Buckhorn Beginnings (3 page)

The brothers all looked at each other, grinning, then filed out. Sawyer leaned down close, hands on his hips, and gave her a pointed frown. “Now.”

“Now what?” All her worries, all the fears, were starting to swamp back in on her. She coughed, her chest hurting, her head hurting worse. She felt weak and shaky and vulnerable, which automatically made her defensive. “I'll be fine. If…if Morgan would pull my car out, I'd be appreciative. I'll pay you for your trouble….”

Sawyer interrupted, shaking his head and sitting on the side of the bed. “You're not paying me, dammit, and you aren't going anywhere.”

“But…”

“Honey, even if he gets your car out in the morning—and there's no guarantee, figuring how it's stuck in the mud and it looks like a storm's on the way—but even if he did, the car will need repairs.”

“Then I'll walk.”

“Now why would you wanna do that? Especially considering you can barely stand.” His tone turned gentle, cajoling. He produced a thermometer and slipped it under her tongue, making it impossible for her to reply. “We have plenty of room here, and you need someone to look after you until you're well.”

She pulled out the thermometer. “It's…it's not safe.”

“For you?”

Honey debated for a long moment, considering all her options. But he was trying to help, and with every second that passed, she grew more tired. The bed was so soft, the quilt warm, if she was going to move, it had to be now before she got settled and no longer wanted to. She started to sit up, but Saw
yer's large, competent hands on her shoulders gently pressed her back on the bed.

Not bothering to hide his exasperation, he said, “Okay, this is how it's going to be. You're either going to tell me what's going on, or I'm going to take you to the hospital. Which'll it be?”

She searched his face, but the stubbornness was there, along with too much determination. She simply wasn't up to fighting him. Not right now.

“It's not safe because…” She licked her lips, considered her words, then whispered, “Someone is trying to hurt me.”

Sawyer stared at her, for the moment too stunned to speak.

“Is this something I should know about, Sawyer?” Morgan asked.

He almost groaned. Wishing he could remove the fear from her eyes, he gave her a wink, then turned to face his most difficult brother. “Eavesdropping, Morgan?”

“Actually, I was doing tea duty.” He lifted a cup and saucer for verification. “Hearing the girl's confession was just a bonus.”

“It wasn't a confession. She's confused from—”

“No.” Trembling, she scooted upward on the bed, clutching the quilt to her chest. She chewed her lower lip, not looking at Morgan, but keeping her gaze trained on Sawyer. After a rough bout of coughing, she whispered, “I'm not confused, or making it up.”

Sawyer narrowed his eyes, perturbed by the sincerity in her tone and the way she shivered. If
anything, she sounded more hoarse, looked more depleted. He needed to get the questions over with so he could medicate her, get her completely dry and let her rest. “Okay, so who would want to hurt you?”

“I don't know.”

Morgan set the tea on the bedside table. “
Why
would anyone want to hurt you?”

Tears glistened in her eyes and she blinked furiously. One shoulder lifted, and she made a helpless gesture with her hand. “I…” Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat roughly. Sawyer could tell how much she hated showing her vulnerability. “I don't know.”

Agitated, Sawyer shoved Morgan away from where he loomed over her, then took up his own position sitting next to her on the bed. “Honey—”

The sky seemed to open up with a grand deluge of rain. It washed against the windows with incredible force. Within seconds the sky grew so dark it looked like midnight rather than early evening. Lightning exploded in a blinding flash, followed by a loud crack of thunder that made the house tremble and startled the woman so badly she jumped.

By reflex, Sawyer reached out to her, closing his hand over her shoulder, caressing her, soothing her. “Shh. Everything's okay.”

A nervous, embarrassed laugh escaped her. “I'm sorry. I'm not normally so skittish.”

“You're sick and you're hurt.” Sawyer leveled a look on his brother. “And you aren't going anywhere tonight, so put the thought from your head.”

Morgan promptly agreed, but the curling of his lips showed how amused he was by Sawyer's possessive declaration. “Sure thing. We can sort everything out in the morning after you're rested.” He slapped Sawyer on the shoulder. “Let the doc here fix you up. You'll feel better in no time.”

Casey came in with the baseball jersey. “Sorry, it took me a little while to find it.”

