Storm's Interlude

by Vonnie Davis

  An open laptop sat on the wooden kitchen table. Beside it was a mug of steaming tea. On the counter, a loaf of wheat bread rested next to a jar of peanut butter. Protruding from the opened refrigerator was a cute behind, covered by baggy yellow pajama bottoms, wiggling to the beat of the song she sang. “Shot through the heart and you’re to blame, you give love a bad name.”

  The off-tune singing switched to humming, but that perfectly rounded bottom continued to wiggle. “Pickles...pickles. Surely there are pickles in this huge refrigerator. Maybe some of those sweet little Gherkins. Oh, look, cottage cheese. You give love a bad name…” The off-tune singer extracted a container from the crowded contents of the refrigerator, absently reaching out to set it on the counter.

  Sneaking up behind her in his stocking feet, he placed a hand on the top edge of the open door of the refrigerator and leaned over her bent body.

  She moved a pitcher of orange juice. “Okay, pickles, where are you hiding?”

  “Check behind the milk.”

  Rachel yelped and spun around, her hand to her heart. Her big blue eyes opened impossibly wide. “You! Wha...what are you doing here?”

  He held out his hand. “Hello, Rachel. I’m Storm Blackhawk, Sunny’s twin brother.”

  “You…you’re Sunny’s brother? No freakin’ way! Don’t you dare touch me.” She made a fist and had the audacity to shake it under his nose. He didn’t know whether to laugh or paddle that cute behind she’d been wiggling earlier. “You…you just keep your hands and your lips to yourself. You…you naked, kissing bandit.”

  Storm leaned his head back and laughed. “Well, I’m not naked now. And just how do I classify as a bandit? I didn’t steal anything from you.”

  Rachel fisted her hands on her hips, leaned in and narrowed her eyes in such an appealing way he was overcome with a keen desire to kiss her softly and slowly, the kind of kiss that made you sigh partway through it. “You stole a kiss from me.” Her eyebrow arched. “Or have you forgotten?”

  He smiled, his hands itching to touch her. What man walking the face of this earth could forget a kiss like the one they’d shared earlier? “Is it called stealing when the woman gives as good as she got?”

  Rachel shook her fist again. “Back up, buster. I’ll not be kissed like that again.”

  “I was right. All that hair is glorious hanging loose and free.” He reached out, twirling a long strand of silk around his fingers. God help him, but she was a charmer. He held a long curl to his nose and inhaled her floral shampoo; a sexual vision slowly stroked his libido.

  Why did this woman heat his hormones as if he were some randy teenager? He had to get himself under control. She was his sister’s nurse. He figured a reminder about sexual harassment was due right about now. While he’d never resort to such predatory behavior, the urge to take one step toward her was overpowering. One step and he could capture those soft, luscious lips. He felt himself harden and, thinking better of the idea, he stepped back.

  She skittered around him and away from the refrigerator. “I don’t believe this! Of all the men for me to see naked on the road, it just had to be my patient’s brother? Un-beee-live-able!”

  “You see many naked men walking along the road?”

  She narrowed her eyes again. “You kissed me.”

  “Yeah, well, every man makes a mistake now and again. Guess I should have at least waited until we were properly introduced.” He winked. She sneered. “Look, all joking aside, I owe you an apology for my impulsive behavior earlier. I never should have kissed you.” He could have sworn he saw steam roll out of her ears. Had he said something wrong?

  Moving the gallon of milk aside, he reached in for the jar of pickles. He extended them to her. “Your pickles.” She yanked the jar from his hand, pressing them to her chest. Her movement caused his gaze to drop.

  He’d had a sense, out on Longhorn Road, of her having full breasts. Now that she was standing before him, braless and in thin cotton pajamas, his tongue nearly rolled out onto the floor. His gaze slowly traveled up to meet hers.

  She must have understood his expression for she slowly shook her head, set the pickles on the table and turned to bolt from the kitchen. “I’m going to get my bathrobe. When I get back, Mr. Storm Blackhawk, you’d better be the hell gone.”

  Chapter Four

  The sun gentled the Texas sky awake with her show of pinks and oranges intermingled with the dark grays of dawn, promising another hot day. Storm was talking to Red Pelton, his foreman, and three ranch hands, Ben, Eduardo and Randy, giving them orders for various projects.

