Riding the Storm (11 page)

The current hit them, splashed over their heads and
swept them under. Jolene kicked to the surface, pulling Nate with her.

“The wire-cutters.” He spit water from his mouth, gulped down a quick breath. “I’m caught. Can’t reach them.”

He grabbed her arm and shook his head when she tried to dive down to retrieve them. The water was too murky, too fast. The bottom was washing away beneath their feet. She’d never find them.

But Jolene didn’t know how to quit. She turned and half jogged, half swam toward shore. “There’s another pair with the horses.”

“Angel!” Whether it was a plea or a reprimand, she didn’t stop to listen.

Jolene’s legs felt like lead weights by the time she’d climbed onto solid land. The rain and wind were coming so hard at her, it was impossible to tell the difference between swimming and running. Her fingers worked like stiff, robotic appendages, but she finally got the saddlebag open, pulled out the wire snips and hauled ass back to the water.

“Nate?” She didn’t see him. Couldn’t hear him. “Nate?” She followed the path of the fence and stumbled into the water. A twinge of pain stabbed at the small of her back, but she ignored it. “Damn it, California, where are you?”

He was
not
going to leave her.

Just as quickly as her temper had flared and tears stung her eyes, Jolene rubbed her tummy. “Don’t listen to me, sweetie. We’re going to find him.”

It was just enough comfort to keep her fighting.

“Nate?”

He popped to the surface, his bloody cheek the only thing visible as he spit and gurgled and got dragged back under. “Jo—”

Running on sheer determination, Jolene dove beneath the water. She swam into the wall of his chest. After a startling blind grab at her breast, he cinched an arm around her waist, snugging the baby between them. He anchored her to him while she ran her palm across his neck and torso, searching for the wire. He wrapped his free hand around her fist and guided the snips toward his shoulder.

His body jerked as she found the barbs embedded in his shoulder and chest. Her lungs burned for a breath of air. The muddy water chilled her to the bone. But time was running out. He held her; she worked. The screams inside Jolene’s head were fading into a veil of fatigue and terror by the time she finally cut him loose.

She felt the sudden give as the trap released him. Opening her mouth in shock, she swallowed water. Nate’s legs twisted with hers. Both arms came down around her and clutched her tight as he pushed off the bottom and thrust them both to the surface.

Jolene gasped for breath and coughed against the collar of his shirt. His chest heaved, crushing against her own as they fought to draw in oxygen from the water-soaked air.

“Oh, God, angel.” His lips brushed against her temple, and his labored breaths rushed past her ear. “Oh, God…Are you with me?…The baby?…Talk to me…Are you all right?”

She was moving. But she wasn’t aware of walking.
Nate was carrying her, tripping with her, dragging her out of the river and up the bank—crawling on his one good knee and pulling her along with him.

He was hurting. She was spent. His breath was little more than a hiss in her ear. But he kept going.

“Nate.” She tried to find her feet, but they wouldn’t function. They’d hit flat ground and he was still pulling her along with him. “Nate. Stop. Stop.”

She bent her fingers into the shredded sleeve of his shirt and tugged. Or tripped him. She couldn’t tell which.

All she knew was that she was sinking to the ground, shivering, exhausted, frightened for her baby and grateful to be alive.

Grateful Nate was alive.

Maybe not in one piece. But alive.

Nate collapsed behind her. His arms stayed around her and he cuddled her close. They lay in the mud, her bottom nestled in the curve of his groin. With one broad hand he cupped her belly, placing his fingers over hers, shielding the tiny life she carried inside her. With the other arm he provided a pillow for her head, and he rested his cheek against hers.

“Please tell me you and the baby are all right.” Jolene only had enough energy to nod, but she moved her hand, sandwiching his larger one between both of hers. His chest expanded in a deep breath and his body relaxed against hers. His lips tickled her ear. Was he smiling? Did Nate Kellison really smile? “I thought I told you to stay with the horses.”

Jolene’s diaphragm shook with a silent laugh. “You’re welcome.”

“I owe you one.”

He wrapped himself around her, offering her warmth and strength and thanks as the rain pelted down and the wind swept the world right past them.