Sawyer accepted the shirt. “Good. Now we can get you out of these wet clothes.”

Jordan lounged in the doorway, a small half-smile on his mouth. “Need any help?”

And once again, Sawyer had to shove them all out the door. You'd think they'd never seen an attractive woman before, the way they were carrying on, when in fact they all had more than their fair share of female adoration. But as Sawyer closed the door and turned back to her, seeing her lounged in
his
bed, her long hair spread out over
his
pillow, her wide, watchful gaze, he knew he was acting as out of sorts as the rest of them. Maybe more so. He'd just never been so damn
aware
of a woman, yet with this woman, he felt he could already read her gaze. And he strongly reacted to it.

That just wouldn't do, not if he was going to be her doctor.

He laid the shirt on the foot of the bed, resolute. “Come on.” After pulling the damp quilt aside, he hooked his hands beneath her arms, lifted her, then proceeded to unbutton the shirt he'd loaned her as if he did such things every day. She was silent for
about half a second before suddenly coming to life. With a gasp, she began batting at his hands.

“I can do it!” she rasped in her rough, crackly voice.

He cradled her face in his palms. “Are you sure?”

For long seconds they stared at each other, and just as his heartbeat began to grow heavy, she nodded.

Pulling himself together, Sawyer sighed. “All right.” He suffered equal parts relief and disappointment. “Get those wet jeans off, and your panties, too. You're soaked through to the skin and you need to be dry and warm. Leave your clothes there on the floor and I'll run them through the wash.” He slid open a dresser drawer and retrieved his own dry jeans and shorts, then as he was reaching for the door to leave, he added, “I'll wait right out here. Call me when you're done or if you need help with anything.”

He stepped into the hallway and ran right into every single one of his brothers. Even his son was there, grinning like a magpie. He glared at them all while he unsnapped and unzipped his wet jeans. They smiled back. “Don't you guys have something to do?”

“Yeah,” Gabe said with a wide grin. “We're doing it.”

“At times you're entertaining as hell, Sawyer,” Jordan added with a chuckle.

Sawyer shucked off his clothes, content to change in the middle of the hallway since they pretty much had him boxed in. He was annoyed as hell, but unwilling to let them all see it. As he stripped down
to his skin, Gabe automatically gathered up the discarded clothes, helping without being asked. Then he handed them to Jordan who handed them to Morgan who looked around, saw no one else to give them to and tucked them under his arm.

After he was dressed again, Sawyer crossed his arms over his chest, returning their insolent looks. “And what's that supposed to mean, exactly?”

Morgan snorted. “Only that you're acting like a buck in mating season. You're looming over that poor woman like you think she might disappear at any minute. You're so obvious, you might as well put your brand on her forehead.” Morgan pushed away from the wall and ran his hand through his hair. “The problem is, Sawyer, we don't know who she is or what she's hiding.”

Sawyer disregarded his brothers' teasing remarks and frowned over their concerns. He didn't need Morgan to tell him there were going to be complications with the woman. His own concern was heavy. “So what do you want me to do? Take her back to her car? Do you want to lock her up for the night until you fit all the pieces together? The woman is sick and needs care before her situation becomes critical.”

Casey frowned. “Is she really that bad off, Dad?”

Rubbing his neck, trying to relieve some of the mounting tension, Sawyer said, “I think she has bronchitis, possibly pneumonia. But I haven't exactly had a chance to check her over yet.”

Just then every window in the house rattled with a powerful boom of thunder, and in the next second,
the lights blinked out. It was dark in the hallway, and all the men started to grumble profanities—until they heard a thump and a short, startled female yelp of pain in the bedroom.

Sawyer reacted first, immediately reaching for the doorknob, then halting when he realized all his brothers intended to follow him in. One by one they plowed into him, crushing him against the door, muttering curses. Over his shoulder, Sawyer barked, “Wait here, dammit!” then hurried in, slamming the door in their curious faces.

The wall of windows in his room offered some light from the almost constant strobe of lightning, but not enough. He searched through the shadows until he located her, sitting on the floor by the bed. Her wide eyes glimmered in the darkness, appearing stunned.

