The Brides 0f Purple Heart Ranch Boxset, Bks 1-3

by Shanae Johnson

  Xavier was replaced by Reed who whirled and twirled her with his steel arm. Fran and Sean lined up beside her to do a coordinated dance. Before she knew it, she was laughing, breathless, and having the best time of her life.

  The men surrounded her, accepting her like she was one of them. The dogs nipped at their heels getting in on the fun. It was what Maggie had always dreamed of; she was being welcomed into a group, a clique, a unit as one of them.

  Still, every few beats Maggie snuck a peek at Dylan. His eyes never left her. He also never moved closer. Until the moment he was standing in front of her.

  The music slowed and the others moved away. Maggie was about to beg off the next dance as well to catch her breath. But with Dylan standing before her, his hand outstretched, her heart sped and her breath quickened.

  "We're supposed to have the first dance as husband and wife. I don't want to buck tradition," he said. "We'll take it slow, okay?"

  Maggie took his hand and slipped into the circle of his embrace. For the first time in her lonely life, she understood the meaning of the word home. They barely moved, only swayed to the beat.

  It didn't matter if they took it slow or not. She had already arrived. She was already in love with this man. And she had a lifetime to wait for him to catch up with her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  She felt good in his arms. She felt right. So good, so right that after the song ended, he didn't let her go.

  When the music stopped, Dylan's hand slid up Maggie's back, tracing her spine. He followed the path of her shoulder blades and on down the span of her forearms until he found the back of her hands. One by one, each of his fingers entwined with hers until their digits were wrapped around each other.

  Dylan felt warmth course through his body. The heat shot up his arm, it pooled in his chest and then spread down to his legs. Both of his legs.

  A fever replaced the phantom ache in the leg he'd lost. It was a spark that insisted he could run again. It was a flare that swore he could fly.

  Dylan looked down at Maggie. Somehow, they'd moved from the dance floor and were seated at the head of the main picnic table in front of the half-eaten wedding cake. Their clasped hands rested on the bench between them.

  Maggie wasn't looking at him. She was feeding a bone to one of her dogs; Stevie, the overweight Rottweiler. He knew the Rottweiler couldn't see him. Still, Stevie's panting mouth split wide, as though he were smiling. His eyes sparkled as though to say, welcome to my family.

  Dylan's gaze returned to Maggie. She still held his hand, but she leaned her chin on the other and looked across the table, smiling and laughing. His friends gathered around them at the table, regaling Maggie with embarrassing stories about him, asking her about her life.

  That raging fire that had grown in Dylan now banked into a steady burn. The men who'd trusted him with their lives and their future had welcomed the woman he'd chosen for his life and future.

  They'd accepted her and her dogs. They were all a unit now. Dylan knew that just as the men had each other's backs, they now had Maggie's.

  "So you got any girlfriends you could hook me up with?" asked Reed.

  Reed was one of the only men excited by the venture of holy matrimony. Dylan knew that Reed wanted a family and a wife to care for. Unlike himself and the other men, Reed was one to not let his very visible wound get in the way.

  "I really don't have many girlfriends," said Maggie.

  Somehow, Dylan knew that translated to she didn't have any girlfriends. Maggie had moved through life alone. At the worst times, she'd been used and abused by the system. That life was over.

  "I spend most of my time with animals," she said.

  "Then you'll fit in perfectly here," said Fran.

  Maggie blushed, but her smile said everything. She was overwhelmed by their acceptance, and he could tell that she was grateful for it. Dylan didn't know where he'd be without these guys. They'd saved his life. That's why he was fighting for theirs. And now that Maggie had taken his hand, they'd all be safe. They could keep this haven they'd found and make it their permanent home.

  The sun was setting on this momentous day. Maggie turned to him, and it was as though she were gasoline pulling the flames of the fire inside him high enough to touch the sun. But when she stifled a yawn, the blaze once again cooled. Dylan leaped into protector mode.

  "All right guys," he said. "I'm going to take my wife home."

