Can't Take My Eyes Off You

by Kait Nolan

  Working fast, Judd followed her instructions, prepping the site and applying the occlusive dressing. But Ethan was still deteriorating. His eyes had drifted closed. Pressing her fingers against the pulse at his throat, she felt it stutter.

  “Ambulance is five minutes out,” Clint reported.

  He was going tachycardic. He didn’t have five minutes.

  “His lung is collapsed. I need to perform a needle decompression, but my hands aren’t steady enough. Judd, you’re going to have to do it.”

  “I can’t.” He held up a hand with swollen knuckles. It shook almost as much as her own.

  Damn it.

  Miranda looked at Delaney. “Let me see your hands.”

  Her eyes went wide. “What?”

  “Your hands. Now.”

  The girl held them out. Not a tremor, despite her obvious nerves. Good.

  “You’re going to perform this needle decompression.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “It’s the only way to save his life.”

  After only a second’s hesitation, Delaney reached for gloves.

  Miranda handed her the package with the 14 gauge needle angiocatheter, then leaned over Ethan, thanking God she had enough feeling left in her fingers to identify the second intercostal space. She looked back to Delaney.

  “Okay, you’re going to place the needle here, just above the rib, perpendicular to the skin.” Moving as quick as she dared, she guided Delaney to the correct position. Given the size of the needle, it was probably a good thing Ethan had passed out, otherwise he might fight and that would make things worse. “Keep hold of the hub and firmly press to pierce the pleura.”

  Worried blue eyes flashed to hers.

  “You’ve got this, Delaney. Steady hands.”

  The girl nodded, and the group watched in total silence as she followed orders. Her face twisted into a grimace as the needle sank in. A rush of air burst out of the catheter and Ethan sucked in a shaky breath, his eyes flying open again. Miranda almost collapsed in relief.

  “Okay. Okay, carefully pull the needle and leave the catheter in place. We’re going to secure it with tape. This should keep him stabilized long enough for the ambulance to get here.”

  Delaney sat down hard on her ass. “I feel a little dizzy.”

  “That’s exactly the way. Hold your shit together until you’ve done what needs doing. Good job.”

  “Is he gonna be okay?”

  I don’t know. There were a hundred other problems that might be going on internally, dozens of complications that could kill him en route or in surgery. But Miranda couldn’t think about any of that. Because there was no other alternative but that he survive. She took a firmer grip on his hand and looked into his unfocused eyes, infusing her voice with total command. “Yeah. He’s gonna be okay.”

  The beeping woke him. Ethan recognized it as a heart monitor. God knew he was familiar enough with that sound. He felt like shit, which was par for the course after being shot. But he was fuzzy on the details. A faint sense of dread weighed him down, kept him from wanting to open his eyes. Not that they didn’t already weigh four hundred pounds on their own, but there was something…he wanted to avoid.

  Becca. Becca was going to be pissed.

  He didn’t want to see that look of disappointment and panic, didn’t want to have that argument about the dangers of his job. Again. He thought about just sinking back into sleep, but a hand was curled warm around his, so she at least deserved the effort from him, proving he was still among the land of the living.

  Ethan forced his eyes open. The room was dim, the walls painted a neutral beige. Low-profile fluorescent lights lit the perimeter. As his vision cleared, he managed to turn his head.

  A second hospital bed was butted up to his. The side rails between them were lowered and a woman lay stretched out beside him, her hand curled around his in sleep. Her wrists were bandaged and her face was a riot of bruises, with the telltale bandaging across her nose that indicated it had been broken. Not his wife—ex-wife. Miranda.

  The beeping sped up as he remembered. Harley Forbes. The gun. Getting shot—again. Shit, he’d thought he was done with that. He’d managed to save her, but not before Harley had brutalized her. Every bruise, every scrape, made him hurt worse. He should’ve been faster. Should’ve figured it out sooner. Should’ve—

  Vinyl creaked from the opposite side of the room. “You’re awake.”

  Ethan tipped his head back toward the soft voice that rasped as if he’d been up all night.

