Elle James - High Country Hideout

As he shone the flashlight at the ground around the exterior of the barn, phantom pain burst like a firecracker, shooting up his leg and throughout his body. He stopped for a moment and clenched his jaw until the pain eased.

Pushing aside the residual pain, he concentrated on the ground, searching for footprints. The ground was hard-packed except near the rear of the barn, where he’d hosed out the wheelbarrow earlier. Footprints made inch-deep wells in the mud. He set off in the direction they were heading and found a couple more. They were smaller than his own, but then, he was a big guy.

The trail led over the top of a small hill and down to a gravel road on the other side. It was not much more than a dirt path. He followed it to where it connected with the road leading up to the ranch. At the junction, he could see fresh tire tracks in the loose dirt. They were narrow and knobby, like those of a four-wheeler, and the direction they were heading was back toward town. Near the tracks, almost hidden by a bush, he found a four-foot length of weathered two-by-four with a smear of blood on it. His gut knotted as he lifted the board out of the brush.

Following the road much farther wouldn’t gain him anything. The best he could hope for was to make a trip to Fool’s Fortune the next day and do some nosing around. He wished he had the ability to lift prints from the board. Perhaps whoever had hit Reggie was in some criminal database. Hank might have connections.

In the meantime he needed to get back to the house and stay close to the family he was there to protect, in case Reggie’s attacker decided to return in the middle of the night.

Once inside, he shed his jacket and hung it on a hook on the wall beside the kitchen door. Though his leg ached and he needed to elevate it, he couldn’t until he felt confident Reggie and her son were okay. He spent time checking door and window locks and shooting the dead bolts home. They might have felt comfortable leaving doors unlocked in the past, but times had changed.

Reassured all the locks were in place, Angus headed down the hallway to his bedroom. As he passed an open door, he heard Reggie’s voice speaking softly.

He paused, liking this gentle side of the woman who’d been tough as nails since he’d arrived. Curious, he leaned through the doorway.

Reggie sat on the side of a twin-size bed covered with a quilt decorated with pictures of cowboy hats, cowboy boots, lassos and spurs. Tad lay beneath it, his head resting against the pillow, his eyes half closed.

“‘Poke, the ranch dog, barked at the bull, until the bull backed away from the boy.’”

“Poke wasn’t afraid, was he?” Tad mumbled sleepily.

“No, he wasn’t. He protected his boy from the bull.”

“When I get my dog, I’ll name him Poke.” Tad yawned and rolled onto his side, tucking his hand beneath his chin. “Until I get my own dog, do you think Angus would let me pet Ranger?”

“You need to ask Angus. Ranger was an army dog. He might not be used to little kids.”

“I’ll ask Angus in the morning.” Tad yawned again and closed his eyes. “Will you tell him to tuck me in when he comes back in?”

“I read you a book, but you’d rather have Angus tuck you in?” Reggie leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’ll tell him. I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too.” Tad’s voice faded as he nestled into the blanket.

Reggie pulled the quilt up beneath his chin and stared down at the boy a few moments longer, love shining from her eyes.

Angus backed away from the doorway as quietly as he could and walked toward the kitchen, feeling as though he’d violated a private moment between Reggie and her son. But he wasn’t sorry he had.

The image of the tough ranch owner tucking her kid in like any loving mother would was seared into Angus’s mind. The woman had enough on her plate that she didn’t need to be plagued by some idiot trying to hurt her, or worse, kill her.

Anger boiled beneath the surface as Angus hovered in the kitchen long enough that Reggie wouldn’t suspect he’d been spying on her.

When he’d waited what he thought was enough time, he walked out of the kitchen and right into Reggie. His arms came up around her automatically to steady them both.

She squealed and braced her hands on his chest.

Angus chuckled. “This is becoming a habit.” Though neither one of them was at risk for falling, he was reluctant to let go of her. Her warm, soft body pressed against his was too tempting. She smelled like honeysuckle, bringing back memories of his happy childhood on a ranch in Texas.

“Anyone ever tell you that your hair is the color of hay?” he said before he could stop himself.

“Most women might count that as an insult,” she said, her voice a little breathless, probably from having been surprised by him.

“I think the color of hay is beautiful and that it represents stability and a plentiful harvest.”

Reggie smiled. “My thoughts exactly. So I’ll take your comment as a compliment.”

“As you should.”

Her back stiffened. “I believe I can stand on my own.”

“I know,” he said, staring into the prettiest blue eyes he could remember looking into. He wanted to tell her that, too, but he figured, following his last compliment, it might be too much, coming from a ranch hand. God, she smelled like home.

“You can let go of me now.”

He shook his head. “Sorry, darlin’.” Before he could think past the consequences, he cupped the back of her head and leaned in, his lips hovering over hers. “For some reason, I can’t seem to.” He wanted to kiss her, but more than that, he wanted her to want to kiss him. Instead of taking her lips, he left it up to her. His breath caught and held, waiting for her response.

For a moment she stiffened, her eyes widening. Her gaze shifted from his eyes to his lips. Then she melted against him and stood on her toes to close the distance, pressing her lips to his.

Once she did, there was no going back for Angus. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue in to claim hers in a long sensuous glide. She tasted of minty toothpaste, clean, fresh and sexy as hell.

Her fingers curled into his shirt and dragged him closer.

Angus’s hands slipped low on her back, holding her against the hard ridge of his arousal. At that moment he wanted this woman more than he’d wanted anything in his life. He slipped his hands down over her bottom and started to lift her—and a lightning bolt of pain ripped up his leg. He broke the kiss, sucking in a sharp breath and clenching his jaw to keep from yelling out.

“What’s wrong?” Reggie’s hand rested on his chest, her gaze on his face. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” He pushed her to arm’s length. “I just...can’t...” He dropped his hands to his sides and backed away, limping more noticeably. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Her kiss-swollen lips pressed into a tight line. “I’m just as at fault, but I can assure you, it won’t happen again.” She turned to walk away.

Angus doubled over. He hadn’t felt an attack this strong in weeks and he struggled to beat it back. Hiding his pain was a losing proposition, but Angus bit down hard, refusing to show weakness.

Reggie stopped and turned back.

Angus straightened immediately, his stomach tightening.

Reggie stared at him for a minute, her eyes narrowing. Finally she sighed, “Tad wanted you to tuck him in. Don’t feel like you have to. He’s probably already asleep anyway.” With those parting words, she left him standing in the kitchen, alone with nothing but his pain as a reminder of all he’d lost.