  The men made simpering sounds and kissing noises like grade schoolers. Dylan rolled his eyes. He almost opened his mouth to deny what the men were thinking, but then he looked down at Maggie.

  Her blush was near crimson now. She knew this wasn't to be a physical marriage. Still, Dylan was certain he caught a spark of desire in her eyes. That's what killed the words on his lips.

  Would he never have a physical relationship again in his life? Well, he was married now. So his only option would be with Maggie. He would never dream, never think to go outside of his marriage. But could he possibly perform his duty inside his marriage?

  He stood awkwardly. His leg aching from all the activity of the day. He had his answer.

  Maggie saw it. He knew she did by the sudden tension in her hand, which he still held. By the quick averting of her gaze.

  She said nothing. Instead, she turned and thanked everyone for all they'd done for her special day. Her sincerity rang loud and clear in her words and tone. She bid them all a good night. Then, with a signal to her dogs, she and Dylan headed back to their home.

  They walked side by side, slowly. Their fingers were still entwined. Dylan couldn't think of a single thing to say to her, his wife. All he could concentrate on was the feel of her fingers, the brush of her forearm against his.

  He thought back to the desire he'd seen in her eyes. And then that kiss that went on longer than he'd planned. That kiss that she hadn't pulled away from. That kiss that which, if he looked at the way her fingertips touched her lips, he had to assume she wanted to continue.

  Maggie had wanted to dance with him. She hadn't let go of his hand. She leaned against him now. Maybe this marriage could be more than convenient? Maybe it could be something real?

  But then her leg brushed against his, and he froze. He couldn't feel the flesh of her thigh as he felt her fingers and her arm. His prosthetic could feel nothing. Dylan looked down to make sure his pants leg covered the evidence. Seeing that it did, he disentangled his fingers from hers.

  They were at the front door of their home. The door was unlocked as always. They had nothing and no one to fear on the ranch.

  He opened the door for her. She hesitated, looking down at the threshold. Then she gave herself a chiding shake before stepping over the threshold and into the house.

  The dogs marched in behind them. Four of them rushed to Maggie's bedroom door. One rushed to his. Only the two humans stood in the hall unsure which door to approach.

  "It's been a long day," he said.

  Maggie nodded, looking up at him. Her lips parted. Her tongue darted out and moistened her lower lip.

  Dylan's gaze tracked the movement. His stomach grumbled. His mouth watered. His palms itched. He need only bend his head and he could take another taste of her. He straightened.

  "I want to thank you for everything you've done for me and my men," he said. Even to him, his voice sounded formal.

  "Of course," she said, just as stiffly. She closed her mouth and crossed her arms over her body.

  "Sleep well, Maggie. I'll see you in the morning."

  Before she could say anything else, or he could change his mind, Dylan opened his door. Spin rushed in before he shut it firmly closed. Dylan sagged against the frame. One thing he knew for sure was that he wanted Maggie. He wanted her in the way a man wanted a woman.

  If he were honest with himself, he'd admit that it went beyond the physical. Maggie Shaw -now Maggie Banks- found a way into his system. The assault was mounting for an attack on his heart. If she got that far, all would be lost.


  Chapter Eighteen

  Maggie hadn’t slept well. She’d tossed and turned all night, moving from the right side of the bed to the left. She awoke sore, irritated, and confused.

  On the one hand, Dylan had made it clear that this was a marriage of convenience for them both. Then he’d made pretty speeches about taking care of her every need and becoming her family.

  On the other hand, he insisted there would be nothing physical between them. Then he kissed her senseless, got jealous anytime another man showed interest. He held her hand and held her close only to leave her at her bedroom door on their wedding night.

  Maggie no longer knew which way was up and which way was down. She did know the way to Dylan's door. She got out of the bed and dressed for the day. Then she opened her door and, preceded by her furry army, she headed for his.

