A Family for the Rancher

by Allison B. Collins

  “Kelsey, honey, you need to get out of those wet clothes, okay? Come on, there’s a robe for you in the bathroom.”

  She nodded and went into the bathroom and shut the door.

  A knock sounded at the door, and he opened it to the proprietor, standing there with a tray. “I brought hot tea and cookies. And some brandy. You looked like you could use it. If there’s anything you need, just ring down to the desk.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate it.”

  He closed the door and put the tray on the table, then poured a shot of brandy and slugged it down. Fire burned all the way to his gut, but he was grateful for it.

  A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened and she walked out, shrouded head to toe in a fluffy white bathrobe.

  “Feel better?” He gulped, quickly looking everywhere but at her.

  “Yes, a lot better. You get in there now.”

  He saluted her and hustled around her, closed the door behind him. Shucking his wet clothes, he pulled on the thick robe, dismayed to see how small it was on him. He’d just have to make sure he held it closed. Opening the door, he almost slammed it shut again. Kelsey sat by the fire, running a comb through her long dark hair.

  She turned her head around to glance at him, the comb stilling in her hair. She suddenly faced the fire again, but her shoulders shook.

  “What’s wrong?” He hurried over to her, worried something had made her cry.

  A laugh burst out of her, and she pointed to him.

  He looked down and saw one good leg, and the prosthetic metal leg, still sporting one of Maddy’s bandages. Heat bloomed in his chest and he bared his teeth. Arrows pinged at his heart. The one person who he thought would never laugh at him...at his leg—

  She stood up and held her arms wide, then flapped her hands so the bathrobe sleeves drooped down over her wrists. “I must have gotten the wrong robe. Yours is too small, and mine’s way too big!”

  Her laughter shut down his hurt and anger. She was laughing over the robes?

  He looked at himself in the mirror, then at her, and grinned. “Yeah, I think you did get mine.”

  “Like the three bears story.”

  Stepping closer, he picked up a lock of her dark hair and curled it around his finger. “I’d call you Goldilocks, but your hair’s much prettier than hers.” Damn, he hadn’t meant to sound like that.

  Her laughter stopped abruptly, and she stared at his chest. “I’ll just go in the bathroom and hand it out to you. You can give me that one.”

  And she fled to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Then it opened again, and her hand emerged, holding the robe. He slid his off and handed it to her, then pulled on the bigger one.

  A few minutes later she came out, clutching the neck of the robe closed.

  “Do you need to call your mom?”

  “I used the landline while you were changing. Hope that’s okay. I couldn’t get through on my cell.”

  “Sure.”

  The stilted silence bothered him. “Do you want some tea?”

  “I have some. Thanks.”

  He looked at the queen-size bed, then at the sofa against the window. “We should probably get some sleep.” He headed toward the sofa.

  “No, you take the bed,” she said. “I fit better on the couch.”

  “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I let you do that.” Suddenly, her words to Mindy echoed back at him. Some women don’t always want a gentleman. He remembered what they’d been doing when she said it.

  “I insist. You need to rest, and rest your leg. It’ll be easier on the bed, won’t it?”

  She had a point, but he wasn’t going to change his mind.

  “Look, this is ridiculous. We can share the bed.”

  Her head shot up, and she froze.

  “I promise I won’t try anything.” He held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  She frowned. “Were you really a Scout?”

  He grinned. “Nope. But we can pretend I was.”

  Laughing, she rolled her eyes. “Okay, but you promised, remember?”

  Pulling the covers back, he sat on the left side of the bed and started to lie down.

  “You need to take it off.”

  He stilled, ready to disagree.

  “Don’t argue, please. You’ve had a busy day, and I know your leg has to be hurting.”

  Gritting his teeth, he removed it. The pressure eased, and his leg did feel better, but it was still a disturbing shade of red.

  She walked in front of him, holding a tube. “Can I take a look? I have some lotion so I can give you a massage.”

  His body tightened. He really wanted her hands on him, but didn’t know if he could actually be that Boy Scout if she touched him. “You’re tired, too. You need sleep.”

  “I wouldn’t be a very good therapist if I let you be in pain, would I?” She opened the top and squirted lotion into her palm, then rubbed her hands together. “Come on, lie down.”

  He slid in and held the robe down as much as he could. She sat next to him on the bed and smoothed her hands over his thigh, moving higher, then lower.

  It had gotten to be torture every time she massaged his leg. It was even worse now knowing they were both naked under the robes. He grew even harder and finally had to sit up and grab her hand, pry it off him. “It’s good now. Thanks.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He nodded, then yanked the covers up and flung an arm over his eyes.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” he said, the word almost strangling in his throat.

  The bed dipped as she climbed in and lay down.

  Oh geez.

  He forced himself to relax, just like he used to when in the Army. He’d never had to concentrate so hard. Dammit, don’t think about being hard.

  The sheets from her side of the bed rustled. “I’m sorry for whatever I did to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t do anything.”

  “Then why are you mad?”

