Lindsay McKenna (4 page)

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

C
AT
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.