Fugitive Fiancée

by Kristin Gabriel

  He nodded toward the small outcropping of rocks just to the east of them. “Look over there. A coyote.”

  Her gaze finally caught sight of the small coyote, still oblivious to their presence.

  “He’s beautiful,” she breathed.

  Garrett thought the critter just looked mangy and scrawny. But then his opinion was probably colored by the fact that coyotes like this one killed a number of his calves every season. “Shoot him.”

  She gaped at him. “What?”

  “He’s a predator, Mimi. If you don’t shoot him, he may kill that calf we watched come into the world last night.” He handed her a rifle shell.

  She stared at it as if she’d never seen one before. Then she slowly loaded it into the rifle.

  “Quiet now,” he whispered as she pumped the rifle. “You don’t want to run him off.”

  Mimi perched the rifle on her shoulder, her face pale and drawn. Something in her blue eyes made Garrett’s stomach give a sickening lurch. He opened his mouth to stop her when the rifle exploded. He whirled to look at the coyote.

  The shot flew clear over its head, but the coyote didn’t stick around to give her another chance. It scampered behind the rocks and out of sight.

  Garrett turned to face Mimi. Tears shimmered in her eyes as she held the rifle toward him. “I missed.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, taking the rifle from her. “It was a tough shot.”

  “You don’t understand, Garrett. I missed on purpose.” She spun on her heel and strode toward her horse. It only took her a few seconds to untie the reins and mount up.

  “Mimi, wait,” he said, regret churning in his gut.

  “Looks like you were right,” she said, her hands gripping the reins. “I don’t belong here.”

  He watched her ride off toward the ranch. Another wave of guilt washed over him even as he tried to rationalize his actions. Shooting coyotes was part of a ranch hand’s job, he told himself as he gathered the rifle and the remains of their lunch. Though he had to admit he’d never actually shot one unless it was in the act of threatening his cattle.

  Still, they’d made a deal, and she hadn’t kept her end of the bargain. It would be better for both of them if she went back to Austin.

  He kept repeating that to himself on the long journey to the ranch. He almost believed it by the time he reached the barn.

  Then he heard her scream.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  GARRETT FOUND HER in the tack room. She lay unmoving on the floor, clutching her right wrist. Her face shone a pasty white, and her lips were bloodless and clenched with pain.

  “Mimi?” He rushed into the room and knelt beside her. “What’s wrong? Did you fall?”

  She shook her head. “No.” Then she squeezed her eyes shut. “It hurts so much.”

  His gaze moved to her wrist. Her left hand was still wrapped tightly around it, so he couldn’t tell if it was cut or broken. “Let me see it,” he said, gently prying her fingers off her wrist.

  She flinched at his touch, her eyes wet with tears. “Please don’t touch me.”

  His heart contracted at the pain in her voice. “Mimi, I can’t help you unless I see what’s wrong.”

  “It was a scorpion. It stung me.”

  Cold fear enveloped him. “What color was it?”

  She licked her dry lips. “Yellow. With little brown stripes.”

  A striped bark scorpion. Garrett told himself not to panic. The sting of a scorpion could be deadly, but only for those extremely allergic. “Have you ever been stung by a scorpion before?”

  She shook her head. “It hurts like hell.”

  “I know.” He looked from her pale face to her wrist. “Maybe we should go to the hospital.”

  “No.” She inhaled a deep, shaky breath. “I’m fine. Besides, I hate hospitals. Too much…blood.”

  Too concerned to argue, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her out of the tack room. She felt weightless in his arms, and he had to keep himself from running with her toward the house. He’d had a friend from high school who had been stung by a scorpion before football practice one day. It had crawled into his jersey and stung him twice on the back while he was dressing for a game.

  Kevin had almost died from that sting.

  Garrett managed to turn the knob on the front door, then kicked it open all the way. Fine drops of perspiration dotted Mimi’s forehead.

  He tried not to remember that Kevin’s first symptom had been heavy sweating. Followed by blurred vision and difficulty swallowing.