But it was nothing compared to how Sawyer felt when he realized her damp jeans and silky panties were around her ankles—and her upper body was completely bare.

The breath froze in his lungs for a heartbeat, every muscle in his body clenching in masculine appreciation of the sweet, utterly vulnerable female sight she presented. Lightning flickered, illuminating her smooth, straight shoulders, her full round breasts. Her taut nipples. Her fair hair left silky trails down her body, flowing sensuously over and around her breasts. He felt the stirrings of a desire so deep it was nearly painful, and struggled to suppress his groan of instant need.

Then, with a small sound, she dropped her head
forward in defeat and covered her face with her hands. That was all it took to shake him out of his sensual stupor. Determined, he started forward, dredging up full doctor mode while burying his instinctive, basic urges.

But one fact rang loud and clear in his head.

Damn, he was in deep—and he didn't even know her name.

S
HE WANTED TO DIE
.
To just curl up and give up and not have to worry about another thing. She felt beyond wretched, more embarrassed than she'd ever been in her life, getting more so with every second that passed, and she was so tired of worrying, of finding herself in impossible situations, giving up seemed the best option. She was just so damn weak, she couldn't do anything.

So instead, she got obnoxious. Without raising her head, she asked, “Are you done gawking?” Her voice was a hideous thin croak, a mixture of illness, embarrassment and pain. It was all she could do to keep herself sitting upright.

“I'm sorry.” He crouched down and lifted her as if she weighed no more than the damn cat Jordan had been petting. Very gently, he placed her on the edge of the bed, then matter-of-factly skimmed her jeans and underwear the rest of the way off, leaving her totally bare. In the next instant, he tugged the jersey over her head. He treated her with all the attention and familiarity he might have given a small child, even smoothing down her hair. “There. That's got to be more comfortable.”

His voice sounded almost as harsh as her own; she couldn't quite return his smile.

After pulling back the covers, he raised her legs onto the mattress, pressed her back against the headboard with a pillow behind her, then said, “Wait right here while I get some light.”

He was gone only a moment, but from the time he stepped out into the hallway until he returned, she heard the drone of masculine voices, some amused, some concerned, some insistent.

God, what must they think of her? She was an intruder, a pathetic charity case, and she hated it.

Sawyer returned with an old-fashioned glass-and-brass lantern, a flashlight and a small plastic tote of medicine bottles. He closed the door behind him, shutting out the brothers' curious gazes. For that, at least, she was thankful.

“Now, back to business.” He unloaded his arms next to the bed on the nightstand, turning up the lantern so that the soft glow of light spread out, leaving heavy shadows in all the corners of the room. “The town is so small, we lose electricity with nearly every storm. It's not something we get too excited over. By morning the lights will be on.”

Morning?

He shook the thermometer, and again stuck it in her mouth. “Leave it there this time.”

Oh, boy. He was done with stalling, now operating in total efficiency status. Well, fine. She didn't want to talk to him away. Talking took energy, which she didn't have, and hurt her raw throat and made her stomach jumpier than it already was. She honestly
didn't know how much longer she could stay awake. Lethargy pulled at her, making her numb.

He approached again, sitting beside her on the bed. He was so warm, heat seemed to pour off him. He gave her a stern look. “I'm going to listen to your lungs. Just breathe normally through your nose, okay?”

She nodded, and he opened the neckline of the jersey and slipped his hand beneath. He didn't look at her, staring at the far wall instead as if in deep concentration. But his wrist was hot, a burning touch against her sensitive skin, contrasting sharply with the icy coldness of the stethoscope.

She forgot to breathe, forgot everything but looking at his profile, at his too-long, too-thick lashes, his straight nose, his dark hair falling over his brow in appealing disarray. The lantern light lent a halo to that dark hair and turned his skin into burnished bronze. His jaw was firm, his mouth sexy—

“Normal breaths, honey.”

Oh, yeah. She sucked in a lungful of air, accidentally filling her head with his delicious scent. She immediately suffered a coughing fit. Sawyer quickly retrieved the thermometer and looked at it with the flashlight. “Almost a hundred and two.” He frowned. “Can you sit forward just a second?”

Without waiting for her reply, he leaned her forward, propping her with his body, practically holding her in an embrace against that wide, strong chest. His arms were long and muscled, his body hard and so wonderfully warm. She wanted to snuggle into him but forced herself to hold perfectly still.