“L
ILY
?”
Jolene had to practically shout into her cell phone to be heard through the staticky connection. “Can you still hear me?”

“Rocky’s really okay?” her friend asked again.

Jolene picked up one of the towels she’d pulled from the linen closet and stuffed it into the windowsill beside her front door. Rain was already seeping in through every chink and hairline crack. Yesterday’s sunshine and clear blue skies seemed like a figment of her imagination.

But she couldn’t really stop to think about the gloom or the damp or the endless whistles and roars of the wind or else she’d drop from exhaustion. Her back ached and her bare feet were swollen like wrinkled prunes after being stuck inside her wet boots for so long.

She’d already started the water in the tub and pulled out all the pots and pitchers she could find so they’d have fresh water on hand in case the electricity went out and they lost the pumps, or rising floodwater contaminated the well.

While she prepped the house, Nate was taking care of the livestock and the outbuildings. That had been the deal, the only way she’d convinced him he didn’t have to carry her into the house and tie her down to keep her
from overextending herself again and possibly endangering little Joaquin.

Jolene’s hand automatically went to her stomach, where Nate had shielded her and her baby from the elements. She’d mistakenly thought Nate was the strong, silent type. Of his strength, she had no question. He’d wrestled a bull, her, and the storm—and still had the temerity to boss her about.

But Nate had also made her laugh. He’d saved her life more than once today. He’d saved her friends. He’d held her in his arms and shared his heat and whispered soothing comforts in her ear.

And he’d kissed her like…like she was a woman.

Not Mitch Kannon’s tomboyish daughter. Not Joaquin Angel’s brave widow. Not April Kannon’s plain, skinny little girl.

A desirable woman.

“Jolene?” Lily interrupted her thoughts. “Are you there?”

Jolene was hugging the towels so tightly, trying to hold on to the memory, that her arms ached. She quickly shook herself and stuffed another towel around the windows. “Rocky’s fine. The horses, too.”

If she’d had the energy to spare, Jolene might have grinned as she looked outside to the steel pen between the tall white barn and the tractor shed. The brown and white Santa Gertrudis bull, who’d nearly gotten them killed back at the arroyo, chomped on a mouthful of processed feed as Nate limped across the yard, leading Sonny and Checker into the barn for a quick, well-de-served rubdown. Her two dogs, Broody and Shasta, tagged along behind them, barking all the way.

That arrogant son-of-a-cow stood there and watched the parade, as lazy and content as if they’d chased him the last half mile across the prairie to visit a spa instead of saving his life and steering him to shelter from the hurricane.

“Don’t worry, Lily. We’ll keep him here at the Double J until after the storm. You’re sure everyone’s all right where you are? Did you hear from Gabe?”

“Yes. He’s fine. He’s so excited about having a little girl. He’ll be staying at Mother’s until there’s an all-clear.” Jolene barely listened to Lily’s animated report. She was more focused on the dark-haired man whose knee was obviously giving him grief. The man who time and time again had put her needs and comforts before his own.

Jolene ached for his pain—the physical as well as the demons he tried to keep such a tight rein on. Someone needed to take care of Nate for a change. Tend his wounds inside and out.

Taking care of things was what Jolene did.

That stray puppy longing locked up her heart and made her yearn to fix his pain.

But
that
man? She cupped her tummy and felt something flutter, lower, beneath the baby. What could she really do for a man like Nate? A sexy, wounded, wise beyond his years man who stirred things inside her she’d never felt so intensely before?

She’d never been in love, not even with Joaquin. They’d been best friends and she cared deeply for him. But she’d never known this funny tightness around her heart before. She’d never felt flushed or excited just looking at a man—wondering what he’d say next, won
dering when he’d touch her again. She’d never tasted passion before Nate Kellison had kissed her.

But she couldn’t be falling in love with him. Uh-uh. No way. She’d known him for less than a day.

When he disappeared inside the barn, she was reminded that he’d be leaving once Hurricane Damon was said and done. Gone. Not a part of her life.

Jolene nodded, agreeing with the little voice inside her head that had guided her for so many years.
Nate’s just here to do his job. He has no reason to stay. Doctor his cuts and bruises if you want. Fill his stomach with good food. But send him on his way before he hurts you. Before you hurt yourself by caring for someone else who’s only going to leave.