  Suddenly the crew’s heads collectively swiveled to the left. Low whistles and snide remarks warmed the air already heating up for the day. Even Pistol panted louder than normal.

  Storm narrowed his eyes. Rachel was jogging down the driveway wearing a tight red midriff-skimming top and black running shorts that should have been declared illegal. Damned if he could figure how a woman so short could have legs so long.

  “Gentlemen, the woman you’re gawking at is Sunny’s new nurse. I’ll expect you to keep your distance. She’s here to take care of my sister.” Their lewd responses did nothing to improve his mood.

  Nor did hearing Jackson give a wolf whistle. Storm’s narrowed eyes ricocheted off Rachel to his best friend. Minutes earlier, he’d seen Jackson stumble out of the house, grimacing at the sunlight and holding a hand over each ear, probably in an attempt to keep them from falling off his hungover head. Now Jackson’s arms were extended across the roof of the cruiser, and he sported a mile-wide grin as he ogled Rachel, obviously enjoying the view.

  Storm turned his irritated attentions back on his men. “Stop drooling over Rachel and get the hell to work. You’re burnin’ daylight.” At their raised eyebrows, he barked, “Go on, now. I’m in no mood to be fooled with today.”

  Storm headed for Jackson and shot a dark look down the long driveway. He’d tossed and turned most of the night thinking of Nurse Rachel and that lush body of hers. Those eyes, those lips, and that long, silky, curly hair had haunted him in his sleep. Strange part of it all was she wasn’t his normal type. He usually preferred tall, slender women—women more likely to do his bidding.

  Rachel, the spirited little minx. He snorted. Imagine that spitfire shaking her fist under his nose, warning him to stay away. This was his ranch, by damn, and he’d do what he pleased. He’d never met a woman who both irritated and intrigued him from the instant he’d set eyes on her—until Rachel. He didn’t like it one bit.

  Jackson turned at Storm’s approach. “Who the hell is that?”

  “Sunny’s new nurse.” He stood next to his best friend.

  “Damn. Makes a man want to get sick just so she can nurse him. She’s one fine-lookin’ woman.” Jackson’s eyes narrowed. “What’s got a burr under your saddle? You’ve got that look.”

  “What look? How’s your head? Figured you’d still be in the den, sleeping it off.”

  Jackson rolled his eyes and winced, the gesture obviously causing him great discomfort. “Sleep? With Noella jerking the drapes open in the den so the bright sunlight liked to fried my eyeballs? Then she set to running the vacuum around and around the sofa like she was some shark circling in for the kill.”

  Just to irritate his best friend, Storm hummed the famous Jaws beat.

  “Mind turnin’ down the volume on that?” Jackson shot him a dark look. “Between the Jack Daniels, the Coors and Noella’s vacuum, my head is throbbing like a som’bitch. To say nothing of the dressing down she gave me about getting drunk...again.”

  He regarded Jackson, noting the sadness in his eyes. “She’s got a point.”

  “Woman put me on notice. Me, the chief of police!”

  “Don’t sound so shocked. You know how Noella can be. What’d she say exactly?”

  Jackson leaned a hip against the cruiser, folded his arms across his chest and studied the tops of his boots. Storm waited. This was Jackson’s thinking pose. “She told me to
stop feeling sorry for myself. That my problems were my own doing. If I hadn’t been sowing my wild oats while Sunny was away at college, maybe she would have taken me seriously.”

  “Guess she was referring to Brittany Daniels.”

  “Yeah, and Katie Lyn and April.” Jackson exhaled an audible sigh. “And all the rest.”

  “You were a dog.” Storm’s behavior hadn’t been much better. He’d taken two years at Texas Tech along with Jackson. The wide supply of cute girls notwithstanding, both had decided the college life wasn’t for them. By then the elder Sawyer Blackhawk’s heart problems were slowing him down, and he welcomed Storm’s return to take over some of the ranch operations. Jackson entered the police academy, hoping to make a career in law enforcement. Sunny finished her degree at University of Texas at Austin, graduating with honors.

