Christine

With my arms locked around his waist, I caressed his chest with my cheek. His skin was warm and a strong aroma of smoke lingered, but his heart pulsed beneath my cheek. He was alive. I shivered and squeezed him tighter, then looked up at him.

“How did the fire start?”

He stared at the lost field for a few beats before meeting her gaze. “It was arson. They found a cigarette lighter next to a can of gasoline and some Black Mountain beer cans loaded with fertilizer and cotton.” His bark of laughter contained no trace of humor. “The Wyoming version of a Molotov cocktail.”

“It wasn’t random, was it?” I asked softly.

He pulled back, trouble clouding his eyes. His terse headshake and grim expression said it all. “We should talk, Christine. There’re some things you need to know. You almost died today because you’re involved with me.”

I blinked. Involved? What kind of piss-ant lukewarm word was that? I looked down at her soot-covered shirt. “Okay. Let me see if I can clean up a little first.” I regarded him critically. “You could use a spray-down yourself.”

Needing the contact, I laid my hands on Travis’s shoulders then traced twin paths downward toward his hands.

He hissed a breath through clenched teeth.

“What is it?” Carefully, I turned both arms over, gasping at the gaping jagged gash on the back of his left upper arm that began at his shoulder and ran almost to his elbow. The skin around it had blistered and reddened. The outer edges of the wound were black.

“Got caught by a piece of burning fence.” I winced, as I ran a finger alongside the injury. “A rookie mistake.”

“You need an emergency room.” Travis shook his head.

“It’ll be okay.”

I tilted my head and sent him a sideways stare while we walked. “Really? Have you seen it?”

Awkwardly, he tried to look at the back of his arm. “Can’t see it, but I don’t feel it—Hey!” He dodged my questing fingers, only half playful as he slapped at me with his other hand. “—unless someone touches it.”

I tugged him over to his car by his good arm and angled the rearview mirror upward. Without a word, I gently steered his injured arm so he could see its reflection.

He shrugged. “It’s nothing. Gus has some first aid training. He can patch me up. Won’t be the first time.”

“Can he give you a tetanus shot, too?”

“I’m up to date.” I felt my heart give a little squeeze and realized I would do anything for Travis. Even tap into expertise I’d hoped to never use again.

I groaned, hoping I wasn’t about to make a huge mistake. “Lord, save me from stubborn men. Come on, I’ve had some training. I can patch you up.” I led him to the front porch, where his father and brother waited, grumbling under her breath, “Just don’t expect me to shoot you up with cow antibiotics.”

“Not at all,” he answered smoothly. “Horse pills will do just fine.”

His soft chuckle soothed the tension from my nerves.

* * *

Like most ranches, first aid on the Hawk MC ran somewhat more sophisticated than the average suburban American household. I wasn’t surprised when Grant produced a disposable irrigation and suture kit with surgical wash, topical anesthetic spray, and latex gloves.

Seated at the kitchen table, Travis was breathing in short gasps. Fine lines fanned from the corners of his eyes. Beneath streaks of soot, his skin appeared a little pale.

“I wish I could give you a shot of lidocaine.” Over Travis’s head, I directed a pointed look at Grant. “There’s no way to do this without causing some pain.”

Either Grant had excellent intuition or he had honed the power of telepathy. Without further direction from me, he stepped next to Travis and offered himself as a brace.

Still, I hesitated. “Just do it,” Travis said through gritted teeth. “I’ve had worse.”

No doubt he could tell some horrific stories. And I would listen, if he did tell them. But at the moment I only sighed, seeking out some inner strength. “Maybe you have, but I wasn’t the one hurting you then.”

Astonishing even myself, I kept my hands steady as I irrigated and debrided his injury. After trimming away some of the charred flesh, I carefully sutured the deepest part of the gaping wound.

A low moan emerged from deep in his throat when I touched the burned area. But other than repositioning himself more firmly against his brother, he didn’t move.

“Okay,” I murmured. “It’s actually good you felt that. Less chance there’s nerve damage. I don’t think the burns are full thickness. But there’s not enough skin left here to hold. We’ll have to put a good dressing on you and watch it for infection. It’ll leave a big scar.”

“I wasn’t planning on entering any beauty contests,” he ground out.

“I was more worried about the scar impairing movement,” I snapped as I applied antiseptic salve, then a layered gauze dressing. “You should see a doctor.”

At my nod, Grant released his brother.

I peeled off the latex gloves and pulled Travis’s hand into my own. I checked the circulation in each finger then finished by taking his pulse. It was a little quick, but steady and strong. Finally, I studied his face. He was pale, but his eyes were clear and his pupils matched.

“How do you feel?”

“Like a crazy woman just did embroidery on my arm,” Travis said, emphasizing each word.

“Where did you learn to do all that, Christine?” asked Grant. Maintaining my calm with effort, I shrugged. “I was an EMT in another lifetime, while I was in nursing school.”

“You’re a nurse?” asked Grant.