  He rolled toward her, the ache in his damn thigh intensifying. “Because this.” He cupped her cheeks and kissed her, devouring her mouth, drowning in the taste of her.

  He kissed her until he couldn’t take the pain any longer and had to force himself back, ripping his mouth from hers. “That’s why. I want you so bad and I can’t have you.”

  “Why can’t you have me?” she whispered.

  He slapped his thigh. “How can I make love to you when I’m half a man?”

  Chapter Eleven

  She shot up in bed and grabbed his hand, holding it to her chest. “Is that really what you think?”

  His mouth opened, but no words came out.

  “You’re not half a man, but you are an idiot. You were injured, severely, which is why I’m here. To help you adapt to a new way of life, to compensate in other ways for what you used to do.”

  “Even sex?” he asked, trying to be flippant.

  She rolled over and snapped the light off, drew the covers up and left him floundering for a way to apologize to her.

  “I’m sorry. I never meant to imply anything untoward. I haven’t been with anyone for a long time. A very long time. For obvious reasons. No woman would want me this way.”

  “Then the women you’ve met are very shallow. And idiots.”

  He grinned. She didn’t hold back what she thought, did she?

  She rolled back over and sat up. “And for the record...” She kissed him, shocking him as her lips did crazy things to his libido. “I want you too, and it frustrates me to no end.”

  She wanted him?

  He reached over to the lamp and snapped it on, turned back to face her. Her dark hair spread across her shoulders, and the robe gaped open enough to show her very sexy collarbone.

  Her
breath hitched, and he wondered if she was afraid.

  But she didn’t know that’s exactly how he felt right now.

  He cupped her cheek, using his thumb to caress the delicate skin. Easing forward, he kissed her, taking his time, learning the contour of her lips again. She sighed, and he took it deeper, lightly touching her tongue with his.

  She arched closer to him, and he felt her hand slip inside the robe to caress his chest.

  He froze, the image of his scars screaming a reminder that his body was marred. Moving back, he grabbed her hand and pulled it away. “We shouldn’t do this.”

  “Why?”

  “Because...” He racked his brain for an excuse that wouldn’t sound vulnerable, but that’s just how he felt right now. He couldn’t stand rejection.

  Shoving back the covers, Kelsey scooted around to sit on her knees, facing him. “You’re not going to stop now. Not when you’ve had me on the edge for days with your kisses, the way you’ve touched my body.”

  “But your body is perfect,” he snapped.

  “Nash,” she murmured, cupping his cheeks and kissing him. “You forget I’ve already seen your body, or most of it. I’ve got my own scars—they’re just on the inside.” She untied the belt on his robe, and he fought to hold the edges together.

  But she kept going, opening the robe, sliding down the bed to lie next to him. He squeezed his eyes shut, dreading seeing her face when she saw him up close. The touch of her lips on his chest almost made him jackknife up. Every drop of blood in his head raced south as she continued touching him.

  The robe gaped wide-open now, and he didn’t even have the sheet to shield his missing leg from her.

  Why were they doing this? It couldn’t end well, for either of them. She had a child to consi—

  Crap. Baby.

  “Stop. Kelsey, you have to stop.” He grabbed her hands before they wandered much lower. He wanted her. Wanted her touch, wanted her heart, wanted all of her.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t have any protection.”

  She smiled, her eyes looking all sultry and seductive. “You forget. This is the honeymoon suite.”

  “So?”

  She reached in the pocket of her bathrobe and pulled out a handful of foil-wrapped packages. “Full service B and B. Gotta love ’em.” She tossed the condom packets onto his chest and stared down at him, his erection aching for her attention.

  And when her fingers wrapped around him, silky and smooth, he worried he wouldn’t last long enough to use a condom.

  She kept surprising him, and he wanted her so bad. The logistics of his situation was like a bucket of cold water thrown over him. He couldn’t make love to her the way he wanted to.

  “Stop thinking,” she said, kneeling on the bed next to him.

  “Huh?”

  “You’re suddenly miles away from this room. What’s going on?”

  Heat crawled up his chest, suffusing his face. How could he explain to this beautiful, vibrant woman what he was going through?

  “Talk to me.”

  He shook his head.

  “Then touch me.” She untied the belt of her robe and shrugged it off.

  The breath backed up in his lungs.

  “Touch me,” she whispered, and damned if she didn’t look vulnerable, as well.

  * * *

  SHE’D BARED HERSELF to him.

  What if he rejected her?

  She’d had a child, wasn’t all that young anymore. Rob had liked her curves, but she had a weakness for Rocky Road ice cream. And it showed. She wanted Nash, and it was such a shock that she was going after him. But he was like chocolate cake, ice cream and the best champagne, and she craved him.

  He sat up and pulled off his robe, tossed it to the floor. Scars be damned, he still had a gorgeous body, and she wanted him with an acute ache.

  She hesitated a second, then put her hands on his broad shoulders, put her leg on his other side so she faced him.

