Rescue Me (17 page)

“She suffered a concussion so severe she had to be hospitalized. We could have lost her. We'd heard of therapy dogs but couldn't afford the training, not on top of all the medical expenses. So once I started working with the animals, I realized I had a calling here at the Second Chance Ranch.”

She'd found a way to help families like hers. To make up for past mistakes.

“You don't charge for the therapy-dog training, do you?”

His question made her uncomfortable. She didn't want him putting her on a pedestal. He needed to see her as she was. Flawed.

“I screen shelter dogs, which reduces the cost considerably if people don't have the money to buy a service dog through traditional channels. I always have a dog in training at the rescue.” She shrugged, putting down her bottle by her empty plate. “I do what I can. I'm working with a couple of other volunteers as well, but it takes a long time. We have to raise the money for the medical cost, care and feeding of the animals either through adoption fees—or charity.”

“That's why the Valentine's event is so important to you.”

“It would certainly bring some welcome visibility, promotion and, hopefully, donations.”

“But no pressure on me to work harder with Holly.” He lifted an eyebrow, teasing, as if sensing she'd grown uncomfortable with the serious turn.

“None at all.” She tipped her head to the side and decided she couldn't just dance around the subject. She wasn't into playing games. She had to know. “Are you flirting with me, with the dinner and conversation?”

“I'm not a flirting kind of man.”

True enough. His brooding nature had been obvious from the start. He had shadows, too. That drew her and scared her at the same time.

“You aren't seriously saying you're interested in me romantically?”

He took a lock of her hair and flipped it between his fingers. “And if I am?”

Her mouth dried up. “Ah, um . . .”

“And you're attracted to me,” he continued confidently.

She flicked her hair free from between his fingers. “You're cocky.”

“I know.” His eyes held hers with a blue-flame intensity that seared her to the core.

That heat burned lower, gathering between her legs until she swayed toward him at the same time as his arms banded around her. His mouth settled over hers, warm and firm, tasting of beer and a hint of sweet barbecue.

She skimmed her hands up his chest and over his broad shoulders. He had a lean, muscled strength to him that sent shivers of want through her. He held her with a restrained strength, and she pressed closer, chest to chest, her breasts aching for flesh-to-flesh contact.

The months since she'd been with him had been filled with dreams of that night. Memories that left her aching to be with him again, to find out if that night was as incredible as she remembered.

He kissed along her jaw and down to the sensitive curve of her neck. She stroked his beard-stubbled face, her head falling back to give him better access as he nudged aside her sweater. This kiss, the whole evening in fact, had made her realize attempting to ignore the attraction hadn't worked. She needed to face it. Deal with it.

Embrace it.

A husky moan parted her lips. “Why have we resisted this for so long?”

“I have no idea.” His hands went to her waist, her sweater inched up enough that his hands brushed a bare strip of skin. His touch released a fresh hint of the sage on his hands, the oils slick and smooth against her.

Her fingers gripped his flannel shirt. “It seemed the right thing to do at the time.”

“And now?” His hot breath fanned against her.

“It seems absolutely absurd.” She flattened her hands to his chest and pushed him to his back on the sofa.

He clasped her hips and settled her on top of him. “I've dreamed about that night.”

“How ironic. Me, too.” She leaned into the kiss, her hair sweeping forward and over him, linking them.

“And here we are.” He stared up into her eyes. “God, just look at you.”

“I believe you are.” And the ardor in his eyes was as unmistakable as the hard press of his erection against her stomach. There hadn't been much looking that first night, just dim lights and frenzied sex.

“I like what I see very much.” He tucked his hands into the waistband of her jeans, his fingers caressing. “Yet I'm not seeing nearly enough of you.”

“That can be remedied.” She toyed with a button on his flannel shirt. “The only question is, do you want me to take my clothes off while you watch or do you want to undress me?”

His eyebrows shot upward. “What?”

A purr of feminine power shimmered through her. “You look surprised. Did you think only Francesca could be bold? She's just me.” She rolled her hips against him once, twice, drawing a groan from him.

“And you are beautiful,” he said hoarsely, his fingers digging into the curve of her bottom.

“So are you.” She kissed his mouth, then his chin. “And once I'm committed to something, I'm all in.”

“Oh, really.” He cleared his throat. “Tell me more.”

“Lucky for us, communication is my life.” She pressed her lips to the V of his shirt, enjoyed the taste of salty, masculine skin.

The taste uniquely his.

Her senses went on overload from the scents and textures and pure pleasure pulsing through her. And before she could think, he'd rolled, tucking her underneath him.

The heat and weight of him anchored her. “Madame Communicator, tell me exactly what you want.”

“I want to hear what you like.” She tugged his shirt from his jeans, her hands gliding up his back, savoring the flex and play of muscles.

