Nelson's Brand

by Diana Palmer

“What about your career, little one?” he asked later.

  “I can’t go back to it,” she murmured, without mentioning the blemish on her reputation from the night in the line cabin that would cost her that career. There was no need to make him feel worse than he already did. “I couldn’t ask you to leave here and follow me around the world. And I couldn’t go without you. Besides,” she said gently, “there’s every possibility that I could be pregnant now. Today was the very best time for it to happen.”

  “Was it?” he murmured, and smiled tenderly, laying a big, lean hand on her belly. “Kids and cattle sort of go together, you know. It takes a big family to manage these days.”

  “I’d like a big family,” she said drowsily, curling up in his hard arms. “I hope we can have one.”

  “If we can’t, there are plenty of kids around who’d love to be needed by someone,” he murmured, smiling. “Raising them makes people parents, not just having them.”

  She smiled back. “I’m sleepy.”

  His arms contracted. “Too much loving,” he whispered. “I’ve exhausted you.”

  She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “Only temporarily,” she whispered. “I love how it feels with you when you love me, Gene.”

  His jaw tensed. “So do I.” He drew in a steadying breath. “We’d better get out of here before it happens again. You make me insatiable.”

  “I hope to keep you that way, when we’re married,” she said shyly.

  “I’ll hold you to it,” he promised. He lifted her and got up, too. “I have something for you. In the heat of things, I forgot to give it to you.” He opened his desk drawer and removed a felt-covered box. He opened it and slid a marquise diamond onto her engagement finger, leaving the companion wedding band in the box.

  “Do you want me to wear a ring when we’re married?” he asked seriously.

  “Of course,” she replied. “If I wear your brand,” she said with a mischievous smile, “you have to wear mine.”

  He chuckled. “Nelson’s brand, is that it? I like the sound of it. No trespassing allowed.”

  “And don’t you forget it,” she said.

  She clung to his hand, wonderingly, astonished that her life could have changed so much in such a short period of time. All her nightmares were going to fade away now, she was sure of it.

  Gene was equally sure of it. He’d laid his own ghosts to rest, including his worst one. Allison had said that environment played a big part in shaping a man’s character. Perhaps it did. Maybe his real father had had a hard time of it and couldn’t cope. Whatever the reason, it didn’t have to affect his own life unless he let it. He could live with being an adopted Nelson. Marie and Dwight loved him, there was no doubt about that, and he and Dwight were going to work out the rest of the problems. He’d never been so certain of anything. He looked down at Allison and felt as if he were floating.

  Dwight was able to go to the wedding the following week. He and Marie and Winnie witnessed at the small, quiet ceremony where Allison Hathoway became Mrs. Gene Nelson. She wore a simple white dress and carried a bouquet of daisies, and Gene thought he’d never seen anyone so beautiful. He said so, several times after they arrived at the hotel in Yellowstone National Park where they were spending part of their honeymoon.

  “The most amazing thing is that nobody discovered we were sharing a bed until we got married,” Allison said with a shy smile.

  “Sharing it was all we did,” he murmured ruefully, “because of your conscience. Not to mention my own. But it was sweet, honey. I never dreamed anything could be as sweet as holding you all night in my arms, even if we didn’t make love.”

  “And now we never have to be apart again,” she whispered, lifting into his arms as he began to kiss her very softly.

  “Did you notice the reporter?” he asked against her mouth.

  “The one you sent sprawling into the mud puddle?” she whispered, laughing involuntarily when she remembered the astonishment on the journalist’s face. “Amazing that he finally found me, and by the time he did, it didn’t matter anymore. They’ve started releasing all sorts of information through the international forces. I’m old news now.”

  “Thank God. He won’t be hounding us anymore.”

  “I just wish my parents could have gotten out with me,” she said, allowing herself that one regret.

  “So do I, little one,” he replied gently. “I’m just glad that you did.”

  She pressed close to him, drawing strength from his lean, powerful body.

  “Make love to me this time,” he whispered at her ear.

