Desperado: Deep in the Heart, Book 2

by Tina Leonard

  Annie had said the morning sickness made her throw up in the worst way. Stormy was tossing her crackers mighty bad.

  What if she was pregnant?

  He closed his eyes.

  It was the fortieth time she’d thrown up, Stormy was certain. There was nothing left in her stomach, and worse, Cody Aguillar was witness to the depth of her misery. She wanted desperately for him to go away, yet she hung on to him like a lifeline.

  Oh, my God. I’m going to die.

  She must have spoken out loud because Cody said, “Not if I’ve got anything to say about it.”

  If she could have managed a smile, she would have. As it was, she tried not to move.

  “Stormy, you’ve got to help me out here. If I know why you’re sick, I can maybe figure out what to do for you.”

  She didn’t care.

  “Are you pregnant?”

  Rolling her head his way, she did her best to glare at him through pain-glazed eyes. “No.”

  “I know you haven’t been drinking.”

  “No.” She didn’t think even booze could make someone this ill.

  “Stormy, I think I should take you to a doctor. You’re mighty ill for not knowing why. What if you’ve got appendicitis?”

  “No.” She heard him sigh deeply as he shifted his weight from where he sat on the bed.

  “Were you sick in Shiloh?”

  “No.” It was almost the best she could manage. “We ate lunch, then Mayor Higgins took me to talk to some folks, then we came back. I started feeling ill then—”

  She barely made it to the bathroom in time for another round. To her mortification, she felt Cody standing behind her, grasping her hair up off of her neck. “There’s nothing left inside me,” she gasped.

  “You’ve thrown up enough for ten people just since I’ve been here. Can you stand?”

  She shook her head. He lifted her under the arms. “Stormy, if you ate in Shiloh, that’s probably what’s wrong with you.”

  “Why?”

  “They…some of those eateries aren’t owned by the most hygienic folks you’ll ever meet.”

  “It’s the town of honest people.”

  “Yeah.” She heard his snort. “That doesn’t mean spit, for one thing, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean they should be operating restaurants. Somebody’s paying off the health inspector big-time.”

  It no longer interested her that there was an ongoing feud between the two cities. Right now, she wanted to die. “My stomach hurts.”

  “It should. Stormy, you have two choices. You can let me take you to the hospital, or I’ll take you to my place.”

  “No.” She collapsed on the bed.

  “You’re not listening. That wasn’t a choice. I’m seriously concerned about you dehydrating—or worse. It’s either the hospital, or I take you to my mother.”

  “Is she a doctor?”

  “God, no. Better.”

  “I’m not dressed for visiting.”

  “For crying out loud, Trouble. Shut your mouth and hang on.”

  She heard him moving some things around her room. Dazed, she wondered what he was doing, then stifled a gasp as he swooped her up off the bed into his strong arms. He was warm and solid and being in his arms was comforting. After a second, she relaxed against his chest. I’m safe, she thought as she released herself into his keeping. He won’t let anything happen to me.

  It was the only time in her life she could remember feeling so important, so treasured.

  So protected.

  “You have never brought a woman home before.” His mother, Carmen Aguillar, came to join him in the den.

  “She’s sick.” It was all the answer he wanted to give.

  “Very. Maybe she needs el médico.”

  “No es necesario..” He shrugged. “You know as much as any doctor. And she said no hospital, so I had no choice. What do I know? Maybe she has no insurance. Maybe she’s afraid of doctors or needles.”

  Carmen looked at him thoughtfully. “The nausea seems to have left her. She is asleep, fortunately.”

  “I’m going to call the health inspector in Shiloh. They need to do something about the food services.”

  “She does not believe she is sick from the food. Your friend says lots of people were in the restaurant eating.” She went into the kitchen and got herself a glass of tea before coming to sit on a sofa. “Of course, I told her that maybe it is a little bit like Mexico. Those who live there don’t get sick. Those who come to visit might.”

