WHAT THE HELL?
The offer came out easily and there was no fishing it back, no matter if it crossed every boundary known to man.
Cull hadn’t planned to ask, but he couldn’t let her out of his sight either. Although he should be more concerned with turning her into Deke, that wasn’t the reason why he felt the need to protect her. After the detective classified the fire as an arson, that meant one thing. Monica had been struck on the head and the attempted murderer had gotten away. If the killer realized he’d botched the job, would he be back to finish it right way?
Damn, he wished he’d caught the bastard, or at least gotten the license plate number if the assailant hadn’t been smart enough to remove it.
Cull needed to investigate further. He’d eventually catch the shooter, but Monica might be the only one who could help. Her memory would come back, and when it did, he wanted to hear what happened at her apartment. Did she see the man’s face?
Yes, that’s why he needed to keep her close.
“It’s not the Hilton, but it has a roof, running water and a bed. And the only flaw is it’s a one-bedroom apartment over my parents’ garage.” Should he tell her he’d called it home for the last year?
Her mouth gaped open. “Wait, you don’t even know me.”
“Well, something tells me you’re not a serial killer, so I think it will be okay. I’m offering a place for you to stay for the time being, not a wedding proposal.” Her cheeks pinkened and he smiled. For someone who wouldn’t seem to be modest, she was and he admired that about her.
“Oh…I…didn’t—” She clamped her mouth shut.
“I know you didn’t.”
“Are you sure about this?”
Not really. “I don’t usually invite,” he paused, “strangers to the family home, but my Ma would skin me alive if she thought I didn’t help a woman in need.”
“But won’t they mind you bringing home…” Something flashed in her eyes. “Someone like me?”
“Someone who’s found herself in a pickle?”
“I was going to say a stray.” Her bottom lip puckered slightly. “I’m not the type of girl a man should want to take home to meet his parents.”
He wasn’t sure why, but that expression needled straight into his heart. He’d been accused of not having a heart by some, mostly women who wanted more than a good time, but whatever the reason his was now beating rapidly and his palms were sweaty. The feeling could only be described as awkward, unfamiliar—one that proved he was out of his comfort zone with this woman. “Now you’re just being too hard on yourself, trust me. We Cade men tend to act like cavemen at times, and I’m sure we’ve scared off a few along the way. I promise that as embarrassing as we are, as outspoken as we can be, we do have some manners and my siblings won’t bother you…too much.” He winked.
She laughed, and it wasn’t just laughter, it was a melodic tune that he found pleasant. It was closer to the woman in the photo, but the brightness didn’t quite reach her eyes. “If they all look like you, I’m sure I can’t complain too much,” she said with a teasing tilt to one hip.
He could almost forget that he had an ulterior motive for staying close to her. Clearing his throat, he shuffled from dusty boot to boot. “Well, just don’t let them fool you. They’re all rowdy to the bone, except for me.”
“If it’s not too much of an inconvenience I’ll stay. How can I ever thank you?”
“My mom loves guests, and if you can tolerate her doting on you, then that’ll be thank you enough.”
****
“It’s a little chilly in here. I’ll start a fire,” Cull said. Monica watched him cross the room to the antique stove, his boots clicking the wood floor. He opened the door, knelt and filled the belly of the stove with the wood he’d brought in from outside. “This thing is real easy to use. Just like starting a fire in a fireplace. Stack your wood, put in a few pieces of kindling and use the lighter. Simple. Just don’t forget to open your flue, otherwise you’ll be smoked out of the apartment.”
Was he talking to her because she couldn’t concentrate on anything but how his T-shirt stretched across his broad back and the way the pockets of the jeans hugged his firm bottom. She felt a little embarrassed ogling him, so she turned away to examine the interior of the apartment, hoping she wasn’t as flushed as she felt. He wasn’t kidding when he said the place was small, but it was comfortable and modestly decorated. Hanging on the wall were a couple of framed photos of horses and cowboys, which seemed quite fitting here on a ranch. She didn’t get to see much except a white fence that surrounded acres of green pasture and several red barns in the distance. “Is this one of you?” She pointed to the photograph of the young man sitting in the saddle, his Stetson pulled low on his forehead. She’d recognize that broad jaw and full lips anywhere.
Cull glanced over his shoulder, smiling. “Yeah, that’s me. I was eighteen and cocky as hell, as if you can’t tell. Call it a genetic flaw.” He stood and swiped his hands together. “Those are my brothers and sister.” He pointed to a picture hanging at the end of the row. “We all were handed that particular gene.”
The picture was of five young men, all looking similar, surrounding a beautiful young woman with dark hair and striking good looks. They were all gorgeous. Monica would say that none of them had many flaws, at least physically. From one handsome face to the next, the brothers all had arresting blue eyes, high cheekbones, and broad whiskered jaws…and muscular bodies. Large, toned physiques that screamed hardworking masculine men. She swallowed against the constriction in her throat and resisted the urge to squirm.
Cull leaned closer, his body brushed her arm. “From left to right. Kace, Phoenix, Zander, Nix, Kiersten, and that sexy, irresistible man there is me.” He grinned and two deep dimples bracketed that sexy pout. She’d give it to him, he definitely was sexy, and he certainly was cocky, but there was also something very sweet and sincere about him. Endearing. They’d had small talk on the drive from Cheyenne, which helped her get to know him a little better. She learned that the Cade men were all lawmen, and so was their sister. Law ran through their blood…another “flaw” as Cull had described it. From the conversation, she gathered he was close with his siblings and although they were scattered and were busy with their lives, they still made time for each other. She also knew that Cull loved horses, of course, had served in the military and was in a self-proclaimed “slump” in his life. What that meant she wasn’t completely sure, but she could relate and why was the mystery.
