sip of her coffee.
Val frowned. “That bad?”
“Yeah. I’m sure they’d put him in the ICU if we could get him to the hospital.”
“Could he die?” Val asked, worried.
“I don’t think he will,” Cat said. “He’s young and he’s strong, although, he’s terribly underweight and dehydrated.”
“Gus said Talon was wounded a year ago. Bad wound, whatever that meant. He might have just gotten out of the hospital?”
“I saw a lot of scars on his back and shoulders.” Again, Cat’s heart ached for Talon. Thanks to an abusive father, she was usually wary of men. Inexplicably, Talon had worked through the protective walls she had up against men in general—he’d gotten to her—and that was disconcerting. But she couldn’t dwell on this right now.
Val stood. “God, the guy has been through his own hell,” she muttered, going to the coffeepot and pouring herself another cup.
“You were in the military,” Cat said, watching her come back and sit down. “What do you know about SEALs?”
“They’re Navy black ops. I worked with them on some missions over in Iraq when I was stationed in the Middle East. I was an intelligence officer in the Air Force and, sometimes, we’d have joint missions with them, Army Special Forces and Air Force PJs.” She sipped her coffee. “Those guys go where angels fear to tread, Cat. They’re the best of the best at black ops. And they take the fight to the enemy. No fear.”
“Assertive?”
Val smiled a little. “For sure. Type-A personalities with egos just as big. They’re used to working as a team. Even though SEALs are U.S. Navy, they are found globally on sea, air and land. Talon was with SEAL Team 3 from what his mother told me. He was a shooter. A guy who was out with a rifle fighting Taliban and al Qaeda over in Afghanistan.”
“I know nothing about the military,” Cat admitted. And then she brightened and grinned over at Val. “With the exception of you, of course.”
“I’m a cowgirl now,” Val said, smiling.
Cat nodded. “And you met Griff in the process.”
Val’s eyes grew warm with love for her husband. They had been married a year and worked hard to bring the Bar H back from being a total loss. “He’s made it easy to come back.” Val looked around the warm, quiet kitchen. “This place held a lot of really bad memories for me. When Gus broke her hip and I came home to help her, I was really bitter about it at first. But I love her very much. She’s my grandmother and she was so important in my life when I was sixteen and she moved back here to the Bar H. I owed her, so I came back.”
“And Griff made the difference.” Cat knew they were deeply in love with each other. How often had she fantasized about meeting a man she could trust instead of fear?
Val wrapped her fingers around the mug. “Oh, yes, a big difference.”
“I overheard Miss Gus say you were trying to get pregnant?”
Val flushed. “I think I am, Cat. I got a feeling about it.”
“Have you tested for it yet?” she asked, thrilled. Cat loved babies and she’d delivered her fair share.
“No, and say nothing, okay? I haven’t missed a period, but I just feel different. It’s strange,” she said, shrugging. “I can’t put words to it. A new kind of happiness...”
“Fingers crossed,” Cat said. “Your secret’s safe with me, but do let me know.”
“I promise,” Val said, touching her arm.
“Hey,” Gus called from down the hall. “Cat? Talon’s waking up.”
Quickly, Cat pushed the chair back and stood up. “Be right there,” she said, and a new kind of excitement surged through her.
CHAPTER THREE
CAT SHOOED EVERYONE out of the room. Someone in Talon’s shape would easily become confused, with his mental faculties close to hallucinations due to his temperature. Zeke came over to his bedside as she sat down facing Talon, eyes bright and on his master. Talon’s skin appeared less gray and she took a cloth from the nearby bed stand. She gently sponged away the sweat on his brow, pale cheeks and thick, corded neck. Emotions swirled through her. How could one man have such a profound effect on her—and so fast? She watched his lids quiver. Yes, he was beginning to surface.
Setting the cloth aside, she listened to his lungs through her stethoscope. The antibiotics were starting to take a hold. Relief sizzled through her. She heard less crackling in his lungs. The fluids were slowly being reabsorbed by the body. Looping the stethoscope over her neck, she placed two fingers on the inside of his wrist. More relief. Talon’s pulse was no longer bounding. She picked up her thermometer, placing it inside his ear. Looking at it, she saw why he was becoming conscious. The fever was now down to 102°F.
“You’re one lucky guy,” she told him.
His lashes barely lifted.
Cat placed her hand on his. “Talon? Can you hear me? It’s Cat. You’re at the Bar H.”
A woman’s voice cut through the confusion rushing across Talon’s closed eyes. Weak. He felt so damn weak it was pitiful. Yet, when her warm, dry fingers curved over his sweaty wrist, the anxiety stopped. Her voice was low, intimate, and even his pounding heart responded to it.
God, he was thirsty.
It was the thirst that forced Talon to struggle mightily to raise his lids. When he did, his vision was blurred and all he saw was the color red in front of him. Blinking, the red turned out to be a red flannel shirt someone was wearing. It took every ounce of his strength to lift his gaze upward. When he did, he saw an incredibly beautiful woman with exotic blue eyes somberly studying him, her lush mouth pursed with concentration. And when her fingers curved more surely against his large hand, he felt her soft, maternal touch.
“Talon?”
His brow wrinkled. She knew his name. How? His mind wasn’t functioning. It pissed him off because as a SEAL, weakness wasn’t a word that existed in his universe. He forced his lips to open. Only a harsh sound escaped. Had he died? For sure he wasn’t going to heaven. Not in this lifetime. So was she an angel? His mind rolled around like a loose bowling ball with no boundaries.
She was pretty. Her black hair was slightly curled around her shoulders and framed her oval face. There was hidden strength in her face. A patient face. Her eyebrows were arched over those incredible blue eyes. Talon thought he saw her smile. Maybe he wanted her to smile because she looked so damn serious. Why?
And then his fevered mind put two and two together. The woman at his side, leaning forward, was also holding his hand. He liked her hand around his. Her skin was velvet, yet strong, like her. He became aware of the strength in her face. She couldn’t be more than twenty-five or so. And he saw redness around the left side of her slender neck, most of it hidden beneath the red flannel shirt she wore. Why? Was her skin burned from some tragedy?
“Talon?”
Her voice made him think of warm honey drizzled over his flesh. Talon almost wanted to laugh. As weak and sick as he was, he was thinking about sex. With her. He didn’t even have the energy to smile, much less entertain other things. She certainly inspired his imagination, even if his body couldn’t keep pace with the fantasy he was having about her in his arms, loving her, exploring her, kissing each square inch of that sweet-smelling skin of hers. He saw her lean away, and when she placed a warm, damp cloth against his brow and cheeks, it felt heavenly. He finally realized he was no longer freezing. The warmth of a blanket beneath him radiated heat. He could feel his fingers and toes once again.
Zeke whined.
Blinking slowly, Talon carefully turned his head and focused on his dog. Zeke panted and whined, his big ears up and his eyes dancing with happiness, his hot breath moist across his face. Talon wanted to speak, to pat his dog, but he could do neither. The woman laughed softly.
“Zeke’s been waiting for you to become conscious, too.”
Swallowing hard, his throat dry, Talon closed his eyes, fighting to put one word together. He didn’t want her to stop moving that warm washcloth against his neck and shoulders. God, it felt good.
Talon clung to her warm gaze. Her face was less than a foot away from his, studying him. Was she a doctor? He finally realized that black thing hanging around her shoulders was a stethoscope. Though he wanted to tunnel his fingers through that thick, shining mass of gleaming black hair that softly framed her face, he could barely move one finger.
“W-water...” His voice sounded like the croak of a bullfrog. The woman reached up and then adjusted the IV in his arm. SEALs were trained in giving a team member an IV when they were shot and losing a lot of blood.
How he enjoyed her profile as she turned and busied herself. It was clean. Beautiful. He laughed to himself. Somewhere in his mind, he remembered her name was Cat, appropriate because of her slightly tilted blue eyes. She wore no makeup. And when he flared his nostrils, he picked up her woman’s scent, a special fragrance that was only her. It felt like life to Talon. Hope. Maybe he wasn’t going to die after all?
“Water?” she asked him, looking into his barely opened eyes. They felt cloudy with fever.
“P-please?” he asked. Talon smelled the sweat and filth of his own body. He stank. Yet, this woman didn’t seem to care or mind as she left his side. Where did she go? Talon didn’t have the strength to move his head to find out. The warmth of the blankets felt incredibly good to him. He hated the cold.
And then she came back. Talon heard her tell Zeke to move and she sat down at his shoulder, her hip brushing his arm. Closing his eyes, he savored her warm, dry arm sliding behind his neck and shoulders.
“Okay, up you go,” she urged.
Her breath was sweet and moist as she leaned down, her face very close to his. Talon couldn’t even help her, too weak to sit up by himself. Yet, amazingly, she levered him up and held him with her woman’s strength. She placed the lip of a glass to his mouth. The water was tepid, but it tasted like heaven. He drank thirstily, some of the water leaking out the sides of his mouth, soaking into his beard. In no time, he’d drained the contents.
Talon closed his eyes, feeling the water inside him, feeling less thirsty. He regretted her lowering him down against the soft, fluffy pillows once more, her arm sliding out from beneath his neck and shoulders. He was a big man, and yet, she’d had the strength to lift him. That amazed him. Granted, she appeared to be almost six feet tall, was medium boned, but she was still all woman. Starving for her touch once more, Talon closed his eyes, feeling better but missing contact with her. Better to imagine it for now. The fever still had him in its grip and his mind bounced around. What would it be like to kiss that mouth of hers? It was a soft mouth, full and wide. The kind a man could drown himself in, explore and make his own. He’d kissed his share of women over his time as a SEAL but her mouth intrigued him more than any other. Would her skin, those faintly flushed pink cheeks of hers, feel like warm velvet beneath his exploring fingertips? Would her hair feel warm and silky as he sifted them through those strands? Talon bet they would.
Cat continued to study him in the silence. The whole scene settled the anxiety that had hovered about him these past few months—maybe years. She gave him peace when he no longer had any himself. Made him feel safe in a world he knew was unsafe. All of this from just her gaze.
“Your fever has just broken,” she said, touching his forehead.
Just keep on touching me. It feels so damn good. Talon greedily absorbed the feel of her fingers sliding lightly up and down his arm in slow, gentle motions. Did she realize how good it made him feel? How long had it been since he’d felt this kind of peace?