  “A health inspector needs to clean that place out. There’s something wrong when people get that ill from eating the food. Zach has a cast-iron stomach, and the only time he ate in Shiloh, he was that ill.” He scratched his head, unwilling to remind his mother of the night he’d kept her pretty busy taking care of him, too. “I just don’t believe it’s a coincidence.”

  “I know.” Carmen nodded. “So, this is the Stormy that Mary told me about.”

  “Yes. She’s made a huge impression on Mary.” He leaned back into the sofa. She’s made an impression on a lot of people.

  “She’s pretty.”

  Cody nodded. “That’s what everyone seems to think.”

  “And you?”

  How could he explain that he found the woman attractive in a way even he didn’t understand, but no, she most definitely was not beautiful? “She’s fine.”

  His mother snorted. “You bring her home. You like her.”

  “I would like her not to die while she’s in Desperado.”

  There was silence between them for a few moments before his mother spoke again. “Annie has been married for seven years now.”

  “And I’m glad.” It was true. Cody got along with Zach, and he liked seeing Annie and Mary so happy. Well, Mary had been happy, until recently.

  “You thought you needed to take care of Annie. Now, you’re taking care of this woman.”

  “Oh, no.” He shook his head adamantly. “Not the same thing at all.”

  “Why not?” Carmen’s eyes were inscrutable.

  “Because…there isn’t any taking care of Stormy. She reminds me of a hummingbird that flits around and can’t stay still. She’s always into something. I couldn’t take care of her if I wanted to.”

  “You are.”

  “No, we are.” How to explain this to his mother, who was heading down the completely wrong path on this subject? “Mary is my brother’s daughter, and my goddaughter, and therefore my own. I would have married Annie to take care of my brother’s family, which is my own. Stormy Nixon is not my family, and I don’t need to be responsible for her.” There. He was very proud of how well he’d stated that. It should wipe out whatever strange notions his mother was having about him and Stormy.

  She sighed heavily. “But you made her problem your own.”

  “Not for long.” It was one thing to help a woman who was ill, another to think of her in a permanent sense the way he thought of Annie. He and Stormy had opposite lifestyles: they lived in two states, had opinions at odds with each other. They didn’t think highly of one another’s livelihood.

  But that didn’t mean he would let her dehydrate in a hotel room in Desperado where she had no friends or family. That was no way to treat a lady, or anyone else for that matter. He got to his feet. “I’m going to check on her.”

  His mother nodded and turned the TV on. He headed down the hall, bracing himself to talk to the woman in the guest bedroom.

  But Stormy was still sound asleep. He was glad to see it. With her eyes closed, she appeared defenseless. Dark eyelashes lay against her porcelain cheeks. He missed looking at her eyes; it was how he knew her. Snapping fire or immensely curious, her light, violet-gray eyes spoke everything her mouth might say, only more.

  Reaching out, he gently pushed her hair off her face. For an instant, she opened her eyes and gazed at him. Her lips curled at the edges in the barest of smiles. “Thank you, Cowboy.”

  Something tightened inside his chest as she clo
sed her eyes again. He couldn’t stop staring at her. The momentary connection that had flashed between them was hot and alive and sent tingles all over his scalp.

  “Sleep,” he murmured, before backing out of the room. “I’ll be close by if you need anything.”

  But she didn’t open her eyes again. He felt empty and somewhat disappointed. It was crazy. The woman was a pain in the butt.

  For some reason, an errant part of his mind was ignoring the pain.

  It had to be afternoon of the next day, Stormy decided as she watched the sun send beams of light across the navy bedspread covering her. She felt depleted and still exhausted, but better than she’d felt yesterday—except for the utter embarrassment she was suffering. Spending several hours throwing up in front of a man with a demeanor like a rock made her close her eyes tightly. Cody acted as if her being sick was no big deal, but it was not the way a woman wanted a man to see her. With any luck, he’d be out on the ranch today doing whatever ranchers did and she could call a taxi to take her back to the Stagecoach Inn. She was not letting him see her like this. Straggly, limp hair stuck to her head, and her eyeballs felt as if tiny insects had rooted tunnels through them. If she could make it to the bathroom, she was going to take a warm shower.

