The Buckhorn Brothers Box Set: Sawyer\Morgan\Gabe\Jordan (7 page)

“Gabe cooks?”

Sawyer handed her the coffee, then watched to make sure it was to her liking. Judging by the look of rapture on her face as she sipped, it was just right. “We all cook. As my mom is fond of saying, she didn’t raise no dummies. If a man can’t cook, especially in a household devoid of women, he goes hungry.”

She’d finished half the cup of coffee right off so he refilled her cup, adding more sugar and cream, then gave her a plate with a roll on it. The icing had oozed over the side of the roll, and she quickly scooped up a fingerful, then moaned in pleasure as she licked her finger clean.

Sawyer stilled, watching her and suffering erotic images that leaped into his tired, overtaxed brain. His reactions to her were getting way out of hand. Of course, they’d been out of hand since he’d first seen her. And last night, when she kept kicking the covers away, he’d almost gone nuts. Pinning them down with his feet had been a form of desperate self-preservation.

He hadn’t had such a volatile reaction to a woman in too many years to count. No, he’d never been entirely celibate, but he had always been detached. Now, with this woman who remained more a stranger than otherwise, he already felt far too involved.

He cleared his throat, enthralled by the appreciative way she savored the roll. “Good?”

“Mmm. Very. Give my regards to the chef.”

She sounded so sincere, he almost laughed. “It’s just a package that you bake. But Gabe really can do some great cooking when he’s in the mood. Usually everyone around here grabs a snack first thing in the morning, then around eight they hit Ceily’s diner and get breakfast.”

“If they can cook, why not eat here?”

He liked it that she was more talkative today, and apparently more at ease. “Well, let’s see. Gabe goes to town because that’s what he always does. He sort of just hangs out.”

Her brows raised. “All the time?”

With a shrug, he admitted, “That’s Gabe. He’s a handy-man extraordinaire—his title, not mine—so he’s never without cash. Someone’s always calling on him to fix something, and there’s really nothing he can’t fix.” Including her car, though Sawyer hadn’t asked him to fix it. Not yet. “He keeps busy when he wants. And when he doesn’t, he’s at the lake, lolling in the sun like a big fish.”

Gabe stuck his head in the door to say, “I resent that. I bask, I do not loll. That makes me sound lazy.”

Sawyer saw Honey gulp the bite in her mouth and almost choke as she glanced up at his brother. As a concession to their guest, Gabe had pulled on frayed jean shorts rather than walking around in his underwear. He hoped Jordan and Morgan remembered to do the same. They each had more than enough female companionship, but never overnight at the house, so they were unused to waking with a woman in residence.

Gabe hadn’t shaved yet, and though he had on a shirt, it wasn’t buttoned so his chest was mostly bare. Sawyer shook his head at his disreputable appearance. “You are lazy, Gabe.”

Gabe smiled at Honey. “He’s just jealous because he has so much responsibility.” Then to Sawyer, “Now, if I was truly lazy, would I plan on fixing the leak in your office sink this morning?”

Sawyer hesitated, pleased, then took a sip of coffee before nodding. “Yeah, you would, considering you can’t go to the lake because it’s raining.”

“Not true. The best fishing is done in the rain.”

He couldn’t debate that. “Are you really going to fix the sink?”

“Sure. You said it’s leaking under the cabinet?”

Sawyer started to explain the exact location of the leak, but Honey interrupted, asking, “Where is his office?”

Gabe hitched his head toward the end of the hallway. “At the back of the house. He and my dad built it on there after he got his degree and opened up his own practice. ‘Course, I helped because Sawyer is downright pathetic with a hammer. He can put in tiny stitches, but he has a hell of a time hitting a nail or cutting a board straight.”

Honey carefully set down her last bite of roll. “Your dad?”

“Yep. He’s not a military man, like Sawyer’s dad was, but he is a pretty good handyman, just not as good as me.”

Standing, Sawyer headed toward Gabe, forcing him to back out of the doorway. He could see the questions and the confusion on Honey’s face, but it was far too early for him to go into long explanations on his family history. “Go on and let her drink her coffee in peace.”

Gabe put on an innocent face, but laughter shone in his eyes. “I wasn’t bothering her!”

