Storm's Interlude

by Vonnie Davis

  Storm put Sawyer and Pistol down for a nap while Rachel finished giving Sunny her first acupuncture treatment. Now Sunny, too, was resting. This would be a perfect time to e-mail her mom and Grace. Rachel silently closed Sunny’s bedroom door and walked across the hall to hers. That’s when she saw the pretty pink floral gift bag hanging from her doorknob.

  What was this? She removed the bag from the brass doorknob. A gift? She glanced around to see if anyone was waiting for her to find it; a silly gesture, she knew. Still…

  She walked into her bedroom and closed the door behind her, resisting the urge to peek in the bag until she was alone. Who would have left it? Settling on the love seat, she gently pulled away the tissue paper, wanting on one level to prolong the sweetness of the gesture, yet fighting the urge to dive in to see what was in the bag. There was more tissue paper wrapped around something hard. She removed it with care, laying it on her lap to peel the pink tissue paper away.

  She gasped in delight. An angel. She held up the figurine to examine it. A beautiful porcelain angel with long hair and flowing robes tinged with pale blue at the hem. “Angel of hope,” she whispered, reading the notation on the golden scroll. She gingerly ran a finger across its face. What a sweet expression the angel had. How charming.

  What a kind gesture, but who was it from? She picked up the tissue paper on her lap and turned it over and then peered into the bag. That’s when she saw the ivory envelope.

  “Amanda’s Antiques” was printed in gold in the corner of the envelope. Rachel’s first name was scrawled beneath in a bold hand. She turned the envelope over and removed the ivory, gold-edged card. “I’m sorry I yelled at you this morning. Thank you for bringing hope to our family. S.”

  She lifted the angel from her lap. Storm? Storm had gotten her this angel? Had to be him. He was the only one who’d yelled at her this morning. She turned the delicate angel over in her hands, admiring it from every angle. Still, an angel from him was so out of character. The man was an enigma. He could go from caring to cross, gentle to gruff. Who could keep track? She glanced down at the angel pressed against her breast, next to her heart where the perplexing six-foot-two enigma had found a home.

  Rachel had just sent her mother an e-mail when someone knocked on her door. “Yes, come in.”

  Noella opened the door, her breathing rapid. “Come quick! One of the ranch hands has been hurt.”

  “Not Storm? Tell me he’s okay.” She couldn’t bear it if Storm were hurt.

  “It’s Eduardo. Master Storm is with him. He sent me to get you.”

  Rachel was already tugging her well-equipped nurse’s bag from her closet. “How bad are his injuries?” She ran down the steps behind the housekeeper, who had an armful of clean sheets and rags.

  While Storm and Red carried Eduardo into the stable under Rachel’s supervision, Noella spread a couple pristine sheets on the clean floor. Eduardo’s face was white and he was sweating profusely. He’d tried to separate a sick calf from its mother. The mother had chased him, causing him to take his eyes off the new bull. He’d been gored.

  Storm ran a shaky hand through his hair. “That ambulance should soon be here. What’s taking it so long?”

  Rachel gave Eduardo three extra-strength Tylenols, not nearly enough to take care of the pain, but they would take off the edge. She cut away Eduardo’s shirt, exposing the wound.

  “Madre de Dios.” Noella crossed herself. “Tell me how I can help.”

  “Open the packages as I hand them to you.” She snapped on latex gloves and began cleaning the wound. “Talk to me, Eduardo. Tell me about la novia.” She wanted to distract him from what she was doing. He had a deep, nasty gash in his abdomen from the bull’s horn. There were definite serious internal injuries.

  “My Maria. Si, she loves me.” His breathing was rapid. Sweat rolled from his face. He winced as she ministered to him.

  “Think of all the TLC you’re going to get from her because of this. Lots of hugs and kisses.”

  He groaned in pain. “I certainly hope so! ’Cause this hurts like hell.”

  “She’ll bring you this and bring you that. Mi amigo, you’re going to get all kinds of loving out of this little injury. Might as well milk it for all it’s worth.” She held a pressure bandage to his cleaned wound. “There, the worst is over with. You can tell her how brave you were. I never heard you scream like a llorica.”

