Across the sixty feet that separated them, Garrett heard Jeremy’s scornful laugh, saw him pull Rachel up by her hair, drawing one fist back to strike. Cowboy lunged, clearing Rachel’s kneeling figure to slam into Jeremy’s chest. Man and dog flew back several feet, and there was an audible oof when Cowboy came down on top of him. A feral growl and the screams of a man with one seriously pissed-off shepherd two inches from his face shattered the semidarkness. Cowboy had no trouble convincing Jeremy not to move, and the bastard would never know what a good decision that had been.
Garrett and Luke approached at a jog. “Cowboy, take no prisoners.” Garrett gave the dog his command to stand guard over the enemy. Cowboy immediately backed away, but never took his eyes off Jeremy. Garrett dragged the slimeball to his feet and confiscated his weapon before binding his hands behind his back. He’d never wanted to pummel anyone as badly as he did Jeremy, but Luke came up behind him, laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and nodded toward Rachel.
She had crumpled to the ground when Cowboy streaked by her, curling into a ball with her arms covering her head. Realizing she still lay in the same position, Garrett hurried to kneel beside her. As soon as he rolled her to her back and moved one arm carefully down to her side, her pain-filled eyes, opened and locked on him, stole his breath and his chest constricted with his need for her.
He dropped down beside her. “Are you hurt, sweetheart?” He ran his hands slowly over her arms and shoulders. God, she felt so good, yet he was almost afraid to touch her for fear she wasn’t real and she might disappear again.
“Thanks . . . for coming, Garrett.” Anguish was etched in her green eyes, and he accepted the possibility that there’d be wounds that might never heal.
He slipped his cell phone from his pocket, and while holding her gaze, he raised one brow. “Did you think I wouldn’t? I’m always going to come for you.”
A tear rolled down her cheek, killing him as it slowly disappeared into her hair. “I haven’t been very nice to you.”
It was true—they hadn’t started off on the best of terms, but she couldn’t resist his charm forever. “You’ve been as nice as I deserved.”
Rachel choked on a half laugh, half sob. “Well, that’s true.”
There. That’s what he’d been waiting for—her confidence and stubborn pride to kick in. She’d be all right . . . in spite of whatever injuries the EMTs found when they arrived. Needing to have her close for just a moment before he called the state police, he bent to press his lips to her cheek, but she turned her head and offered her lips.
He’d have been crazy to argue.
Chapter Twenty-One
RACHEL TIED HER naturally curly hair into a ponytail and took one more look at herself in the mirror. The past three weeks had almost completely healed the bruises on her cheekbone and jaw, although she routinely frowned at the remnants of the purplish splotches. She wouldn’t be happy until they were gone.
The freedom that she’d known since Jeremy had been extradited back to Texas and charged with Chance’s murder had put a smile on her face that couldn’t be wiped away. Oh sure. Someday she’d have to go back and testify, but she’d be ready and willing when that day came. It had been a shock to learn that Jeremy was a grandson of the neighbors she’d been fond of in Plainview. Apparently, she’d met him one time, although she had no recollection. He’d spilled the entire story to the police once they had him in custody. After she’d left Texas, he’d hired a private investigator to find her. It’d taken him almost five years, but Jeremy was apparently nothing if not patient.
Once he’d started coming to the lodge regularly, he’d been given her cell phone number on the proverbial silver platter in case he needed anything during his stay—as were all of the guests. If he lost her number, all he had to do was call Peg and he’d have it again within seconds. It’s true what they say—hindsight is twenty/twenty. But until the night Alan Taylor, aka Jeremy, abducted her, he’d given her no reason to suspect he was her stalker. Apparently his wife hadn’t suspected him, either. They had yet to find her body.
June had come in like gangbusters, sending the temperatures into the eighties most days, although the evenings were still cool. Rachel had taken to wearing sleeveless sundresses, which seemed to make it a tiny bit more bearable to wear the big clunking boot the doctor had given her for her ankle. The X-ray and MRI she’d had showed a stress fracture in one of the small bones of her foot as well as a seriously sprained ankle. The only thing that had kept her out of a cast was her promise to wear the boot every waking hour unless she was in the shower.
Garrett had gleefully stepped in to play The Boot Nazi, and truth of the matter was she missed his bossy ways. Terribly. A week ago, he’d reported to his base for evaluation, and he still didn’t have a clue what the army was going to require of him. It didn’t seem to bother Garrett, but her impatience was starting to show. She wanted him home—and so did Cowboy.
She smiled at the dog where he lounged near the door. Garrett had left his beloved pet and companion in her care while he fulfilled his duty to the army. After Cowboy had saved her from Jeremy, she’d no longer had any concerns that the ex-military dog would get in trouble because of her inability to control him. His innate sense of his surroundings, as well as his intelligence, made her feel safe wherever they went, something that had been sorely missing in her life until recently. She still suffered from bouts of insecurity when she wondered if Garrett would stay in Idaho—or how long he would stay—but they were fewer and further between.