  Clay leaned forward in a chair, forearms braced on his knees. “You gave us a helluva scare, brother.”

  “Miranda.” Ethan’s voice came out at a whisper, though he hadn’t been aiming for that. He couldn’t seem to take a deep breath.

  Clay smiled over at her. “They wanted to put her in her own room, but this was the only way she’d consent to staying put.”

  “Is she—” There’d been no time to take in the full extent of her injuries before all hell broke loose. What he could see now was bad enough.

  “She’s okay.”

  “She can speak for herself.”

  By the time Ethan managed to look back toward Miranda, she was rolling toward him in her own bed, wincing. “I’ve got a concussion, bruised ribs, broken nose, countless abrasions, contusions, and scratches. I win the contest for most injuries. You win most severe.”

  “Lucky me.”

  The one eye that wasn’t swollen shut was serious as she reached out to lay a hand against his cheek. “Very lucky you.”

  “I’m just gonna give y’all some privacy, let everybody know Ethan’s awake.”

  “Thanks, Clay.”

  The door swung shut behind him.

  Miranda swallowed hard. “You want the update?”

  “It can wait.” He was too muzzy headed to follow it right now. “Harley’s dead.”

  “Yeah. He is. And I’m not, thanks to you. That’s the important part.”

  If he’d been a fraction of a second slower… “I should have gotten him off the streets sooner.” He’d be second guessing every decision he’d made about Harley Forbes for a long while to come.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t take the threat seriously.”

  Ethan stroked a knuckle softly down her bruised cheek. “I’m sorry he had a chance to do this.”

  “You found me in four hours. You may not have that badge anymore, but once a Marshal, always a Marshal. And a Marshal always gets his man.”

  “This Marshal is more concerned with getting his woman.”

  Tears glimmered in her eyes. “You took bullets for me.”

  Because she seemed to need it, he managed to tug his mouth into a smile. Pain radiated from the bruise on his jaw. “Maybe that means you’ll keep me around.”

  He phrased it as a joke, but he tensed, waiting for her reaction. Becca hadn’t been able to handle the realities of his job, and now Miranda had been through the worst of it herself. He wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to walk away.

  She huffed a laugh, then winced again as her chest jolted. “I’m definitely keeping you. But just so you know, this makes three gunshot wounds for you. That’s your lifetime max. You’re not allowed to get shot anymore, okay?”

  “From your mouth to God’s ear.”

  With painstaking care, she shifted over until she could rest her head on his right shoulder. “I love you. Thank you for saving my life.”

  Ethan pressed a kiss to her brow. “Back atcha, Legs.”

  “Actually, Delaney saved you.”

  “What?”

  “My hands weren’t steady enough. She’s the one who did the needle decompression on you.”

  “She’s the one who confirmed you were at the plant.”

  “I’m giving her a raise and the biggest cupcake ever.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s what they call a cake.”

  The door swung open again.

  “Oh, my baby!”

  Ethan ma
naged to turn his head in time to see his mother rush the bed. “Hey, Mama.”

  Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “Oh my God. Can I touch you? Will it hurt?”

  “It’s okay. I’m fine.” If he’d been able to pronounce it at a volume higher than a whisper, it probably would’ve gone over better. But he reached out a hand to her.

  “Ethan McMurtry Greer, you are not fine.” Despite the snap in her voice, she squeezed his fingers gently.

  “Now, Brenna, you heard what they said at the nurse’s station. You have to keep calm.” His stepfather’s low rumble of a voice filled the room.

  “I know he looks bad, but he really will be okay.”

  Everybody’s attention swung to Miranda. It was a mark of their concern over him that they hadn’t seemed to notice he was practically sharing a bed with another patient.

  Ethan’s mother covered a gasp with her hand. “Oh my.”

  Miranda flashed a pained smile. “Yeah, I know. I look worse than he does. I’d hoped I’d be healed up by the time I met you.”

  “Mom, Phil, this is Miranda.”