“You're full of surprises tonight.” He nuzzled her ear. “I want to pull the sweater off you, my mouth greeting every inch of exposed skin along the way.”

“Oh.” Her breath came in a sigh and request for more.

“Then I want to peel your jeans down and taste the rest of you.” He angled back to look into her eyes. “If you think that's something you would enjoy.”

Her body flamed at the promise. “I would have thought your detective skills would have told you the answer to that one.”

He searched her face. “When it comes to you, I'm not able to think clearly or be analytical. You steal my objectivity.”

His raspy admission sent her arching up to kiss him again, her hand cupping the back of his neck. The honesty in him, in the moment, touched her as thoroughly as his hands. And oh God, his touch scrambled her thoughts. The glide of his hands as they tunneled under her sweater, stroking and teasing each breast until her nipples beaded against her bra and the lace was a sweet abrasion.

The lights flickered with a power surge, off and on and off, until the house hummed back to life again. Not that he seemed to notice or care about anything but pleasuring her. His thigh pressed between her legs, and she couldn't have stopped herself from pressing harder if she tried.

And she most definitely didn't try to stop. She wanted that, and more.

As if he sensed her thoughts, his hand slid between their bodies, unfastening her jeans and tucking inside. The oil on his fingertips met the slick moisture of her need. For him. Now.

Her fingernails grazed down his back as she rocked against him, unable to believe how close she was to completion already. He seemed to know just where and how to tease that tight bundle of nerves until she flew apart, her nails sinking deeper into his skin as she anchored herself in the intense pleasure pulsing through her, wave after wave.

Desire still hummed inside her, so much so she could have sworn her ears were ringing.

Ringing?

Her phone. Ringing inside her bag.

“AJ?” she said against his mouth.

“Ignore it.”

“Right, of course.” She threaded her fingers through his hair.

Holly barked, again and again. She leaped from her bed and ran to Mary Hannah's bag, dragging it by the handles. The ringing stopped.

Then started again.

Sighing, Mary Hannah nudged at his shoulders. “I should at least check. It could be a client emergency. You understand?”

“Sure.” He brushed a quick kiss across her mouth before rolling off her and passing her bag over. “Hopefully it's just a telemarketer, and then I'm taking that sweater—”

“Shhhh! I'm answering.” She fished her phone out of her purse and saw Lacey's number on the ID. “Hello, Lacey, what's going on?”

“Mary Hannah?” Lacey's voice came across the line shaky, tearful, launching a chill. “I need your help. Sierra slipped on the ice. They're taking her to the hospital. She's having contractions.”

Reality series show everything from cooking to giving birth. Who knew you needed a doctor for that?

—HOLLY

P
ACING THE HOSPITAL
waiting room, Lacey couldn't remember when she'd felt this helpless since Allen died. Her daughter had been admitted by the ER doctor and was in a room hooked up to a million monitors. Her contractions were real and regular.

Sierra had just stepped out on the front porch with Mike to sit in the rockers and look at the stars. She'd gotten dizzy and slipped. Mike had been as pale as Sierra, but he'd been all action. He'd carried her inside. Contractions had started just after he'd set her on the sofa.

The pregnancy was only seven months along. Too early.

Her restless feet carried her back and forth between the waiting room sofas and the vending machine, while Wyatt sat in a chair off to the side, catnapping. Nathan and his girlfriend were at home meeting the volunteers to oversee the animals' evening feeding and snow-blowing clear the parking area. Her son had matured so much in the past year, come a long way in healing since his suicidal feelings after his father died. Even knowing Nathan was doing well these days, she hated to put so much responsibility on him, but right now she appreciated his help. He would be in college before she blinked.

God, her children were growing up and she felt like she was missing it. Was she so preoccupied with her own problems that she'd fallen short in being their mother? Lately, she'd been so distracted by Wyatt's proposal, the possible pregnancy, even the Valentine's Day competition, that she hadn't focused on her daughter. While Lacey understood she couldn't watch Sierra 24/7, that didn't stop her from feeling responsible.

If the porch had been better salted?

If. If. If. Her life was full of ifs.

Hospital nurses and social workers passed through the waiting area, trying to console her, and she wanted to scream at them that they didn't understand. This was her daughter. Her baby girl. Her and Allen's child. She swiped away her tears. She couldn't even blame it on pregnancy hormones without telling people . . . what?

That she was weeks late but getting negative pregnancy tests? Yet experiencing all the symptoms?

Better to keep her mouth shut until her doctor's appointment.

Footsteps thudded on the other side of the double doors a second before they swooshed open and Mike stepped through, not a smile in sight. Her tall warrior son-in-law looked defeated—and afraid.

Lacey walked fast and took his hands. “What does the doctor say?”

Wyatt startled awake, looking between the two of them silently, waiting.