His dog. Talon barely opened his eyes. “Zeke?”
She smiled. “He’s right here. We gave him food and water. He’s okay.”
Relief zigzagged through Talon. Zeke was being looked after. Gratefulness embraced him. He couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, exhausted.
The last thing Talon knew, her long fingers gently stroked his lower arm, as if to reassure him that everything would be all right. His mind began shutting down. This respite was like heaven to him.
Cat didn’t want to stop skimming her fingers across Talon’s arm. As she saw him sink into sleep, she remained at his side. Zeke had lain down parallel to the bed, his paws touching her booted feet. Cat swore she no longer saw worry in the dog’s huge brown eyes that glittered with such fierce intelligence.
She had to stop stroking his arm or else she’d be in big trouble. She fussed with the covers, making sure Talon was snug and warm. Once again, she gazed upon his sleeping features. She wondered again what kind of weight this man carried on his shoulders. Why was he walking out in that miserable blizzard? Did he not have any money?
Cat stood and walked over to the pile of his wet, smelly clothes. She picked up his jeans and went through the pockets. She found a wallet and sat down on the edge of the bed to take a look. He had a driver’s license, a military ID and about twenty dollars. And that was it. No credit cards. She set the wallet down on the bed stand and turned her attention to the dog. Moving her fingers slowly across Zeke’s long, powerful body, she noted he was thin but not starved like his master. Talon must have fed Zeke before himself. He cared about Zeke, but not himself as much. Cat reached out without thinking, sliding her hand gently down Talon’s forearm. His skin was no longer moist. Instead, she could feel the fever ebbing.
Cat sat there, couldn’t bring herself to move. She felt an odd peace sitting here, witnessing Talon in sleep. She was rarely at peace with a man around. Oh, the guys that she worked with at the fire department were all known quantities and, over the years, had finally accepted that a woman could do as good as a man in that vocation. She treated them like the brothers she’d never had. And she was no longer threatened by any of them.
But a new man like this one? Well, she’d usually go into threat-and-defense mode. Her past taught her not to trust a man’s intentions toward her. Ever. She’d blundered in and made some hellacious mistakes with men who’d encouraged her to let down her defenses. Beau Magee had been her last mistake. And now she was paying a heavy emotional price for her poor choice. She couldn’t blame herself for not trusting, but then, why did Talon seem so...unthreatening?
Maybe he was the worst kind of man—the one who seemed kind on the outside but was a predator on the inside. And yet, she saw humor and kindness in Talon’s expression. Plus, he treated his dog with love and respect. There had to be goodness in Talon.
Finally, Cat roused herself and reluctantly got up and left. Quietly closing the door, she walked into the warm, bright yellow kitchen. Val, Griff and Gus were sitting at the table having coffee.
“How’s he doin’?” Gus asked.
“Much better,” Cat murmured, pouring herself coffee and sitting down next to Gus. “Fever’s broken and that’s good. He drank a glass of water.”
Gus nodded, eyeing Cat. “He has you to thank for saving his hide.”
Cat took a sip of the coffee. “Helping people is the reward in itself.”
Val smiled across the table at Cat. “You’re always so humble, Cat.”
Gus moved her hand across Cat’s shoulders. “She’s just built that way, Val.”
“Talon owes his life to you and I’m sure he’ll be grateful,” Griff said.
Cat always felt uncomfortable when people praised her. “Hey, did someone call Sandy Holt?”
“I did,” Val said. “She’s thrilled Talon is here but worried sick about him having pneumonia. I told her that he’d be okay and would call her soon.” Standing, Val went to the counter to start cleaning up the breakfast dishes.
Cat turned and looked out the windows. “That blizzard isn’t letting up, is it?”
“No,” Griff muttered. “It’s not going to stop until late tonight, from what the radio said.”
Val patted her husband’s shoulder. “It’s a stay-in-and-work day.”
“Are you still going to show us how to can today?” Cat flashed Gus a hopeful look.
“Of course,” Gus said, grinning. “You have to stay near if Talon needs you, anyway.”
The suggestion filled Cat with warmth. She wanted to be near Talon. It was more than a patient-paramedic relationship and she knew it. But she wasn’t willing to share that awareness with them. It was embarrassing that she wanted to touch him. How could she be drawn so powerfully to him, out of the blue like this?
“Well,” Griff said, and sighed, “I’m going out to the barn. Got to tinker with the tractor engine. And I’ve got plenty of work to fill this day.” He slowly rose and picked up his empty coffee mug to bring to the dishwasher. “You learn the art of canning today. I’ll brave that weather and work out in the barn. I’ll see you at lunch.”
Cat watched the tender glances between Val and Griff. How many times had she wished she had that kind of intimacy and love with a man? She had to be cursed. That was all there was to it.
Gus slowly rose from her chair and Cat turned toward the elder.
“Are you really up for teaching us today, Gus?” Cat knew she had arthritis in the hip she’d broken a year earlier and was moving a lot slower. Weather affected it, too, and today she was walking stiffly.
“Of course,” Gus said, smoothing down the blue apron across her thighs. “I’m going to show you how to can corn, beans and tomatoes.”
Griff sauntered out of the kitchen, threw on his cowboy hat, shrugged into his sheepskin coat and pulled the gloves out of the pocket. “See you ladies at noon.” He grinned and caught Gus’s attention. “What’s for lunch?”
“I’m gonna make a big pot of chicken soup,” she said. “Talon’s gonna need something good and filling to eat and the rest of us can use a hearty soup on a day like this.”
Griff leaned against the entrance, pulling on the gloves. “Miss Gus? Any chance you’re going to make homemade biscuits to go with that soup?”
Gus grinned. “Just for you, Griff, I’ll make a batch.”
“Thank you,” he called. “See you ladies later....”
Val straightened and turned toward Gus. “He loves your biscuits. I wish I could bake them the way you do.”
Gus patted Val’s arm. “Not to worry. I intend to be around until I’m at least a hundred. Griff will get lots of biscuits between now and then,” she said, and chortled.
Cat laughed, finishing off her coffee. She loved being a part of the Hunter and McPherson families. And she was grateful to be hired as a part-time wrangler on her days off to help out Val and Griff. “Make lots, Miss Gus. I love hot, homemade biscuits with butter and honey on them, too.”
Gus shook her head and gave Val a look. “We got a bunch of biscuit eaters on our hands, don’t we, Val?”
“Yes,” Val said, smiling, “we do. I have a hunch when Talon gets better, he’s going to eat a lot of food. He’s so thin.”
Cat washed out her mug in the sink. “He’s way underweight. I looked in his wallet and all he had was a twenty-dollar bill on him. That’s nothing.”
Gus snorted. “He was makin’ sure Zeke was eating and he cheated himself in the process.”
Cat rested her hips against the counter. “Why doesn’t he have more money?”
Val shut the dishwasher. “Because he’s been sending most of his paychecks home to his mother, Cat. And when he got wounded and then discharged from the Navy, his source of income dried up. He’s out of work. Poor guy was probably trying to make it home before he ran out of whatever savings he had.”
“Twenty dollars,” Gus grumbled. “That’s paltry. And why was he walking out in that consarned blizzard?” She shook her silver head. “Makes no good sense to me.”
Val sighed. “Gus, he probably has post-traumatic stress disorder. Talon was in black ops. Those guys are bound to have it big-time.”
Cat frowned. “And that means he couldn’t ride in a bus? Or fly in a plane?”
Val shrugged. “He’s got a combat assault dog at his side. I’d imagine the plane or bus people wouldn’t want the dog on board. My guess is he’s hitched and walked to get back home.”
Cat said nothing, but felt even more deeply for Talon. “And his mother has no money to loan him to get him from the hospital to here. Rough deal.”
Val grimaced. “Being in the military is always tough, Cat. And Talon’s going to have his hands full once he gets back on his feet. Sandy’s in bad shape and the chemo is really taking her down. I worry....”
Because she was a paramedic, Cat knew what chemo did, understood it took a poison to kill a poison, but the person suffered horrendously during the process. “I wish we could do more for Sandy.”
Val picked up some of the mason jars from a box on the floor and started lining them up on the counter. “Talon is coming home at a terrible time. I’m worried he won’t be able to handle it all.”
Cat bent down and put the last of the canning jars on the counter. She picked up the box and got it out of the way. “No one goes through life alone. Maybe Talon’s going to need support himself.”
Val pulled open a drawer and drew out two aprons, handing one to Cat. “We all need help from time to time. He should go see Jordana. She’s an expert on PTSD and helped a lot of vets in this county.”
Gus pulled out a huge kettle and set it in the sink to fill it with water. “Well, that young man has a job here at the Bar H. He’s a hard worker. And once he gets well, Griff is going to need a full-time wrangler to help him. Talon grew up on the Triple H, which was next to our ranch, and then Curt Downing stole it from under Sandy Holt’s nose for a song.”
Cat remembered that Curt Downing was dead, shot by an escaped convict on a trail up in the Tetons. All his holdings, according to his will, went to a nephew by the name of Chuck Harper, who sold the ranch to an Easterner. And he was an even worse person that Downing had been. “I wonder if he’ll sell the Triple H?”
Gus snorted. “I’m having Griff look into it. We need more land and it makes sense to buy it. The present owner did nothing with it except try to put condos on it. Thank the good Lord that the mayor said no to his plan.”
Gus had made a lot of money off the sale of her own ranch on the other side of Wyoming decades earlier. She didn’t know exactly how much, but Griff had an MBA from Harvard and was now taking care of the woman’s money for her. Gus had told her one time that Griff was making her a lot of interest and she was very happy to have her son-in-law handle the finances. “If you could buy the Triple H, that would make Sandy and Talon happy.”
Gus nodded, then became sad. “It was such a shame Sandy’s second husband, Bradley, died in that auto accident. He was in the process of expanding the ranch, doing good things with it. But Sandy wasn’t up to dealing with the ranch after his death. And then, suddenly, there was the cancer. Griff’s going over to see about the ranch after the blizzard is done blowing through. I’d really like to buy the Triple H. Fingers crossed.”
Cat smiled to herself. Gus was a big thinker and dreamer. But she had the money, the smarts and Griff helping her to make her vision come true. Gus was unstoppable when she wanted something.
Cat heard Zeke urgently begin to bark.
“Uh-oh,” Gus muttered, peering toward the hallway. “That dog’s barking. Wonder what’s wrong?”