  “But I don’t know how,” she said softly.

  “No problem. I’ll teach you.”

  And he did. He guided her, smiled at her reticence, laughed at her fumbling efforts to undress him. But when they were finally together on the big bed, softness to hardness, dark to light, the laughing stopped and they loved as they never had before. From tenderness to rough passion, to lazy sweetness and sharp demand, they didn’t sleep all night long. By morning they lay exhausted in each other’s arms, too tired to even move.

  It was lunchtime before they stirred. Allison opened her eyes to find Gene sitting on the bed beside her, watching her as he toweled his hair dry.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Nelson,” he said softly.

  She opened her arms, smiling as she dislodged the sheet and felt him lift her against his bare chest while he kissed her tenderly.

  “Was it good?” he whispered.

  “I thought I was going to die,” she replied huskily.

  “So did I. And I still may.” He groaned, sitting upright, and then he laughed. “I think my back’s broken.”

  “Married twenty-four hours, and you’re already complaining,” she moaned.

  “That wasn’t a complaint,” he chuckled. He kissed her again and pulled her out of bed, his eyes sliding possessively over her soft pink nudity. “God, you’re beautiful. Inside and out. You’re my world, Allison.”

  She pressed close against him. “You’re mine. I’ll never live long enough to tell you how much I love you.”

  “Yes, you will.” He smoothed her hair. “Now get dressed. I don’t know about you, but I’m starved!”

  “Come to think of it, so am I,” she said, blinking. “Gene, we never had supper! Not to mention breakfast or lunch!”

  He chuckled. “We didn’t, did we?”

  “No wonder we’re hungry!”

  “Amen. So get moving, woman.”

  She got dressed, with his dubious assistance, which took twice as long. They had a leisurely supper and then went out to see Old Faithful erupt. Later they drove up to the mud volcano, past the fishing bridge, and sat beside a little stream that cut through towering lodgepole pines with the jagged Rocky Mountains rising majestically in the distance and Yellowstone Lake in the other direction.

  “Tomorrow’s Sunday,” he said when they were back in the hotel room, curled up together in bed.

  “So it is,” she replied.

  He sighed softly and pressed her cheek to his bare chest. “They have church services nearby,” he said. “I asked. Suppose we go?”

  Her breath caught. She sat up, looking at him in the light from outside the room. “Do you mean it? You really want to?”

  “I mean it,” he said quietly.

  She had to fight tears. “Oh, Gene,” she whispered, because she knew what a giant step it was for him to make.

  He brushed away the moistness from her eyes. “I love you,” he said. “From now on, we go together—wherever we go.”

  “Yes.” She laughed, so full of happiness that it was all but overflowing. “Oh, yes!”

  He pulled her close and rested his cheek on her soft hair. Minutes later, he heard her breathing change as she fell asleep. He watched her sleeping face with quiet wonder for a few minutes before he pulled the covers over them and settled down beside her, with her cheek resting on his broad, warm shoulder.

  Outside, a bird was making sof
t night noises, and his eyes closed as he relaxed into the mattress. He’d been looking for a place in life, somewhere he belonged, somewhere he fit. Now he’d found it. He fit very nicely into Allison’s warm, soft arms—and even better in her gentle heart. She made him complete. He closed his eyes with a slow smile. He’d have to remember to tell her that in the morning.

  To professional bull rider Tater Porter, for taking the time to answer my many questions and for sharing his experience and knowledge with me. Thanks, Tater. You’re one of the best.

  To Dr. Tandy Freeman and physical trainer Dave Lammers, for giving me a tour of a PBR training room and for explaining how they assist injured riders.

  And a special thank-you to the Professional Bull Riders for showing me a behind-the-scenes look at this exciting sport. Without their help, the Lonetree Ranchers series would not have been possible.

