Stolen Away (Hearts of Montana) Page 5
Normally, the fresh smell of cedar and the new clean surfaces made Cash happy as he worked. But this morning his mind was filled with other things. Things like a pretty brunette and the two asshats who had terrorized her the night before.
He was torn between thinking about protecting her and thinking about killing them. On one hand, all he wanted to do was take her under his wing, shelter her from the Purvis brothers’ storm. But his other hand was balled into a fist, and it itched to slam into the faces of Earl and Junior.
Somebody needed to teach those guys a lesson. He’d called the sheriff the night before but didn’t feel like that was enough. Not that Taylor couldn’t handle it, but he felt so helpless not being able to do anything himself.
Anything besides watch over her and keep it from happening again. His back cramped from sleeping in the chair next to her last night. But he would do it again in a minute.
What was it about this woman that made him so crazy? He thought his heart would stop the night before when he’d found her curled in the corner of her bedroom, her eyes wide with terror. She’d reminded him of a frightened rabbit, holding perfectly still, hoping the predator wouldn’t see it.
Pulling her into his arms had seemed so natural, and she fit perfectly against him. He didn’t want to let her go. All he wanted was to keep her safe.
Well, that wasn’t all he wanted.
He hadn’t been thinking of her safety this morning when he’d awoke in the chair at the foot of her bed.
She’d looked so sexy lying there, her long hair tousled and spread out on the pillow around her. Her brown eyes were sleepy and unguarded, and he saw the shades of desire in them.
He knew how a woman looked when she wanted him, and Emma’s gaze was filled with that look. And everything in him wanted to pull back the blankets and slip into bed next to her. Wanted to take her in his arms and slide her body beneath his. Wanted to lay his lips against her slender neck and inhale her sweet scent.
Hell, he wanted to do more than lay his lips on her neck. He wanted to explore her whole damn body—with his lips, his fingers, his hands. He wanted to learn the things she liked, the things that made her sigh and moan, and the things that took her breath away.
And he probably could have. Could have climbed into bed with her and taken her. But he didn’t want to do that with her—didn’t want to take her. He had a feeling she’d had enough of that in her life.
She needed someone gentle and sweet and loving—all characteristics that he saw in himself as sorely lacking.
But maybe it would be different with Emma, maybe he could be different. Maybe she could be the one to lift the darkness that lurked inside of him.
When he first woke up and saw her smiling at him, something inside of him tumbled, and he was afraid it might have been his heart.
He smiled back, not yet awake and in his right mind. Instead, he was in those early morning moments—when all was right in the world and everything seemed possible, even a relationship with a beautiful woman—when his body, and his heart, reacted out of instinct. The smile took over his face before he could stop it, and he knew the slow burn of want filled his gaze.
She’d sat up in bed, and the sheets had fallen to reveal her in the sleeveless white nightgown. At first she’d seemed a vision to him, an angel in chaste white eyelet, then his gaze had fallen on her slender bare arms and the evidence of Leroy’s abuse.
Seeing the scars from past injuries had fury building in Cash’s gut, and he wanted to tear the man limb from limb. Him and his brothers.
And that fury, that blind anger inside of him, is how he knew that he wouldn’t be sliding into bed next to Emma, wouldn’t be kissing her or holding her, not this morning or any morning.
That same anger filled him now, mixed with a feeling of helplessness, wanting to fix Emma’s problems, desperately wanting to be her hero, but knowing that was a role he would never fill.
Trying to get his focus back on the hinge, he stabbed at the top bolt and twisted hard with the screwdriver. The head had been stripped, and the screwdriver slipped across the hinge, scraping across his hand and leaving a long scratch.
“Shit.” He flung the screwdriver across the room and grabbed the back of his hand, pressing down on the scratch—the damn thing hurt like a bitch.
“Holy heck. What did that screwdriver ever do to you?” Emma stood in the doorway of the barn. The offensive tool lay at her feet, and Cash was thankful she hadn’t been in range when he’d thrown the thing.
She leaned down to pick up the screwdriver and carried it back to him.
He held out his cut hand to take it, responding with a scowl on his face. “Nothing. Sorry.”
She reached for his hand. “Oh no. You’re hurt. Are you all right?”
He pulled his hand back, hating how good it felt to have her hold it. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re bleeding.” She stepped into the small bathroom next to the workbench, and he heard the water hit the sink as she turned on the faucet. Emerging a few seconds later with a wet towel, she crossed back to him, picked up his hand, and pressed the cloth against the cut.
He grudgingly let her wash his hand, trying not to admit to himself how much he enjoyed the gentle caress of her hand. Trying to keep his eyes—and his mind—on his hand, his body still responded to the nearness of her. His breath quickened, and suddenly the barn seemed warmer than it had a minute before.
“You should probably put a Band-Aid on that. And maybe some antibiotic ointment, so it doesn’t get infected. Do you want me to go back to the house and try to find you some?”
“No, thanks. I’ll take care of it when I come in for lunch. It’s not that bad.” He liked the way her eyes were filled with concern for him. It wasn’t even that bad of a cut. He’d had a lot worse. But he didn’t seem to mind the way she worried over it. Worried over him.