Again, he seemed oblivious to the intimacy of the situation.

She was far, far from oblivious.

He lifted the jersey to listen to her lungs through her back. Honey merely closed her eyes, too mortified to do much else. After a long moment, he made a sound of satisfaction.

He carefully leaned her back and recovered her with the quilt. “You've definitely got bronchitis, and if you'd gone on another day or two, you'd have likely ended up with pneumonia. On top of that, I'd be willing to bet you have a concussion.” He gently touched a bruised spot on her forehead with one finger. “You hit the steering wheel hard when the car dove into the lake. I suppose I can only be grateful you were wearing your seat belt.”

He sounded a bit censuring, but she nodded, so exhausted she no longer cared.

“Are you allergic to any medications?”

“No.”

“Can you swallow a pill okay?”

Again she nodded, words too difficult.

He started to say something else, then looked at her face and hesitated. He sighed. “Honey, I know this is hard for you. Being in a strange house with all these strange men wandering about, but—”

“Your brothers are a bit overwhelming,” she rasped in her thick voice, “but I wouldn't exactly call them strange.”

He smiled. “Well, I would.” He raised his voice and shouted toward the door, “I'd call them strange and obnoxious and overbearing and
rude!
”

Honey heard one of the brothers—she thought it was Gabe—shout back, “I know a lot of women who'd object to the
obnoxious
part!” and a hum of low masculine laughter followed.

Sawyer chuckled. “They mean well. But like me, they're concerned.”

He patted her knee beneath the quilt, then handed her the tea. “You can swallow your pills with this. It's barely warm now.”

Honey frowned at the palm full of pills he produced. After all, she didn't really know him, and yet she was supposed to trust him. Even knowing she had no choice, she still hesitated.

Patiently, he explained, “Antibiotics and something for the pain. You'll also need to swallow some cough medicine.”

“Wonderful.” She threw all the pills down in one gulp, then swallowed almost the entire cup of tea, leaving just enough to chase away the nasty taste of the cough liquid he insisted she take next. Whoever had made the tea went heavy on the sugar—which suited her just fine.

Sawyer took the cup from her and set it aside, then eyed her closely. “The door next to the closet is a half bath. Do you need to go?”

Why didn't she simply expire of embarrassment? She was certainly due. “No,” she croaked, then thought to add, “thank you.”

He didn't look as if he quite believed her, but was reluctant to force the issue. “Well, if you do, just let me know so I can help you. I don't want you to get up and fall again.”

Yeah, right. Not in this lifetime.
That was definitely a chore she would handle on her own—or die trying. “I'm fine, really. I'm just so tired.”

Sawyer stood and began pulling the quilts off her. They were damp, so she didn't protest, but almost immediately she began to shiver. Seconds later he recovered her with fresh blankets from the closet. He laid two of them over her, tucking her in until she felt so cozy her body nearly shut down.

“Go on to sleep. I'll come back in a couple of hours to check on you—because of the concussion,” he added, when she blinked up at him. “I'm sorry, honey, but I'll have to wake you every hour or two just to make certain you're okay. All you'll have to do is open those big blue eyes and say hi, all right?”

“All right.” She didn't really like the idea, because she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep a wink now, worrying about when he'd come in, if she'd be snoring, if she'd even make sense. Usually she slept like the dead, and very little could disturb her, but since this had started she'd been so worried, and she'd had to be on her guard at all times.

At least now she could rest in peace and quiet for a while, and that was more than she'd had recently.

Sawyer tucked a curl of hair behind her ear and smoothed his big thumb over her cheek. The spontaneous, casual touches disconcerted her. They weren't what she was used to and she didn't quite know what to think of them. He acted as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to pet her, which probably meant it was merely his way and had no
intimate connotations attached. He was, after all, a doctor.

Still, his touch felt very intimate to Honey. Like a lover's caress.

“Holler if you need anything,” he said gently. “The family room is close enough so one of us will hear you.”

He moved the lantern to the dresser top and turned it down very low, leaving just enough light so she wouldn't wake disoriented in the strange room. Outside, the storm still raged with brilliant bursts of light and loud rumbling thunder.

