Читать книгу Buckhorn Beginnings: Sawyer - Lori Foster - Страница 9

CHAPTER TWO

IF SHE HAD her choice, Honey Malone would have stayed buried next to the warm, musky male throat and hidden for as long as possible. For the first time in over a week, she felt marginally safe, and she was in no hurry to face reality again, not when reality meant villains and threats, along with an aching head and a weakness that seemed to have invaded every muscle in her body. In varying degrees, she felt dizzy and her head throbbed. Every other minute, her stomach roiled. She couldn’t even think of food without having to suppress the urge to vomit. And she was so terribly cold, from the inside out.

At the moment, she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and sleep for a good long time.

But of course, she couldn’t.

It was beyond unfair that she’d get sick now, but she couldn’t lie to herself any longer. She was sick, and it was sheer dumb luck that she hadn’t killed herself, or someone else, in the wreck.

She still didn’t know if she could trust him. At first, he’d called her honey, and she thought he knew her name, thought he might be one of them. But he denied it so convincingly, it was possible she’d misunderstood. He’d certainly made no overt threat to her so far. All she knew for sure was that he was strong and warm and he said he only wanted to help her. While he held her, she couldn’t find the wit to object.

But then his strong arms flexed, and she found herself lowered to a soft bed. Her eyes flew open wide and she stared upward at him—until her head began to spin again. “Oh, God.” She dropped back, trying to still the spinning of the room.

“Just rest a second.”

More cautiously now, she peeked her eyes open. The man—Sawyer, he said his name was—picked up a white T-shirt thrown over the footboard and pulled it on. It fit him snugly, molding to his shoulders and chest. He wasn’t muscle-bound, but rather leanly cut, like an athlete. His wide solid shoulders tapered into a narrow waist. Faded jeans hugged his thighs and molded to his…

Face flaming, she looked down at the soft mattress he’d put her on. Her drenched, muddy jeans were making a mess of things. “The quilt—”

“Is an old one. Don’t worry about it. A little lake water isn’t going to hurt anything.” So saying, he pulled another quilt from the bottom of the bed and folded it around her chest, helping to warm her. She gratefully snuggled into it.

That taken care of, he looked over his broad shoulder to the door, and as if he’d commanded it, his son appeared, carrying a medical bag. Casey looked nonplussed to see where his father had put her. “Ah, Dad, I already got a bed ready for her, the one in the front room.”

Sawyer took the medical bag from Casey, then said, “This one will do.”

“But where will you sleep?”

On alert, Honey listened to the byplay between father and son. Casey was earnest, she could see that much in his young, handsome face, but Sawyer had his back to her so she could only guess at his expression.

“Casey, you can go help Gabe, now.”

“But—”

“Go on.”

Casey reluctantly nodded, casting a few quick glances at Honey. “All right. But if you need anything else—”

“If I do, I’ll holler.”

The boy went out and shut the door behind him. Nervously, Honey took in her surroundings. The room was gorgeous, like something out of a Home Show magazine. She’d never seen anything like it, and for the moment, she was distracted. Pine boards polished to a golden glow covered the floor, three walls and the ceiling. The furnishings were all rustic, but obviously high quality. Black-and-white checked gingham curtains were at the windows that took up one entire wall, accompanied by French doors leading out the back to a small patio. The wall of glass gave an incredible view of the lake well beyond.

There was a tall pine armoir, a dresser with a huge, curving mirror, and two padded, natural wicker chairs. In one corner rested a pair of snow skis and a tennis racket, in the other, several fishing poles. Assorted pieces of clothing—a dress shirt and tie, a suit jacket, a pair of jeans—were draped over bedposts and chair backs. The polished dresser top was laden with a few bills and change, a small bottle of aftershave, some crumpled receipts and other papers, including an open book. It was a tidy room, but not immaculate by any measure.

And it was most definitely inhabited by a man. Sawyer. She gulped.

Summoning up some logic in what appeared a totally illogical situation, she asked, “What will your wife—”

“I don’t have a wife.”

“Oh.” She didn’t quite know what to think about that, considering he had a teenage son, but it wasn’t her place to ask, and she was too frazzled to worry about it, anyway.

