Grabbing a shopping cart gave her an excuse to let go of his hand, and she pushed the cart into the store. They started in the cereal aisle and Gwen picked up two boxes of Cameron’s Cheerio’s, while Eli tossed a box of shredded wheat into the cart. “What do you like?”
“Oh, I’m fine. I can eat whatever is on hand.”
He put his hands on his hips. “Gwen, what type of cereal do you like?”
She shrugged. “Actually, I’m not much of a cereal eater. I prefer toast for breakfast.”
He gave her what she was starting to interpret as his you’ve got to be kidding look.
“It’s true. But I wouldn’t mind picking up a jar of peanut butter and maybe some marmalade to go on the toast.”
“Huh. Okay, we’ll stock up on PB and J.”
They cruised the aisles, and while Eli seemed to be buying enough to feed a hungry band of teenagers, nothing looked good to Gwen. He piled in jars of spaghetti sauce, pasta, potato and tortilla chips, and several tubs of salsa. When he would have added canned chili, Gwen stopped him. “If you get a couple different kinds of beans, I can make chili from scratch. It will taste a hundred times better than what comes out of a can. I guarantee it.”
He put back the cans and she found the ingredients she would need for homemade chili. He took over pushing the cart, and Gwen sighed. She realized he was being considerate, that the cart was getting weighted down. She was so used to relying only on herself, that his small gestures of kindness had a big impact.
She followed Eli down another aisle. “What about toilet paper, paper towels, soap, things like that?”
Eli slowed until she was walking beside him. “Every couple months I drive up to Carson City and get supplies at the warehouse store there. We’ll need to go again in a couple of weeks.”
“You must really have to plan so you don’t run out of things.”
“It’s not a big deal, that’s how we’ve always shopped.”
Gwen nodded, and when Eli would have passed the baking aisle, she stopped him. “You need a couple of things down here.”
“I do?”
“Yes, you do,” she said firmly. “I’m willing to do the cooking since your talents don’t lie in that direction, but there are some basics I need. And besides that, Cameron’s birthday is next week and I want to bake him a cake.”
“Birthday, huh? He’ll be ten, right?”
“Yeah. I can’t believe how fast he’s growing up.” She perused the shelves, trying to figure out the absolute essentials she couldn’t live without. She picked up flour and sugar, and because Eli didn’t have any spices beyond salt and pepper, she chose cinnamon and vanilla, then added a trio of yeast packets to the cart. She looked up to find Eli watching her with the expression he wore too often lately, the one that said he was trying to figure her out and she wasn’t fitting into any tidy pigeon hole.
She looked down at what she’d added to the already overflowing cart. “Is this too much? You wouldn’t have bought even half of this if it was only you.”
“True, but life is certainly looking up if I get homemade chili.”
Chapter Ten
Eli walked toward the house much later than he’d planned, anger and fatigue dogging his steps. The diverter that brought water from the creek to the meadows that spread across the valley, and meadows where his cattle grazed, water vital to the survival of the Broken Arrow, had been damaged. Add the cut fence line, and he had a pretty good idea of who was behind the vandalism. The Morgan family’s ranch, the Circle M, sat on a swatch of land at the southern end of the valley. For years the relationship between the two spreads, originating from Royce MacElvoy’s rescue from vigilante justice, had been strong, the families socializing together when things were good, and relying on each other during hard times.
But the friendship between the two families was now dead and buried. It had ended the night Kacey Morgan had wrapped her car around a tree, and her family blamed her death on Eli.
Fast forward a dozen years, and now the Morgans had another reason to direct their anger at him. Garrett Morgan, Jack’s older brother, wanted to sell the Circle M to a developer who planned to build a resort. Cabins and vacation homes along the creek, an upscale restaurant, a luxury spa—none of which fit with the way of life of those already living in the area. Eli didn’t mind the campers or adventure seekers who passed through the valley, but a fancy resort was too much.