I shook my head. “No, I dropped out.”

“Our little bartender has skills. Guess we should keep her.” Grant chuckled and sent his brother a suggestive wink.

“Get your own girl,” mumbled Travis.

“Why’d you quit?” Grant collected the 4x4s I’d used to clean the skin around Travis’s arm and dumped them into a plastic bag.

Air backed up in my lungs, but I puffed my cheeks and forced out a long, slow breath. “Sometimes stuff happens and life doesn’t quite work out the way you thought it would.” Please don’t ask any more questions. I angled away from Grant but found myself up against Travis’s broad, bare chest. His right arm closed around me. I didn’t care that he was sweaty and dirty and smelled of smoke. Slipping my arms around his waist seemed the most natural move in the world. Sighing, I leaned my forehead against his warm chest and hung on. Another fireman…

Travis brushed my hair behind my ears. With his thumb under my chin, he tipped my face up and brushed my lips with his. “Thank you,” he whispered, then pressed a kiss to my temple, and just like that, the comforted became the comforter. He glanced over his shoulder. “Hey, I could go for some hundred proof. You?”

Grant was already at the kitchen cabinet. “Way ahead of you. Got a little medicinal Jack right here.”

Almost by magic a bottle of whiskey and three tumblers appeared. Grant poured generous measures into the glasses. I accepted the drink he handed me and knocked it back, appreciating the burn as it went down.

“I’m going to go see to the stock.” Grant set his glass on the counter with a soft thunk. “Dad’s out front with Gus.”

When they were alone, Travis lifted the glass from my hand and set it next to his and Grant’s. “You doing all right?” He laid a kiss on my forehead, almost as though he couldn’t bear to keep any distance between them.

“A little numb,” I admitted, leaning back and sending him a smile. His face looked less drawn, a good sign.

Mischief, not pain, danced in his eyes. “I’m going to get cleaned up. Want to borrow some clothes?”

Sparks had turned my shirt into a scorched rag. I poked a finger through one of the holes and wiggled it. “Ya think I need to? This could be a great new style.”

Travis swallowed hard, looking like he wanted to say something, but instead he leaned forward and captured my mouth in yet another tender kiss, his right hand moving convulsively against my back.

I swayed against him and slid my hands upward along his chest to his shoulders. With gentle back and forth movements, he brushed feathery kisses on my lips. I moaned and pressed more urgently against him.

From somewhere deeper in the house came the distant chime of a clock, and I pulled away with a sigh. “Do they know?”

Stepping back, Travis stared, obviously thrown by the question. “I’m… going to need a little more information. Does who know what?”

“Grant and your dad. Do they know you spent the night at my place? Do they think we—”

Travis rocked back onto his heels. Then he huffed out an easy laugh. His green eyes sparkled. “Bluebell, I haven’t felt the need to ask my father’s permission to spend the night out in a while now, and I haven’t had any burning desire to have a conversation with Grant about what’s between you and me. But I’m a healthy man and you’re a beautiful woman. I breezed in here at about five this morning after Grant saw us leaving the bar together last night. It’s a fair bet they’re thinking along those lines.” One of his killer smiles curved his mouth, shooting warmth to sensitive places. “Not to mention DC’s likely to bring up monkey sex to someone at some point and that’s definitely gonna get back to Dad and Grant.”

A giggle slipped out. “I forgot about that.” I rolled my shoulders to ease the strain. “So, hopefully no one’ll be shocked if I take a shower here.”

Tension visibly drained from Travis’s body. He grinned and held out his hand. “No, Bluebell, I don’t guess they will.”

The bathroom Travis led me to was painfully neat. The array of soaps and shampoos numbered two of each, not discount products but not top end either. I smiled as Travis showed me around. It was exactly what I would have expected.

“I share this bathroom with Grant.” Travis set a couple of towels on the counter. “He won’t come in while you’re getting cleaned up.” Pushing open the glass shower door, he gestured inside. “Pretty basic but the water’ll be hot. Use whatever soap and shampoo you need.” He looked a little sheepish. “Sorry, it’s kind of masculine.”

My smile widened. “If they were feminine, I’d be a little worried.” I touched him on the arm. “Are you going to join me?”

My words seemed to throw him off balance. He lifted a hand to caress my cheek, searching my eyes for a long moment before he finally spoke. “I’m going to use my dad’s bathroom.”

Grazing my lips with a butterfly kiss, he then pointed me toward the shower and slipped from the tiny room.

I reached into the shower and turned on the water, oddly grateful for Travis’s resolve. We’d just been through a few hours of terror. Now was definitely not the time to take our relationship to the next level. Before I could dwell on that particular need for too long, I stripped out of my clothing and stepped under the spray, enjoying the pulsing beat of warm water. I knew by smell which was Travis’s soap and I closed my eyes as I pulled the wash cloth with his scent across my body, dreaming of a time when it would be his hand following that path, when I could enjoy in every way the man who now held my heart.