  He nodded, his teeth gritting. Ambulance sirens sounded in the distance. “Gracious. You’re an angel,” Eduardo proclaimed and then clenched his teeth and moaned.

  “Just a little longer and the paramedics will give you something stronger for the pain. Hold on, Eduardo.”

  By the time the EMTs loaded Eduardo into the ambulance, he was unconscious. For now he was out of pain. Rachel snapped off the gloves and pushed her hair back from her face.

  “You did good, Nurse Rachel.” Storm wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her to his side. “I’m going to follow the ambulance. Make sure he gets everything he needs and inform the hospital the ranch will take care of the bill.” He turned to Red. “You want to call Eduardo’s mother? Find out if she needs a lift to the hospital. I’ll swing by to get her.”

  “Sure thing, boss. I’m sure Mrs. Ruiz will appreciate the ride. Can you handle her wheelchair okay? Getting her in and out of it?”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem. I do know how to be gentle.” Noella smirked at Storm’s remark. “What? Do you know me as anything but gentle?” By now Noella and Red were laughing. In short order, Storm was, too.

  He shot Rachel a look. “Wise guys. I’m surrounded by ’em. Make your call, Red, while I wash up and put on a clean shirt. Wouldn’t do for Mrs. Ruiz to see her son’s blood all over my clothes.” He hurried off to the house.

  Rachel wrapped her unsanitary things in a towel and placed other items back into her well-ordered nurse’s bag. She’d been impressed by Storm’s consideration for Eduardo and his mother. On the surface she thought him a hard and demanding boss. Perhaps she’d been wrong.

  When she stepped into the mudroom that was also a laundry area, a shirtless Storm was at the sink washing. He was tanned and muscled. Her mouth went dry, while her fingers itched to slowly touch those firm abs—so slowly she could memorize every cell’s contour.

  She set her bag on the dryer. “I wanted to thank you for the angel. She’s beautiful.”

  He dried his face and chest with a towel. Then he reached above her head for a clean T-shirt from the pile on a shelf over the dryer. As he reached, his other hand went to her waist and his thumb rubbed her midriff in slow, tantalizing circles. Her stomach fluttered. He smelled of soap and sunshine and leather. As he pulled back, their gazes locked. “The angel reminded me of you.”

  “Me?” Mercy, but a girl could get lost in those dark eyes. He had a way of looking at you as if you were beautiful, as if he couldn’t bear to tear his gaze away. Her lungs wanted to collapse as if his thoughtfulness sucked the air from her lungs.

  “Yes.” He stepped closer. Their thighs touched. Her body responded with feminine desire. He trailed a finger down her cheek and along her jaw. “You see, she called out to me from the store window with your long hair and blue eyes. Your innate beauty.”

  Rachel tore her observation from his and searched for someplace else to visually devour. She found his naked chest was so near her face, she could kiss those prominent pecs if she chose. Realization dawned. She really wanted to touch and kiss his hard, muscular torso. Her hands fluttered to his rippled abdomen and slid upward. He groaned her name, and she snatched her hands back.

  Then he leaned closer and kissed her neck. “The angel was lovely and fragile looking just like you.” He kissed her neck again. She shivered. “I couldn’t resist her, just like I can’t resist—”

  “Hey, boss.” Red opened the screen door and stepped inside. “Mrs. Ruiz said…” His eyes took in the two of them standing close. “Oops…sorry.”

  Storm stepped back and tugged
on a black T-shirt. “Mrs. Ruiz want me to pick her up?”

  “Yeah.” Red’s eyes slid from Storm to Rachel and then back to Storm. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in on you two.”

  Rachel grabbed her bag. “I’d better go check on Sunny. Give Eduardo my best.” She hurried through the kitchen and headed for the stairs. What must Red think, seeing them like that? They were practically kissing. Storm Blackhawk could make love to her soul with a look, a touch, a word. She was in over her head, and it was about time she admitted it.

  Rachel was making a bedtime snack of peanut butter and celery when Storm stepped into the mudroom. “Hello to the house.” He toed off his boots before coming into the kitchen.

  “Hello to the boss.”