  They stared at each other, then he pulled her close, kissed her neck. Sharp arrows of desire twanged through her, and she held his head in place. Sensations flooded her, and she wanted him—all of him—now. But didn’t want it to end too soon.

  He slid a finger down her stomach, and she caught her breath, trying not to scream.

  She leaned sideways and picked up a foil packet, tore it open and handed it to him. “Now. Please, now.”

  He sheathed himself, and she sank down, only to have him fill her up. Her eyes closed, and she lost herself in the feel of him.

  “You okay, babe?”

  She opened her eyes. “Yes,” she breathed.

  Rain still pelted the windows, and thunder rumbled. But inside their cozy cocoon, she let herself go and drowned in him.

  * * *

  SOMETHING NUDGED KELSEY and she woke up, disoriented. The normal night-light in her bathroom wasn’t on. She turned over and her muscles screamed in protest. It all came flooding back—she’d slept with Nash. Squinching her eyes closed, the recriminations assailed her.

  Moaning interrupted her thoughts, however, and she looked at the other side of the bed. Nash sat up on the side of the bed, his back hunched over.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, turning on the lamp.

  “Damn. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “Are you in pain?”

  “Cramp in my thigh. Bad one.”

  She scrambled out of bed and searched for her robe in the shadows. Finally finding it, she hurried to his side of the bed and pulled a chair in front of him.

  “Okay, try to slow your breathing.”

  His fingers dug into his quads, and sweat beaded on his forehead. She rubbed her hands together to warm them, then laid them on his upper leg. Massaging deep, she kept doing it until the muscles relaxed, and his hands unclenched.

  “Thanks. Feels better now.”

  “Good. Now lie facedown.”

  “Why?”

  “You need to relax. I want to give you a rubdown.”

  “You don’t need to do that. You’ve had a long day.”

  “Just do it, please.” She grabbed the lotion from the table while he complied and lay facedown, the sheet pulled up to his waist.

  She squeezed lotion into her hands and rubbed them together, then started massaging his shoulders. The knots were hard as rocks, and she couldn’t help but worry about him. “Do you get cramps very often?”

  He shrugged under her hands. “Most nights.”

  “You should have told the doctor. Call him when we get back, okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  His muscles finally loosened up, and she soothed her hands over his back, not as a therapist now, but as a woman appreciating a man’s body. His breathing deepened. Must have fallen back asleep, thank goodness.

  She’d been wrong to sleep with him, but she already craved him again. Forcing herself to stand up, she moved the chair back into place and looked out the window. The rain had stopped, and she hoped they’d be able to get out of town before too long.

  She debated spending the rest of the night on the sofa, but was too tired. Leaving her robe on, she got back into bed as quietly as she could and turned the light off. It had been a lot of years since she’d shared her bed with anyone. Nash had taken up part of her side, and she scrunched over as much as possible.

  Finally relaxing, she’d just closed her eyes when he groaned. “No,” he said, his voice harsh.

  “Nash,” she whispered, touching his shoulder.

  He yanked away from her, seemed to be moving the covers around.

  “Wake up,” she said. “Nash, wake up. Come on, honey.” She stroked a hand over his chest, hoping to soothe him.

  His eyes fluttered open, then focused on her. “What happened?”

  “You were having a night
mare.” She smoothed a damp lock of hair away from his forehead, felt the heat radiating from him. Clutching the robe tight, she hurried into the bathroom and ran a washcloth under cold water, then brought it back to him. He’d leaned forward, his breath heaving, hands covering his face.

  Sitting next to him on the bed, she tried to pull his hands away.

  “Leave me alone.”

  She set the cool washcloth on the back of his neck and went to the tray the B and B owner had brought them the night before. The tea was cold, but the brandy would work. She poured him a shot and brought it back to him, nudged his hand with the tumbler.

  He spared a glance at her, but took the glass and downed it in one gulp. “More.” He shoved the glass at her, but she hesitated. “Please,” he said, voice still hoarse.

  “What were you dreaming?”

  “Not telling you.”

  “It might help if you get it out of your head.”

  “No.”

  “Why?” she persisted, hoping he’d tell her.

  “If I tell you, will you give me another drink?”

  She hesitated, but it might be the only way to get him talking. “Tell me.”

  “Recurring nightmare. The night my unit was attacked, and the bomb blew my leg off. And my men died. Satisfied?” He shoved the glass at her.

  This time she took it and poured another one, handed it to him, which he downed faster than the first.

  “I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t help. It was a war,” she said quietly, her heart aching for him. No wonder he was so angry and bitter. She hadn’t realized how much guilt he felt at being the only survivor.

  “You weren’t there.”

  “Nash, you can’t keep going on like—”

  “Bring me the bottle.”

  “Talk to me. Please.”

  “No.”

  “Will you think about talking to someone?”

  “Give me the damn bottle.”

  “You need to get some sleep.”

  “It’ll help me sleep.”

  “Is this how you get to sleep every night?”

  “None of your business.”

  “The hell it’s not!”

  He stared up at her, his eyes narrowed. “Give me the bottle.”

  “Get it yourself.”