Because Cull had told her so much already about the family ranch, she felt like she knew a lot. His father Bo and mother Beatrice had lived here all their lives, raised the family on the land, and were now retired.
Noticing a pair of old cowboy boots sitting next to the sofa, she asked, “Uh, I think someone left their boots.”
“Those are mine.” He grabbed them and placed them next to the door. “Ma came in and grabbed my things for me and she must have overlooked them.”
“Were you staying here?”
“Yeah, for about a year. All my things are back over at the main house where I’ll be staying for the time being.”
“I thought this place was empty. I can’t take your apartment.”
“Trust me, you can. Your alternative is the ranch hand quarters. I’ve stayed there a few nights. You wouldn’t get much sleep. Those boys have no manners.” His twinkling eyes told her he was kidding. “The fire is going good now and I bet you’ll want to take a shower. You still have some soot and blood in your hair.”
Self-consciously, she swiped her palms down her hair, realizing she must look a mess. Although she shouldn’t care because she had no one to impress but standing in front of a Greek God wasn’t good for the ego. “You’re right. I’d love to take a hot shower.” Working her bottom lip, she thought of the few items she had in the backpack. What kind of an impression would she make with the Cade family wearing the raggedy items?
He swept his gaze up and down her, and although she didn’t read anything but matter-of-fact in his expression, she certainly did feel a tingling in her nipples and a new awareness between her thighs.
“I’ll come check on you later,” he told her.
“Okay.”
“You have everything you need in the bathroom, and clean linens on the bed. Ma made sure of it.”
“Thank her for me, please. And thank you, Cull.”
“Enjoy your shower.” He gave her a small smile and left.
Monica dropped down on the couch and pressed her face into her palms. How could she ever repay the Cade family for their generosity? She didn’t want to be indebted to anyone, especially when she had no clue if her memory would ever come back. The idea that there was a possibility it wouldn’t made her feel overwhelmed, uncertain. The only person she knew just walked out the door. Although warning bells went off inside her head telling her that she couldn’t rely on anyone, what choice did she have? All she had to her name was a bag filled with clothes that were too large, a can of mace, and a picture of her face…
Standing, she promised herself that she wouldn’t get too comfortable here. She respected the space, and this was Cull’s home. It was obviously a bachelor pad, but tidy and private. Outside of the framed family photographs and shots of the ranch, there were several beautiful sculptures placed around the living room. An eagle perched on a rock. A deer with huge antlers. And the one she liked most was a statue of a cowboy sitting atop a horse. The TV remote was placed on the coffee table and she switched it on. She didn’t care about flipping through channels or even watching, but the noise soothed her. For some reason the quiet made her uneasy.
Stepping down the hall, the first door on her right brought her to the bedroom. With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, she walked across the threshold and the first thing she smelled was a pleasant scent of sandalwood and leather. Cull’s scent. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered and she laid a hand against her chest, hoping the beating of her heart would slow some. She needed to stop allowing her body to respond so easily, so wildly.
Clicking on the overhead light, she saw that the room was decorated like the rest of the house with a few western photos and a couple of statues, but nothing personal. Her eyes were drawn to the big, soft looking bed and a neatly stacked row of matching fluffy pillows. It was inviting and she couldn’t wait to crawl between the covers. An image of Cull, naked, lying sprawled on the bed monopolized her thoughts. She forced her brain cells away from the unsettling image as she left the bedroom and found the bathroom, suddenly needing a shower more than ever.
Turning on the water, she adjusted the temperature, and undressed. Stepping under the hot spray, she sighed in relief. The feeling was pure heaven. This was one of the simplest things in life and she found great joy in washing her hair with the coconut shampoo and conditioner and lathering her skin with the feminine body wash that she suspected Cull’s mother had placed in there just for her. He didn’t smell like flowers, but had a wonderful masculine scent. Monica also guessed the pink razor and can of sensitive shaving lotion was also added for her benefit. The fact that she hadn’t shaved in a while hadn’t gone unnoticed to her.
With wrinkled hands and feet, she finally shut off the water and stepped out, curling her toes in the soft, blue rug. Reaching for the towel from the stack on the shelf, she brought it to her nose and inhaled the scent of fabric softener. When Cull had hugged her at the hospital this was the smell of his shirt. Everything felt good, smelled good…and she felt welcome here at the Cade’s.
Drying herself off and hanging the towel on one of the empty hooks, she switched on the fan to help with the steam. She swiped a hand down the condensation on the mirror and bent closer to look at the cut at her hairline. It didn’t look as raw, but the black-blue bruising and stitches seemed stark against her pale skin. The doctor said they would fall out on their own so she wouldn’t need to go back and see him unless her symptoms worsened.
She had several other small bruises and cuts over her body, but no recollection on how they got there. Had she fought the person who struck her over the head? An image of a fire poker flashed through her mind and a sharp pain through her temples. She rubbed her forehead, trying to bring other images into her head. Nothing came.
Monica wanted to believe that the poker was from her past, maybe what the person used to hit her with, but in her heart, she knew it was the same poker Cull had used on the antique stove. How would she know the difference between real memories and fabricated ones?
How long would she have to live in the cage of her foggy brain?