Mike sagged back against the wall. “The contractions have stopped, and her water didn't break. That's the good news. But she's already three centimeters dilated.” A sigh racked through him. “They're giving her injections to help the baby's lungs mature faster. Every day she can hang on gives our child a better chance.” Mike swallowed hard. “He's two months premature.”

Two months.

Lacey's legs folded under her, and she sat on the edge of the sofa, the fabric rough against her palms. “How's Sierra holding up?”

“She's scared. So am I.” Mike plowed his hands through his dark hair for what looked like the hundredth time. “The doctor said it wasn't the fall per se. Her blood pressure is high, dangerously so, and that must have made her dizzy, which caused her to stumble. She's being settled into a room now. She'll have to stay here until . . .” He paused, hauling in a shaky breath. “Until the baby's born.”

The magnitude of what happened hit her. Hard. This was real. The baby was going to come early. The only question was how early and how healthy. And how would Sierra's high blood pressure play into this?

Was her daughter at risk as well? “When can I see her?”

“She's been asking for you. One of the nurses promised to come get you as soon as Sierra's settled.”

“That's good to know.” She pushed to her feet and hugged her son-in-law tightly, bound in their fear for Sierra. He didn't have any family of his own. He'd become like a son to her. She patted him on the back once more before easing away to brush aside her tears that had slipped free.

Mike cleared his throat, his eyes sheened with unshed tears. “I need to step outside, call my commander and let him know I won't be returning tomorrow.”

Wyatt stood and thumped him on the shoulder. “Whatever you need, just let me know.”

Mike nodded tightly. “Thanks. I mean it.”

Lacey's son-in-law turned away, his head tucked as he walked to the elevator, fishing out his cell phone.

Wyatt slid his arm around her and drew her back down to the couch again. “Are you okay?”

Her chin quivered. “So-so. Holding on, but by a thread. I'll feel better when I see her.”

A set of doors opened again, and her heart leaped in her throat until she realized they were the doors that led to the hall, not toward the rooms. Mary Hannah rushed in, a tousled mess, unlike her normally smooth self, with her hair scraped back, wearing jeans and a rumpled sweater.

Lacey held open her arms and hugged her daughter's friend. Her friend, too, for that matter. Their work with the animals had given them a bond of their own.

Wyatt rested a hand on both women's shoulders. “I'll find some coffee from the vending machines.” He slipped away without another word, ducking into the nook of hospital fast food.

Mary Hannah eased back. “How's Sierra?”

“Stable for now. Contractions have stopped, but she won't be leaving the hospital until the baby's born.”

Mary Hannah covered her mouth with a trembling hand. “I'm so sorry. How frightening. Have you seen her?”

“Not since she checked into the ER. Mike's calling his commander to arrange for more leave.”

Lacey squeezed Mary Hannah's shoulders again, grateful to have her there. “Thank you for coming. You didn't have to.”

“I wouldn't be anywhere else.”

Lacey looked at her. “It's all just so overwhelming. How does life go on when I can only think about being right here until I know that the baby will be okay?”

“We'll figure it out, one day at a time. I checked on Nathan before we left, and he's doing a great job with the animals, Kaitlyn's pitching in. AJ is helping them and overseeing things.”

Wyatt reappeared beside them, three cups of steaming java held carefully. All the stress of the past few hours welled up inside her, mixing with hormones and the pungent smell of the coffee. Nausea bubbled up her throat.

“Excuse me.” She swallowed hard and bolted for the bathroom.

She pushed open the first stall door just in time, throwing up supper. Had it only been a few hours since she sat down with her family for pizza? Why hadn't she treasured the moment more instead of spending most of the time distracted with worries?

Her stomach as empty as the four-stall bathroom, she leaned against the divider wall, not willing to risk standing just yet. She heard the door open and a pair of brown furry boots strode into sight. Looking up, she saw Mary Hannah yanking out paper towels and dampening them in the sink.

Mary Hannah knelt beside her with damp paper towels in her hand. “Some to clean up and some for the back of your neck. It will help. Trust me.”

Lacey dabbed her face, then put the extras on the back of her neck. Sure enough, it did ease the nausea a hint more. “That's a nifty trick.”

“I learned it when I was pregnant.”

“Thanks. This is probably just the flu . . .” Lacey stopped short, shaking her head. “But I don't want to talk about me. What about you? I didn't know you'd been pregnant?”

“Years ago, yes.” Her brown eyes held a deep sadness. “I had a miscarriage in my second trimester.”

“I'm so sorry.” Lacey sagged back against the stall wall. “All of this with Sierra must bring back painful memories.” She touched Mary Hannah's wrist lightly and found it as icy cold as the tiles.

“I didn't tell you for sympathy. In fact, I prefer not to tell people at all. But I can't help wondering if you're expecting.” She tipped her head to the side, holding Lacey's gaze. “If there's even a chance, you really should see a doctor.”

“I realize that.” Lacey rushed to add, “I have an appointment.”