“You were flirting.”

“Not that she noticed.” He grinned shamefully. “She was too busy watching you.”

That sounded intriguing—not that he intended to dwell on it or to do anything about it. Likely she watched him because he was the one most responsible for her. “I’ll be at the office after I’ve showered and gotten dressed.”

“All right. I’ll go get my tools together.”

Sawyer stepped back into the room and shut the door, then leaned against it. Just as Gabe had mentioned, Honey watched him, her blue eyes wide and wary. He nodded at her unfinished roll. “You done?”

“Oh.” She glanced down at the plate as if just remembering it was there. “Yes.” She wiped her fingers on the napkin he’d provided and patted her mouth. “Thank you. That was delicious. I hadn’t realized I was so hungry.”

Eating less than one cinnamon roll qualified as hungry? He grunted. “More coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

Her continued formality and good manners tickled him. Here she was, bundled up in his bed, naked except for his son’s jersey, and with every other word she said
please.
She still sounded like a rusty nail on concrete, but she didn’t look as tense as she had last night. Probably the need for sleep had been more dire than anything else. As he refilled her cup, emptying the carafe, he said, “I have spare toothbrushes in my office. If you’d like, I can give you one. I’d go get yours, but I’m not sure which box it’s in.”

“I’m not sure, either.”

“Okay, then. I’ll fetch you one in a bit.” He finished his own coffee while leaning on the dresser, looking at her. “Before I start getting ready for my day, you want to tell me who you are?”

She went so still, it alarmed him. He set down his empty cup and folded his arms over his chest. “Well?”

“I think,” she muttered, not quite meeting his gaze, “that it’ll be simpler all around if I don’t involve you.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“Trust a man I’ve known one day?”

“Why not? I haven’t done anything to hurt you, have I?”

“No. It’s not that. It’s just…Sawyer, I can’t stay here. I don’t want to endanger you or your son or your brothers.”

That was so ludicrous he laughed. And her lack of trust, regardless of the time limits, unreasonably annoyed him. “So you think one little scrawny woman is better able to defend herself than four men and a strapping fifteen-year-old?”

Her mouth firmed at his sarcasm. “I don’t intend to get into a physical battle.”

“No? You’re going to just keep running from whatever the hell it is you’re running from?”

“That’s none of your business,” she insisted.

His jaw clenched. “Maybe not, but it would sure simplify the hell out of things if you stopped being so secretive.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. Sawyer felt like a bully. Just because she’d sat up and eaten a little didn’t mean she was up to much more than that. He sighed in disgust—at himself and her—then pushed away from the dresser to remove the tray from her lap.

She glanced at him nervously. “I…I don’t mean to make this more difficult.”

He kept his back to her, not wanting her to see his frown. “I realize that. But you’re going to have to tell me something sooner or later.”

A heavy hesitation filled the air. Then he heard her draw in her breath. “No, I don’t. My plans don’t concern you.”

Everything in him fought against the truth of her words. “You landed in my lake.”

“And I offered to pay for the damages.”

He turned to face her, his muscles tense. “Forget the damn damages. I’m not worried about that.”

She looked sad and resolute. “But payment for the damages is all I owe you. I didn’t ask to be brought here. I didn’t ask for your help.”

“You got it anyway.” He stalked close again, unable to keep the distance between them. “No respectable man would leave a sick, frightened woman alone in a rainstorm. Especially a woman who was panicked and damn near delusional.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You slugged my son. You were afraid of me.”

She winced again, then worried her bottom lip between her teeth. His heart nearly melted, and that angered him more than anything else. He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hands in his. “Honey, you can trust me. You can trust us.” She didn’t quite meet his gaze, staring instead at his throat. “The best thing now is to tell me what’s going on so I know what to expect.”

She looked haunted as her gaze met his, but she also looked strong, and he wasn’t surprised when she whispered, “Or I can leave.”

They stared at each other, a struggle of wills, and with a soft oath Sawyer stood and paced away. Maybe he was pushing too fast. She needed time to reason things through. He’d wear her down, little by little. And if that didn’t work, he’d have Morgan start an investigation—whether she liked it or not.

One thing was certain. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight until he knew it was safe.