“Your clothes are going to have to come off, you know.”

Stunned by his unreserved statement, she thought about laughing at the absurdity of it; that, or she could try to hide.

She was unable to work up enough strength for either. Her gaze met his. He stared back, and what she saw made her too warm, and entirely too aware of him as a man, even given the fact she was likely in his bedroom and at his mercy. She should have been afraid; she’d gotten well used to that emotion. But strangely, she wasn’t. “I—”

The door opened and a man stepped in. This one looked different than both Sawyer and the younger man, Gabe. Sawyer had dark, coal-black hair, with piercing eyes almost the same color. His lashes were sinfully long and thick and, she couldn’t help noticing, he had a lot of body hair. Not too much, but enough that she’d taken notice. Of course, she’d spent several minutes pressed to that wide chest, so it would have been pretty difficult not to notice. And he’d smelled too good for description, a unique, heady scent of clean, male sweat and sun-warmed flesh and something more, something that had pervaded her muscles as surely as the weakness had.

Gabe, the one now fetching items from her car, was blond-haired and incredibly handsome. In his cutoffs, bare feet and bare chest, he’d reminded her of a beach bum.

His eyes, a pale blue, should have looked cool, but instead had seemed heated from within, and she’d naturally drawn back from him. His overwhelming masculinity made her uneasy, whereas Sawyer’s calm, controlled brand of machismo offered comfort and patience and rock-steady security, which she couldn’t help but respond to as a woman. Accepting his help felt right, but the very idea alarmed her, too. She couldn’t involve anyone else in her problems.

Now this man, with his light brown hair and warm green eyes, exuded gentle curiosity and tempered strength. Every bit as handsome as the blond one, but in a more understated way, he seemed less of a threat. He looked at her, then to Sawyer. “Casey says we have a guest?”

“She ran her car into the lake. Gabe and Casey are off taking care of that now, getting as much of her stuff out of it as they can.”

“Her stuff?”

“Seems she was packed up and moving.” He flicked a glance at Honey, one brow raised. She ignored his silent question.

“Care to introduce me?”

Sawyer shrugged. He gestured toward her after he took a stethoscope out of his bag. “Honey, this is my brother Jordan.”

Jordan smiled at her. And he waited. Sawyer, too, watched her, and Honey was caught. He’d called her by name again, so why did he now look as if he was waiting for her to introduce herself? She firmed her mouth. After a second, Jordan frowned, then skirted a worried look at his brother. “Is she…?”

Sawyer sighed. “She can talk, but she’s not feeling well. Let’s give her a little time.”

Jordan nodded briskly, all understanding and sympathy. Then he looked down at the floor and smiled. “Well, hello there, honey. You shouldn’t be in here.”

Honey jumped, hearing her name again, but Jordan wasn’t speaking to her. He lifted a small calico cat into his arms, and she saw the animal had a bandaged tail. As Jordan stroked the pet, crooning to her in a soothing tone, the cat began a loud, ecstatic purring. Jordan’s voice was rough velvet, sexy and low, and Honey felt almost mesmerized by it. It was the voice of a seducer.

Good grief, she thought, still staring. Was every man in this family overflowing with raw sexuality?

“A new addition,” Jordan explained. “I found the poor thing on my office doorstep this morning.”

Rolling his eyes, Sawyer said to Honey, “My brother is a vet—and a sucker for every stray or injured animal that crosses his path.”

Jordan merely slanted a very pointed look at Honey and then said to Sawyer, “And you’re any different, I suppose?”

They both smiled—while Honey bristled. She didn’t exactly take to the idea of being likened to a stray cat.

“Jordan, why don’t you put the cat in the other room and fetch some tea for our guest? She’s still chilled, and from the sounds of her cough, her throat is sore.”

“Sure, no problem.”

But before he could go, another man entered, and Honey could do no more than stare. This man was the biggest of the lot, a little taller than even Sawyer and definitely more muscle-bound. He had bulging shoulders and a massive chest and thick thighs. Like Sawyer, he had black hair, though his was quite a bit longer and somewhat unruly. And his eyes were blue, not the pale blue of Gabe’s, but dark blue, almost like her own but more piercing, more intent. She saw no softness, no giving in his gaze, only ruthlessness.