  The distant rhythmic pounding of running shoes caught Storm’s attention. He laid his arms across the roof of the cruiser and watched Rachel come around the bend. She’d evidently run to the gates and turned around, giving her a two-and-a-half-mile run. Pistol whined, and for once Storm understood what the dog meant. The woman had a way of turning a man’s head.

  Jackson glanced Rachel’s way and then back at Storm. “You got your eye on her, buddy?”

  “I’m not ready for another woman,” he replied absently, his attention totally focused on Rachel. She ran effortlessly; the sweat on her pale skin glistened in the bright morning sun. He wondered what it would be like to lick off that sweat. A man could spend hours...

  Hell, he had to quit looking at her and fantasizing. It was so wrong. “Sunny has an appointment with her oncologist this morning.”

  “You takin’ her?”

  “No.” He jerked his head in Rachel’s direction. “She is.”

  “She’s not married, is she?”

  “You know she’s not. You did the background check.”

  Jackson laughed. “Man, you can’t take your eyes off her.”

  “Go to hell, Jackson.” He turned and stalked off.

  ****

  Problems plagued Storm all day. First, a needed shipment of high-grade barley for his private blend of horse feed didn’t arrive. The water pump went out on the old pickup used for various chores around the ranch. He ordered a new one, but the pump wouldn’t be in until tomorrow, which meant he’d have to let Red use his personal truck. Then, three head of cattle he’d bought at auction earlier in the week were diagnosed with Coccidiosis, a parasitic disease causing diarrhea and sloughing off of the lining of the intestine.

  Storm popped two more antacid tablets and checked his watch—five after four. Rachel and Sunny should have been home from the doctor’s three hours ago. Where in the blue blazes were they? He snatched his cell from his belt and thumbed the screen—no messages and no missed calls.

  The bright sun beat on his back and sweat rolled off him as he dug another fence hole. He wanted to enlarge the corral before the shipment of wild mustangs arrived. When he swung the pickax again, he cursed himself for not buying a new fence-hole digger after the old one stopped working last year. Three more holes. He had three more holes to dig before he started mixing concrete and setting in the posts.

  When he swung the pickax again, his mind went back to his sister. If Sunny needed more tests, she’d call. She knew how he worried. Rachel’s car looked new, so they shouldn’t have had car trouble. He dialed Sunny’s number for the fourth time. No answer.

  “Boss, got two more steers down.” Red took off his sweat-brimmed hat and wiped a forearm across his face.

  Storm bit out a string of profanity, swinging the pickax into the rocky soil one more time. “They part of the bunch I just bought?”

  Red nodded. “Good thing the new stock is still isolated from the rest of the herd.”

  “I called the vet earlier. He’s on his way. Ought to be here in about thirty minutes.” He stopped, then checked his cell again, even though he had it on vibrate. “I’m sorry I was so abrupt with you and the men this morning.”

  “Hey, if I had my eye on a gal, I wouldn’t take kindly to guys starin’ and disrespectin’ her, neither.”

  Storm stared at his foreman for a few beats. “What gives you the idea I’m interested?”

  “You ain’t?”

  He reached for the thermos of water sitting nearby and took a long swig. He poured some over his hair and shook it, hoping the water would help cool him off. Then he turned his gaze on Red. “Hell no, I’m not.” The sound of a vehicle caught his attention. “Hope that’s Rachel and my sister.”

  Red scratched the back of his neck. “I’d’a figured you was hopin’ it was the vet, seein’ as how you ain’t got your eye on that pretty little gal.”

  “Go to hell, Red.” He picked up his discarded T-shirt, shook it out and tugged it on.

  Rachel parked her car under the crepe myrtle. Before she could open her door, Storm descended on her like a swooping falcon on his prey. “Where have you been?” He glanced at his sister, sound asleep in her seat, a pink scarf around her head.

  Rachel got out of her little convertible and reached into the backseat for bags. “Shopping.”

  He took off his black work Stetson and slapped it against the side of his leg. Pistol, who was standing next to him, whined. “You mean to tell me you dragged my sick sister through stores?”

  Rachel leaned over her car to retrieve another bag from the backseat, showing more than a little of her long, shapely leg. “Yes, I did.” She turned and had the audacity to bat her eyes at him. “After all, someone had to push me around in a wheelchair so I could get my rest.”