“I’ll go see,” Cat said, hurrying out of the kitchen. Her heart amped up a little as she opened the door. Zeke instantly whined, wagging his tail at the doorway. He turned around and hurried to the bed.
Cat frowned and quietly shut the door. Talon Holt was sitting up, his long legs hanging over the edge of the bed, most of the covers pulled aside. His maleness struck her. He was naked, his body massive and powerful even though he was underweight. His head was hanging almost on his chest, his large hands gripping the mattress to stay upright. Only a few blankets lay across his hard, thick thighs. His feet were large, his legs spaced apart as if to stop him from keeling forward and falling off the bed. She heard his labored, rasping breaths. Her eyes widened as she saw he’d yanked the IV out of his right arm, bright red blood streaming down his forearm. No wonder Zeke was barking.
“Talon?” she asked, keeping her voice low and soothing as she walked toward him.
He barely raised his head, his eyes slits as he regarded her.
Cat felt sudden alarm. Talon was pale, breathing hard, his eyes glassy looking. She crouched down in front of him to make eye contact. “Did you take your IV out?” Did she dare touch him? He was different when he was awake. He’d been so approachable in sleep. Now he trembled, as if it took every last bit of his strength for him to remain upright.
“Yeah,” he managed with a croak.
“I need to stop the bleeding,” Cat said softly. She slowly reached out, placing her fingers on his right hand. His fingers dug deeply into the mattress. When she touched him, he winced. Instantly, she withdrew her hand. Something was wrong. She sensed it.
“Talon, you’re safe. You’re here at the Bar H. My name is Cat Edwin and I’m a paramedic. I’m here to help you. Will you let me touch you?”
He scowled, staring sightlessly past her, his attention on something else she couldn’t fathom. Was he hallucinating? The way his naked shoulders were bunched, Cat felt in danger herself. Maybe it was overreaction from her past, from her childhood. And then she saw him lift his chin and look directly at her.
“Blue?”
Cat stared, her lips parting. “Blue? Who’s Blue?” she asked softly. And then tears came into his murky gray eyes. He seemed to fight them back. He swallowed convulsively several times.
Talon had to be hallucinating. Cat eyed the dark red blood still leaking from the IV wound. He must have ripped it out of his arm, because the flesh looked torn and ragged. She had to stop the bleeding and get him to see and hear her instead of whatever held him prisoner.
Slowly getting up, she called Zeke over. She guided the dog over to Talon.
“Talon? This is your dog, Zeke. He needs you to pet him. He’s worried about you.”
Zeke began licking the blood off Talon’s arm, whining and anxious.
Holding her breath, Cat watched Talon slowly blink a few times. His mouth opened and then closed. His eyes became harder and more focused on the dog sitting between his legs. The dog was thumping his tail against the pine floor, the only sound in the room. Talon slowly released the fingers of one hand from the mattress and he laid his hand on the dog’s broad skull. A little fear left her and she slowly unwound from her crouched position.
“Talon? I’m going to fix your arm. Is it okay if I touch you?” Cat stood uncertainly, her own senses telling her that if he wasn’t yet here with her and Zeke and if she touched him again, he might lash out at her. She had no experience with soldiers or anyone with PTSD. Druggies, yeah. But not this. And she knew enough to go slow, to allow Talon to process her request.
Zeke whined, reaching up, licking Talon’s bearded cheek.
“Yeah...go ahead,” he rasped thickly, his gaze fixed on his dog.
Relief sped through Cat. She went to her medical bag, drew out items and then walked to his side. Putting on a pair of gloves, she cleaned the area inside his right arm and quickly patched it up, halting the bleeding. There was a bowl of water on the dresser and she took the washcloth and wiped away the blood left on his arm and hand. When she crouched down to gently pry his fingers out of the mattress, she felt the heat of his stare on her. Her skin prickled and her heart took off in an unsteady beat. He turned his large hand over for her and she saw the many calluses across his fingers and palm. After wiping his hand free of blood, she placed Talon’s hand back on the mattress.
“You okay?” she asked, meeting his eyes. There was clarity now in them. Huge gray eyes with large black pupils staring intently at her. For a second, Cat’s imagination took off. He was the hunter. She was the prey. Oddly, she didn’t feel threatened. Instead, she felt her womb contract. Felt the heat of his intense stare, the utter masculinity of him, the power of him as a man. It excited her and simultaneously scared her.
No man had ever made her feel hot, needy and achy in her lower body. But Talon did. In spades. Gulping, Cat stood up and quickly moved to the dresser to rinse out the bloody washcloth. What the hell was going on with her? Licking her lip nervously, Cat cast a glance over her shoulder. Talon had lain back down, drawing the blankets haphazardly across his lower body. His eyes were closed.
Zeke lay down by his bed.
Watching the dog helped Cat understand what was going on with Talon Holt. He’d also ripped off the cannula that had given him extra oxygen and it lay on the floor next to the broken IV line. She picked them both up and shut off the IV. Did she dare sit down beside him as she had before? No, she couldn’t. Her throat went tight and she found it hard to breathe for a moment.
As she worked near the bed, she felt his eyes open and focus on her again. Looking up, he was watching her. Cat muttered, “I’m cleaning up.”
He barely nodded his head.
Her hands were shaky. Cat removed the IV and placed it in her medical bag. She wrapped up other equipment.
“I remember you.”
Cat froze for moment. Talon’s voice was deep and hoarse. But he was awake and alert. Considering his medical condition, she was stunned by the strength of his tone and the clarity in his eyes. “What do you remember?” she asked.
“How beautiful your eyes were after you stopped to help me and Zeke.”
CHAPTER FOUR
CAT WAS BRINGING Zeke back from a potty break an hour later. She pushed open the bedroom door. Talon jerked and suddenly sat up, tense, breathing harshly. His hands were curled into fists, raised as if ready to strike. Surprised, Cat anchored just inside the entrance. The man’s narrowed eyes went black. Instantly, her heart started to pound. What was going on?
“Talon? It’s me, Cat. It’s all right,” she managed, her fingers tightening around Zeke’s leather collar. The dog whined, his gaze riveted upon his master.
Talon stared hard at her. His breath came in gasps, his chest heaving with sudden exertion. Slowly, he lowered his hands and unfisted them. “What the hell are you doing?” he snarled.
Stung and shocked, Cat kept her anger closeted. “I just took your dog out.”
Talon wiped his face and uttered a curse under his breath. It was a bad idea to wake him suddenly, as if he were still in the middle of a nightmare. “Yeah...okay...thanks,” he muttered and lay down on the bed, throwing his arm across his closed eyes.
What had just happened?
Shaken, Cat released Zeke. The dog instantly trotted over to the bed, wagging his tail. She quietly closed the door, her heart banging away in her tightened throat. The expression on Talon’s face scared the hell out of her. He looked savage. Lethal.
As she moved closer to his bedside, she could see that Talon’s color was better. He dragged his arm off his face, opened his eyes and stared grumpily up at her.
“I need to listen to your lungs and take your temperature,” she offered by way of explanation.
“Do it,” he rasped, closing his eyes again, his mouth a single line.
Zeke whined and then sat down next to the bed. Cat gathered the equipment from her medical bag at the end of the bed. She hesitantly sat down, her hip brushing against his. His eyes snapped open, a fierce look in them. She recognized an adrenaline surge when she saw one. Cat felt badly. The man didn’t need any more shock or trauma than he presently had.
“I’m sorry I startled you,” she murmured, holding his dark, turbulent-looking gaze. Even his nostrils were flared, and he was still dragging in and releasing short, sharp breaths. Yeah, she was no stranger to adrenaline, understood its effects from her firefighting duties.
“Whatever you do from now on,” Talon growled, “don’t ever come over and touch me while I’m sleeping.” He dug into her gaze. “I could hurt you very badly, Cat, and that’s the last thing I want to do.”
She chewed on her lower lip, regarding his warning, searching his eyes. “Is this because you were a SEAL?”
“Yes,” he said. Talon held up his hands. “I know how to kill a person fourteen different ways with these. They are considered lethal weapons here by U.S. law enforcement. Please—” and his voice lowered with emotion “—no surprises. If you need me awake, stay at the door and call my name. I’ll come up in a hurry, like I did just now.”
Her heart contracted with pain. “Got it.” As she pulled the blanket down to expose his chest, she saw more than anxiety in his narrowed eyes. Maybe fear? She wasn’t sure. Talon was still breathing hard. Labored. Cat warmed the stethoscope between her palms so it wouldn’t feel so startlingly cold to his flesh. Gently, she placed the stethoscope against his chest, listening. She tried not to be influenced by his warm, hard flesh. As she grazed him, his skin tightened, the muscles leaping beneath. The man’s chest was powerful.
“Can you move your head to one side? I need to put my ThermoScan into your ear for a moment and take your temperature,” she said.
He nodded and turned his head slightly so she had easy access.
Cat felt shaky inside. Talon was a sensual, dark, dangerous and exciting man. She wasn’t used to feeling this way.
She looked at the ThermoScan. “Thanks. Your temperature is really going down. It’s a hundred degrees now. That’s good news.”
“How about my lungs?” he asked. “I feel like an elephant’s sitting on my chest.”
Cat gave him a sympathetic look. “I know. There’s still crackling in them. That means a lot of fluid remains in them. I’m going to give you another shot of antibiotics.” She got up.
Talon watched her move. Cat was medium boned, had flesh on her, but she was clearly athletically fit. Her red flannel shirt barely outlined her breasts. They were full breasts, the kind a man could hold in the palms of his hands. She was long in the torso and her hips flared. His gaze roamed the longest pair of legs he’d ever seen on a woman. He liked a woman’s legs and fantasized just how taut and curved her thighs were beneath the material of her jeans. He could feel himself hardening. Cursing mentally, Talon forced his body to not react to her. When Cat turned around, he feasted on her oval face, those so-soft lips of hers, wondering how she would taste beneath his exploration.
Cat sat down and rubbed an area of his upper arm with an alcohol swab. “This is going to hurt,” she warned him. His biceps was huge.
“That’s nothing,” Talon said. Her eyes focused and he barely felt the sting of the needle into his arm. She was good as a paramedic, no question. As she leaned forward, her slightly curled black hair slid off her shoulders and swung forward, bracketing her face. Talon itched to lift and sift the ebony strands through his fingers. He’d probably startle the hell out of Cat if he gave in to the desire, and he didn’t want to scare her. Sometimes, Talon saw fear banked in her eyes. Fear of him? Well, after he came up swinging, yeah, she’d be scared. But there was more to it. At some point, he’d find out the truth because he wanted to know her a helluva lot better.