  LONETREE RANCHERS: COLT

  USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  Kathie DeNosky

  KATHIE DENOSKY

  lives in her native Southern Illinois with her big, lovable Bernese mountain dog, Nemo. Highly sensual with a generous amount of humor, Kathie’s books have appeared on the USA TODAY and Waldenbooks bestseller lists and received a Write Touch Readers’ Award and a National Readers’ Choice Award. Kathie enjoys going to rodeos, traveling to research settings for her books and listening to country music. Readers may contact Kathie at P.O. Box 2064, Herrin, Illinois 62948-5264 or email her at kathie@kathiedenosky.com. They can also visit her website at www.kathiedenosky.com.

  Chapter One

  As Kaylee Simpson arranged rolls of gauze and tape on a cart in the training room, the sudden hushed silence in the arena sent a numbing fear straight through her. There was only one reason an arena full of Professional Bull Riders fans became that quiet—one of the riders was down and not moving.

  Closing her eyes, she held her breath and tried not to think as she waited for the applause that would signal the rider was being helped to his feet. But with each passing minute the likelihood of that happening dwindled considerably. When she heard several sets of boots hurrying down the corridor toward the training room, she knew they were bringing the rider in on a stretcher.

  Dear God, please don’t let it be anyone I know, she prayed.

  “Get his vitals,” Dr. Carson ordered as he entered the room followed by several other men carrying a stretcher. They hoisted it onto the examining table.

  Grabbing the needed equipment, Kaylee’s hands shook as she stepped up beside the unconscious cowboy. But the moment she gazed down at the handsome face of the fallen bull rider, her heart slammed against her ribs and she felt the blood drain from her cheeks.

  “Colt,” she whispered out loud.

  The blood pressure cuff fell from her trembling hands to the floor. She barely noticed.

  “You know this guy?” one of the paramedics asked, picking up the cuff on his way back to the arena.

  Apparently he had no idea who the bull riders were. But Kaylee knew.

  Unable to get words past the huge lump clogging her throat, she took the cuff from him, closed her eyes and nodded. She’d grown up around most of the cowboys on the PBR circuit, and until three years ago, most of them had been like brothers to her.

  But the one lying on the table in front of her had always been different. She’d known Colt Wakefield from the time he was sixteen years old and she was ten. He’d been her brother’s best friend, the love of her young life and the man who had broken her heart.

  “Kaylee, if you’re not going to take his blood pressure, step aside and let one of the others do it,” Dr. Carson said impatiently as he ran clinical hands over Colt’s scalp.

  The doctor’s sharp tone snapped her out of her shocked state and she moved to follow his directive. Placing the cuff on Colt’s arm, she pumped it full of air, then listened with the stethoscope. “His blood pressure is one ten over seventy.”

  “Good. Help me get his riding gear off and his shirt open so we can see what we have here,” Dr. Carson instructed.

  Kaylee took a deep breath and unzipped the front of the protective black leather vest with trembling fingers, then released the heavy-duty Velcro closure at Colt’s right shoulder while Dr. Carson unfastened the left side. Forcing herself to continue, she pushed the heavy leather out of the way and unsnapped his chambray shirt for the doctor to take a closer look.

  But when she parted the garment, the sight of Colt’s well-developed chest and rippling stomach muscles sent a shiver straight to her core and brought back memories that she’d worked for three long years to forget. Without thinking, she touched his smooth, warm skin with her fingertips. The last time she’d seen him without a shirt—the last time she’d seen him, period—had been the night after her brother’s funeral. Devastated by Mitch’s death, they’d turned to each other for comfort and support, and ended up…

  “K-Kaylee?”

  The sound of Colt’s voice caused her to recoil. He’d regained consciousness without her realizing it.

  Glancing down into his incredibly blue eyes, she felt as if she might not be able to draw her next breath. “Hi, Colt.”

  When she’d met him fourteen years ago, she’d decided he was the cutest boy she’d ever seen. But his good looks back then had only been a hint of the devilishly handsome man he would become. With raven hair and brilliant blue eyes, he’d always taken her breath away. Unfortunately, it appeared time hadn’t lessened his effect on her.

