Stealing Sarah: a Cowboy Fairytales spin-off (Triple H Brides Book 3)

by Lacy Williams

  He was silent until they were near the truck. Amanda was already on the way up the porch steps to join her mom, who stood there wearing a coat.

  "You shouldn't say something like that," Sarah said. "If the rancher doesn't want to help..." She couldn't forget the shadows behind the girl's eyes. Something was going on.

  He shrugged slightly. "Why wouldn't he help his daughter?"

  She shook her head. "You never know. Sometimes they don't want the trouble or expense of caring for an extra animal."

  Besides...

  "Something's off," he said, echoing her thoughts.

  "Yeah. I don't know what. I left a message last time. And the practice's billing department hasn't told me anything about him refusing payment. I'll have to be more thorough this time."

  She'd get it figured out.

  "C'mon, I'm stealing you away."

  Sarah’s head had been bent over her desk. She looked up, and Chase saw the words register, saw her flinch.

  "Sorry—"

  She sliced one hand through the air. "Don't apologize. I know what you meant."

  Didn't mean he shouldn't have been watching his mouth.

  He rubbed one hand at the back of his neck, dislodging his hat. He settled it with the other hand.

  She stood and stretched, both hands above her head. It was Saturday afternoon, two and a half days after he'd kissed her, and he had no idea how long she'd been sitting there. She'd told him she had plans Saturday morning, but where was she going to hang out all weekend, if she was staying at the vet clinic?

  Maybe he shouldn't have come. He hadn't kissed her again. Their relationship was in a weird place. He couldn't put his finger on it, but she looked at him differently. Watched him sometimes, when she thought he wasn't looking.

  "What's up?" she asked. Her head tilted.

  "It's a surprise."

  Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she followed him out of the building and to his truck.

  They arrived on the Triple H a bit later. She'd been pensive, staring out the window almost the entire time.

  She turned her head toward him. "No offense, but I've seen my share of patients this week."

  He shook his head, enjoying her slight consternation. "It's not a house call. And doctor Everly is on-call this weekend, remember?"

  That didn't mean Sarah wouldn't get called by ranchers who had her number on speed dial. And if the other doctor had a double-whammy of an emergency, she’d be first on the answering service’s list.

  He bobbled his cell phone on his knee—even though he technically wasn't supposed to text and drive, he was in the ranch's driveway—and texted that they'd arrived.

  She stared at him curiously as he drove up the bumpy lane all the way to the barn.

  "You don't want me to go riding, do you?" She was still fishing.

  He jerked his thumb toward the barn. "Get out of the truck."

  She did, a little reluctantly. Cold air swirled around them, and he sucked in a deep breath.

  It was home. The unique combination of scents and sounds that was the Triple H.

  As they passed, one of the horses stuck its head over the corral railing and shook its head, snorting in welcome. He took her elbow as they neared the barn. "It's way too cold to go for a pleasure ride," he said. "But I'll take you up on the offer later this spring."

  The words popped out before he'd realized what he'd said, and he wished he could call them back. That was presumptuous. And they were just friends.

  But there was a softness in her eyes when she looked at him.

  Inside the barn, the open area between the tack room and the horse's stalls that lined one wall had been swept clean. It was also covered in several yards of thick, blue workout mats.

  "What is this?" she turned to him with a frown, her brows drawn.

  "Personal self-defense class."

  His old boss, Gideon Hale, traipsed into the barn behind them, bringing a rush of cold air. He closed the outside door.

  "Gideon. Good to see you. It's been a while." Sarah shook the man's hand. Gideon's gold wedding band glinted in the light as he took off his leather gloves. The man was married to a princess of some small, European country that Chase had never heard of until the princess had arrived on their doorstep some two years ago now.

  Gideon shucked his winter coat, but Sarah was shaking her head. "This really isn't necessary. I don't need self-defense lessons—"

  "Everybody could use some information about how to take care of themselves," Chase argued.