She was so nice. Dang—she really did remind him of an angel—the way her hands fluttered around his, the sweet curve of her cheek, the perfect pout of her pink lips.
She might seem angelic, but the sinful thoughts he was suddenly having about her mouth surely made him the devil.
He looked around the barn—anywhere but at her lips—searching for a distraction—anything to get his mind off her. “Did you want to see the baby lambs?”
She nodded. “Oh, yes. That’s why I came out here. I thought I should spend a little time with them if I’m going to be responsible for naming them.”
“They’re pretty cute little buggers.” He led her over to the corral. The ewe stood against the front fence wall munching on some hay, and the lambs stuck close to her side.
“Oh my gosh, they’re so sweet,” Emma said. “Can I pet one?”
“Sure.” He leaned over the fence, picked one up, and cradled it in his arms. “They’re both males.”
She stepped closer, leaning against him as she stroked the fuzzy head of the lamb. “He’s so cute and fuzzy. I love him.”
The smell of her freshly washed hair wafted around him, and darts of heat shot through him as he imagined running his hands through the thick strands. “Got any ideas for a name?” He was getting plenty of ideas, but none of them had to do with naming the baby lamb.
“I’m working on it. They’re both so little, and I know what it means to feel small and scared, so I want to give them names of strength, names that just stand for being tough. I don’t want to rush this. It seems like an important decision.”
Yes. It did. Not the naming of the lambs—he could care less what she named them. But spending time with her, filling his mind with thoughts of her, wanting to fill his hands with her—that seemed important, and not a decision to take lightly.
Actually, not a decision he should be making at all.
His resolve was much stronger when she wasn’t standing next to him, the side of her hip touching his as she bent over the stall to cuddle the lamb. “You start your new job tomorrow. You excited?”
“What are you nervous about? I thought you said you’d already been waitressing in Great Falls.”
“Yeah, but that was with strangers, people I didn’t know. This is back in my hometown, where everybody knows me. And Leroy.”
He nodded. “One of the perks of living in a small town. Everybody knows your business.”
“Or at least they think they do. Nobody really knows what your life is like until they’ve walked a mile in your shoes.” She turned away, absently running a finger across a fresh scar on her arm as she mumbled, “Walked a mile in your shoes or had your arm sliced open by your drunken husband and a broken beer bottle.”
“But you got away,” he said, trying to keep his fury in check as he watched her touch a scar on her arm. “You’re not walking in those shoes or living that life anymore. That took guts, Emma. I admire you. Starting over is hard. It takes a lot of courage and bravery to do what you’re doing.”
“You’re right. Starting over is hard.” She stroked the top of the lamb’s furry head, focusing on the fluffy down instead of looking at him. “But you’re wrong about me. I’m not brave at all. I’m scared of everything.”
“You are—” He started to speak then stopped and let out a sigh. “Okay, I hear you. I won’t try to convince you that you are something you don’t believe. Maybe you don’t feel brave, and I get that you’re scared. But when you feel like that—when you feel frightened or nervous—try to imagine what you would feel like if you weren’t scared. Imagine what it would feel like to be brave and then just pretend that you are.”
She looked up at him, searching his eyes as if she were trying to determine if he was serious or teasing her. “Pretend that I’m brave?” she whispered, and the doubt in her voice almost tore his heart in two.
He nodded, trying to convey his sincerity. “Just act like it and eventually you’ll find that you really do feel it. You can do it. Hell, half the people you know are pretending to be something they’re not. We’ve all fabricated feelings or actions that weren’t really true. Like when you’re having a crappy day and someone asks you if you’re okay—and you’re absolutely not—you still smile and say you’re fine. Or when you’re at church on Sunday, and one of the old ladies asks you if you’re enjoying the pie she made as it’s souring your tongue with its dry crust and awful flavor, but you swallow and smile and say it’s delicious.”
She grinned up at him, and he felt like he’d hung the moon. “So, all I have to do is eat the terrible pie and smile and say I’m fine. And act like I’m brave.”
“That’s it. Easy, huh?” He set the lamb down in the corral and turned back to her.
She looked up at him, her face inches from his, her eyes full of uncertainty, as if questioning his sincerity. Her breath was warm and tickled his throat when she spoke. “Do you ever pretend? Or try to be brave when you’re not?”
He pretended all the time. He was pretending right now.
Acting like he only wanted to be her friend when he really wanted to kiss her, to touch her, to lay her down in the hay and slowly peel off her clothes. He tried not to look at her lips, tried not to think about her luscious mouth. Tried not to think about pulling her into his arms and kissing her until they were gasping and out of breath and she was clinging to him in desire.
As if drawn by an imaginary magnet, he tipped his head, his lips a whisper away from hers. His breath caught in his throat, and his body yearned to press against hers. Her gaze stayed fixed on his as her lips parted in anticipation.
He wanted to crush her mouth, to taste and devour her, but he couldn’t. Just as natural instinct told him how to approach a skittish horse, he knew he’d need to be soft and gentle with Emma. He could do that.