Cat placed a small piece of gauze over the shot area and quickly wrapped it in some latex. Just getting to slide her fingers around his arm gave her secret pleasure. Talon’s muscles tensed automatically wherever her fingertips brushed against his flesh. Worse, she felt turned-on, a dampness between her thighs. No man had ever elicited that kind of response from her. Ever. Cat had no reasonable explanation for her body’s reaction, as if it acted independently from her mind. And her contact with Talon created dark, intense and unreadable emotions in his eyes. Cat impulsively reached out, touching his wrinkled brow. His skin was warm and drier than before. His eyes instantly narrowed upon her. Her womb contracted. Pulling her hand away, Cat quickly stood and put her equipment into the medical bag. She wiped her damp palms against her jeans and turned.
“Your skin is drier. That’s a good sign, too. Can I get you anything to eat or drink?”
“Water,” he growled. Talon saw her reaction to his rough tone. For a moment, Cat looked confused. Her black hair was mussed around her shoulders. He wanted to thank her for taking care of Zeke. And he felt like hell for snarling at her when she’d awakened him out of a dead sleep. Dammit. The last thing he wanted to do was ever hurt her.
Talon watched Cat walk to the bed stand and pour him a glass of water. He struggled to sit up, the covers pooling around his hips and lean waist. When she turned, he reached out, his fingers wrapping around the glass, accidentally grazing her fingers. The moment sizzled between them, warmth flowing up his hand. God knew, he wanted to touch Cat all over. Her lips parted, as if she was wildly aware their touch had created a firestorm between them.
“Thanks,” Talon said gruffly, taking the glass. He tipped his head back, gulping it down.
“More?”
“Please.” He pushed the pillows against the headboard and relaxed against them, watching her. Cat was tall. And solidly built. She was all grace in motion. Her hands were long, slender and beautiful. Talon saw a number of scars across them and he wondered how she got them. “I’m sorry I scared you earlier.”
Cat handed him the second glass, her body feeling hot and needy. There was regret in his rough voice as he took the glass. “It’s okay. I’ve dealt with combative, injured or sick people before.” But I’ve never seen the reaction I just saw in you. Standing there, unsure, Cat watched him tip back his head, the strong column of his throat exposed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Masculine. He was so blatantly, sexually male that it shook her. And his dark sexuality called to her whether she wanted it to or not. Talon’s shoulders were incredibly broad, the muscles taut. His arms were ropy with lean muscle. There was nothing weak about this man and Cat tried to still her stunned reaction to him: he was pure sex. Her mouth went dry, and she took the emptied glass, needing a glass herself.
“More?” she managed, her voice husky.
Talon shook his head, regretting the anxiety in her eyes. “No...thanks. Look, I’m not going to bite you. I’m sorry I went into combat mode when you opened that door.” His mouth thinned. “I can’t help it.” Talon wished he could.
“It’s all right,” Cat said softly, setting the glass down. “You know where you are, right? You’ve had a high fever since I picked you and Zeke up this morning.”
Talon rubbed his face. “Yeah, I’m here at the Bar H. Right?” His hand fell away and he stared up at Cat. Those eyes of hers made him long to dive deep into them and never resurface. They reminded him of the color of the Indian Ocean he’d swum in as a SEAL. Deep blue. Mysterious. Amazing. He’d like to be deep in her. Buried up to the hilt. The thought was searing. Talon felt himself respond. Great, he was going to get an erection. Not a good idea.
“Yes.”
“And your name is Cat Edwin and you’re a paramedic.”
Shocked at how well he remembered things, she nodded. “Right.”
“I think I remember Miss Gus was in here one time, but I’m not sure. Sometimes, I was hallucinating.” Talon felt filthy and he smelled sour, his body unwashed for weeks. It wasn’t a pretty smell, unlike Cat. She smelled sweet, her hair holding a cinnamon scent and that of cold, winter air. Talon closed his eyes, getting a grip on himself. Yeah, he was horny. No, it wasn’t a good idea to be that way right now. He’d been in and out of the Naval Hospital at San Diego for almost six months. The nurses were nice. Some drop-dead gorgeous, but in the state he was in, sex was the last thing on his mind. His body, mind and soul were struggling to heal.
Until now.
Until her.
Dammit, he was in so much trouble. Pushing his hands along the blankets over him, Talon scowled.
“Do you work for the Bar H?” he demanded.
Cat pulled up a chair and sat facing him. She folded her hands in her lap. “I work here part-time.”
“Is that why you were driving on that road this morning?” Talon saw a clock on the dresser. It was 3:30 p.m. He remembered looking at the watch on his wrist this morning. It had read 7:10 a.m.
Cat nodded. She could see his gray eyes were sharply focused. “My full-time job is as a firefighter with the Jackson Hole Fire Department. On my days off, I come out here and I’m a wrangler.”
He stared at her. “You’re a wrangler?”
She grinned. “What? A woman can’t herd cattle? Fix fence? Tangle with a bull?” She saw color settle briefly in his cheeks. Was Talon Holt blushing? Laughing softly, she said, “It’s a gender-neutral job as far as I know.”
Talon had the good grace to manage a partial, apologetic smile. “You’re right,” he acknowledged. Did Cat know how hot her mouth was? How sexy she would look if she didn’t wear those loose clothes? Oh, why the hell was he noticing her this way? This woman had just saved his sorry ass. He should be feeling grateful, not aching in pain from an erection he kept hidden deep beneath the covers.
“Are you hungry, Mr. Holt? Miss Gus made some chicken soup for you. I could bring you a bowl?”
He looked over at her. “Call me Talon. It’s the least I can do to thank you for saving me and Zeke this morning.” He began to cough. It was a deep, ragged cough and he pressed his hand hard against his chest, trying to catch his breath. When he finally stopped coughing and could breathe, he saw Cat’s concerned look. “Yeah, I could eat a little something.”
She stood. “You’re really underweight.”
Talon gave her a flat look, saying nothing. He wasn’t about to go into why he was underweight with anyone. “I need some clothes to wear.”
Cat walked over to the dresser and brought over some folded men’s clothes and set them next to him. “Griff McPherson is the owner of the Bar H with his wife, Val. He’s about your height and he gave me these for you. Your, uh, other clothes...well...they’re pretty done for.” Cat didn’t want to embarrass him by telling him they were ratty, thin, smelled horrible and that they belonged in the trash. She watched as his large, scarred hand took the jeans, dark blue flannel shirt, boxer shorts and socks out of her hands.
“Thanks,” Talon said, his voice hoarse after the coughing. “While you get me that soup, I’m going to the head, get a shower and put on these clean clothes. Where are my boots?”
“Out by the woodstove in the living room. They should be pretty dry by now. I’ll bring them in with me when I bring in the soup. There are towels, washcloth and soap in the bathroom for you, too.”
Talon nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you in about half an hour?” What he didn’t want was to be strutting naked across the room when she came in unannounced. That would not be a good idea. Talon saw her smile a little. Damn, her mouth was a magnet. Soft, full and that lower lip slightly fuller than the upper one, this side of being pouty, just begging to be kissed, nipped and taken.
“Deal,” Cat murmured, heading for the door. “And next time, I’ll knock first.”
One corner of his mouth quirked upward. She was a fast learner.
Talon had forgotten the sheer luxury of a hot, steamy shower and soap rubbing the sour smell off his flesh. He spent nearly twenty minutes in there scrubbing his dirty hair and beard free of how many weeks of accumulated crud? He was weak, his legs shaky, but he used the glass shower wall to keep himself upright. The softness of the thick terry-cloth towel felt incredibly lush over his flesh. He climbed into Griff’s clothes, found a comb to tame his long hair. He discovered a razor in a drawer. It was a woman’s razor, but it would do. In no time, he’d gotten rid of the damned beard, his face free of the hair. In Afghanistan, as a SEAL, he always wore the beard to fit into the Muslim culture. In reality, Talon preferred his hair military short, his face beardless.
Rubbing his hand across his jaw, he noticed that he’d nicked himself pretty good a couple of times. He used a tissue to blot the blood away, putting pressure on those places to stop them from bleeding. He took a smaller towel to wipe the steam off the mirror. God, he looked gaunt, like a damn skeleton. Dark circles rested beneath his eyes and his skin was stretched tight across his wide cheekbones. Talon forced his hair back into a small ponytail behind his neck after spotting a stray rubber band on the counter.
Talon didn’t look closely into his eyes. He knew what was in there, hoping no one else could read him. His sixth sense, honed by years of combat and saving his and the lives of his men, told him Cat Edwin saw everything about him. He sensed she could look into his soul and that made him nervous.
He wiped his face free of the dampness caused by the steam of the shower and dropped the towel on the counter. Opening the door, he saw Zeke standing by the bed.
“Come,” he called to his dog.
Instantly, Zeke bounded into his opened arms after he crouched down. It was important to have playtime with his Belgian Malinois. Zeke’s black muzzle, dark ears and fawn-colored body was wriggling with excitement. He danced around in Talon’s opened arms, whining and playful.
There was a knock.
“Come in,” Talon called.
The door opened.
Talon told Zeke to sit and he did. He rose as Cat entered with a large tray in both hands. In her fingers beneath it dangled his dried leather boots. He walked over and gently retrieved his boots from them.
“Thanks,” he told her. Her eyes widened and she almost halted, staring up at him.
“Y-you look so different,” she stammered. Talon was so ruggedly good-looking that Cat nearly lost her grip on the tray. His eyes were clearer. There was much less tension swirling around him, too. His mouth was relaxed. Cat felt a sweet, building heat bubble up inside her. The man’s mouth without that scraggly beard was so kissable. Chiseled and strong, like him.
Talon closed the door behind her. “Can you set the tray on the bed?” he suggested, going to the chair and sitting down. He pulled on his hardened leather boots, knowing they’d need some softening work with leather soap. Another day. His legs were weak.
Talon sat down on the edge of the bed. Cat placed the tray across his lap.