  More people slipped into the room. “Oh, you’re finally awake!” Trailed by her husband, Lisbette Campbell curled her hands around the foot of Ethan’s bed. “We just don’t even know how to thank you for saving our daughter’s life.”

  “She saved mine right back, so I’d say we’re even.”

  “I’m sorry, who are you?” Brenna asked.

  All the parents launched into introductions, seeming to forget for a few moments that they were in a hospital room. Miranda took that opportunity to whisper, “McMurtry? Like Lonesome Dove McMurtry?”

  Ethan winced. “I cannot be held accountable.”

  She gave a faint chuckle. “I think it’s perfect.”

  Miranda’s father edged around her side of the bed. “How you feeling, Peanut?”

  “Like I’ve been run over by a semi. But I’ll live. Thanks to Ethan.”

  Pete frowned, ducking his head before meeting Ethan’s eyes. “I’m sorry I punched you.”

  “You did what?” On the last word, Miranda reared up, hissing in pain. “Shit.” She sank back against the pillow, glaring up at her dad. “That bruise on his jaw. That was you?”

  “It wasn’t my finest moment.”

  “It’s fine,” Ethan said. “You were missing. He was upset.”

  She twisted toward him. “It is not fine. We’re going to talk about this.” Somewhere in the room, a heart monitor was speeding up.

  Ethan gently cupped her bruised cheek so she couldn’t look away. “You are safe. That is the only thing I care about. Everything else is water under the bridge.”

  Somebody—he thought maybe Miranda’s mom—gave a watery, “Aww.”

  Miranda turned her face into his hand. “I don’t get a say in this, do I?”

  “No.”

  She exhaled and the heart monitor slowed. “If I had his right cross, we might not have gotten into this mess.”

  “We’ll work on it.” He was putting her through self defense training as soon as she was able-bodied enough to take it.

  “Wow, he’s like, the Miranda Whisperer,” Cam observed.

  “Shut up, Cam,” Norah told him.

  Behind her, the entire Campbell clan filed in. The room was far too small for all these people, and he was pretty sure there were rules about that.

  “How the hell are all of you in here?” Miranda demanded. “This is the ICU. There’s not supposed to be more than one visitor at a time.”

  “Oh, Clay’s smoldering at the nurses on duty.” Norah grinned. “They weren’t paying attention.”

  In the wake of that pronouncement, more introductions were made and well wishes were offered. Ethan lost track, hearing nothing but a bunch of chaos. But as Miranda settled back against his shoulder, he decided it was a good chaos, one he looked forward to getting used to.

  Epilogue

  “Well, it’s official.” Miranda sat on the arm of the sofa and sprawled back into Ethan’s lap. “I just accepted an offer on my house.”

  His arms snaked around her, holding her tight against his chest. “Yeah? How are you feeling about it?”

  “Good. Maybe I could’ve eventually overcome the bad juju of living there, but I just didn’t love it enough to try.” In the wake of her kidnapping, she hadn’t been able to bear a single night in her own house, so after they’d both been sprung from the hospital, she’d moved into Ethan’s place.

  “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Anyway, I hope you’re still okay with having me as a roommate because in sixty days, I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

  He put on a mock-serious face. “I don’t know. We might have to revisit the terms of your lease. A no-escape option might just mean more regular shower sex.”

  “Oh, well, if I must, I must.” Smiling, she fell into his kiss, enjoying the pleasant bump of her pulse as his mouth played over hers. When he shifted, tipping her back on the cushions, she went willingly. Already anticipating getting naked, she was left frowning as he pulled back and stood up. “Excuse me, that is not how that conversation is supposed to end.”

  Laughing, he held out a hand. “C’mon. Get your boots on.”

  “Boots? Clearly your brain and my brain are on vastly different paths right now.”

  “They’ll converge again later.” To speed her along, he grabbed the cowboy boots she’d kicked off the other day and set them by the sofa. “We’ve got somewhere to be.”

  “We do? Where?”

  “I’ve gotta see a man about a horse.”

  “A horse? Are you serious?”

  Ethan grabbed his Stetson off the wall rack and settled it on his head. “Completely.”