  As soon as she made it out of bed to stand on very shaky legs, Cody knocked briefly and popped his head around the door. “How are you feeling?”

  She shrieked and fell back into bed, burrowing into the covers and flinging them up over her head. “Go away!”

  “Ah. You must be feeling better.” His boots stopped at the side of the bed.

  “Please, Cody, go away. I don’t want anyone to see me looking like this.”

  “I saw you a lot worse yesterday. Besides, I’m going to help you shower.”

  “The hell you are!” Under the covers, Stormy cringed, her fingernails tight around the sheet edges in case he tried to jerk them off of her the way he had the bedspread once before.

  He chuckled. “I’m kidding. Why don’t you eat before you try to get cleaned up?”

  “The last thing I want is food.”

  “How about some soda water?”

  If she said yes, he’d be gone long enough for her to dart into the bathroom and lock the door. “That sounds enticing,” she said sweetly.

  “Be right back.” His boots left the side of the bed. She heard him walk down the hall.

  Swiftly, she tossed the covers off, leapt from the bed and sprinted to the bathroom. She locked the door and sank onto the bathtub edge. Mission accomplished.

  “I’ve set your water on the nightstand,” Cody called.

  “Thank you.” She managed a grin for the way she’d outmaneuvered him.

  “Be careful you don’t try to move around too much too fast.”

  “I won’t. Go away now.” She waited, but he didn’t reply. Obviously, he’d done as she asked. Sighing, she pulled off the huge T-shirt Carmen Aguillar had helped her put on last night. Thank heaven Cody had brought her here. She couldn’t have borne going to the hospital. Mrs. Aguillar was cut from the same cloth as her son, which in a way was comforting. No surprises. Just warm, solid comfort.

  Her toothbrush and hairbrush were in the bathroom. She remembered Cody moving around her hotel room before lifting her into his arms. She should feel like he’d overstepped himself, she supposed, but truthfully, she was terribly glad to have some of her things. She brushed her teeth, feeling as if she was honestly on the mend.

  She stepped into the shower, washing her hair first. Then she pushed the drain stopper down and let the tub fill with warm water because her legs were still too weak to stand for long. It was wonderful to be clean again. She felt cozy and comfortable in this house, and somehow part of a family. Briefly, she let her mind stray to her own parents.

  Flower children of the sixties. Constant traveling with a basement band. As a baby, she’d slept in dresser drawers and the back of numerous rickety vans. She’d had an assortment of “uncles” and “aunts”, all smiling at her sheepishly before they went back into her parents’ bedrooms. Free love. Baggies of marijuana, needles, unclean smells. Home was where the heart was. Her home had only been herself out of necessity. Self-reliance kept her sane while she watched cartoons on old TVs in rooms disturbed by flickering strobe lights.

  She shuddered, sitting upright in the tub. Thank heaven Cody hadn’t taken her to a hospital. She never wanted to be in one again. Hospitals, sanitariums—soul suckers. The one trap she’d desperately sought to avoid—being a useless dropout like her parents—had nearly closed its steel metal teeth on her when she’d become addicted to prescription drugs. That time, she’d fought her way out of the hellhole. But if Cody had taken her to the hospital and they’d given her anything for pain, she might have started needing again—and the hard, clutching fingers of panic would grip her. She might not overcome it again.

  “Stormy! Are you all right?” Banging erupted on the door, jerking her out of the past. Her heart beat wildly.

  “I’m fine!”

  “Well…you’ve been in there for thirty minutes. Not that I mind, but I was getting worried.”

  “Don’t break the door in, Cowboy. I’m coming out.”

  She let the water out and dried herself off. Quivers hit her legs as she slipped on a robe Carmen had lent her. “Oh, my gosh,” she muttered, pulling open the door. “I feel like a brand-new kitten.”

  He scooped her up, placing her gently on the bed. “See? You should have let me help you. But you’re a stubborn woman.”