“Miss Gus made some of her world-famous biscuits for you,” she said, straightening. Cat couldn’t stop her reaction to the coiled tension swirling around Talon once again. It was dangerous. Exciting. Taking a few steps away, she watched as he looked longingly at the bowl of steaming chicken soup. Miss Gus had put several sizable chunks of breast meat in it along with oodles of noodles.
Talon shook his head. “No...this will be fine. Thank her for me.” He glanced up at Cat. The expression on her face startled him. Was that desire that he saw? Something was going on between them. It was like a living, organic connection simmering and popping between them.
He didn’t dare think about it.
Talon scowled and picked up the large soupspoon. There was a pink linen napkin beside the bowl and nearby salt and pepper shakers.
“Okay,” Cat murmured. “I’ll let you eat in peace.” Because if she stayed, she’d start asking Talon a hundred questions and he didn’t need that right now.
Nodding, Talon watched her leave. The sway of those sweet hips beneath the loose-fitting jeans made him go hard again. Damn, the woman was really riling up his body. It wasn’t her fault, Talon realized as the door quietly closed. Cat was not flirting with him. He didn’t see a ring on her left finger, either. But nowadays, that meant nothing one way or another. She was probably hooked up with one lucky bastard who was privy to that luscious body of hers. He grew harder. Cursing softly beneath his breath, Talon took a first, tentative sip of the soup.
His stomach growled loudly. How long had it been since he’d last eaten? Three days, maybe? Walking the plains of Wyoming, the towns so far apart there was no way to get food. He always kept enough kibble for Zeke in his rucksack, which lay across the room, propped up against the wall. And he’d run out of protein bars, which were good but too damned expensive for him to buy.
The soup tasted delicious and he ate slowly, reintroducing food to his shrunken stomach. The silence settled around them. Zeke appeared happy, his brown eyes alight with joy. Talon could read his dog just as well as Zeke could read him. They’d been together a long time and knew each other like few animals and humans ever would. He smiled at Zeke and then picked up a noodle, blew on it to cool it and then gave it to his dog. Zeke gobbled it down, licking his muzzle on both sides and then giving Talon a pleading look for more.
Outside the window, Talon could see the blizzard was still in full force. It looked like another six inches had accumulated since Cat had rescued their sorry asses off that highway this morning. His hand shook badly as he brought the spoon to his lips, spilling half of it into the bowl and the rest around the tray. Cursing softly, Talon set the spoon aside, curved his hands around the bowl and lifted it to his lips, instead.
Talon wiped his mouth with the linen napkin afterward, thinking he’d died and gone to heaven. A warm room. He was dry. He wasn’t freezing anymore. His teeth weren’t chattering. He could feel his toes and fingers. Life was good. All thanks to Cat stopping and the generosity of Miss Gus and the McPhersons. He had a lot to thank them for and he would once he got some strength back.
Cat Edwin. He sat there, mentally repeating her name, scowling. Maybe he was frustrated because of nearly a year without a woman. As a SEAL coming back off deployment, it was easy to hook up with a woman, no strings attached. SEALs were always a hot commodity. Talon shook his head. Cat interested him on that level, for sure. But there was something more to her that he itched to explore. And then Talon grunted and shook his head. He was penniless, needing a job and he had responsibilities for his mother. Getting involved with Cat wasn’t in the cards right now. Maybe later. Probably never. For all Talon knew, she could be married and have a bunch of kids. Still, he owed her. Big-time.
* * *
TALON WAS DOZING when he heard a soft knock at the door. Cat called through the door. Instantly, he sat up.
“Come in,” he called, his voice rough.
“You look better,” Cat observed. That was an understatement. Talon was stunningly handsome. He could be a model, that rock-hard, clean jaw of his. His large, well-spaced eyes missed nothing. She felt the heat of his gaze on her face, drifting south, to her breasts. Instantly, her nipples hardened. Thank God she wore a heavy flannel shirt. Cat wanted to cross her arms, hide from him. His look triggered threat within her. It brought back memories of her father looking at her in much the same way and it scared her for a moment. The mature woman in her understood it was a man appreciating a woman. But the little wounded girl inside her cringed in terror. Of possibly being hurt. She swallowed hard and forced herself to walk in, regardless of his inspection.
“I feel better,” Talon said, watching her progress. Jesus, he felt like a starved wolf wanting to claim his mate. Cat was in good physical condition. He could tell just by the way she walked, the way she carried herself. There was no excess on this woman’s body except in all the right places. He sensed trepidation in her—and he was the cause. He had the laserlike focus any SEAL would have. Their sudden intensity scared people or made them uncomfortable. But it was an ability that had saved his and his team members many times before.
“Miss Gus would love to come in and visit you,” Cat said, picking up the tray and facing him. Zeke sidled up to Talon, and the man gently petted his dog with his large hand. Her flesh rippled with possibility. She wondered what it would feel like for Talon to graze her flesh in just such a way. Despite his height and his size, his touch on Zeke was clearly tender with love. Her heart melted. Though Talon was a rugged and big man, he could be gentle. That reduced the threat level markedly as she stood beneath his warm appraisal.
“Sure,” Talon said, clearing his throat. “But if I could get someone’s cell phone? I need to call my mother first. She needs to know I’m all right.” He had a cell phone but couldn’t pay the bill, so it wasn’t working. Not something he wanted to admit to anyone. Talon felt ashamed that he was destitute, relying on the goodwill of others to help him scrape through this harsh period in his life.
“I’ll tell Miss Gus. She’s got a cell she can loan you.”
Talon watched Cat turn and leave. Man, the sway of her hips, that very nicely defined butt of hers and his fantasy of wrapping his hands, grabbing—
“Talon!”
He lifted his head, seeing Miss Gus limp into the room. “Hey, Miss Gus, good to see you,” he rasped.
Gus grinned and stopped in front of him. “Talon, you look awful.”
“Thank you, I think.” And then he lost his smile, slid his hand into hers and squeezed it gently. “Thanks for giving me room and board.”
Snorting, Gus leaned over and kissed his recently shaven face. “Welcome home, Talon. You know you’re always welcome here.” She released his hand and sat down in the wooden chair near the bed, intently studying him. “Cat said you’re doing better. Your fever’s down but not gone.”
Talon nodded and lay on the bed, his back against the headboard. “Whatever she’s doing is helping me a lot.”
“Cat’s the best. Thank the good Lord she found you out there this morning or a snowplow would’ve discovered your frozen body tomorrow morning on that highway.”
Grimly, Talon sighed. “It was a close call, Miss Gus.”
“Well, you weren’t meant to die just yet.”
Flinching inwardly, memories of Hayden and him strung up, being tortured, slammed into Talon. Hayden did die. Talon had almost died but clung to life until Zeke brought help and he had been rescued, a hairbreadth from death himself. His throat tightened and he croaked, “Yeah, it wasn’t my time.”
“The soup good?”
“Wonderful,” Talon admitted, suddenly emotional. “I remember you making me those chocolate-chip cookies when I was a kid, Miss Gus. I knew your chicken soup would be good.” Tears pricked the backs of his eyes and Talon quickly willed them away. “You and your family have been very kind to me and I appreciate it.” Shame flowed through him. He wanted to tell Miss Gus why he’d sunk to such an all-time low, a homeless vet, without money, without any support, but he couldn’t go there. At least, not yet. His focus was on his mother, Sandy, not himself or trying to explain why he was in this predicament.
Gus pulled out her cell phone and handed it to him. “Listen, you call Sandy. Lord knows, she’s on tenterhooks waiting for your call.” She waved her finger at him. “But you can’t go see her, Talon. You could give her your bacterial pneumonia and she’s on chemo right now. If she caught your pneumonia, she could die. Okay?”
He nodded, opening the cell phone, seeing that Gus had put his mother’s number up on the screen. “Got it,” he rasped.
Gus stood up. “Okay, you call her. And oh, tell her that once you’re well, you’re a full-time wrangler at the Bar H.” Her eyes gleamed with pleasure. “We need help here, Talon. And I can’t think of hiring anyone better than you. Are you agreeable?”
Agreeable? Hell, he was downright grateful. Tears burned in his eyes. Again, Talon shoved them deep down inside himself. Into what SEALs referred to as their kill box. That’s where all their unwanted emotions, good or bad, were shoved. Never to see the light of day again. That way, he could continue to function, continue to be a warrior on the front lines, not distracted by human feelings. Clearing his throat, he said, “Yes, that’s agreeable, Miss Gus. Thank you.”
“Good. Now, I’m having Cat fix up a small bedroom down the hall from my room here. Cat always takes the room next to yours. She’s getting yours ready for you right now. After calling Sandy, if you feel up to it, we’ll move you to your permanent room here in the house until you’re well. Will that work?”
Talon’s mouth pulled into a grin. “That will work, Miss Gus. Thank you.”
She limped to the door. “My granddaughter, Val, and her husband, Griff, agreed to hire you. It wasn’t just me who wanted you. I told them you’d grown up next door and were pushing cattle around and mending fences since you were a kid. We’ll all be happy you’re here with us, Talon.” She waved a finger at him. “Come out to the kitchen when you’re done speakin’ to your mom if you’re up to it. You are so skinny it’s scary. You need to eat some of my freshly made biscuits with some strawberry jam I made last August.”
Talon felt new warmth flow into his heart. Hope, maybe. He had a job, thank God. It was the one thing he desperately needed. Talon tried not to think about everything, focusing in on calling his mother. His heart wrenched as he punched in her phone number. He tried to shore up his emotions. How he wanted to be with her, hug and hold her. A phone call was going to have to do for right now. He was just grateful he was alive to give her a call in the first place. Talon didn’t want her to know how close he’d come to dying this morning. Or before that, either. He wanted her focusing on herself.
CHAPTER FIVE
TALON SQUEEZED HIS eyes shut, desperately trying to stop the tears after he finished the emotional phone call to his mother. He gripped the cell phone so hard he thought he might destroy it. Finally, he dropped it on the bed beside him.
Zeke came over, whining. Blindly, Talon reached out, rubbing the dog’s dark ears, something he enjoyed. It felt as if there were a bunch of writhing, angry snakes in his tight gut. Unconsciously, Talon rubbed the area, still fighting back the tears that wanted to fall.
His mother sounded like she was dying. As if she’d given up. Talon understood it better than most. He’d given up this morning out on that highway.