She really had no reason to doubt him. Garrett had called her every day since he’d been gone just to see how she was doing and to make sure she was wearing the boot. They’d usually talk for an hour or better about everything under the sun. He told her about his siblings and how it had been growing up in a large family. She shared stories about her alcoholic mother and what it was like to be the adult in the situation at the tender age of nine. They’d grown closer through their talks, and it was obvious that he cared for her. It was too early in their relationship to expect anything more.
Luke had left for Virginia yesterday—deploying overseas in the next week or so, promising to have a decision on what he would do with his inheritance by the time he returned. He’d become a huge help around the lodge over the past few weeks, swinging a hammer here, splitting wood there, always with a congenial smile on his face. He’d put the utility closet that Cowboy had destroyed back together in no time. The best, though, were the warm evenings he’d spent telling stories on the porch with both Peg and Sally laughing at his outrageous teasing. Rachel hadn’t seen Sally enjoy herself so in years. Even Jen seemed to have taken a liking to the man.
Rachel turned from the mirror to step into the tan loafer she’d been wearing ever since the boot had become a permanent fixture in her life. She searched the closet and under the bed, and scanned the floor. Where was the darn thing?
When Peg asked her to do some actual work today, she’d been so excited and hopeful that they’d stop treating her like an invalid. She wasn’t going to let a lost shoe keep her from delivering linens and food staples to the cabin in preparation for an arriving guest.
She grabbed the first shoe she could find, and as she slipped into her favorite sandal, her phone rang. The name on the caller ID screen made her smile.
“Garrett! It’s earlier than you usually call. Is everything all right?”
“I had a minute and just wanted to talk to my best girl.”
Those were the kinds of things he said that made her heart sing. She so wanted it to be true. “That’s sweet . . . but I bet I know why you really called. Before you ask, yes, I am wearing the friggin’ boot. And don’t think for a minute that I don’t know you’ve got Peg, Dory, and Jonathan spying for you.”
“Ouch—that’s harsh.” He chuckled. “I guess I have been a little pushy. How about I make it up to you?” His voice dropped to a husky murmur.
“How do you propose to do that, five hundred
miles away?”
“I was hoping you’d go on a date with me as soon as I get back. In fact, I’d like to cook for you. Dinner, and if I play my cards right, maybe breakfast.” His smooth, deep voice literally shook her, and desire pooled low in her stomach.
Rachel glanced at her watch, slipped into a sweater, and took one last look in the mirror. She could see Cowboy’s reflection, standing at the door, eyeing her impatiently as if he, too, knew they were going to be late meeting Jonathan. She limped toward the door, and the dog bounced up and down on his front legs.
“That sounds wonderful, Garrett. Can we talk about it later? I’m working for a few hours today. Peg finally decided I wasn’t completely useless. But, if I’m late, she might change her mind.” Rachel sidestepped Cowboy, who was prancing back and forth in front of the door, whining and going completely crazy. What was up with him? She reached for the knob and leaned her forehead against the cool wood, cherishing every minute she spent in conversation with Garrett, yet knowing each call would inevitably come to an end.
“What kind of work?” A strange edge crept into his voice.
Rachel forced a little cheerful enthusiasm into hers. “Oh, nothing serious. I’m taking a few supplies over to the cabin. We have a new guest coming in today.” She straightened and jerked the door open.
Cowboy shot from the room and launched himself into the arms of the man in army fatigues who leaned against the opposite wall. Completely covered by an ecstatic dog, his face was hidden from her, but Rachel would know that tall, muscular build anywhere. Dropping her phone into her sweater pocket, she jammed her hands down on her hips and narrowed her eyes.
When Garrett finally got the dog under control, he glanced toward her and his gaze immediately filled with caution. He lifted one hand and gave her a pathetic wave. “Hi, honey. I’m home.”
“What were you thinking, standing outside my door, talking on the phone, letting me believe you were still in Washington? That’s the meanest thing—” She turned abruptly and stumped down the hallway.
He caught up with her in a heartbeat. “Rach, wait. I wasn’t trying to be mean. I wanted to surprise you.”
She turned on him, angry tears threatening to flow. “I don’t like surprises.”
“Okay. Good to know. I won’t do it again . . . except—”
“Except what?” She snapped the words and immediately regretted it when he flinched. What was wrong with her? She knew he didn’t mean any harm. It was sweet really. Yet, she’d never had a good surprise. Coming home from school innumerable times to find a new man living with her mother. Discovering Chance’s bludgeoned body. Learning their longtime guest was her stalker and a murderer. Rachel didn’t think she could take any more surprises.
A couple of guests had stepped from their rooms and stood watching them. Garrett scowled, grabbed her arm, and pulled her toward the room she’d just vacated. He shoved the door open, nudged her across the threshold, called Cowboy, and closed them all inside.
He caught her around the waist and pulled her against him. “This isn’t how I planned this at all. Can we start over?” He didn’t wait for her to answer, instead covering her lips with his, kissing her so long and thoroughly that her knees nearly gave out.