  Gideon shot him an intense look he couldn't decipher.

  Sarah still shook her head, her arms wrapped around her middle. "This isn't—"

  Gideon cleared his throat, silencing the both of them. He leveled his gaze on Sarah. "I haven't been in the country, but Chase told me some of what happened. After a premeditated attack like that...two men against one woman...you're lucky to be alive."

  She shivered, and it was Chase's turn to glare at Gideon. Did he have to bring up that night? And did he have to be so callous about it?

  But Gideon totally ignored him.

  "The best you can do in a risky situation—like being a woman entering or leaving a residence after dark—is be aware of your surroundings and know some moves that might help you get away. It's still not a guarantee. But then, I know you know this because of your job—there aren't any guarantees in life, are there?"

  She shook her head, slightly subdued.

  "I'm here, and I'm willing to give you some pointers on how to protect yourself. And it means you get to beat up on this guy." He jerked his thumb at Chase. "You game?"

  She answered with only the slightest hesitation. "Okay. Yes."

  At Gideon's bidding, she and Chase stripped out of their coats. They both wore long-sleeved T-shirts with their jeans. It was chilly in the building, but not uncomfortable. Presumably they were going to get warm exercising anyway.

  Gideon ran them through several different drills. Some that would be appropriate if a man came at her from the front, then from the side.

  After a bit of practice finding her balance, Chase suddenly found himself on his back on the mat, trying to catch his breath. His shoulder ached a little from where she'd just yanked it to make him fall.

  "Good," Gideon said.

  Chase pushed to his feet, rubbing his backside.

  "Did you feel how your weight, with momentum, changed everything?" Gideon asked Sarah. She nodded, deadly serious.

  He'd hoped this might loosen her up a little, make her less nervous to be by herself. He couldn't erase the physical and emotional memory of what had happened in her own front yard, but he'd hoped to give her some sense of security. But she hadn't cracked one smile since they'd come in here. She vibrated with nerves.

  "Your assailant got you from behind, didn't he?" Gideon asked.

  Chase felt Sarah's tension rise by a notch. She nodded, silent.

  "Now that you're warmed up, let's practice what you can do if that ever happens again."

  He was still a yard away but saw Sarah pale.

  "Why don't we take a break?" Chase asked, hoping to diffuse the tension that had just ratcheted up. Maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea after all.

  He hadn't meant for Gideon to stomp on her hot buttons.

  "I don't need a break." But her voice was nearly a monotone, and she didn't look at him as she edged closer.

  She turned so her back was to him, but he saw the quick tremble of her lips.

  He didn't touch her, didn't raise his hands from where they remained at his sides. "We don't have to do this," he said quietly, not caring whether Gideon heard him.

  The barn was silent except for her harsh breaths.

  "I think I..." Her voice trailed off, then returned stronger. "I have to do this."

  Gideon asked her what she remembered about how the man had grabbed her. She answered, and he put Chase's hands in that same position, one at her waist and one over her nose and mouth.

 
She was shaking so hard, he didn't know if he could do this. Act like her attacker? All he wanted to do was comfort her.

  She inhaled a trembling breath, and he could feel the tension radiating off her. She was barely holding on to her composure. He’d have let go if not for the slight shake of Gideon's head. The other man was watching her face, and whatever he saw there... maybe it was a blessing that Chase couldn't see from behind.

  They went through several rounds of practice. First, Gideon had her stomp on his instep—which did hurt every time, even through his work boots—and pretend to jam her elbow into his solar plexus, and once at his nose. Every time she did it, Sarah got stronger. Her spine straightened. Her breathing evened out.

  "You're pulling punches," Gideon said. "It's hard—we can't really practice at full strength. Don't want to hurt our guy."

  Sarah threw a look over her shoulder at him. Her eyes were dry but red-rimmed.

  And he said the stupidest thing he could think of. "If you want to try it for real, I can take it."

  His foot was mostly numb anyway.

  Sarah started to shake her head.