Lifting his head, Talon blinked back the tears, angrily stuffed them into his kill box and glared around the bedroom. A sense of suffocating helplessness overcame him. His shoulders sagged and he leaned over, pressing his brow against Zeke’s broad head. The dog whined and pressed his seventy-five-pound body in between his legs, always a sign of affection and care toward his master.
Chest tight, his throat aching, Talon ran his long hands across Zeke’s soft, dry fur. “What the hell am I going to do, Zeke?” His voice cracked. “What?” It felt comforting to have his dog pressed against his leg. How many times in Afghanistan had Zeke done this? Known when he was upset, needing a doggy hug? So damn many times. This dog had saved his life so many times that Talon had lost count.
Lifting his head, Talon shoved the tears away. He glanced at the clock on the dresser. Four-thirty. Dinner would be at six. Miss Gus had asked him to come to the kitchen but, dammit, he didn’t want to. The thought of talking to anyone right now, with the exception of Cat, rubbed him raw.
Talon needed her. He yearned for Cat’s quiet sense of stability, her husky, honeyed voice soothing his rough, jagged and exposed edges. Every time Cat touched him, he felt a moment’s peace. She gave him a corner of quiet in a violent, stress-filled world of combat that lived and raged inside him nonstop. Six months in a hospital had done nothing but agitate him. The only thing that had healed was his physical body. God, he needed Cat. She was like a battle dressing around his bleeding heart. Talon felt as if he were hemorrhaging emotionally.
His mother was dying.
Just then a soft knock came at the door. Talon scrambled to control his feelings. The only person he wanted to see was Cat. Anyone else, and he’d send them away, telling them he was too sick to get out of bed. It was the truth.
“Who is it?” he called, his voice harsh.
The door opened. Cat peered in. “It’s just me. Do you need anything?”
As he stared at her, his heart started to pound. “Come in,” he said. Relief flowed deep and strong through him as she quietly entered and closed the door behind her.
“You talk to your mom?” Cat asked hesitantly, standing uncertainly by the end of his bed. Talon looked pale. His eyes were dark and anguished. No doubt, he was upset. Zeke sat between his opened legs, Talon’s long fingers stroking the dog’s head and ears. The way his mouth was pursed, Cat knew what Talon knew: Sandy Holt was slowly dying. Her heart wrenched with grief for Talon. All she wanted to do was slide her arms around his shoulders. Talon really needed it. But Cat was unsure he’d accept her embrace.
“Yeah, I just got done talking to her.” The words came out hard-edged, laden with emotion. Talon looked over and patted the bed next to him. “Come and sit down.” He searched her blue eyes, silently pleading for her nearness.
“Sure,” she whispered, walking over. Cat sat down, leaving a foot between them. She remembered him warning her not to touch him. But what would Talon do if she suddenly embraced him? He needed touch, kind words. “How are you doing?” she ventured, looking and holding his tormented gaze.
“Not good,” Talon said roughly. “My mom’s dying.”
Cat rubbed her hands slowly between her thighs. “She’s fought so long, so hard, Talon. Sandy’s tired....”
Savagely rubbing his face, he wanted to cry. Cat’s subdued voice was a healing balm to his ravaged heart. Talon had no way to stop the grief awakened in him once again. He had thought that in the year since Hayden had died, the grief would recede. Now it was there again at the same intensity, glaring at him, raking his heart over cut glass once more. Talon wasn’t sure he could take another personal death. Hayden had been a brother to him, and his mother, whom he loved deeply, was now slipping away.
Cat took a huge risk and reached out, slid her hand across his shoulder. She felt his skin tighten beneath her fingertips, felt his muscles leap. “I’m so sorry, Talon. So sorry...”
Her touch broke something wide-open. He made a sound, maybe a sob, maybe a cry for help that had never been released. Raggedly whispering her name, Talon swept Cat into his arms. He buried his head against her shoulder and jaw, his breath uneven, his heart raw. Talon held her so tight he thought he might be squeezing the life out of her. He could smell the sweet scent of Cat’s skin beneath her shirt. She smelled of fragrant almond. The silken strands of hair trapped between his cheek and her shoulder reminded him of an apple pie cooking in the oven, the hint of cinnamon encircling his flared nostrils.
A soft gasp tore from Cat as Talon turned and inexplicably hauled her into his arms, crushing her against him. It was so unexpected, but so right and so wonderful. Without thinking, Cat curved her arms around his tense shoulders, tightening them, holding him near. She closed her eyes, feeling his ragged, moist breath against her shoulder, his need for human contact. Talon trembled in her arms, and Cat could feel him fighting back tears, struggling to stop so many awful emotions from erupting.
“It’s going to be okay, Talon,” she whispered. “Just breathe. Take this one minute at a time. I’ll help you get through it.” Cat was shocked at the words tearing unthinkingly out of her mouth. She couldn’t stop them. Cat soothed him with her hand, her fingers skimming across his back, smoothing the flannel shirt here and there. Gradually, she felt him begin to relax in her arms. Begin to give over his steel control to her. She’d seen this reaction before in traumatic car crashes, the shock starting to wear off the survivors, their need for comfort.
“It’s a path you have to walk, but you don’t have to walk it alone. I’ll be here for you. Gus, Val and Griff will be here, too. It’s going to be hard, but you’ll survive.” Tears jammed into Cat’s eyes as she haltingly spoke the words. Talon’s response was to hold her even tighter, crushing her against him, clinging to her as if she were his only anchor in his world of chaos and if he released her, he’d be lost. Closing her eyes, Cat relaxed completely in his grip. She felt the hard thud of his heart against her. Felt her breasts pressed against his chest wall.
And when Cat threaded her fingers through his clean, silky hair, he trembled violently. How long had Talon gone without care? She continued her ministrations because she felt Talon relax in her arms, loosen his grip around her. She smiled to herself, grateful for all her experience as a paramedic to know what to do. She knew all about dying and death. She’d grown up in a household where she was unsure from one day to the next whether she’d be breathing.
Her fingers moved from his hair to the nape of his strong neck. Cat thought she heard Talon groan but, then, figured she was making it up. There was such secret pleasure in exploring his flesh. All this had done was fuel a hunger she’d never experienced before. She was shocked by her body’s response to him. This had nothing to do with her mind—it had to do with his being so damn sensual. Being around him made her feel needy.
Talon knew he had to release Cat. It was the last thing he wanted to do. God, she was strong and soft at the same time. He absorbed her warmth like a famished man. She was relaxed in his grip, surrendering to him. Trusting him. Talon felt like a thief. Cat gave herself to him freely and without reservation, holding him, stroking him and feeding him in so many invisible ways.
And all Talon could think about was pulling Cat down on the bed, kissing her senseless, taking her, filling her, running from all those dirty emotions that were eating away at him right now. If he could just bury himself into her soft, wet confines, the world would go away for a while. Sex was the greatest mindblower of them all. It stopped him from thinking. His feelings were channeled into pleasuring the woman, pleasuring himself and the powerful emotions of lust that would ripple through his body. It would erase all the grief. The terror. The anxiety. Everything. It was the most powerful medication in the world. Oh, God, he ached to take Cat, make her his woman, make her his.
Reason started creeping back into Talon’s brain. Cat must have had a significant other or she was married. That made his heart cringe with renewed grief. He’d never met a woman like her. She was a healer. She could heal him, he just knew it. Sensed it to the black depths of his fractured soul. Now he had to release her. He didn’t dare kiss her. Because if he ever touched that mouth of hers, he would be lost. And he’d want her like he’d never wanted anything so badly in his life.
Talon had to let Cat go. Finally, he eased his arms from around her and lifted his head from her shoulder. As he looked up into her eyes, his heart crashed. He wanted to cry. Her eyes burned with love and care for him. Just for him. And her mouth, damn, her lips were parted and tears streamed down her cheeks, nestling into the corners of her mouth. She was crying for his sorry-assed soul.
Shaken, Talon stared at her in the thickening silence. No one had cried for him before, except his mother when he was a young child. And Cat was crying for him, for the coming loss of his mother, who meant the world to him. He’d already lost his father. Then he’d lost Hayden. Now...oh, God, now his mother was leaving him, too.
The loneliness gutted him wide-open. The emotional rawness was tempered only by Cat’s arms still loosely placed around his shoulders as she stared without apology for the tears in her eyes. He made a sound in his throat, lifted his hands and used his thumbs to remove her tears.
“Don’t cry for me,” he growled. He wasn’t worthy of her tears. His life was a train wreck. He didn’t deserve this kind of care....
Closing her eyes, Cat felt his callused thumbs brush the tears from her cheeks. Her throat tightened, the lump growing. She wanted to burst out into sobs for him, for what she felt around him that he’d never released. She lifted her lashes as his hands fell away from her face. How she missed his touch! Sniffing, Cat eased her arms from around his shoulders. With trembling fingers, she wiped the tears from her lashes.
“It’s okay to cry, Talon,” she whispered, her voice unsteady. “It’s good for the soul.” Seeing the look in his stormy eyes, Cat knew he wasn’t accepting her whispered words at all. “Think of crying as a way to discharge the infection, the toxins, the awful emotions you’re carrying around inside of you, cleaning you out. That’s a good thing.” Cat reached out, trailing her fingers tenderly across his cheek.
Talon placed a steel hold on himself. Never mind he had an erection pressing painfully against his jeans. Never mind what he saw in Cat’s half-closed, drowsy blue eyes as she’d grazed his cheek. One part of him said she’d touched his cheek out of compassion. Care. The other part, the dark, male part of him, the sexual hunter who wanted her, read her touch as a way to let him know she wanted him.
Talon felt like a mess. He was still sicker than a dog, still had a fever, wasn’t breathing all that well and he’d just talked to his dying mother. No way in hell could he sort out Cat’s response to him. And he cared enough about her not to try. Cat sat there looking so innocent, the compassion clear in her gaze. Getting a grip on himself, Talon forced himself to put his hands on his thighs, not on her.
“Your mom is a fighter, Talon,” Cat said, her voice raspy. “I came to Jackson Hole seven years ago and met her right after she’d gotten cancer the first time. I’d met her at Mo’s Ice Cream Parlor where she worked as a waitress. We became really good friends and when I saw her looking bad one day, I asked her what was wrong.” Cat stared down at her clasped hands in her lap. “I told her I’d be there for her and I have been ever since. Your mom loves books, and when the chemo really got her down and she was too weak to work, I’d go over on my lunch hour when I had the shift at the fire department, and read to her. She loves her books so much.” Cat managed a small smile, holding his flat, dark look. “Maybe...if things work out, you might support her by going over to read to her every once in a while. I know she’d love that. She loves you so much.”
