Then Came You (16 page)

“Honey, he's fine. He's happy. Stop borrowing trouble.”

“I think we should fly to visit him this weekend,” Emily said.

“And I think you should have some chocolate. Or get laid. Listen, I get that you're lonely, and I swear I'll pretend to watch
So You Think You Can Dance
with you tonight but for now, I really am on a roof, so . . .”

Emily sighed and ended the call. She inhaled some really fresh air before she felt a nudge.

Reno, Adam's horse, looking for goodies.

Emily searched her pockets and came up with nothing. “Sorry, baby.”

Reno snorted.

“I know, rude of me.” Emily sat on a fallen log and leaned back. When she was little, she'd loved to try to star watch. In L.A., this was tricky because of all the city lights, not to mention smog. Doing it here, in the land of the big sky, was a whole new ball game. “I'm not lonely,” she said to the horse, who snorted again and swished his tail.

“Good. Cuz you're not alone.”

Two long legs came into her peripheral. Wyatt crouched at her side and looked into her face. “How's your dad?”

“Fine,” she said.

He nodded. “And you?”

“I'm fine, too,” she said.

Nodding again, he sat on the log at her side and leaned back, presumably to look at whatever she was looking at. “Pretty night.”

His shoulder and a part of his chest brushed her arm and shoulder. Actually it was more like he was encircling her within his arm span, which was considerable. It was a guy move, an alpha guy move, and it made her feel . . . protected.

She was getting far too used to that, she thought with a sigh.

“I smell something burning,” he said.

“Where is everyone?”

“Gone,” he said, and there was an odd quality to his voice that had her taking a second look at him. He didn't take his gaze off the sky so she got him in profile, the tousled hair, the fine lines crinkling the corners of his eyes from long days out in the sun, the square, scruffy jaw, and broad shoulders built to take on the weight of the world.

He'd been working his ass off, here at Belle Haven, helping Dell take up the slack for the out-of-town Jade, and then going home and helping his sisters with the monstrous house they were fixing up. He did so much for everyone, and she found herself wanting to do something for him. Make him smile. Make him relax. Make him forget, even for a few minutes . . . She nudged him with her shoulder.

He nudged her back and turned to look at her then, his eyes dark and unfathomable behind his glasses.

Chickening out, she turned her head this time, and stared up at the sky as he had been only a few seconds before.

“Emily.”

When she didn't tear her gaze off the stars, he leaned in and nipped her ear.

Sucking in a breath, she looked at him again. His gaze was still dark, but there were things swirling in those dark depths now. Need. Heat.

Affection.

He stole her breath.

“Let the record state,” she said, reaching out to snatch off his glasses, “that I don't
always
make the first move.”

He blinked in momentary confusion, and probably also because he could no longer see. He opened his mouth to say something, but she sank her fingers into his hair and kissed him, hard and long and deep.

“Emily,” he said when they broke for air, his voice rough and husky.

She climbed into his lap and then pushed him backward off the log so that he fell to his back in the wild grass with her straddling him.

Laughing, he slid his hands beneath her top and up her back, drawing out a delicious shiver from her. Then his hands slid slowly down her spine, and into the backs of her jeans. “Let the record also state,” he said in a delicious growl, “who made the
rest
of the moves.”

“Please say that it's you,” she whispered hopefully.

He rolled, tucking her beneath him, making himself right at home between her thighs. “Got it in one,” he said against her mouth.

*   *   *

When Emily got home much,
much
later, Sara gave her a brow's up from the couch.

“Worked late,” Emily said.

“Uh-huh.” Sara got up and picked a piece of wild grass from her hair.

“Work hazard,” Emily said, thinking of what'd happened between her and Wyatt in the wild grass by burgeoning moonlight—and then again in the staff bathroom where he'd bent her over the counter.

Sara studied her face. “Right.”

“Did you see Sammy when you got here?”

“No.”

Worry niggled at her. She dropped her purse and went back outside, walking to the edge of the grass.

“What are you doing” Sara asked.

“Nothing.”

“Liar. You're looking for your turtle.”

“He's not my turtle. Sammy,” she called, wading into the grass.
“Sammy?”

When he appeared at her feet, she had to sit down on the step in relief. “Oh God,” she said. “He's totally my turtle.”

Sara sat next to her. “Yep.”

“This is how it starts, isn't it?” Emily, having bad flashbacks to their house growing up, filled with the rescues her father could never bear to let go, shook her head. “We keep him, and then the next thing you know, I've also brought home a dog, a cat, a sheep, and an iguana.”

Sara went brows up. “Iguana?”