“Send him on his way,” she whispered out loud. It would be the smart thing to do.

“What’s that?” Lily yawned, or maybe it was a post-partum sigh. But the sound matched Jolene’s somber mood. “Anyway, Amber is just so beautiful. So perfect. I wish I could reach Gabe again. I don’t want him to miss a moment with his little girl.”

“The phone lines must be down all over the place. I’m sure he’ll call in as soon as he can.”

“I hope so. What about you and Nate? Do you have the supplies you need to ride this one out?”

Jolene and Nate.

Don’t even go there.

“We’ll be just fine.” Static clogged the line again. The winds must be going after the cell towers now, interrupting relays and cutting service. “Listen, Lily. I have to hang up. I need to call Dad while I still can.”

“Thanks for everything, Jolene. I mean it. Everything.”

Jolene disconnected the call, punched in her father’s number and headed for the next window. Her home on the Double J was a true ranch house—a single-level, sprawling L-shaped stucco with four bedrooms and too many empty corners for one person to bang around in by herself.

Joaquin had been the only child of older parents who’d spent their lives building this place. He’d grown up working the ample spread and had inherited the rich cattle land upon his parents’ death. But as the cancer made Joaquin sick and the bills mounted up, he’d sold off his herd and leased a portion of the land. Cattle still roamed the place, but they were someone else’s responsibility. Jolene lived alone, with only her horse, Jericho, the dogs, and a collection of barn cats for company. She tended her garden, painted her baby’s nursery, spoiled her father and wished she had more to do with her life.

Like take care of Nate Kellison.

“Damn it.” Oh, Lordy, she was going to get hurt again if she didn’t watch herself.

“Jolene? Criminy, honey, are you all right?” Mitch Kannon’s gruff voice answered as soon as she’d cursed.

“I’m fine, Dad. Soaked to the bone and tired. But I’m okay.”

“Where are you? I didn’t think it’d take this long to hear from you. Is Kellison still with you?”

Jolene quickly gave him the details of their situation, along with the condition of the washed-out roads, broken fence lines and flooding. She mentioned Nate’s injuries, their ride through the storm, and Rocky’s rescue—though she left out the part about going into the
river to cut Nate free. She reckoned there were some things an already worried father didn’t need to know.

“How long do you think it’ll be before it hits us, Dad?” she asked.

“It’s only about a couple hours away now. The winds here are really picking up. We may have to evacuate to the school ourselves.”

The sounds of raised voices in the fire station got louder. Jolene recognized Ruth Elliot’s firm voice above all the others. “Mitch Kannon, get over here and drink this coffee while it’s hot.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jolene smiled at her father’s indulgent tone. He and Ruth had worked together for almost ten years. Ruth ran that office with the efficiency of a ship’s captain, and though Mitch had often complained about Ruth’s strict rules, he’d never once complained about the woman herself. In fact, he’d often mentioned how much he admired her. Hmm, Jolene wondered now. Was there something more going on between them?

Something her father had never given a chance—until confronted with doubts about their very survival.

A loud bang startled Jolene over the phone, and she heard a scream.

“Easy, Ruth.” That was her father.

“Mitch, please.” Was that a catch in Ruth’s voice? “Come now.”

“It’s okay, Ruth. I’ll be right there.” Now
that
was the kind, firm voice that had reassured Jolene over the years.

Mitch’s voice gained volume as he spoke directly into the phone again. “I’ve got to go now, honey. We just lost a window at the back of the station. We’re moving
everyone to the interior rooms until the worst blows over. I probably won’t be able to contact you for a while.” The connection crackled. “Eighty to one hundred mile per hour winds when it hits…Stay put where you are. Honey…” Static garbled the last of his message. Then the entire line went dead.

“Dad? Dad!” The cell tower must have been knocked out.

No radio. No phone. No contact with the outside world.

Only Jolene and Nate, an ornery bull—and Hurricane Damon poised to strike.

T
HE KNOCK AT THE DOOR
startled her.