  He laid her gently on the sofa, then covered her from neck to toe with the lonestar quilt.

  “My boots are filthy,” she protested, still clutching her wrist.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, amazed she could be concerned about something as inconsequential as dirty boots when she might be… No. He wouldn’t let himself even think of that possibility. “I’ll be right back.”

  He dashed into the kitchen, made a quick phone call, then scooped ice out of the freezer and into a large bowl. He carried the bowl into the living room. “How do you feel?”

  “Like a fool,” she replied, a faint blush on her cheeks. Or was the redness there due to the sting? He laid a hand on her forehead. “You feel warm.”

  “That’s because I just spent all afternoon out in the sun. I’m fine, Garrett. Really.”

  She did seem fine, but he wasn’t about to take any chances. He placed the bowl of ice beside her on the sofa. “Put your wrist in here. It will help ease the pain.”

  Grimacing, she carefully lowered her hand into the ice.

  He could see the sting mark, raw and red on the inside of her wrist. They sat there silently for the next fifteen minutes or so.

  “That does feel better,” she said at last, relaxing her shoulders against the sofa cushion.

  His panic began to ebb. “How did it happen?”

  “It was my own fault,” she said, staring at the ceiling. “I found something in the north wall of the tack room yesterday. An old journal. I thought there might be other treasures hidden back there, as well, so I reached my hand underneath the gap in the floorboard.” She shook her head in disgust. “I found something, all right. Or should I say, it found me.”

  “Don’t ever do anything like that again,” he said, sounding more gruff than he intended. He could still hear her scream in his mind. Still remember how the sound had ripped him apart inside. He never wanted to feel that way again.

  “I don’t think you have to worry about it,” she said softly. “I’ll be leaving today.”

  “You’re not going anywhere.” He said the words before he had time to consider them. But once they were out, he didn’t try to take them back.

  “I have to leave,” she persisted. “I couldn’t shoot the coyote. Which means I couldn’t live up to my end of the bargain. But I want to thank you, Garrett, for giving me a chance.”

  “Don’t thank me,” he rasped. Then he stood and started pacing back and forth across the hardwood floor.

  “Is something wrong?”

  He stopped to face her. “Do you want to leave?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then you’re staying,” he interjected. “It’s too late for me to find another ranch hand, anyway. By the time I contact the employment agency and conduct interviews, calving season will be half over.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t want you to let me stay because you feel sorry for me.”

  “The last thing I feel for you is sorry.” He raked one hand through his hair, trying to figure out his feelings himself. Attraction was at the top of the list. But he also felt respect. And curiosity. What would make a city girl so anxious to leave everything familiar behind her?

  Or maybe the question should be who?

  A knock at the door interrupted his musings.

  Mimi’s brows drew together. “Are you expecting someone?”

  “I sure am.” He strode to the door and opened it, rel
ief flowing through him when he saw the woman who stood on the other side. The only doctor he could impose on to make a house call. “Thank God you’re here, Abby.”

  “Where is she?” Abby asked, reaching out to give his forearm a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

  He nodded toward the living room. “On the sofa.”

  He ushered Abby into the house, her calm, collected manner already making him feel better. He’d known her forever. The Maitland and Lord children had grown up like cousins. Abby had always been a little on the serious side, but he liked that about her. He liked her new husband, Kyle McDermott, too. Their marriage had put a sparkle in Abby’s eyes that had never been there before.

  “Are you a doctor?” Mimi asked, struggling to sit up on the sofa.

  “Actually, I’m an obstetrician-gynecologist at the Maitland Maternity Clinic,” Abby said, placing one hand on Mimi’s shoulder. “Lie down now, and let me have a look at you.”

  Mimi stared at Garrett. “You sent for an obstetrician?”

  “I wanted you to see a doctor, and Abby was available,” he explained.

  “He told me you were in trouble.” Abby reached for Mimi’s uninjured arm to feel her pulse.

  “Not that kind of trouble,” Mimi exclaimed.

  Abby looked at him and laughed. “You’re blushing, Garrett.”