  "Do it," he said. "Gid, tell her."

  The other man shrugged, raising his hands at both sides as if he wanted to stay out of it.

  Sarah was starting to move away, and he got stupid. He just went after her, one hand at her waist and the other around the bottom half of her face, like they'd been practicing.

  And a split-second later, he hit one knee, his foot crying out in pain and blood splatter from his nose dripping down his shirt.

  Sarah said a curse word he'd never heard from her before.

  He put pressure on his nose with one hand, bracing against his knee with the other. He still felt off balance, as if his brain were sloshing around inside his skull. He tried to say, I'm fine, but what emerged was, "I'b fide."

  And she looked like she was going to cry again.

  Gideon got there first, helping Chase straighten up. "Is it broken?"

  He started to shake his head but thought better of moving it. Might make the headache worse. "Do't fink so."

  "Have you ever broken your nose before?" And Sarah was there, hip-checking Gideon out of the way and reaching up for his face. She displaced his hand and pressed her thumbs against both sides of his nose.

  "Ow!" He jerked away, putting pressure back on with his hand.

  "It's not broken," she confirmed.

  "Are you an MD now?" he groused at her.

  "I'm sorry, okay?"

  He shook his head, and yeah it did make him see stars. "I'm not. Sorry. That you did that."

  Her eyes softened, held.

  He clamped his lips shut, determined to stop while he was ahead. Sort of ahead.

  Chapter 7

  Sarah sat on the floor in the kennel room, her back to the wall. Only three kennels were occupied, two basset hounds in for boarding and the long-timer, the huge black Newfie.

  They'd had flyers out for weeks, and no one had adopted him. Being in a cage, with only occasional walks outside, was no way to live. If only Kelsey’s no-kill rescue was up and running…

  Beyond the walls of this interior room, evening was falling, the time when normal people went to their safe little homes. The time when husbands and wives shared stories about their days. The time when teenagers practiced their sports and children bent over their homework and babies had baths.

  While she sat alone in her workplace.

  This couldn’t continue.

  Chase found her there. He sat next to her on the cold tile, his arms resting over his bent knees. He leaned his head back against the wall.

  “I didn’t mean for this afternoon to turn out the way it did,” he said. He still sounded congested, like he was stuffed up from a cold, and she was hit with another pang of guilt. She hadn't meant to hit him that hard.

  "I meant…" He exhaled softly. "I don't know what I thought it would accomplish. Give you some confidence, maybe."

  She kept staring at the dogs. "It was thoughtful." He just probably hadn't planned for it to bring back visceral, frightening memories.

  She wanted him to leave, wanted him to stay. Wanted to feel safe again. "I thought I was going to die.” The words surprised her when she uttered them. She hadn’t told a soul how she’d felt. The facts—nothing more. Nothing deeper. But Chase sat silent, and she couldn’t help herself. “They were so violent... They hit me so hard..."

  She hadn't been able to look in the mirror for days, always shocked and frightened anew at the bruising on her face.

  His hand closed over hers on the floor. She hadn't realized how cold she was until his warmth enclosed her.

  She blinked against the horrifying flashes of memory. Her wrists itched. At one point, she'd scraped all the skin off trying to erase the memory of that’s man’s hands on her. It was healed now, barely.

  He still had hold of her hand, so she reached across her midsection and closed her fingers around her wrist, trying to forget.

  His hand shifted. She thought he was letting go of her, but the warmth of his touch moved from her palm up her wrist. His fingers slid beneath hers. Not worrying the skin like she would've, but gently brushing against it.

  "I haven't talked about it—with anybody," she whispered. Until now.

  The cowboy didn't move. "When I was ten, our house got broken into.” His voice was low and steady like the thrumming of a train along the tracks. Soothing. “We were coming home from somewhere—I don't remember now—and it was dark. I opened the front door, not realizing anything was wrong. And saw the couch cushions on the floor, ripped. The back door slammed—whoever it was had still been in the house when I went in."