“It could happen. I've lost control. Every surface of this place'll be covered with cages and crap. We'll be a zoo.”

“I don't actually think we have approval for that from our landlord,” Sara said, looking amused. Her smile faded. “You're not going to turn into him, you know. Dad. And so what if you did? He saved a lot of animals over the years. Hell, babe, have you looked in the mirror lately? You became a damn vet.”

“I love animals,” Emily said. “I just plan to have a life as well.”

“I know,” Sara said. “Everyone knows about your damn plan. How many days left?”

“Three hundred and twenty-seven.” Emily looked at Sammy. He was watching her with his obsidian eyes, and if she wasn't mistaken, there was some judgment there. She picked him up. “You'll be in good hands,” she promised him.

But would he? Would the new tenant of this house feed him, look out for him?
Not
mow the lawn so as to avoid accidentally killing him? And what about Q-Tip?

Or her own heart?

“Uh-oh,” Sara said. “You've got that look.”

“What look?”

“Like you're at the edge of a cliff peering down.”

Emily blew out a breath. “I made a tactical error tonight with Wyatt.” She paused. “Horizontally.”

Sara laughed. “Again?”

Emily sighed and stroked Sammy's head. He gazed up at her adoringly, or so she wanted to think. Probably he was hoping for more strawberries. “Just like a man,” she said to him. “Flashing me the eyes to get what you want.”

Sara took Sammy from Emily and set him down. “Emily,” she said solemnly. “I thought we had this talk.”

“I know. Me becoming an animal collector isn't a sign that I'm going to go bat-shit crazy like Dad—”

“No. You're not bat-shit crazy at all. You're just a woman who's always given everything to the people in her life who she loves, who's always looked out for everyone but herself, and now maybe you're a little lost, that's all.”

“The lost part might be true,” Emily whispered.

“So, Dr. Sexy?”

Emily covered her face with her hands. “It's not my fault. He's just . . .” Everything.

Sara reached out and pulled Emily's hands from her face. “He's your supervisor. He shouldn't be coming on to you.”

“You don't understand.” Emily huffed out a mirthless laugh. “It's not
Wyatt
coming on to
me
.
I'm
the one who can't control myself!”

Sara hugged her. “It's okay,” she said. “You can tell me the truth. I'll bury the body deep.”

Emily laughed again. “I realize you're not attracted to hot and sexy men, so you're going to have to trust me on this one. It's all on me.”

Sara was quiet for a long beat, considering. “Well, I still think you need to talk to him. Tell him that this isn't fun and games for you, that you're going to get hurt.”

“I can't do that,” Emily said. “I've told him time and time again that this isn't in my plan. I'm trying to ignore his damn sexy ways.”

“Well, you could always switch teams,” Sara suggested. “It's better on my side of the fence.”

Emily set her head on her sister's shoulder and sighed. “If that was true, then you wouldn't be hiding out here in Sunshine nursing a broken heart.”

It was Sara's turn to sigh. “True that.”

A
t the end of the next day, Wyatt stood behind the front desk watching Emily attempt to print one of her files. When she'd said “
Crap!
” for the third time, he leaned over her and did it himself.

“Are you kidding me?” she asked, craning her neck to glare at him. “Why didn't you do that five minutes ago?”

He smiled and showed her how to print the day's receipts as well. Still leaning over her, the inside of his arm brushed the outside of hers, and she went still.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“It's something. You moaned.”

“Did not.”

He stared down at her bowed head. Her hair had fallen forward, revealing the nape of her neck, a spot he badly wanted to put his mouth to.

As if she could read his thoughts she shivered.

Christ. They were in trouble.

A truck pulled into the lot. “Damn,” he said, not sure if he was grateful or frustrated at the interruption. Both, he decided. “So close to escaping on time tonight, too.”

Emily let out a breathless laugh. “There's actually an on time?”

“Only if you run fast.” He gestured with his chin for her to make her escape. “I'll take this, you head out.”

“No,” she said, stubborn to the end. “I'm not leaving you here by yourself.”

He looked into her fierce eyes and felt more than a physical arousal. Far more. “Emily.”

“I mean, what if it's another woman in the Casserole Brigade?” she asked.

“Then maybe I'll get something good for dinner.”

“And if she wants something in return?”

He smiled. “Depends on how good the casserole is,” he teased to lighten the mood.

Her eyes narrowed. “That's not even funny.”

The driver of the truck walked in wearing jeans and a police sweatshirt, hoodie up, badge and gun on his hip, carrying a brown bag in one hand, the leash to a young pit bull in the other.

Wyatt recognized him as one of the players on the police team that he occasionally played flag football against. The guy worked for the county on Highway Patrol.