She melted against him, still not quite believing he was real. Maybe it was the same for him. When he stopped kissing her, he pulled her close in a tight embrace, his face buried in the crook of her neck, and a shudder passed through him.
“God, I’ve missed you, Rach. You smell so damn good.” He raised his head and studied her face.
Rachel smiled, recognizing his attempt to deflect her questions. “I’ve missed you, too, Garrett, but if there’s more to this surprise you’ve cooked up, please tell me.” She stepped back and crossed her arms.
“I’ve worked hard to get this particular surprise to come together. Are you sure—” He raised his hands to ward off her next suggestion. “I know, I know—you don’t like surprises. Damn, I wish you’d told me before.”
“You could have asked.” Rachel tried hard to hide the mirth that tugged at her lips.
One of his eyebrows shot up and a crooked grin hitched one side of his mouth. It was everything she could do to keep from reaching out to slide her hands around the back of his neck—anything to have his touch on her again.
He stepped away from her to the window that looked out on the slope of Cougar Ridge. “Well, for starters, I’m the one who’ll be staying in the cabin.”
“You?”
He nodded. “I’m not really a guest, though. Aunt Peg sold me the place. I signed the papers this morning.”
That knocked the air from her lungs, and questions swirled in her head. Before she found her voice, he started talking again.
He turned partway to look at her. “It was Amanda’s favorite place. I wanted to have something of hers. I don’t know why. Just one of those childhood dreams come to fruition.” He took another step to face her. “I also wanted to be close to you. I plan to spend a lot of time with you . . . if you’ll let me. Although, now that you’ve taken my secret weapon—surprises—off the table it’s not going to be quite the same.” His perusal was hopeful as it swept across her face.
Rachel placed her hand over her mouth, but couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled out.
Garrett walked toward her, his hand going to the column of her throat. “Someday, when we decide the time is right, and you agree to move in with me, I want our home to be comfortable and inviting for you.”
“What? You’re staying?” Rachel didn’t realize how much fear the question struck in her heart until she voiced the words. At the same time, she backed away from his touch, just in case the surprise really was on her.
Garrett dropped his hand to his side. “Why would I leave? Everything I want is here. Right here in this room. I love you, Rach. Without you I’m just a guy with a dog.”
Rachel laughed. “Really?” He was staying? He loved her. She would have jumped up and down if not for the stupid boot.
In the next instant, his smile turned her legs to Jell-O. “Sorry about the surprise, sweetheart, but I planned to spend the weekend with my best girl at the cabin, and—”
“No!” She stumped toward him and threw herself into his arms, placing her fingers over his lips. “Don’t say any more. Surprise me.”
“I thought you didn’t like surprises.”
“I was mistaken.” She pressed a hard kiss to his lips as she laced her arms around his neck. “I love you, too, Garrett, and I love your surprise. I’m so sorry I ruined it.”
“Oh, there’s a lot more to come, sweetheart.” He set her on her feet. “Are you ready to go?”
“If we’re spending the weekend, shouldn’t I pack a bag?”
“Not necessary. I asked Dory to take care of that little item. Your bag’s already in my Jeep.”
Rachel huffed a breath. “That’s where my shoe went! You really are good at this surprise business.” She leaned against his hard chest and brushed his lips with hers.
“You haven’t seen anything yet, sweetheart.” He grinned devilishly.
“Don’t forget—two can play that game.” She laughed at his wary expression as she leaned against him for one more kiss.
About the Author
DIXIE LEE BROWN lives and writes in Central Oregon, inspired by gorgeous scenery and three hundred sunny days a year. Having moved from South Dakota as a child to Montana and then to Oregon, she feels at home in the West.
Dixie has two daughters who are grown and off living their own dreams. She resides with two dogs and a cat, and they are currently all the responsibility she can handle! Dixie works full-time as a bookkeeper. When she’s not writing or working, she loves to read and enjoy movies, and if it were possible, she’d spend all of her time at the beach.
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Also by Dixie Lee Brown
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Bad boy wrangler Archer Kane lives fast and loose. Words like responsibility and commitment send him running in the opposite direction. Until a wild Vegas weekend puts him on a collision course with Eden Bankcroft-Kew, a New York heiress running away from her blackmailing fiancé . . . the morning of her wedding.
“Archer?” Eden stared in the motel bathroom mirror, her reflection a study in horror. “Please tell me this is a practical joke.”
“We’re in the middle of Nevada, sweetheart. There’s no Madison Avenue swank in these parts.” Archer didn’t bother to keep amusement from his answering yell through the closed door. “The gas station only sold a few things. Trust me, those clothes were the best of the bunch.”
After he got out of the shower, a very long shower which afforded her far too much time for contemplating him in a cloud of thick steam, running a bar of soap over cut v-lines, he announced that he would find her something suitable to wear. She couldn’t cross state lines wearing nothing but his old t-shirt, and while the wedding dress worked in a pinch, it was still damp. Besides, her stomach lurched at the idea of sliding back into satin and lace.
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