  “Hey, mouse. You still up?” He ran a hand across the back of his neck, and his eyes held weariness. He’d whispered his question. The only light burning in the large kitchen was over the sink, casting the room in intimate semidarkness that seemed to lend itself to whispers.

  “How’s Eduardo?” She took a bite of her celery. Her voice, too, was lowered.

  “Like you told us after they put him in the ambulance, he needed surgery. Doc said his small intestines were punctured, just as you suspected. They took out a five-inch section.” He wrapped his hand around her wrist and took a bite of her celery.

  “Hungry, cowboy?” They stood close. He still held her wrist, poised to take another bite.

  “Starved. Haven’t had peanut butter and celery since I was a kid. Forgot how good it is.” He took more of her celery, then helped himself to the couple sticks she already had on her plate.

  “I’ll make you an omelet.” She pulled fresh vegetables from the refrigerator and began chopping. “Tell me about Eduardo. How long was his surgery? Did you talk to him afterwards? Did his color look better?”

  Storm poured a glass of milk, leaned his hip against the counter and talked to her while she chopped vegetables and leftover ham, whipped eggs and made his omelet. When she slid it onto a dish, he winked and told her she was a girl after his own heart.

  She sat with him while he ate, her chin resting on her palm with her elbow on the table. “I gotta give you one thing, cowboy. You do eat with gusto.”

  He fed her a bite. “Great omelet. I had some crackers from a vending machine but couldn’t face the hospital cafeteria. Believe me, this really hits the spot. Thanks, mouse.” He took her hand, rubbing his calloused thumb over her palm in slow, gentle strokes. She tried not to respond to his touch. At least she told her heart not to, as for her body, well, it was beyond taking advice where this man was concerned.

  “Did you really have mice as a kid?” He fed her another bite, his eyes watching her lips close over the fork.

  “Sure.” He scraped the last bite from the plate. “Homer and Marge.”

  Rachel groaned. “The Simpsons.” She stood and took his plate and glass, heading for the sink.

  “You didn’t watch The Simpsons?” He pulled a clean dishtowel from a drawer while she ran water to wash the dishes and pan.

  “Oh, sure. I loved them.” She stuck her hands into sudsy water. They whispered about their favorite movies and books. They compared tastes in music. Before long, the kitchen was clean enough even for Noella’s critical eye.

  Storm turned out the light and followed Rachel out of the kitchen, their whispered sharing drawing to an end. “Sleep well, mouse. Think I’ll check my e-mail before I head up to bed.”

  She paused on the steps, relieved and yet disappointed he wasn’t following her upstairs. There’d be no chance for a good-night kiss at her bedroom door.

  When Rachel yanked on her running shoes the next morning, eager for the day to begin, it was still dark. Once her laces were tied, she stepped into the hallway and found a CD lying on the floor.

  She picked it up and stepped into the light of her room to read the computer-generated cover: “Mood Music for Mouse.” She flipped the case over to read the list of songs from Storm’s collection he’d burned on the CD for her. A smile crept across her face. He knew how much she liked music. She’d told him so last night. What a sweet gesture.

  Humming quietly, she slipped down the steps, through the dining room and into the kitchen for her yogurt. Storm must be up and gone already. A half-empty carafe sat at the coffeemaker. She’d seek him out later to thank him for the CD.

  The aroma of fresh coffee made her stomach growl. Although she yearned for a cup, she’d wait until after her run. A reward. She smiled, taking her first bite of yogurt.

  While she ate, she mentally reviewed her schedule for the day. She’d have Sunny plant herbs and spend time in the pool with Sawyer. Then she’d give her a massage. After lunch, she’d get Sunny to walk outside for a little while. She was concerned her patient tired so quickly.

  She finished the yogurt and threw away the container. That’s when she noticed the back door was open. Stepping into the mudroom, she saw Storm through the screen door. He was leaning against a post, obviously staring off into the wide Texas horizon and sipping coffee.

  He had one hand shoved into the pocket of his jeans, which looked buttery soft with age. His dark, straight hair hung over the collar of his faded red T-shirt. Broad shoulders stretched the material. She yearned to reach out and rub her hand over his strong back.