  God she loved him in full cowboy mode, which made it even more frustrating that she couldn’t redirect him to the bedroom. He refused to say anything else, just grabbed the Stetson he’d bought her a few months back and plopped it on her head, before hustling her into the truck. Well knowing that her man wouldn’t say a peep until he was good and ready, Miranda settled back and enjoyed the drive with the windows down, October breeze blowing in her hair.

  He drove up into the hills outside town. She’d always loved this part of the county. Close enough to town for convenience but far enough out you didn’t feel like your neighbors were on top of you.

  When he turned onto a long, tree-lined drive, a big black horse wheeled and began to run, pacing the truck. Ethan grinned like a kid in a candy shop. “Isn’t he a beauty?”

  “He’s big.”

  “That’s Houdini.”

  “Houdini? Like Chester Harkin’s Houdini?”

  “The very same.”

  Ethan parked beside the barn, lifting a hand in an answering wave to Chester, who stood grooming a chestnut mare. “He’s down to the two. Sold the others a couple months back.”

  They slid out of the truck and wandered over to Chester.

  “How you doing, Doc?”

  “I’m well, and you, Chester?”

  “Can’t complain.”

  They both watched as Ethan met Houdini at the fence, offering a carrot on his palm. When had he grabbed that? He looked so in his element—a man and his horse. Or maybe that was just because of the Stetson, boots, and extremely well-fitting Wranglers. The gelding followed him back along the fence as he came over to look over the mare.

  Miranda stood back, amused, not really understanding half of what the men discussed. Ethan ran his hands all over the mare, checking for who knew what that indicated soundness in a horse. Then he climbed through the fence and did the same to Houdini, who tolerated the handling with a demand for another carrot. Because she seemed to resent the loss of attention, Miranda edged up to the mare and stroked her warm, glossy neck.

  “Well, you’re just gorgeous, aren’t you?”

  The mare bobbed her head and practically batted those long lashes. Miranda laughed.

  “Do you like her?” Ethan asked.

&nb
sp; “I don’t know squat about conformation or whatever, but she’s got sass.”

  “As all good women should,” Chester agreed.

  Ethan nodded. “I’ll take them. I think Miss Kitty will do nicely for Miranda.”

  Miranda gaped as the two men shook on it. “Wait, seriously? You’re buying me a horse?”

  “And me. That way we can ride together.” He said it easily, as if that made all the sense in the world.

  “But you...I...horses? Really?”

  Chester chuckled. “I’ll just let you two hash things out.” The old man took himself off to the barn.

  “Ethan, you just bought horses.”

  Grinning, he stepped up on the fence rail and rubbed Houdini’s nose. “Yes, I did. I’ve missed having them since I moved off the ranch all those years ago. I feel like I can finally settle and be in one place long enough to have them.”

  In the face of his obvious delight, Miranda hated to be the practical one. “So...where are you going to put them? Are you gonna be looking around for somewhere to board them?”

  Instead of answering, he stepped down and leaned back against the paddock. “What do you think about the house?”

  “The house?” What was he on about? Miranda looked over at the farmhouse. It was a little worn around the edges but work had obviously been done to spruce it up. “Looks like it’s had a fresh coat of paint on the porch and trim.”

  “Yeah. Johnny’s work. He did a good job on those and the window boxes over the summer. I think shutters are next up on the list.”

  “He’s still doing community service out here?”

  “He’s done with his hours. Now he’s actually working for pay, so Chester’s been having him fix things up.”

  She’d seen the state of Chester’s arthritis. Having a pair of younger hands had to be a huge blessing. “Well, the work’s paying off. It’s lovely. Comfortable.” It was the kind of house that had obviously been a home.

  “Chester and his Jeannie spent a lot of years here. It’s not easy for him to leave it.”

  “Leave it?” Had Chester’s health declined that much?

  “Yeah, with his arthritis, it’s gotten too hard for him to keep the place up the way he needs to, so when Maudie Belle asked him to move in, he decided to take her up on it.”