  Deciding to revert to the teasing relationship they’d shared before the events that changed her life forever, she added, “I see you’re still doing your famous header dismount.”

  His lean cheeks flushed a dull red. “And I see you’re still the same smart-mouthed little brat you’ve always been,” he said, the mischievous light dancing in his eyes taking the sting from his words.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, cowboy,” she said, smiling sadly. Unable to stop herself, she added, “If you’ll remember, I had to grow up pretty fast about three years ago.”

  Colt felt as if he’d been punched in the gut by Kaylee’s cryptic comment. He wasn’t sure if she was referring to Mitch’s death or how he’d walked away without looking back the morning after the most incredible night of his life. Either way, the guilt that had plagued him for the past three years welled up inside until he felt as if it might choke the life out of him.

  “How have you been, Kaylee?” he asked, unsure of what else to say. He watched her tuck a strand of silky auburn hair behind her ear as if trying to figure out how best to answer his question.

  “I’ve survived. I finally finished my degree last year.”

  He frowned. “What took you so long? A few years ago you only had one more year left.”

  She seemed to avoid looking directly at him. “Something came up and I had to take time off from school.” She wiped the dirt from his face with a damp cloth. “What about you, Colt? How have you been?”

  He started to shrug, but the grinding pain in his left shoulder shot up the side of his neck and caused a low groan to echo throughout the training room. Humiliated at having Kaylee see him in such a weakened condition, he gritted his teeth and said the first thing that came to mind. “I’d be a hell of a lot better if you weren’t standing over me like a vulture.”

  As soon as the words were out, Colt cursed himself for being a dirty lowlife snake. He’d rather cut off his right arm than to hurt Kaylee more than he knew he already had. But from the expression that fleetingly crossed her pretty face, he could tell that was exactly what he’d done.

  Before he could apologize for being a total jerk, Dr. Carson broke the tension filling the small room. “It looks like you’ve got a broken collarbone in addition to a slight concussion, Colt. To be sure, I’m sending you to the hospital for a set of X-rays.”

  Colt stared at the man as the gravity of the diagnosis sank in, along with an overwhelming amount of frustrated disappointment. “How long will I be out of commission?”r />
  “Depending on how bad the break is, I’d say you’re looking at eight to twelve weeks before you make it back,” Carson answered.

  It was the very last thing Colt wanted to hear. Ranked number three on this year’s PBR tour, he was close enough to the top that he had a damned good shot at the season championship. Missing the last part of the regular season events would all but end his hopes of winning the title. The best he could hope for now was to make it back in time for the finals in November.

  “I’ve called the ambulance crew for transport to the hospital,” he heard Kaylee say from somewhere across the room.

  She’d made good her escape and had moved away from the examining table while the doctor talked to him. Colt couldn’t say that he blamed her. He should be horsewhipped for the way he’d talked to her and he needed to apologize.

  “Kaylee?”

  A man in a navy-blue paramedic jumpsuit with the name of Forrester embroidered on the breast pocket stepped close. “Are you wanting the cute little chick with the great set of—”

  “Watch it, pal,” Colt warned angrily. As long as he was around, he wouldn’t tolerate anyone talking about Kaylee like that. She deserved the utmost respect and Colt intended to make sure she got it. “That girl just happens to be my best friend’s sister.”

  Knowing Colt was in no shape to do anything about his comment, the man shrugged. “That’s funny. She didn’t look like much of a girl to me.”

  Colt ground his back teeth at the guy’s lascivious expression. “And just what did she look like to you, Forrester?”

  “One hundred percent all woman,” the man answered, grinning suggestively.

  If Colt hadn’t been flat on his back and in pain, he’d have knocked the guy into the middle of next week. But as much as he wanted to teach the jerk a lesson in respect, he knew it would be some time before he was up to a good old-fashioned fistfight.

  “Don’t worry, cowboy. She was on her way out when we came in,” the man went on as he and his rotund partner lifted Colt to the gurney they’d rolled up beside the examining table. “She’ll most likely meet us at the hospital.”