  She knocked lightly at first. Then she knocked more firmly with insistence. Maggie had always been a good judge of character, of both animals and dogs. She didn't worry that he'd be upset with her. What she wanted from him was emotion.

  She was safe here with Dylan, with these men. More importantly, she had a shot at a real relationship, a real marriage. And she wasn't giving that up.

  Dylan was a wounded animal. He'd agreed to some healing here on this ranch, but he needed more. His leg was under control, but there was a deeper, internal wound.

  Maggie hadn’t had a lot of experience with love for a man, but she was willing to try. God, she wanted to try. She just needed Dylan to get down from his high horse first.

  She'd seen the way he'd looked at her last night before turning away at her bedroom door. He'd held her hand, rubbing at the webbing between her fingers as though he wanted to join with her at the root. And then there had been that kiss …

  It had been her first kiss. It had been her only kiss. As first and only kisses went, it had been the stuff of dreams, the stuff of storybooks. She wanted this story to come off the page. She wanted a shot at the reality.

  Maggie knocked again on Dylan's door. The silence coming from the other end let her know he wasn't there. He'd run away from her again.

  She trudged down the stairs, dogs following in her wake. Her empty stomach grumbled, demanded attention as her heart continued to ache. She went into the kitchen. On the stove was a stack of pancakes in a sea of fresh cut strawberries.

  It was the sweetest, most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for her. She shoved the pancakes in a Tupperware container and then stormed out of the house.

  Indifference, she could handle. Ignoring, she understood. Being used, she was used to.

  But this hot and cold, this sweet and then absent, she couldn't do that.

  Maggie shut the dogs in the backyard, leaving their food outside and making sure they had plenty of water. Then she went in search of Dylan. She found him in the training arena.

  She stopped in her tracks when she saw him struggling to get on his mount. He hefted himself up with this good leg. Then he had to reach over and bend his prosthetic leg to swing over the horse. The balancing act looked treacherous and her every instinct told her to go to him.

  She spied Mark on the other side of the horse. Arms crossed, gaze diverted. But Maggie could tell that the man watched Dylan like a hawk ready to swoop in at any sign of danger.

  Dylan made a miscalculation. He readjusted his leg. To do so, he had to lift his pants leg, and that's when he saw her.

  His face turned horror-stricken. He yanked the material back over his exposed prosthetic. He swung that leg back over the horse and down to the ground. He landed with a nasty sounding thud and winced.

  "What are you doing here?" he demanded when he rounded on her.

  Maggie jerked back. Her lips parted in surprise at the vehemence in his voice. Her breath caught at the glare in his beautiful blue eyes.

  Dylan's upper body caved in on itself. He shut his eyes in a wince and clenched his fist. When his gaze found hers again, he looked ashamed. But it wasn't enough.

  Maggie steeled her spine and marched up to him. "I'm your wife. My place is wherever you are."

  Dylan turned away from her, likely looking for his escape. Now she was the one who rounded on him.

  "In sickness and in health, Dylan. That's what I promised you. I'm not going to shy away because you have an injury."

  "I'm not one of your pets to fix, Maggie."

  "No, we're partners. That was the deal. But you keep shutting me out. Let me help—"

  She reached out her hand, but he yanked his arm away from her. He took an awkward step back with his prosthetic leg.

  Maggie cradled her rejected palm in her hand. "Was this all you needed from me then? Just the marriage? You don't want me even as a helpmate?"

  He sighed. His blue eyes finally found hers. They implored her to understand. But how could she when he didn't contradict her.

  Maggie took a deep breath. The air was filled with the stench of horses and sweat. She nodded at Dylan. Then she turned and walked away.

  Indifference, ignoring, and using she was used to. And it seemed it had come back to her again. What else could she conclude when she walked away? Dylan didn't call after her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dylan watched as Maggie walked away from him. Her retreat began as a slow march, that turned into a brisk walk, and finally a run. He couldn't catch up with her if he'd tried, not with his prosthetic. He'd only wind up hobbling after her, embarrassing himself even further. And so he stood still on stiff legs, watching his wife put distance between them because he'd hurt her.