“We're just closing up here,” Emily told him. “Do you have an emergency?”

The guy gave a nod to Wyatt as he came up to the counter and leaned on it casually, smiling at Emily. “No emergency,” he said. “Just been hearing about our new vet in town. You're as pretty as they say.”

Wyatt mentally rolled his eyes and glanced at Emily, figuring she'd be doing the same as she had a very accurate bullshit meter.

She was smiling back at the guy. WTF?

“That's sweet,” she said.

Sweet? How about stupidly cheesy?

The cop removed his dark sunglasses and pushed back his hoodie. “Evan Russell,” he said, and held out his hand.

“Emily Stevens.” She shook the guy's hand and looked at Wyatt. “And this is Dr. Stone.”

Evan gave Wyatt a cursory nod. “Brought you something, Dr. Pretty,” he said to Emily. “I've got a ranch full of animals at home, so I thought knowing the pretty vet might come in handy.” He set the bag in front of her.

“A bribe?” she asked.

He smiled. “Open it.”

She opened the bag, inhaled deeply, and closed her eyes on a blissful sigh. “Chocolate chip cookies. Heaven.”

Evan smiled. “There's more where those came from.”

“I bet,” Wyatt muttered.

Emily looked at him. Evan didn't take his eyes off Emily. “So how's Sunshine been treating you so far?” he asked her.

“Well, the traffic's not as bad as it was in L.A.”

Evan chuckled. They all knew traffic was nonexistent in Sunshine. Well, except on the days that the errant cow escaped a ranch and stood in the middle of the road. “I think we've got more to offer you than better traffic. You ride?”

“You mean motorcycles?” she asked.

He chuckled again, and Wyatt had to resist the odd urge to put a fist through the guy's mouth.

“Horses,” Evan said.

“Oh.” Emily smiled. “No. Not yet.”

“I'll take you. You live nearby?”

Wyatt shifted. If she told the guy where she lived, he was going to have to kill him.

And then her.

“Not too far,” she said, reminding Wyatt that she was no pushover. She was in fact, a city girl, smart. Wary. Tough.

But so was Evan, and he wasn't easily deterred. “Name the day,” he said.

“I'll think about it,” Emily said.

Evan nodded, and gestured to the bag of cookies. “Enjoy.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I will.”

He spent an extra few beats holding her gaze, and then walked out.

Emily dug into the bag and took a bite of cookie, sighed in pleasure, and then offered Wyatt one.

“You shouldn't eat stuff from people you don't know,” Wyatt said.

She laughed. She laughed so hard she choked on the damn cookie and he had to pound her on the back and bring her a glass of water.

When she could breathe, she grinned up at him.

“You ever worry about eating the things all those women bring you?”

“No,” he admitted. “But it seems different when it's a guy.”

She just kept grinning. “Guess you're not the only one getting in on the Casserole Brigade, Dr. Sexy.”

“Dr. Sexy?”

“Oh, like you don't know it.” She took another bite of cookie.

“You didn't give
him
the almost boyfriend line.”

Emily cocked her head at him. “You're jealous.”

“Bullshit.”

“Good,” she said. “Because I'm perfectly willing to share.” She opened the bag and held it out to him, smiling guilelessly.

He stared at her, realizing they were on entirely different pages, and found
himself
laughing. “You don't have a clue,” he said softly.

Her smiled faded. “A clue of what?”

He leaned in close, but not to take a fucking cookie. “That
you're
the Dr. Sexy.”

*   *   *

The next morning Emily got up early to waste a little time online angsting over the fact that she'd upped her bid on Wyatt yet again.

She needed an intervention, she thought later as she walked into Belle Haven and, as she had since Jade had been gone, found Dell standing behind the counter, pulling out his hair. “Whatever happened to your three leads?” she asked.

He shoved his fingers through his hair. “First Choice told me there wasn't enough money in the world. Second Choice told me that she'd love to . . . except she didn't want to.”

Emily laughed. “And your last choice?”

Dell blew out a breath. “She'll be here soon.”

“What does Jade say about all this?”

“She doesn't know,” Dell said. “If I told her, she'd be home already, and I don't want her to miss out on time with her family because of this.”

Emily smiled. “You're sweet.”

Dell's mouth turned up at the corners. “Hope you still think so after you have to take your shift back here.”

But she never got to take her turn behind the counter at all. Adam strode in, spoke to Dell for a terse minute, and then both men looked at her. “Field trip time,” Dell said.

“Where to?” she asked.

“Rob from Camarillo Ranch just called,” Adam said. “They need help. Three of their horses got spooked and tangled themselves in a downed barb wire fence. They need medical care ASAP.”