“Soon?”

“Of course.”

“Are you unsure about keeping the baby? If you're pregnant.”

“If I'm pregnant, I will be keeping my baby.” She said it with a conviction echoed in her heart. “I'm just not sure about a lot of other issues. So if you could please not say anything, especially not now. The last thing Sierra needs is any stress or worry.”

Mary Hannah frowned, her eyes narrowing. “What about what you need? Looks to me like you could use some support, too.”

Lacey had to appreciate her friend's fierceness on her behalf. This had to be so difficult for Mary Hannah.

“You and AJ took care of that by looking after the animals and checking on Nathan—not to mention keeping an eye on him and Kaitlyn so there aren't even more babies on the way in this family right now. Thank you.” She had so many people in her life to be thankful for. And yet she still felt so scared.

“Whatever you need, just ask.” Mary Hannah dabbed the cool towels along Lacey's neck. She would have made such an attentive mother. “You're not alone.”

“The same goes for you, you know.” Lacey couldn't help but think how much Mary Hannah kept to herself, counseling and saving others.

Uncertainty shifted through Mary Hannah's eyes, and she started to speak, just as the bathroom door opened, cutting her words short.

A nurse poked her head inside. “Is Mrs. McDaniel in here? Her daughter's able to have visitors now. Family only.”

Mary Hannah launched to her feet and extended a hand for Lacey. “We can talk more another time. Please give Sierra a hug from me. I'll see her as soon as they let me.”

Luckily the room stopped spinning and her stomach stayed settled as Lacey stood. She needed to stay strong for her daughter and keep her own secret awhile longer. She simply couldn't deal with the added pressure from Wyatt to get married if she was pregnant. Better to wait until she'd seen the doctor.

She followed the nurse down the hall, even managing to smile at Wyatt as he gave Mike the extra coffee he'd bought from the hospital vending machine. Her conscience stung all the harder. Soon, she promised herself. She would tell him soon. She just needed to figure out how to explain the truth she'd been dodging since the day he proposed.

She didn't want to accept his ring.

*   *   *

AJ HEARD THE
alarm ring, notifying him that a car waited at the security gate. The digital clock read 11:45 p.m.

He had roughly the same security system as the ranch. He wasn't all that trusting of the world. He'd been brought up on his old man's stories of the latest case, the newest lows of the criminal element.

The camera view showed Mary Hannah outside, her hand compulsively smoothing back her haphazard ponytail. Her instinctive need for order even when she was fraying at all edges tugged at him. He'd known she was on her way home since Wyatt had called him with an update. Sierra was stable. Lacey and Mike were taking turns sitting with her. Mary Hannah had left as well.

AJ had half assumed she would go straight to her place, that their encounter would have scared her off. Or that she would want to be alone after the crisis with her friend. But here she was, and more than likely there was only one reason for her to return rather than just call.

Relief and desire knocked around inside him, more than he would have expected. If they picked up where they'd left off, neither of them could chalk it up to impulsiveness. This would be deliberate. He would have to be prepared to get more involved. No solitary life for him, walled up here in his icy cabin. But the option of turning her away was unthinkable.

He tapped the code to open the gate.

Holly tipped her head to the side, curled up on her dog bed. AJ opened the pantry and pulled out a large dog bone. “Be a good girl and just enjoy your chewy treat.”

He jogged to the door, urgency powering his steps. He hated what had happened to Sierra, and he knew Mary Hannah had to be upset. He was sorry for that but glad she'd come to him for comfort. She didn't accept help often, so her presence here meant a lot.

A damn lot.

The car door slammed outside, and he opened the cabin door with more than a little anticipation. The night air was crisp, the skies clear. Stars were out in full force, winking through tree branches. Mary Hannah made even haphazard wrinkled look chic, her hair scraped into a quick ponytail, her scarf trailing in an uneven drape so unlike her it made him want to kiss away her worries.

She walked up the steps and straight into his arms. She didn't hesitate, and he didn't argue. He just held her close while she drew in ragged breaths. Sierra's condition in the hospital might be stable, but the crisis was still far from over. The night had taken its toll on Mary Hannah.

He backed into his cabin without letting go of her. Once inside, he tapped the door closed again with his foot. He cradled her head in his hand and stroked her shoulders. She fit against his chest, felt so right. She inched away for an instant to shrug off her coat. The wool jacket fell to the floor, a totally non–Mary Hannah move to leave anything lying about. He sat in his recliner, pulling her into his lap, just holding her. Her hair felt like silk against his fingers, her soft curves molding to him. The clock on the stove clicked away minutes. Tens. Then dozens.

Finally, he asked, “Have there been any changes since we spoke last?”

“None that I know of. They promised to call. Hopefully things have settled for the night at least.”

“Thank God they weren't halfway home at some middle-of-nowhere rest stop when this happened.”