  He cleared his throat, annoyed to feel the heat in his cheeks. “It’s hot in here.”

  Abby looked between the two of them, a smile playing on her lips. “It certainly is.”

  “Have a seat, Abby,” he said, moving a chair closer to the sofa.

  Abby sat down, giving Mimi her full attention. “Now, Garrett told me you were stung by a scorpion. Let’s have a look.” She gently removed Mimi’s hand from the bowl of ice. “Is it painful?”

  “It was at first, but it’s not so much anymore. The ice really helped.”

  “Good.” Abby tenderly prodded the skin around the reddened sting with one finger. “How about other symptoms? Do you have any difficulty swallowing or breathing?”

  Mimi shook her head. “No. I feel fine. Just a little shaky.”

  Abby nodded. “I think that’s normal under the circumstances.”

  Garrett fisted his hands at his sides. Mimi still looked incredibly pale to him. “I think she got stung by a striped bark scorpion.”

  “Ouch,” Abby replied, opening her medical bag. “Those nasty things definitely hurt. I’ve got some antibiotic cream I’d like you to rub on the wound every couple of hours. It should help decrease the pain and swelling, too.”

  “Anything else?” Garrett asked, taking the tube of salve from her hands before Mimi could reach for it.

  “Just some aspirin and bed rest. You can call me if she starts to experience any of the symptoms I mentioned, but I strongly doubt that will happen now.”

  Mimi wiggled her sore hand back into the bowl of ice. “Can I ask you a question, Dr….?”

  “Please call me Abby.”

  “Okay…Abby. Since when do doctors make house calls?”

  Abby smiled. “Garrett’s just lucky he caught me between deliveries. But he knows I’d do just about anything for him, including a house call or two.”

  Mimi laid her head back on the sofa cushion.

  “Sounds like he’s lucky to know you.”

  “The Maitlands are lucky to know him,” Abby countered, gazing at him. “Especially my brother Jake. Garrett took a bullet that was meant for him.”

  Garrett stepped forward before Abby could embarrass him further. “Thanks for coming, Abby.”

  She snapped her bag closed and stood up. “Any time, Garrett. Walk me to the door?”

  He tucked the quilt around Mimi’s shoulders, then escorted Abby out the front door and onto the porch. “I appreciate you coming out here so fast, Abby. I was really worried there for a while.”

  “I know,” she said gently. “I’m glad I could help.”

  He hesitated, rubbing a rough spot on the porch rail with his thumb. “Are you sure she’ll be all right?”

  “She’ll be fine.” Abby smiled. “Although maybe I should write her a prescription.”

  He recognized the teasing note in her voice. “What for?”

  “Birth control.” Abby’s smile widened into a grin. “From the way you look at her, I’d say she’s going to need it.”

  IT SEEMED LIKE forever until Garrett walked into the house. Mimi had been struggling to stay awake, her curiosity overcoming her exhaustion.

  Garrett walked toward her, a frown on his handsome face. “Why did you take your hand out of the ice?”

  “Because it was turning into an ice cube. Besides, it feels much better now. Really.”

  He picked up the half-melted bowl of ice and headed for the kitchen. A few moments later, he returned with a glass of water and two aspirins.

  “Here,” he said, handing her the pills. “Take these, and then I want you to get some rest.”

  She popped the pills into her mouth, then washed them down with the water. “Are you going to tell me a bedtime story?”

  He looked chagrined. “I don’t know any.”

  “How about telling me exactly what Abby meant about you taking a bullet for her brother.”

  Garrett sat in the chair beside the sofa. “I don’t think that kind of story is going to put you to sleep.”

  “Tell me anyway.” Her blue eyes softened with concern. “I want to know.”

  He sighed, then leaned forward in the chair, his elbows propped on his knees. “Jake Maitland is a good friend of mine. A woman he knew was in trouble, and he asked if she could stay out here for a while until things cooled off.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “An ex-husband who didn’t want to let her go.”

  Mimi shifted on the sofa, wincing slightly at the movement. “Is he the one who shot you?”