He picked up the flashlight and damp quilts and went out, leaving the door open a crack. Honey rolled slowly to her side and stacked her hands beneath her cheek. His bed was so comfortable, the blankets so soft and cozy. And it smelled like him, all masculine and rich and sexy. Her eyes drifted shut, and she sighed. Sleep would be wonderful, but she really didn't dare. As soon as the storm let up, she had to think about what to do.

Sawyer was a nice man. His whole family was nice; she couldn't put them at risk, couldn't take advantage of their generosity and their trusting nature. She supposed she could call a cab to take her into town and buy another used car there. The one she'd been driving didn't have much value anyway, hardly worth repairing.

But her stuff. They'd unloaded everything into the barn, Gabe said. She hadn't even noticed a barn, and if she found it, could she retrieve everything without alerting them to her intentions? She had no
doubt they'd feel honor bound to detain her, thanks to her illness.

She just didn't know what to do. Since she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep, she figured she had plenty of time to come up with a plan.

 

T
WENTY MINUTES LATER
Sawyer peeked in on her—again. He couldn't quite seem to pull his gaze away for more than a few minutes, and his thoughts wouldn't budge from her at all. She was in his bed—and he knew it, on every level imaginable.

It had taken her less than two minutes to fall deeply asleep, and since then, he'd been checking her every few minutes, drawn by the sight of her cuddled so naturally, so trustingly in his bed. He leaned in the door frame, watching her sleep, enthralled by the way the gentle lantern light played over the curves and hollows of her body.

“She doin' okay?”

Sawyer quickly pulled the door shut as he turned to face Jordan. “She's asleep, and her breathing sounds just a little easier. But she's still really sick. I think she needs some rest more than anything else. She's plain wore out.”

“If you want, we can all spell you a turn on waking her up through the night.”

“No.”

Jordan's eyes narrowed. “Sawyer, it's dumb for you to do it alone. We could—”

“I'm the doctor, Jordan, so I'll do it.” He was determined to get his brother's mind off altruistic mo
tives and away from the room. “The rest of you don't need to worry. It's under control.”

Jordan studied him a long minute before finally shrugging. “Suit yourself. But I swear, you're acting damn strange.”

Sawyer didn't refute that. His behavior did seem odd, considering his brother didn't know why he was so insistent. But when Jordan walked away, Sawyer again opened the door where she slept. Nope, he didn't want his brothers seeing her like this.

The little lady slept on her stomach, and she kept kicking her covers off; the jersey had ridden to her waist.

Damn, but she had a nice backside. Soft, white, perfectly rounded. The kind of backside that would fit a man's hands just right. His palms tingled at the thought, and his fingers flexed the tiniest bit.

With a small appreciative smile, Sawyer once again covered her. At least her fever must be lower, or she'd still be chilled deep inside. The fact she felt comfortable enough not to need the blankets proved the medicine was doing its job. Still, he touched her forehead, smoothed her hair away, then forced himself to leave the room.

When he walked out this time he ran into Morgan.

“We need to talk.”

Sawyer eyed his brother's dark countenance. He'd have been worried, except Morgan pretty much always looked that way. “If you're going to offer your help, don't bother. I'm more than able to—”

“Nope. I figure if you want to hover all night over
the little darling, that's your business. But I want to show you something.”

For the first time, Sawyer noticed Morgan was gripping a woman's purse in his fist. “Our guest's?”

“Yep. I decided I didn't like all this secretive business, and being she's staying here, I was fully justified—”

“You snooped, didn't you?”

Morgan tried to look affronted and failed. “Just took a peek at her wallet for I.D. I'm a sheriff, and I had just cause with all this talk of someone hunting her and such.”

“And?” Sawyer had to admit to his own overwhelming curiosity. He wondered if the name would match the woman. “Don't keep me in suspense.”

“You won't believe this, but it's
Honey Malone.
” Morgan chuckled. “Damn, she sounds just like a female mobster, doesn't she?”

It took Sawyer two seconds before he burst out laughing.
Honey.
No wonder she thought he knew her name. He was still grinning when Morgan poked him.

“It's not that funny.”

“Ah, but it is! Especially when you know the joke.”