  He grabbed her arm and hauled her up against him. “Don’t give me that smartass attitude when you’re dealing with my sister.” His gaze automatically focused on Sunny. Quite simply, she was his mirror image—only her image was smaller, paler and frailer than he’d like. Her cancer was eating him alive, too. Worry over Sunny withered the landscape of his soul.

  “I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me. You love your sister very much. I can see that.”

  Storm released Rachel’s arm, somewhat appeased. “From the moment of conception, it’s been the two of us. My job in life is to protect her. Her job is to brighten my world. She is exactly as her name implies.” He jerked his head in Sunny’s direction. “How long has she been asleep?”

  “About an hour.” Rachel leaned across the car for one last package. He tried to avoid looking at the way her green skirt hugged her bottom like a pair of lover’s hands. The thought made his palms itch and his mood darken.

  “You must have bought out the stores.” His gaze raked over her, taking in her appearance. Her long braid was tied with green ribbons, woven into the braid somehow. She wore a green sleeveless sundress that showcased her cleavage and trim waist—and firm backside. Red toenails peeked from white high-heeled sandals. Even in the heat she looked fresh and cool—and she heated him more than he liked to acknowledge.

  He knew he was scowling when Miss Cool-as-a-Cucumber turned and had him in the grasp of her blue eyes, as if she were taking his measure. He set his Stetson back on his head. “If you’d have thought to call, I wouldn’t have worried about her.” He walked around the Beetle, opened the door and lifted his sleeping twin.

  Sunny stirred in his arms as he carried her into the house. “I had a fabulous day, brother.”

  Rachel set the bags down so she could open the door to the house, and he carried Sunny inside.

  “You could have called to tell me you’d be late. I was worried.”

  “I think Sawyer must have gotten in my purse and traded his toy phone for my cell. Kind of hard to call on a Mattel.” Sunny’s face was flushed. She’d probably gotten too much sun from riding so long in that damned convertible.

  “What did the doctor say?”

  “Lost six more pounds.” She yawned and smiled. “My vitals are good. My cancer is still there. And I need to get drunk and have raw sex.”

  “Yeah, right. I’ll take c
are of the getting drunk and having raw sex. Nurse Rachel is here to take care of the cancer. All you have to do is eat more and gain back those six pounds.” He lithely carried her up the stairs.

  Sunny poked him in the shoulder with a finger. “You’re a bossy man.” She held out her hand. “We got manicures.”

  “Great! I’m here worrying about you and you’re getting your nails done.”

  She smiled again, and he took pleasure in seeing it. She’d been too serious of late; so had he. “We got pedicures, too.” Sticking out her feet, she showed off blue toenails.

  “Nice color.” He wiggled his eyebrows, and she giggled.

  “Oh, Storm, it was so good to do normal things again. Rachel insisted I ride in a wheelchair at the mall. We shopped, had fruit smoothies and got our nails done.”

  Rachel hurried around him to open the door to Sunny’s room. She breezed in, dropping the bags and moving some of the throw pillows on Sunny’s bed so he could lay her down. When she opened the drapes, afternoon sunlight poured in. “I want you to rest until dinner. I’m going to get you something to drink. Storm, can I get you anything cold?”

  “Water would be fine. Thanks.” He turned his attentions to his sister. “What did the doctor think of Rachel’s treatment plans?” He sat on the edge of Sunny’s bed, and she scooted over to accommodate him.

  “Dr. Frey asked her oodles of questions. They talked a lot of medical jargon. Then he nodded and told me I was lucky to engage her. She has a way of making me feel alive.”

  “Then all the money we’re paying her is worth it. I’m glad to see you smile again.” He cupped her cheek. “You got some sun.” Retrieving a light blanket from a chair, he covered her. “Tell me what you bought on your big shopping trip.” He closed the drapes to put the room into darkness.

  “A red bathing suit. All of mine are too big. Some shorts and tops. A cute pantsuit. Oh, and a remote control car and some books for Sawyer.”

  Rachel came in carrying a tray with two glasses and a steaming mug of tea. “Here you are, Miz Sunshine: green tea sweetened with honey and guaranteed to fill you with vim and vigor. Storm, here’s your water.” She sat the tray down and promptly opened the drapes.