“It's a good one for you to observe,” Dell told Emily. “It'll give you a real taste of what's out there for this type of practice.”

Camarillo Ranch was sixty miles north, and Dell contracted with them as their mobile vet care. Emily looked at her watch. “If we take a truck and go now, we could be there in an hour and a half—”

“One of the horses doesn't have an hour and a half,” Adam said. “Brady's readying the chopper right now. Wyatt's already over there.”

The airport was literally across the street. “Grab my ready bag from the staff room and run,” Dell said.

She stared at him. “You want me to go in the helicopter and assist Adam and Wyatt in a horse rescue?”

“I want you to observe, and learn,” he said. “Unless you'd rather stay here and run this entire center by yourself while
I
go.”

Hell no. “But—”

“I'm offering, because it's a great opportunity for you, and also with Adam, Wyatt, and Jade gone, I shouldn't leave the center. You've got three seconds before I change my mind.”

Emily whirled and ran for the staff room and heard Dell's low laugh behind her.

Twenty minutes later she was in the air, in her first chopper ride. It was terrifying and glorious at the same time. Adam was across from her. Wyatt sat next to her—Mr. Lived In Twenty Countries And Traveled The World Over—looking cool and calm.

Emily tried to look calm and cool, too. She failed. “Holy cow,” she whispered to herself as the chopper banked a hard right.

Across from her Adam grinned, and so did Wyatt, making her remember her headset.

The three guys could hear every word she uttered.

She could only see the back of Brady's head but somehow she knew he was grinning as broad as Adam. She couldn't find it in herself to care that they were laughing at her. She was a city girl, through and through. As a kid, once in a blue moon her parents would drive her and Sara to the mountains for the day.

But the mountains for the day in Los Angeles were a lot different than these mountains.

And they'd
driven
there.

Now she was . . . well, she had no idea how many feet in the air exactly, seeing the countryside up high, coupled with the whistle and whine of the chopper. She was enthralled by mazes of mountains and valleys below, sprawled out for what was surely hundreds of miles. She could see forever, it seemed, nothing but crests of the ridges of the Bitterroots and beyond, countless lakes and rivers, and isolated, rugged territory as tough as . . . well, the men in the chopper with her.

Or maybe the land had made them so tough. She wondered if it could do the same for her.

In any case, it was a thrill, a rush, at least until Brady banked hard, and dipped hard toward the ground.

Emily gasped, a hand to her heart to hold it into her chest.

“Damn,” she heard Brady say with great disappointment in her ear. “That usually gets a scream out of the first timers.”

“She's pretty good with the self-control at work,” Wyatt said, his warm tone making her belly go a little squishy.

She met his gaze and he smiled his bad-boy smile, and she knew what he was thinking. He was thinking that outside of work, specifically in bed, she wasn't nearly so good with the control . . .

Which was true.

Maybe she hadn't exactly screamed for him, but she'd come pretty damn close a couple of times.

He nudged her knee with his.

She opened her mouth to tell him to stop making her think about their . . . escapades. But the truth was, she thought of him all on her own, without any help from him. At least she could be secure in the knowledge that he was doing the same. There was comfort in that, that their misery was shared.

Except he didn't look miserable. He looked hot and sexy, and then there was that light of trouble and mischief in his gaze, like maybe he wouldn't mind having another . . . escapade to be teasing her about.

But that couldn't happen. The first time with him had been the one-night stand she'd always wanted.

Twice had been . . . well, magic. So had their third time. And their fourth.

And their fifth . . .

After talking to Sara the night before, she'd decided to own those memories, collect them in her mind, and file them under the label
Hot Fantasies to Pull Out as Necessary
.

But to continue on like this would only prove Sara right. Someone—she—was going to get hurt. To continue on would surely take things to the next level, a level she didn't even know what to call, other than a huge mistake, because as Sara had so helpfully pointed out, it could and would derail her life plan.

The chopper banked again, steeper now. Biting her lip, Emily reached out in blind panic, and felt her hand gripped.

Wyatt.

No longer laughing at her. “Okay?” he asked.

“Worried I'm going to throw up on your shoes?” she managed to ask.

“This is a no throw up zone,” Brady said from the pilot's seat.

“Take your thumb and middle finger and press firmly on both sides of your wrist,” Adam told her. “It's an acupressure point, and should reduce nausea.”

Wyatt didn't take his gaze off Emily as he reached out and did the acupressure for her. “You're all right,” he said, holding on.

She was very glad he thought so.

But he was right. She was fine. They landed on a concrete pad to the side of a huge ranching operation. And even better, she didn't toss her cookies.