The developer had also approached Eli about acquiring his ranch and had been told in no uncertain terms that the Broken Arrow wasn’t for sale. The Morgans wanted to sell, and would, but for one issue that neither family had worried about for generations. The road that provided access to the Circle M ran across a spit of land belonging to the Broken Arrow. As landowner, Eli controlled the easement, and refused to allow the developer to purchase or use it.
Garrett Morgan had become increasingly angry when he realized he was going to lose the deal unless he could convince Eli to give up or sell control of the easement. At the last community meeting over the project, Garrett had come close to punching Eli, and some folks from town argued the project would be good for business. The pressure had been intense. And now he suspected someone from the Circle M had cut the fence and damaged the diverter.
Eli removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair, then rubbed the back of his neck. He and Ben had worked late into the evening to get the water flowing again, but he had an uneasy feeling that the trouble was just beginning.
He climbed the steps to the porch, toed out of his boots, and stepped into the quiet house. Since the TV wasn’t on in the living room, he guessed Gwen and Cameron had gone upstairs to bed. Gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach had him heading for the kitchen. Maybe there were leftovers from whatever Gwendolyn had made for Cameron and herself. He opened the fridge to find a note stuck to a foil covered plate that read “For Eli—heat in microwave, gravy in plastic container. Gingerbread for dessert on the counter.” She’d even drawn a little smiley face. He lifted the foil and could have kissed her with gratitude. Baked chicken, a huge mound of mashed potatoes, and a smaller pile of peas—it looked about perfect. Setting the plate on the counter, he retrieved the gravy and a long-necked bottle of beer. Within minutes he was seated at the table enjoying his meal, wondering how he could go back to living alone if Gwen and Cameron left the Broken Arrow.
***
Two hours later, Eli climbed the stairs and stepped into the shadowed hall, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. He’d spent way longer sitting in front of his computer than he’d planned. Since he’d promised Gwen he’d look into it, he’d researched burner phones, and decided there was too great a risk she could be tracked if she used it, no matter where she was. The Southern California newspapers hadn’t had much more on Chloe’s murder. The initial buzz had died down and nothing new had been made public.
Now it was after midnight and he had to be up by five. Come morning he’d head to the north meadow and make sure the water still flowed. Then he and Jed would herd the mamas and their babies to pasture. But he needed a couple hours of shuteye to function. He nearly tripped over Cameron.
In the dim glow of the hall nightlight, the small form leaning against the wall jerked like he’d been startled awake. A thin line of light shone from under the bathroom door next to him. “What are you doing out here?”
“Waiting.”
“Your Aunt Gwenny in there?”
“Yeah.”
“So why are you out here? You scared of the dark?”
He thought that would get a response of more than one word, but Cameron shrugged. “No.”
Eli crouched so he could look at the boy on eye level. In the faint light, he could see the kid was fighting sleep, eyes drooping with fatigue. “Something wrong with her?”
Cameron sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Nothing I can’t take care of.”
Eli raised a brow. “How long has she been in there?” He got a shoulder twitch in response.
Standing, Eli reached out a hand and rapped lightly on the door. “Gwen, you okay?”
Silence. Cameron scrambled to his feet. He cast a look at Eli, then turned his back, putting his ear to the wood panel. “Gwenny, you want me to come in?”
When that didn’t elicit a response, worry wormed its way into Eli’s stomach. “She sick?”
Cameron gave Eli that serious look of his, then nodded mutely. Eli motioned him aside. “Step back, I’m going to check on her.” And he’d kick himself later for letting her work so hard.
The boy hesitated, then finally moved away from the door. Eli tried the knob and gave a mental thanks that it wasn’t locked. He pushed open the door and his heart jolted.
Gwen lay curled on the floor next to the tub, eyes closed. She’d pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail, and dark smudges made the skin under her eyes look bruised. Golden lashes lay against flushed cheeks. She wore an oversized t-shirt and what looked like men’s boxer shorts except for the tiny penguins on them. Her long, toned legs curled up toward her chest. He dropped to his knees beside her and gave a gentle shake. “Gwen, wake up.”