  Garrett nodded. “The bullet didn’t do any serious damage.”

  She scowled at him. “Anytime you get shot is serious, Garrett. Where did it hit you?”

  Without a word, he began unbuttoning his shirt. Despite her exhaustion and the tingling pain in her wrist, a frisson of excitement zipped through her veins as his fingers undid each button. His shirt gapped open to reveal dark russet hair on his broad chest. When he pulled the tails of his shirt out of his jeans, she saw the ripple of washboard muscles above his waist and swallowed convulsively.

  “See,” he said, pointing to a silvery scar on his left shoulder, just above his heart. “It’s hardly even noticeable anymore.”

  She reached out her left hand to trace the long, narrow scar with one finger. His skin contracted at her touch, and she heard the breath catch in his throat.

  “Does that hurt?”

  “No.” He leaned away from her and began to button his shirt.

  “I’m glad you’re all right.”

  The tension in his face eased. “Me, too.” He stood up. “Are you ready for bed now?”

  She nodded, then swung her legs over the sofa to stand up. But Garrett didn’t give her a chance. He swept her into his arms, quilt and all.

  She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. “You know, this is really getting to be a bad habit. I’m perfectly capable of walking.”

  “I just don’t want to take any chances.”

  Mimi closed her eyes as he carried her into her bedroom, letting herself imagine that he was taking her there for an entirely different reason. Her heart skittered in her chest at the thought of Garrett joining her in bed.

  She opened her eyes as he lowered her gently to the mattress. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Any time,” he said huskily, then drew the bedclothes over her. “Now, go to sleep.”

  She dutifully closed her eyes, aware that Garrett still stood over her. Breathing deeply, she could smell the faint aroma of his musky aftershave. Feeling sleepy and snug under the blankets, she let herself drift into the delicious fantasy that had formed in her mind just moments ago.

/>   When Garrett’s lips brushed her mouth, she smiled. It was the best dream she’d had in a very long time.

  “WAKE UP, sleepyhead.”

  Mimi opened her eyes and automatically looked at the clock on her bed stand. “Eight o’clock? Why did you let me sleep so late? I should have done chores two hours ago!”

  She threw off the bedclothes, but Garrett pushed her down onto the pillows and drew the blanket over her. “Relax. It’s eight o’clock at night, not morning. You’ve been sleeping for the last five hours, but I didn’t want you to miss supper.”

  “Oh.” She blinked and sat up in bed, still slightly disoriented. A dull ache in her wrist brought everything rushing back. The scorpion sting. Abby’s visit. Garrett’s kiss. Or had that last event really happened?

  “What’s wrong?” he said, pulling up a chair beside the bed. “You look confused.”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine. Just a little woozy.”

  “Maybe this will help.” He reached behind him and lifted a bed tray off the dresser. Mimi’s mouth watered as he set the tray in front of her, steam rising from the big bowl of soup in the center of it.

  “Is this what I think it is?”

  “Chicken soup,” he affirmed. “It cures everything from scorpion stings to—”

  “Bullet wounds,” she interjected, then picked up the spoon. “I take it you used this tray a time or two after you were shot?”

  He nodded. “My sisters took turns coddling me for much longer than was necessary. Chicken soup is one of Shelby’s specialties. She left about twenty gallons of it in the freezer for me.”

  She took her first bite. “It’s delicious. Tell Shelby she’s a great cook.”

  “You can tell her yourself.”

  Mimi looked at him, her spoon poised in midair. “Is she here?”

  “No, but you’ll probably see her Saturday night at Connor O’Hara’s barbecue.”

  “Thanks, but I doubt anyone expects you to bring your ranch hand along to the party.”

  A muscle flickered in his cheek. “No, but I can definitely bring a date.”

  Mimi kept her gaze on the soup bowl, willing herself not to read too much into his invitation. “Are you sure Venna won’t mind? She told me….” Her voice trailed off as she remembered how Garrett had reacted the last time she’d brought up the subject of Venna.