  What was it about him that attracted her? After all, she’d met many handsome men in her life. Kyle, for one. Damian, the guy she’d dated in college, was another. She smiled. Dr. Isaacs at Kings Daughters Hospital, back home, was drop-dead gorgeous, but then he was openly gay.

  Still, what was it about Storm? He was arrogant and opinionated. Bossy. Yet he could be incredibly caring and gentle. Evidently, he was prone to giving little gifts. He was devoted to his sister. His love for his nephew was very touching. She imagined he’d make a great father.

  What was she going to do about her attraction to him? What was behind it? Could his magnetic pull on her simply come from his ability to kiss her into sensual overload? If they were to kiss again, would his effect be just as potent? God help her, but she’d love to find out.

  “You might as well come out and join me.” His deep voice caressed her senses and beckoned. How did he know she was watching him? She wiped her hands over her shorts in a nervous gesture. Did he know how long she’d been standing there, staring, dreaming…yearning?

  Embarrassed, Rachel stepped onto the porch and stood next to the man who had moved into her mind—lock, stock and saddle. “Good morning.”

  He saluted her with his mug. “Mornin’.”

  His eyes were so intent on her that, for an instant, her mind went blank. Her attraction to this man had to be channeled into friendship—merely friendship. “Thank you for burning me that CD. I can’t wait to play it.”

  “You’re welcome.” A faint blush crept up his neck.

  She took pleasure in his discomfort. If she was uneasy around him, she was glad he was obviously suffering from the same emotion. “How long have you been up?”

  “An hour, give or take. Did you have your yogurt?” He drained his coffee and set the mug on the porch railing.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I don’t want any low-sugar episodes like yesterday morning.” He jerked his head toward the horizon. “This is the best place to watch the sun come up. Our best views of sunsets are on the patio, but here, right here is the spot you get a great view of the sunrise. Nothing like a hill country sunrise.”

  The curve of the golden sun peeped above the mountains in the distance. Shimmers of apricots and reds undulated like dancing rays celebrating the birth of a new day. Birds began singing as if to welcome the sun. “Oh, you’re right. It is beautiful. I guess you do this every morning? Drink your coffee and watch the sun come up.” She looked up at him.

  He never spared her a glance. “Yup.”

  His freshly shaved face was relaxed. The smell of his soap and aftershave filled her nostrils. She wanted to bury her nose in his neck and inhale his masc
uline scent for hours.

  She smiled again. “You always so talkative in the morning?”

  “Yup.” He turned slightly and smiled at her. She laughed. Lordy, but he had a disarming smile. His dark eyebrows wrinkled. “Why do you wear such revealing clothes to run in?”

  She glanced down at what she was wearing. Frankly, right this minute, she couldn’t remember what she’d put on. “What do you mean? It’s just a white running bra and red shorts.”

  “Running bra?”

  “Not that kind of bra.” She slapped his arm. “Running bras are made for women to wear in public. They provide more support for…for…our…ah…the running female.”

  “Yes, and more eye candy than the average guy’s heart can take.” He looked over her shoulder at her derriere. “Damn if those shorts shouldn’t be declared illegal.”

  She’d had enough. “If you don’t like the way I look, then don’t look at me.”

  “Easy now. Never said I didn’t like it.”

  She huffed an irritated breath. “Then what?”

  He grabbed her upper arms and hauled her to him. “Then, this…” His lips crushed hers and sparked a response like two electrical wires arcing, sending showers of white-hot flashes. Fireworks. Oh, yeah, there were most definitely fireworks. She fisted her hands in his long hair.

  His tongue swept across her lips, a silent request. She opened her mouth and accepted. He moaned and moved a powerful hand to her bottom, pressing her to him.

  When he lifted her, her arms wrapped around his neck and their hungry lips fused, seeking what they both needed. Oh, God, this was even better than the first kiss, even better than his kisses the other night on the horse. He turned and pushed her back against the pillar. She wrapped her legs around his waist. “Rach…God, honey.” His teeth scraped down her neck, and her eyes crossed.

  Shivers ran down her spine. Her nipples peaked in response. His hands, strong and firm, ran from her hips up her back. She moaned his name, and he captured her lips again. Their tongues touched and tortured and tamed.