Talon hung his head, grappling with the knowledge. “Yeah,” he rasped, “I know she does. She used to read to me as a kid. I always looked forward to her coming into my bedroom every night and she’d read a chapter from a book.” The memory was sweet. Filled with love. Talon had always looked forward to that special time with his mother.
“Sandy told me,” Cat admitted softly. “Over the years, she brought out all her photo albums.” She gave him a tender look. “I guess you might say I got to know you from the time you born. Sandy is so proud of you, Talon. I knew you were in the Navy, went into the SEALs and she really didn’t have much in the photo album from recent times except for the few pictures you sent back to her when you were in Afghanistan.”
Wincing internally, Talon remembered those photos he’d sent her. They were all of Hayden and him or Zeke. His mother loved animals and he could email her about Zeke. He could never tell her about his missions or anything that had happened on them, but she loved his stories about Zeke. His heart clenched with renewed grief. Cat had seen photos of him and Hayden together, their arms across one another’s shoulders, their M-4 rifles propped on their hips, grinning like fools into the camera after a twelve-hour patrol. He dragged in a shallow breath, the pneumonia still not allowing him to take a deep one.
“I’m glad you’ve been here for my mom,” he admitted, giving her a quick look of sincere thanks. His heart contracted. There were still tears in her eyes. Cat was too easily touched. He felt helpless to fix this.
“Sandy’s a wonderful person,” Cat said quietly. “And I can see so much of her in you. She has been such a strong member of our community. She did a lot of volunteer work before she got sick. Now all those people she’s helped over the years have turned around to help her. You need to know your mom is greatly loved, Talon. Gwen Garner, who owns the quilting store, has her club members see Sandy weekly. In fact, it’s Gwen who gave all of us a monthly visiting schedule. Your mom gets lots of company every day. Gus fixes her a dinner once a week and I drive it over to her. A lot of the quilters make her breakfast or lunch.” The darkness in Talon’s eyes lightened, some of the tension around his hard, thinned mouth dissolved. “About fifty people volunteer to help Sandy. I don’t want you to think your mom has been abandoned. We’ve embraced her and she’s as happy as she can be. And now you’re home.” Cat’s voice grew stronger with feeling. “I know how much she’s been looking forward to this. You’ll give her a level of hope and care none of us ever could. This is the time when she needs you at her side.”
Nodding, he stared down at Zeke, who had laid his head on his thigh. “She sounds so damned weak.” And it scared the hell out of him to realize how close she was to dying. When he’d call her from the Naval Hospital, about once a week, she was always cheerful, upbeat and hopeful. Not now.
Cat placed her hand lightly on his shoulder. “She is weak. It’s the chemo. And I know you’re feeling pretty weak yourself right now. It’s going to take about two weeks for you to throw off this pneumonia and begin feeling halfway human. Did Sandy understand you couldn’t see her right away?”
“Yeah, I lied a little.” Talon absorbed Cat’s touch, desperate for more contact with her. He’d wanted to kiss her. Make love to her. How she sensed his needs was beyond him, but he was grateful anyway. “I made light of my pneumonia because I didn’t want her to worry. She knows I can’t be sick and visit her or it could impact her lowered immune system in a major way.”
“I think calling her daily will be a huge emotional boost for her,” Cat murmured, smiling a little. She couldn’t keep her hands off Talon. Just simply moving her fingers across his shoulder sent heated signals to her lower body. Wanting. Just him. Just Talon. Cat removed her hand. There was so much uncharted emotional territory with this man and she couldn’t trust herself.
“I can at least do that,” Talon agreed, his voice gravelly. His flesh was tingling, heat radiating from where her fingertips had rested. Did Cat know her power over him? That she gently held his heart between her work-worn hands? That any contact with her made him grow hard? The innocence in her expression stunned him. She was old enough to understand a woman’s ability to inflame a man. Talon wanted to know everything about Cat. His finely honed sixth sense told him her innocence was real, that she wasn’t worldly.
Something...God, he knew something terrible or traumatic had happened to Cat to make her this way. And his sexual response to her was like that of a hungry wolf. She’d saved his life, brought him back from the brink of death. She sure as hell deserved a helluva lot more than him stalking her like a selfish bastard. Talon moved his hands slowly up and down his thighs, scowling. Unhappy with himself.
“I need to check your lungs and get your temperature,” Cat told him, forcing herself to move. A chance to touch him again, but this time, it really was about checking Talon’s temperature and making sure he stayed on the road to recovery. “Can you lie down?”
“Yeah,” Talon grunted, easing Zeke from between his legs and then lying down on the bed. He watched Cat through half-closed eyes. When she looped the stethoscope around her neck, he couldn’t help saying, “Whoever the guy is in your life, he’s one lucky bastard.”
Cat’s eyebrows moved up and she froze for a moment. She stared at Talon on the bed. He was a big man and his hands were tucked behind his head, his expression curious. She managed a short laugh. “There’s no one in my life.” She reached down into her bag and retrieved the handheld Braun ThermoScan thermometer.
“Why?” Talon cursed himself for his bluntness. Pain flashed across Cat’s face as she sat down on the bed.
“I have bad luck with men in general,” she admitted. Opening his shirt and folding it open, she listened to his lungs.
Talon stared up at her. Cat had problems with men? He watched her closely as she listened intently through her stethoscope. When she was finished, he asked, “So, you’re not seeing anyone presently?”
She picked up the ThermoScan and eased it into his ear. “That’s right.” Shame flowed through Cat. Her latest bad choice involved Beau Magee, a truck driver with Ace Trucking. As she removed the thermometer, she murmured, “Good, your temp is ninety-nine degrees.” She smiled down into his troubled-looking eyes. “That antibiotic is really taking hold.”
“And my lungs? How do they sound?” He absorbed her every move, her every expression. That smile of hers was like sunlight piercing the heavy darkness of his mangled heart and broken soul.
“Improving. Still crackling sounds, but less so.” She patted his hand. “You’re really going to have to rest for two weeks, Talon. If you overdo it, you’ll relapse.”
“I’m not the type to sit around.”
“Yeah,” Cat said, and chuckled, getting up and walking to her medical bag. “I got that. You’re a man of action.”
“Being a SEAL, you’re on the move all the time. I get antsy if I have to stay anywhere for more than fifteen minutes.”
As she leaned down to put her equipment away, he truly appreciated her rear, those generous hips. It was too bad she didn’t wear clothes that fit her a little better. Everything Cat wore hung on her, as if she were hiding her body within the folds of the fabric. She should be proud of it, showing it off.
Straightening, Cat turned and grinned at him. “Well, you’d best give yourself a talking-to about that, because as bad a case of pneumonia as you have, enforced rest is mandatory.”
“So, do you play any card games?” he teased. Talon liked the way her mouth curved upward.
“No, but I like Scrabble. I’m always trying to improve my vocabulary.” Because in grade school she nearly flunked out of reading. But then with her father stalking her, abusing her, Cat’s mind wasn’t really focused on learning the alphabet, phonetics or reading. She was focused on surviving. “Actually, your mom got me into it. I would read to her and stumble over words I couldn’t pronounce, so we played Scrabble.”
Warmth filled Talon’s heart. His mother was a good and kind person. “Okay, Scrabble. You can teach me how to play it. Otherwise, I’ll go crazy if I have to stay in a room for two weeks. Maybe I could move around outside a little.” Talon touched Zeke’s head. “And my dog absolutely needs to get outside, play and run around.”
“Like his master?” Cat teased. “When I’m here at the ranch, I’ll make sure to drop by for a game of Scrabble. Right now, Griff is starting spring cleanup and getting all the leather, saddles and mechanical equipment up and running again. Once this snow clears, he’s going to have me out mending a lot of fence that has been destroyed by the winter.”
“And as soon as I can, I’ll be helping Griff and you.”
She smiled. “Gus told me they hired you as a full-time wrangler. That’s wonderful. I’m really happy for you, Talon.”
Talon was happy about a lot of things. Mostly, happy that he’d see Cat at least a few times a week. Precious time. Food for his heart, his body and soul, but he said nothing. “Listen, I’m not going to make it out to the dinner table tonight.”
Cat nodded and walked toward the door. “No worries, Gus will understand. Do you feel like eating some solid food, though? Gus made rump roast, boiled new red potatoes, steamed broccoli with cheese sauce and a rhubarb pie for dessert. Interested?”
He didn’t want her to leave just yet. “Maybe a little of everything.” Powerful emotions raced through him as she brightened. Her cheeks flushed. Cat cared about him. He could see it. But she might just see him as another patient—and not as a man. There was always a gold glint in the depths of her blue eyes when she was close to him, touching him. As if she enjoyed the contact as much as he did.
“Okay,” Cat called over her shoulder, opening the door. “I’ll bring in a tray at six.”
CHAPTER SIX
“TELL ME ABOUT yourself.” Talon sat on the edge of his bed, Zeke nearby. He picked up his knife and fork to cut into the roast. The food smelled heavenly and his stomach growled.
Cat sat in the chair, a tray across her lap. She didn’t want Talon eating alone at dinnertime. It had been Gus who suggested she keep him company. Of course, she couldn’t argue.
“Not much to tell,” she murmured. Zeke thumped his tail as Talon gave him a piece of cooled meat. The smile that came to Talon’s face made her melt. He looked so different from the hard, focused man she had seen before. When he lifted his chin, those gray eyes focused on her, Cat felt that pull, that euphoria. It was as if she were wrapped in light, held, loved. Loved? Cat slowly set her flatware on her tray, confused by her senses.
“Where were you born?” Talon saw her cheeks flush and she avoided direct eye contact. Why?
Zeke whined.
Talon pulled his gaze off Cat and patted the dog’s head.
“I was born near Cheyenne, Wyoming,” she said simply.
Talon sampled the beef, closing his eyes and savoring the hot, delicious food. It had been two months of walking from San Diego to Wyoming, on foot with Zeke, to reach home. He hadn’t eaten well but had made sure Zeke was properly fed. The meal on his lap was a banquet. A feast of unimaginable proportions. And it all smelled so good.
“What did your parents do?” he asked casually, hoping to defuse the wariness in her eyes.