No one was out and about in this mess. Jolene dismissed the sound as something blowing against the house and went back to brushing her towel-dried hair and gathering it into a ponytail. She’d already changed into a dry pair of maternity jeans and zipped one of her dad’s old sweatshirt jackets over a loose pink blouse that still fit her expanding figure.

After putting away her hairbrush in the medicine cabinet, she surveyed her handiwork. The small, interior bathroom off the master bedroom was probably the most insulated room of the house. Jolene had moved out the hamper and carried in sleeping bags, blankets, pillows, food and a couple of flashlights.

“Nesting instincts.” Jolene was pleased with herself for seeing to their shelter
and
making herself slightly more presentable so that Nate wouldn’t worry any more than he had to over her safety. Where was he, anyway? She hadn’t seen him since they’d shared some leftover lasagna reheated in the microwave when they’d first ar
rived. Shouldn’t he be hovering around her, telling her to stay put right about now?

The knock came again. Definitely the front door. Definitely not the wind.

With a sudden worry about a traveler who might have managed to strand himself in this weather, Jolene shut off the light and dashed through the house. “I’m coming!”

Padding across the cool parquet flooring in her bare feet, she swung open the front door and gaped in surprise. “Nate!”

She pushed open the screened storm door. “Why didn’t you come on in?”

She retreated a step to let him enter, but he grabbed the screen, braced his arm against the jamb and didn’t budge. Against a backdrop of charcoal gray sky and rain, he just stood there—a battered, bloodied warrior. Grim eyed and tight-lipped with fatigue and pain, he looked as if he’d barely escaped eight seconds of hell with a bull in the ring.

Jolene frowned. Besides the fact he was letting water blow into her foyer, she was annoyed with him for standing there and taking the beating from the wind and rain when he didn’t have to. “California…”

He nodded at her use of the nickname, as if he’d expected it. “The horses are bedded down, and as far as I can tell, everything’s secure. I saw that you have a spare room in the barn. I’m gonna bunk out there. I just wanted to make sure you were okay and tell you not to worry. I’ll check in with you later.”

She supposed the twisting movement of his lips in the middle of that five-o’clock shadow was supposed to
be a reassuring smile. So he
had
had enough of her. He needed a break, some privacy. Or maybe he just didn’t want her to see him suffer.

The first reason was a blow to her feminine pride. The second was an insult to her as a human being. Neither was a good enough excuse for him to lie on a cot in the barn when there were three perfectly good beds and a sofa in her house.

Jolene propped a hand on her hip. “That’s ridiculous. There is plenty of space in this house. You can come in here and be warm and dry, and we’d never have to run into each other if that’s what you want.”

Nate narrowed his eyes. “I promised I wouldn’t let things get personal between us. Out by that arroyo—I kind of forgot.”

He was apologizing for something she’d been fantasizing about? Lordy, had she been on the wrong wavelength.

Jolene gripped the door and curled her toes into the growing puddle of water on the floor. “I guess…I forgot, too. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Something in his eyes flickered, but then his face became a controlled mask once more. “So much has happened today, it feels like we’ve known each other a lot longer than we have. But it has only been one day. Your dad said you’ve been a widow for just a few months, and I’ve got some ghosts of my own, and we’re just supposed to be together to work. To save lives. And animals and cars and trucks and things,” he concluded with some of that deadpan humor.

But Jolene couldn’t bring herself to smile. She’d lived through enough goodbyes in her life to know one
when she heard it, no matter how noble the excuse. “So you’re going to stay in the barn, in those wet, ratty clothes, with that gash on your shoulder. Now, is that because I’m in mourning and you think I can’t handle having a man around, or because my dad wouldn’t approve of us being together unless we’re working?”

He released the door, not listening to any argument. “I’m staying in the barn.”

Jolene stamped her foot as the screen door slammed. She shoved it back open. “Get in here.”

Nate slowly turned and came back up onto the porch, standing almost chest to chest with her. He looked deep into her eyes, asking her to read the seriousness of his intent. “I gave my word to your father that I would keep you safe. From everything. I gave my word to you. If I come in, I might not be able to keep those promises. And I don’t know if you’re ready for that. I don’t know if I am.”