  His thumb continued rubbing gentle circles on her wrist as he spoke.

  "For a long time, I tried to make sense of it. Why would somebody break in to our house? Steal our stuff? How did we become targets? Just out of convenience? Or just bad luck?"

  His head tilted toward her. "When it's something traumatic like what you've been through, I don't know if you ever make sense of it."

  She'd shifted closer to him, and now her cheek was close enough that if she leaned, she'd bump against him.

  She did it, resting her cheek against the hollow between his shoulder and pec. "Will I ever sleep through the night again?"

  He gave her wrist a squeeze. "Probably one morning you'll wake up and realize you slept through. Then it'll be two nights in a row. And then a week. Then a month. You'll never forget what happened, but the memories will sting a little less."

  "It sounds nice," she whispered.

  "Have you talked to your doctor about some meds to help you sleep?"

  "No. I've tried them before, during vet school, and I didn't like how they affected me."

  Maybe she needed to sell her house. Get away from the physical memory of stepping off her stoop and onto the sidewalk.

  Or maybe she just needed to suck it up.

  "I'm going home tonight," she said.

  She felt his stillness beside her. "Good for you. If you want me to sleep on your couch a couple of nights, until you get settled..."

  Now she moved away from him, pushing off of the floor. "Thank you. But I think I need to do this on my own."

  He stood too. "Okay. You gonna go Jessie on me if I go with you, check the place out, make sure things are okay before I go back to the Triple H?"

  Looking up at him, she couldn't think of anything she wanted more. "That would be nice." Then she broke into a smile. "I'm going to have to tell her you turned her into a verb."

  He winced slightly, but smiled. And then he headed for the door while she remained where she was.

  He looked over his shoulder. "What're you doing?"

  "I think it's time to do something about this guy, don't you?" She moved toward the Newfie's cage. He looked up at her with those big, dreamy eyes, made that slow tail thump.

  "You're not going to put him down…?"

  She unlatched the cage, and the dog l
ooked up at her as if asking what she wanted him to do. So polite. She lifted one of the slip leashes from the wall hook and secured it around his neck. She patted her thigh, and he took one cautious step out of the kennel. Then another, and then he sat in front of her, looking up at her with curious eyes.

  She touched his head, fingered the silky, long ears.

  She turned to Chase. "I'm taking him home."

  The dog's tail thumped against the floor as if he knew the word.

  She held Chase's gaze. "I think it's time I opened my heart to some new opportunities."

  And she didn't just mean the dog.

  Chase sat in his truck down the street from Sarah's house as the night deepened around him.

  She'd insisted he go home, and he would. He just wanted to stay for a while...for himself.

  She'd humored him as he'd walked the perimeter of her house with a flashlight and scoped out her backyard with its 6-foot paneled fence. Her new dog had trailed him the entire time, snuffling his way around the yard.

  The big Newfie was Mr. Laid-Back. He seemed to tiptoe around the property, almost as if he was afraid Sarah was going to change her mind and take him back to the kennel at the clinic. Chase felt a little silly, attributing human thoughts to the dog.

  Sarah had done the walk-through of the interior of her house alone. It had been cool and quiet inside, smelling slightly musty, like after you'd gone on a two-week vacation. That would clear up soon enough.

  Everything was normal, but Sarah's anxiety was almost visible. She was jittery and quieter than usual.

  He'd talked her into playing a movie. A romantic comedy that he normally would've stayed far away from. They'd snuggled up on the couch, his arm around her shoulders. The big dog had lain across their feet, and he'd finally felt her relax a little.

  Until the credits had rolled.

  When she'd shown him the door, obviously ready to turn in for the night, he'd wanted to shake her out of the fear she was trying to hide. So he'd kissed her in the doorway, cold air seeping around him, a reminder so he wouldn't get too carried away.

  It didn't work that well, but she pulled back when a cold nose nudged his hand, which he’d rested at her waist. That dog was tall.