  Again.

  Spin nosed at his pants leg. The dog looked between Dylan and Maggie's retreating form, then turned back to Dylan. Spin nosed at Dylan's leg again, pushing the fabric into the cold steel of his metal leg.

  Spin cocked his head to the side in confusion. Then the dog let out a sigh, his little head shook left and right from the impact of the harsh air.

  Over on the other side of the horse, Mark looked at Dylan with the same look of disappointment. "If you don't run after that woman, you're a complete idiot."

  "I can't run after her." Dylan banged his thigh with a closed fist.

  "If you truly believe that, then you don't deserve her, and you need to let her go." Mark turned and walked in the other direction.

  Spin howled low, as though he were in pain. He looked again between Dylan and the door. When Dylan still didn't budge, the terrier turned and made his way after Maggie, hobbling along at a steady and awkward clip.

  The dog had more bravery and gumption than the man. Spin had been trailing after Dylan since he first got here. But he showed his true allegiance now when he turned his back on Dylan.

  When Dylan's parents and ex-fiancée had rejected him, they had turned their backs on him with a look of disgust. Maggie had just turned her back on him now. But the expression on her face hadn't been one of disgust. It hadn't even been one of pity. She'd been hurt and disappointed, but mostly hurt.

  It had been a long time since Dylan had been in a position to hurt anyone. This last year that he'd been in recovery and rehabilitation, he'd been so busy supporting those around him. The moment someone had tried to care for him, to offer him support, and maybe even love, he'd pushed her away.

  The thing was, Maggie hadn't left him because of his leg. She'd insisted it didn't bother her. She'd accepted him in spite of his injury. The reason she'd run from him wasn't because she was disgusted by his external wound. No, she'd become disgusted with him because of his internal wound, the wound he kept inflicting on her.

  Dylan was so afraid of her rejection of him, that the moment she got close enough to hurt him, he pushed her away. No, he shoved her away. Hard.

  But even worse, her absence only made him crave her more. So the second she was apart from him, he'd do something to bring her back close. Like, make her a stack of peace pancakes. God, he was a bastard.

  "I just saw Maggie running out of here," Fran said as he came into the training area
. "What the hell did you do?"

  "Stay out of it. It's none of your business."

  "Actually, it is my business. It's all of our business."

  "We're not getting divorced, so the ranch is safe. I'll fix it."

  "You can't think this is about that? You're not that dense."

  Dylan didn't answer. He couldn't. He could see it wasn't just a business transaction for her. It was clear she wanted more. It was becoming evident that he did too. But it couldn't be.

  "I've seen the way you are around her," Fran continued.

  "But she hasn't seen me. Not the real me."

  "Is this about your leg? Because you do realize you married a woman who heals animals that would be helpless without her."

  Maggie hadn't balked once at the knowledge of his wound. But knowing it and seeing it were two different things.

  "The reason this is my business," said Fran, "the reason this is all of our business, is because that woman is now our family. You don't fix this, you keep hurting her, and you'll have this entire unit to contend with."

  There was a part of Dylan that wanted to high-five Fran for coming to Maggie's defense. But the shamed part of him kept his hands clenched in fists at his side.

  "You have a woman who's opened her heart to you, who accepts you for who you are, but somehow that's not good enough?"

  "That's not what it is."

  "Then what?"

  "I'm not good enough. I can't be the man she needs."

  "But it looks to me like you're the man she wants."

  Dylan closed his eyes. There was no argument he could forge against Fran's words. Still, he couldn't believe them.

  Maggie had no angle. She had no agenda. She made no demands, except on his time and attention. Did he wish she'd come after his inheritance?

  Money he could spare. Time he had. Attention he could give.

  Maggie wanted a piece of his heart. The erratic beating he felt in his chest told him his heart wanted her back. It skipped a beat, making him think that he'd lost the organ, just as he'd lost his leg. He knew the only thing that would fill it.