  “Buzz off,” she forced herself to whisper.

  He loomed over her, chuckling. “I brought you some plain toast. Maybe that will help.”

  Struggling to sit up, she took a nibble. “I don’t know if I can do this, though I appreciate the effort.”

  “Try. And Ma’s going to make you some broth for lunch.”

  Sighing, she moved her hair off her shoulders and concentrated on the triangle of toast.

  “Here. Let me get that out of your way.”

  He reached to grasp her hair in his hands. Stormy opened her mouth to protest.

  “Be still. It’s too wet for you to be comfortable.” He strode from the room before coming back with a blow dryer.

  “Cody,” she protested weakly, but he’d already plugged it in and pointed it her way. In a few minutes, her hair was dry.

  “Here.” He pulled her hair into a fast braid, sending shivers all over her body that had nothing to do with her feeble state. “That should make you more comfortable.”

  “Thanks,” she muttered, not certain if she liked the big man braiding her hair. “I look like you now, I guess.”

  “No.” He shook his head at her, his expression thoughtful. “You don’t.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that, and the look in his eyes was one she hadn’t seen before. He shouldn’t have touched her; they shouldn’t be alone in this room together. There was too much heat and it wasn’t left over from the blow dryer. He moved his hand to smooth her hair and tingles raced all across her skin.

  “Where’s your mother?” she whispered, hoping Carmen was just down the hall. Cody’s eyes were focused on her in an expression she recognized as male hunger. She knew he wouldn’t take advantage of her weakened state in his house—but was that what she wanted?

  “Gone to the market for a few things,” he replied in a husky voice.

  “I see.” Her eyes lowered under his intense scrutiny as she cast around for a topic they could discuss that would disarm the emotions she felt building inside. “Have you always lived together?”

  “Since my father died, yes. My mother talked about getting a place of her own, but then my brother died some years back. She doesn’t talk about getting a place of her own anymore.” He wouldn’t release her gaze. “She is older now. I think she’s happy sticking close to home.”

  “I…understand,” Stormy said on a whisper. Because you make me feel safe and secure, except at this moment. “Don’t
you have some…cows to feed or something?”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  He didn’t quite smile, but she thought he was amused. “Not exactly. I might fall asleep, though.” She put the toast back on the plate and moved it to the nightstand to emphasize her intentions.

  “Go to sleep, then.” He backed away from the bed. “Rest well.”

  A second later, he was gone. Irritably, Stormy stared at the door he’d closed behind him. How in the heck was she supposed to sleep well—when it had suddenly occurred to her that, if it felt wonderful just for Cody to hold her, how much more wonderful would it be if he made love to her?

  Chapter Seven

  Two minutes later, Mary came into the bedroom. “Stormy? Are you awake?”

  Stormy forced herself to sit up although the after-effects from the nausea still made her weak. “Barely. Come on in.”

  “Uncle Cody says you went to eat in Shiloh. He says you got sick.” Mary’s eyes were wide as she stared at her. “I hope you’re feeling better.”

  “In a manner of speaking.” Muscles ached in her body where she hadn’t known she could ache. Her throat was sore. Even her back hurt. “If you’re going to warn me not to eat there anymore, don’t worry. I wouldn’t if I was starving.”

  Mary shook her head, puzzled. “I don’t know why the food there is so bad. Uncle Cody says it’s because the people are liars and cheats.”

  “Can liars and cheats survive salmonella?” Stormy asked wryly.

  “He says it doesn’t affect them because they have no conscience, and therefore must lack stomach. No, he calls it gut. They lack gut.”

  “Hm.” Stormy wasn’t surprised by Cody’s theory. He had made it clear that he didn’t like Wrong-Way, but apparently, feeling strongly against Shiloh and its mayor didn’t make him more disposed to giving her the deal she wanted. His land—off-limits. She sighed, knowing it wasn’t going to happen. Cody was never going to bend. “Oh, my gosh. I’ve got to call my manager. Mary, is there a phone I can use?”