With his back to her, his hands braced on the dresser, he said, “Not yet.”

“You can’t keep me here against my will.”

“Wanna bet?” He felt like a bastard, but his gut instincts urged him to keep her close regardless of her insistence. “Morgan is the town sheriff, and he heard everything you said. If nothing else, he’d want to keep you around for questioning. I’m willing to give you some time. But until you’re ready to explain, you’re not going anywhere.”

He could feel her staring at his back, feel the heat of her anger. She wasn’t nearly so frail as he’d first thought, and she had more gumption than the damn old mule Jordan kept out in the pasture.

Despite the raspiness of her voice, he heard her disdain when she muttered, “And you wanted me to trust you.”

His hand fisted on the dresser, but he refused to take the bait. He pulled open a drawer and got out a pair of shorts, saying over his shoulder, “I need to shower and get dressed before patients start showing up. Why don’t you just go on back to sleep for a spell? Maybe things’ll look a little different this afternoon.”

He saw her reflection in the mirror, the way her eyes were already closing, shutting him out. He wanted to say something more, but he couldn’t. So instead he walked away, and he closed the door behind him very softly.

* * *

S
HE SLEPT
the better part of the day. After taking more medicine and cleaning up as much as she could using the toothbrush he provided and the masculine-scented soap in the bathroom, she simply konked out. One minute she’d been disgruntled because he was rushing her back to bed, and the next she was sound asleep. Sawyer roused her once to take more ibuprofen and sip more water, but she barely stirred enough to follow his directions. He held her head up with one hand, aware of the silkiness of her heavy hair and the dreamy look in her sleepy eyes. She smiled at him, too groggy to remember her anger.

Fortunately for him, since he couldn’t stay by her side, she hadn’t kicked off her blankets again. He’d worried about it, and gone back and forth from his office to her room several times during the day, unable to stay away. After Casey had finished up his chores, he promised to stay close in case she called out.

She hadn’t had any lunch, and it was now nearing dinnertime. When Sawyer entered the room, he saw his son sitting on the patio through the French doors. He had the small cat with him that Jordan had brought home. Using a string, he enticed the cat to pounce and jump and roll.

This time Honey was on her back, both arms flung over her head. He could see her legs were open beneath the covers. She was sprawled out, taking up as much room as her small body could in the full-size bed. In his experience, most women slept curled up, like a cat, but not Honey. A man would need a king-size bed to accommodate her.

He was still smiling when he stepped outside with Casey. “She been sleeping okay?”

“Like the dead.” Casey glanced up at him, then yelped when the cat attacked his ankle. “She looks like someone knocked her out, doesn’t she? I’ve never seen anyone sleep so hard. The cat got loose and jumped up on the bed and before I could catch her, she’d been up one side and down the other, but the woman never so much as moved.”

“She’s a sound sleeper, and I think she was pretty exhausted, besides. Thanks for keeping a watch on her.”

Sawyer saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned. Honey was propped up on one elbow, her hair hanging forward around her face, her eyes squinted at the late afternoon sunshine. Most of the day it had continued to drizzle, and now that the sun was out, the day was so humid you could barely draw a deep breath.

Honey looked vaguely confused, so he went in to her. Casey followed with the cat trailing behind.

“Hello, sleepyhead.”

She looked around as if reorienting herself. The small cat made an agile leap onto the bed, then settled herself in a semicircle at the end of Honey’s feet, tucking her bandaged tail in tight to sleep. Honey stared at the cat as if she’d never seen one before. “What time is it?”

“Five o’clock. You missed lunch, but dinner will be ready soon.”

Casey stepped forward to retrieve the new pet, but Honey shook her head. “She’s okay there. I don’t mind sharing the bed.”

Casey smiled at her. They all loved and accepted animals, thanks to Jordan, and it pleased his son that their guest appeared to be of a similar mind. “You want something to drink?”

She thought about that for a moment, then finally nodded. “Yes, please.”

Sawyer was amused by her sluggish responses and said, “Make it orange juice, Case.”

“Sure thing.”

Once Casey was gone, Sawyer studied her. She yawned hugely behind her hand, then apologized.

“I can’t believe I slept so long.”