Even through the fabric of the shirt, intense heat radiated off her skin. As Cameron came to stand behind him, Eli touched her forehead with the back of his hand. “She’s burning up. How long has she been like this?”
“She said she didn’t feel good after I got home from fishing. She started throwing up after dinner. She gonna be okay?”
Most of the time Cameron seemed mature beyond his years, but now he was a little boy, worried about the woman who for all intents and purposes was his mother. “Yeah, but we need to get her back to bed.”
Gwen blinked open her eyes. He saw the moment it registered that she was on the floor, and he was with her. She pushed herself up, then leaned back against the tub, eyes closed, as if even that effort had cost her.
He rose to his feet, then bent to hook an arm under her knees, the other behind her shoulders. “C’mon, sweetheart.”
“Leave me alone. I’m fine.” Tone irritable, she struggled against his hold as he lifted her.
“Yeah,” he said grimly, “you’re so fine you passed out on the bathroom floor.” He nodded to Cameron. “Go on and open her bedroom door and turn on the lamp.” He carried her out of the bathroom and she gave up resisting, and sagged against him, her cheek resting against his chest where his shirt gaped open. Eli figured she really was sick if she let him win even that small a battle. He held her more firmly as he walked down the hall, alarmed at the heat radiating from her body. She needed Tylenol, but until he was sure she could keep it down, he couldn’t give her anything.
He lay her down gently, pulling the sheet up to cover her. Cameron stood by the bed in his Spiderman pajamas. “Go to the cupboard in the bathroom and get a washcloth. Wet it, wring it out, and bring it in. We need to get her cooled off.” The boy scurried off, and Eli sat on the edge of the bed. Gwen opened eyes glassy with fever.
“You have anything on under that t-shirt?”
She frowned. “Why?”
“You need to get cooled down. I want to get the shirt off and wipe you down with a washcloth.”
“I’m fine. Go away.”
“Look, Gwen, I’m hardly going to jump you if I see a little skin.”
“Never thought you would.”
He breathed in evenly, trying for patience. “Do you have a bra on so I can take off the t-shirt?”
“Yes,” she mumbled.
Cameron returned with a washcloth still dripping and Eli glanced around. A plastic container from the kitchen sat on her nightstand. He nodded toward the basin. “Put it in there so you don’t get water on the floor.”
“I can’t put it in there. That’s the barf bucket.”
“Barf bucket?”
“Yeah, I got it from the kitchen.” Cameron eyes were clouded with fatigue. “In case she couldn’t make it to the bathroom.”
Eli studied the boy. “Smart guy. You been up with her all night?”
He nodded, chin wobbling. “I don’t like my Gwenny being sick.”
“Yeah, me either. It’s a good thing she’s got you.” When Cameron raised his gaze, Eli continued. “And now she’s got me. You should have told me, and I would have helped take care of her.”
Cameron gave him a doubtful look. “When we came here she said you liked me fine, but not her.”
Eli sighed. “Look, Cameron, we’ll talk about that later. Help me out for another minute, then you’re off duty.” He nodded toward the nightstand. “Put the washcloth in the bucket for now, since it’s still clean. Then go down to the kitchen and get her a glass of ice water.”
Cameron hesitated, but then plopped the cloth in the bucket and trudged out of the room. Eli turned back to Gwen, who lay with her eyes half open.
He reached to pull her forward until she rested against him. Her hair smelled like sunshine. Quickly, he tugged the t-shirt over her head and then let her lean back against the pillow. Reaching for the washcloth, he wrung it out over the basin so it wasn’t dripping, then, brushing the hair back from her forehead, gently wiped her face.
She opened her eyes. The spark that always seemed directed at him, that gave her face such an irresistible pull, had dulled. But when she batted at his hand holding the cloth, he knew it wasn’t completely gone. “Go away.”
He ignored her, continuing to wipe down her neck and across her shoulders, then down toward her ribs.