Screw all that business of not getting involved with her. He wanted her. Wanted to kiss her so badly he could taste it. Wanted to kiss her beyond all reason, beyond good sense.
Closer. His head screaming at him to stop, but his heart and his body ignoring it, crying out with their own desires of want and need. He’d been thinking about her and now here she was—warm and in the flesh and so close to being in his arms.
His hands itched to slide up her arms, to caress her skin, to plunge into her hair. He ached to pull her to him, to slide her body under his, to touch and explore.
Closer still. So slow. So sweet. His lips barely brushing hers in the faintest of whispers. Her breath sucking in at the barest degree of touch. Her lips trembling.
Be brave, Emma. I won’t hurt you.
He froze. His lips scarcely touching hers. Because he would. He would hurt her. Eventually. He always did. The darkness inside of him always won out, and he eventually ended up hurting them all. Not physically, but by his stubborn refusal to commit to a relationship, to not settle down with or give anyone a chance to really be with him. He hurt them by walking away, not giving anything of himself—anything real.
But he didn’t want to hurt her. Couldn’t bear to think of causing her any more pain. She’d had enough. Been through enough. The last thing she needed was him.
“Hey, Cash. You out here?” A deep male voice called into the barn.
Cash pulled away, and Emma shrank back, her cheeks tinging with pink as she ducked her head and looked away from him.
He touched her arm, a light press of reassurance, before stepping back and waving to the man standing in the doorway. “Hey, Taylor. Come on over. We’re checking on the new lambs.
“You still on duty?” Cash asked, gesturing to Taylor’s uniform and gold star as he ambled into the barn.
“Yeah, I wanted to stop by on my way home and make sure Emma’s doing okay.”
Cash introduced him as he approached the corral. “Sheriff Taylor Johnson, you remember Emma Purvis?”
She smiled up at Taylor. “It’s nice to see you again. And I’m back to being Emma Frank now. I’d rather not be associated with my ex anymore.”
“Smart choice,” Taylor said as he leaned against the worktable, crossing his long legs at the ankles. “Unfortunately, it’s your ex that’s brought me out here this morning. I heard his brothers have been giving you a little trouble.”
“I called him and told him what happened last night,” Cash said.
“I’ve just been out to their place to have a little chat with them, and they claim they weren’t anywhere near your dad’s place last night. Said they were at home watching TV and drinking beer. Right now, they’re each other’s alibi and, without some kind of evidence, it’s gonna be hard to prove they were out there.”
“But I saw them,” Cash said. “They almost ran me off the road with that piece of shit blue car Earl drives. Doesn’t that count as evidence?”
“It’s your word against theirs. And did you actually see one of them or just see their car?”
“They were driving too fast to see much of anything, but I know it was Earl’s car.”
Taylor shrugged. “Well, I did what I could. I gave ’em a warning and told them to steer clear of you, Emma. They seem to think they still have a relationship with you. So the next time you see them, you need to flat out tell them to leave you alone. That you don’t want them around anymore and to stay away from you.”
She nodded. “Okay, I’ll try.”
“That will help. Then at least I can use that if they bother you again. But for now, I warned them to keep away from you. That’s about all I can do.”
Cash ground his teeth, tightening his hands into fists. “You’re kidding me. That’s all you can do? Give them a warning? So, they just get away with terrorizing her?”
“I know you’re upset. But unless they actually physically touch her or threaten her, there’s not much else I can do.”
“Well, they’re not gonna get close enough to her to touch or threaten her. I’m not letting them anywhere near her. They try to mess with her and they’re gonna end up messing with me.”
“Simmer down. I k
now this is upsetting. But we know about the problem now, and we’re keeping an eye on them.”
“That’s not good enough.”
Taylor shook his head. “I’m sorry. My hands are tied.”
“Thank you,” Emma said, finally speaking up. “I appreciate that you tried. I’ve been dealing with my idiotic brothers-in-law for years now. I can handle it.”
“But you shouldn’t have to,” Cash said.
She sighed. “It’s just my life.”
The resignation in her voice tore him up. He hated that she felt like she had to live with this. And he hated that he felt so helpless. If Taylor wasn’t going to do anything about them, he’d take care of them himself.
“I know what you’re thinking, Cash,” Taylor said. “We’ve been friends since we were kids, and I recognize that look in your eyes. It’s not gonna help anything for you to go out there and do something stupid.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t bullshit me, buddy. If you go out to their place and try to talk to them, or worse, they’ll just say you were trespassing, and knowing those yahoos, they’d take a shot at you. Just let it lie for now.”
His mouth formed a tight thin line as he pressed his lips together.
“I mean it. It will only cause more trouble if you go out there and threaten them. Tell me you won’t go out to their place.”
He shrugged. “Fine, I won’t go out to their place.”
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t give them a piece of his mind if he just happened to run into them in town.
Chapter Six
The next day, Emma was up with the sun, nervous about her first day. She’d spent the night at Tucked Away again and woke to find the little gray kitten, Percy, curled against her side and the smell of coffee in the air.
And filled with a feeling of hope. She’d held on to that hope, showering and dressing in the pink waitress dress that Cherry had dropped off the night before.