Cat frowned and pushed her food around on the plate. From the quiet way Talon asked the question, she could tell he cared. But it was like stirring up a toxic waste dump from her past, the last place she wanted to go. She’d spent the past ten years of her life distancing herself from it, from him, her father. She never wanted to go back to that time. Now Talon was forcing her to and she was resistant.
“My father worked as a wrangler on a ranch,” she mumbled.
“Your mom?”
“She died when I was ten.” She glanced up and gave him a sympathetic look. “Breast cancer.”
Talon scowled. “I’m sorry.” He could see the tension on her face. “Listen, if I’m being too nosy just tell me to back off.” Because he had no desire to bring pain to Cat. God knew he carried enough in him.
Cat shrugged. “My childhood wasn’t pretty and I don’t like talking about it.”
Okay...well, that answered some of his questions. “How did you get interested in being a firefighter and paramedic?” he asked instead. Maybe that was safer ground for Cat. Some of the fear left her eyes. She started eating again.
“I always wanted to be one since I could remember. I went to college in Cheyenne and took Fire Science.” She didn’t want to tell him how much she struggled with reading. Or the nights spent with a teacher who helped her catch up. “When I graduated, I came here, to Jackson Hole, and got a job.”
Talon nodded, enjoying her as she relaxed. “Are there any other women on the fire department?”
“I’m the only one.”
“You picked a tough career.”
“No man is going to tell me what I can or can’t do in my life.”
Talon heard the steel grit behind her words. She was frowning, paying attention to eating, not looking up at him. Yeah, he’d sensed a toughness in her, like Kevlar plate armor. It wasn’t that obvious, because he’d been privy to her paramedic side, the healer—not the firefighter. “I imagine some of the men didn’t want you in their ranks, thought you couldn’t perform the physical work.”
“That’s for sure,” Cat said. “Lieutenant Matt Sinclaire, though, gave me a chance. Half the department didn’t want me. The other half was okay with it. I’d taken all the physical tests and passed them with flying colors.” Cat smiled a little and held Talon’s interested gaze. “I’m not exactly petite, as you can see. I’m five foot ten inches tall and strong. I can pull a two-and-a-half inch hose filled with water just as well as any man. I’m not even the smallest firefighter, either. Steve, who is twenty-seven and near my age, is a few inches shorter and definitely weighs less.”
“I’ll bet you two are best friends?”
She caught the amusement in Talon’s eyes. “Yes. From the get-go we were tight. Maybe misery loves company, although the guys at the fire department never made it tough on Steve like they did to me.”
“But you had paramedic skills. That must have helped convince them.”
“It did. But it was Matt who stood by me. He fought for me and, fortunately, I was good at my job.”
“And how many years ago was that?”
“Seven,” Cat said, feeling the tension dissolve. She didn’t mind talking about her life from eighteen years old onward.
“Now are you fully accepted?”
“I am.”
“And why are you working out here at the Bar H on your days off?”
“Because I want to buy a house.”
He grinned. “What’s your dream house look like?”
She laughed a little, finishing off the vegetables. “You’ll laugh.”
“Try me.”
“Why do you want to know?” she challenged.
“Because I care.” He held her mutinous look. Cat really didn’t want anyone within those walls she had erected. He added gently, “Because you saved our lives this morning. I’d like to know more about you as a person.” That was the truth, but Talon didn’t add that he was attracted to her. If he admitted that, Cat might disappear.
Cat looked down. “I’m a very private person, Talon.”
He said nothing and resumed eating. Cat wasn’t someone to be pushed into a corner. She’d shut down, just as she had right now. There was definitely some baggage in her life.
“In some ways, you’re a shadow warrior like me,” he admitted.
“Is that what SEALs are? Shadow warriors?”
“Black ops always works in the shadows,” he told her. Talon handed Zeke another morsel of beef. The dog’s eyes were alight with happiness.
“Why did you join the SEALs?”
Talon studied Cat for a moment, trying to decide if she really wanted to know or if she was turning the tables on him and deflecting more questions. He decided she was genuine in her curiosity. “I wanted to make a difference.”
“You could have done that any number of ways. You didn’t have to be a SEAL to protect the country or do your patriotic duty.”
“I liked what they did,” Talon said. “I grew up hunting and tracking and felt my skills could be best used in that way.” His stomach tensed. They were going into forbidden territory. He didn’t want to talk too much about his work, his past.
“Sandy always loved getting your emails. She said there was a lot you couldn’t tell her.”
Nodding, Talon said, “My military life is top secret. I can never talk about it.”
“She said you’re a hero.”
Talon cringed inwardly. He didn’t feel like a hero. More like a failure. He’d failed to rescue Hayden. His mouth flexed. “I’m not.”
Cat regarded him for a moment, sensing his pain. Maybe it was in the sudden tightening of his face or the way his fork and knife hesitated over the food. “She said you’d earned two Silver Stars, a Bronze Star and two Purple Hearts. In my world, that makes you a hero even if we never know what you did to earn them.”
“They’re just medals,” he growled. “They mean nothing.”
Cat remained silent and cleaned up the rest of the food on her plate. She risked a look at him. His mouth was hard. Zeke was watching his master intently, as if sensing his withdrawal.
Standing, Cat said, “Do you want some dessert? Coffee? I’m going out to get mine.”
Talon shook his head and gave her his unfinished tray. “No...thanks. Tell Miss Gus it tasted good. I’m just not up to eating that much right now.”
There was misery in his expression. She ached for him. “After we’re done with dinner, are you up to walking down the hall to your room? I’ve got it ready for you.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I just need to rest a little bit.” Because he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, Hayden’s death. His inability to save him.
“Sure,” Cat murmured, taking the tray and putting it on top of hers. “I’ll be back later.”
Talon stretched out on the bed. Outside, it was dark. “Could you turn the light off when you leave?” he asked.
“Will do.”
* * *
“HOW IS TALON?” Gus asked as Cat sat down with her rhubarb pie with vanilla ice cream.
“He’s tired. His fever is lower, but he’s really underweight, and pneumonia can fell the strongest of men.”
“I had pneumonia once as a kid,” Griff said. “Miserable stuff. Took me almost a month to recover fully from it.”
“It’s nothing to mess with,” Gus agreed, grim. She looked over at Cat. “How’s Talon really doing?”
“I think he’s on an emotional roller coaster. He talked to Sandy and he’s upset,” Cat said.
“Anyone would be,” Val offered, giving Cat a gentle look. “How are you doing, Cat? You’re on the front lines with Talon. He’s got PTSD.”
“He sure does,” she admitted, enjoying the tart, sweet rhubarb pie. “I accidentally walked in and woke him up earlier. He sat up in the bed, his fists cocked, and the look in his eyes scared the hell out of me.”
Gus shook her head.
Val reached over and touched Gus’s arm. “Talon just left the hospital. He’d been wounded. I’m sure he’s reliving all the hell he went through.” She looked pointedly at Cat. “And you have to be careful with him. Those black ops guys, when they’re wounded, they pose a threat to the nurses and doctors. They’re taught how to kill with their hands and if you get too close to them accidentally, they can take you out. If you have to wake him, just stay by the door and call his name. That way, you’re not within arm’s reach.”
“That’s what he told me afterward,” Cat admitted. “Val, you’ve never talked much about your Air Force service or being an intelligence officer. How do you know so much about what Talon did?”
“Because from time to time, as an intelligence officer, I went out with black ops groups into the field. It was dangerous, clandestine work.”
Griff studied his wife. “And I’m glad you’re no longer doing it.”
“Makes two of us,” Val assured him. “I’m glad I came home.”
“Makes three of us,” Gus said. “The Bar H is coming back to life under your and Griff’s guidance.” She grinned and rubbed her hands together. “And now, with Talon agreeing to work for us full-time, that’s going to help us with the plans we’ve got on the back burner for the ranch.”
Cat smiled, always enjoying Gus and her fiery personality. “Don’t expect him to start doing much of anything for about two weeks.”
“Don’t worry,” Griff assured her, picking up his coffee mug. “May is always testy and we get more snow than spring sunshine. I’ll go easy on him.”
“Good,” Cat murmured, “because he’s really underweight, Griff. He’s lost forty or fifty pounds from what I can tell.”
“Why so much?” Gus demanded, scowling.
“Maybe six months in the hospital did it,” she suggested. “He doesn’t talk much about himself and he didn’t like my questions when I asked him.”
Val nodded. “Just give Talon time. Don’t press him too much, okay? Chances are him getting wounded has something to do with it. He’s probably going through a lot of emotional trauma he can’t share with anyone.”
“That must be tough,” Gus muttered, “not being able to talk about it to anyone.”
Val put her empty pie plate aside and slid her fingers around the coffee mug. “It’s being caught between a rock and a hard place, Gus.”
Griff sat back, watching his wife with concern. “And that’s why after we got married, on some nights, you’d wake up screaming.”
Val sighed. “Yes. I still get them, but not as much as before.” She reached over and touched his cheek. “Because I have you, I feel safe now.”
Cat tilted her head. “So, you have PTSD, too.” It shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did, because Val seemed so calm and collected.
“Yes. I’m sure not one-tenth as bad as Talon has it. He was out on the front lines against the enemy all the time. My work was off and on for a couple of years over in Iraq. Still, when your life is on the line, it affects you.” Her voice lowered and she held Cat’s gaze. “Talon has probably seen terrible things, Cat. He’s jumpy and he’s been finely trained until his reactions are all based on muscle memory. He doesn’t think about his defensive moves—they are a part of him. That’s why you can’t be near him when he suddenly jolts awake for whatever reason.”
Griff nodded. “I remember the first time you sat up screaming in bed shortly after we got married. You scared the living hell out of me. I thought you were hurt.”
Val smiled sadly. “Yes, I remember that night. That dream.”
“What did you do to help her, Griff?” Cat wondered.
“When I realized she wasn’t hurt, I just held her.”
“Love always heals,” Gus uttered, eyeing the couple with tenderness. She reached out, patting Val’s arm. “I wish you’d told me this before.”
“It’s hard for military vets to open up, Gus,” Val said. “Man or woman, it doesn’t matter. We carry so much toxic crap inside us, we’re afraid to release it.” She glanced over at her husband. “I guess that’s why we have nightmares and maybe we’re working it out in the landscape of our mind. So much of it is top secret and we can’t speak about it to our spouse or friends. We’re like time bombs.”
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