He had a noticeable five o’clock shadow, and a stern expression that made her shiver and sink a little deeper into the bed.

Sawyer immediately stepped over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder, letting her know it was okay, offering that silent comfort again. But she still felt floored when he said, “My brother Morgan, the town sheriff.”

Oh, God. A sheriff? How many damn brothers did this man have?

“Ignore his glare, honey. We pulled him from some unfinished business, no doubt, and he’s a tad…disgruntled.”

Jordan laughed. “Unfinished business? That wouldn’t be female business, would it?”

“Go to hell, Jordan.” Then Morgan’s gaze landed heavily on Honey, though he spoke to Sawyer. “Gabe called me. You mind telling me what’s going on?”

Honey was getting tired of hearing Sawyer explain. She looked up at him and asked in her rough, almost unrecognizable voice, “Just how many brothers do you have?”

Jordan smiled. “So she does have a voice.”

Morgan frowned. “Why would you think she didn’t?”

And Sawyer laughed. “She’s been quiet, Morgan, that’s all. She’s sick, a little disoriented and naturally wary of all of you overgrown louts tromping in and out.”

Then to Honey, he said, “There’s five of us, including my son, Casey. We all live here, and as it seems you’re going to stay put for a spell, too, it’s fortunate you’ve already met them all.”

His statement was received with varying reactions. She was appalled, because she had no intention at all of staying anywhere. It simply wasn’t safe.

Jordan looked concerned. Morgan looked suspicious.

And in walked Gabe, toting a box. “Nearly everything was wet by the time I got there, except this box of photos she had stashed in the back window. I figured it’d be safer in the house. Casey is helping to unload everything else from the truck, but it’s all a mess so we’re stowing it in the barn for now. And it looks like it might rain soon. It clouded up real quick. I think we’re in for a doozy.”

Honey glanced toward the wall of windows. Sure enough, the sky was rapidly turning dark and thick, purplish storm clouds drifted into view. Just what she needed.

Sawyer nodded. “Thanks, Gabe. If it starts to lightning, have Casey come in.”

“I already told him.”

“Morgan, can you get the county towing truck in the morning and pull her car out of the lake? I want to put it in the shed.”

Morgan rubbed his rough jaw with a large hand. “The shed? Why not Smitty’s garage so it can be fixed? Or do I even want to know?”

“It’s a long story, better explained after I find out what ails her. Which I can’t do until you all get the hell out of here.”

The brothers took the hint and reluctantly began inching out. Before they could all go, though, Sawyer asked, “Any dry clothes in her things, Gabe?”

“Nope, no clothes that I saw. Mostly it’s books, hair stuff…junk like that.” He dropped the box of framed photos on the floor in front of the closet.

“I don’t suppose any of you have a housecoat?”

Three snorts supplied his answer.

If Honey hadn’t been feeling so wretched, she would have smiled. And she definitely would have explained to Sawyer that the clothes she wore would have to do, because she wasn’t about to strip out of them.

“Any type of pajamas?”

He got replies of, “You’ve got to be kidding,” and, “Never use the things,” while Morgan merely laughed.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Honey thought, No, no, they’re not all telling me they sleep in the nude! She did her best not to form any mental images, but she was surrounded by masculine perfection in varying sizes and styles, and a picture of Sawyer resting in this very bed, naked as a Greek statue, popped into her brain. Additional heat swept over her, making her dizzy again. She could almost feel the imprint of his large body, and she trembled in reaction. She decided it was her illness making her muddled; she’d certainly never been so focused on her sexuality before. Now, she was acutely aware of it.

She opened her eyes and would have shaken her head to clear it, but she was afraid the motion would make her unsettled stomach pitch again.

Casey stuck his head into the room. “I have an old baseball jersey that’d fit her.”

“No, thank you—”

Sawyer easily overrode her. “Good. Bring it here.”

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 Sawyer’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.