“I’m not going away, Gwen. You’re sick and need tending, and your boy there is dead on his feet.”
She shook her head against the pillow. “I can take care of myself.”
“Most of the time, yeah. But right now? You need my help.”
He pulled the sheet up as Cameron came in carefully holding a glass, ice tinkling as he walked. Eli leaned forward and slipped an arm behind Gwen’s shoulders. “C’mon, Gwen. Let’s see if you can keep a sip of water down.” He thought she was going to balk, but in the end she did as he asked, leaning against him as he took the glass and held it to her lips. She drank a few scant sips. He’d have liked her to have more, but she shook her head and he lowered her back to the bed.
He turned to Cameron. “I’ll stay up with her, champ. You go on to bed.”
The boy looked uncertain, gray eyes so intent Eli thought the kid was going to refuse. But then he nodded. “Wake me up if she gets worse.”
“She might get worse before she gets better, but I’ll wake you if there’s anything I can’t handle.”
Cameron hesitated, then shuffled out of the room. Eli retrieved the damp cloth and wiped Gwen down once more. Returning the cloth to the barf bucket, he put a hand to her forehead, and then her cheek. She seemed cooler, her face maybe a shade less flushed. She didn’t stir and he thought she’d drifted into sleep.
Not bothering to talk himself out of it, he let his gaze travel over her. Full breasts restrained by a delicate bra rose in smooth mounds that had his mouth watering, while his fingers itched to stroke the creamy skin where her stomach tapered to a slender waist. The sheet covered her hips and Eli tugged it higher. A peek was one thing, but he couldn’t keep looking when he knew she’d clock him one if she was aware of it.
He glanced around the room. He wasn’t about to sit on the side of the bed all night, and he’d be damned if he’d sleep on the floor. He wasn’t comfortable leaving her alone, and knew if he did, he’d have to answer to Cameron in the morning. Rising, he slipped out the door, crossing silently to his room. Without turning on the light, he pulled open a dresser drawer and retrieved flannel pants and a t-shirt. Changing quickly, he stepped into the master bath to brush his teeth, then grabbed the blanket from his bed and headed back to Gwen.
She’d turned onto her side, pulling the sheet under her chin with a fisted hand. Eli lay the blanket on the foot of the bed, then moved to stand over her. He checked her forehead again for fever, pleased her skin felt cooler to his touch. He turned out the lamp on her nightsta
nd and circled the bed. He was probably in for an earful when realized where he was, but he couldn’t see any other way to get a few minutes’ sleep and still be close if she needed him. He pulled back the covers and lay toward the edge, trying to keep what he thought was a wise distance between them. That the bed was only full sized made that problematic, but it couldn’t be helped.
Stretched out on his back, he put an arm across his eyes, and let his mind drift. His fear that Gwen and Cameron were in danger, that his ranch, his livelihood, was being threatened, were like horses with colic, nagging worries that couldn’t be ignored. But under the worry was the sense of contentment, the incredible rightness of having Gwen lying next to him.
Within minutes he was asleep.
A shuddering movement woke him, and Eli realized Gwen had shifted closer and was now laying with her back pressed firmly against his side. He reached an arm over her to turn on the lamp and felt another tremor shake her body. Her flushed cheeks told him the fever was back. He sat up and swung his feet out of the bed. He padded into the bathroom and retrieved a bottle from the medicine cabinet. Returning, he sat next to her.
He stroked his fingers along her temple, letting his thumb brush across her cheek. It felt like a guilty pleasure. They’d be back at an armed standoff as soon as she was up to it, but for now, he could do what he admitted to himself he’d wanted to do since he’d first met her.
He damn well knew desiring a woman didn’t mean she was good for you, but he’d bottled up his attraction for years and figured it didn’t hurt anyone if it settled something inside him to touch her, to feel the smooth texture of her cheek, to be close enough to smell the light orange blossom scent of the shampoo she used. He frowned when she shivered and pulled the sheet tighter under her chin.
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