The Gentrys: Abby

“Yep. His name is Gray Wolf Parker and he’s Skaggs’s stepson. Abby hadn’t seen him since she’d been a high school freshman and he was the new senior. But the rest of her memories had to wait for a moment alone.

“Billy Bob, you know the cell phone won’t work out here, don’t you?” she asked the old man.

Billy Bob looked her way and nodded.

“You think you can watch Gray while I ride back toward the big house?” she asked shortly. “I figure it’s only twenty miles or so to where the cell phone will be in range. I’ll give the helicopter paramedics aerial directions to the line shack when I can reach them.”

Billy Bob frowned at her, shuffled his feet and tried to knock the accumulated dust off his work hat by slapping it against the side of his even dustier chaps-covered thigh. Maybe she shouldn’t have sounded so demanding with her request. After all, her goal was to become his boss soon. She really needed him, as well as the rest of the men, to be on her side and start seeing her as the new foreman.

Billy Bob shook his head. “Look, missy. You already went down that wash when it was too dangerous. I wasn’t there to stop you, but Jake and Cinco would have my hide if I let you go riding off across the ranch alone in the dark of night. Cinco gave me strict orders to keep you safe.” Before she could make any reply, he’d stepped outside the door, and she heard him spitting out the chewing tobacco.

Dang. Several thoughts flashed through her head at once. In the first place, he’d called her missy again. She hated that little-girl term. When would she ever make it to just plain ol’ Abby? Even the old-lady term “ma’am” would sit easier with her.

And secondly, why had her brother been talking to the men about her safety? He had no right to meddle in her business.

“I’ll ride back toward the ranch,” Billy Bob mumbled when he reentered the room. “I know this part of the ranch better ’n you. The man’s out cold and you’re a better nurse ’n me, anyhow. You stay here with him.”

Fighting with all kinds of emotions, she hesitated. She wanted to be the decision maker now. But it was too soon to force the issue. Yes, she was a Gentry. And yes, technically she owned a third of the ranch. But she still hadn’t proven she was worthy of the respect it would take to make the hands, young and old alike, follow her lead.

She swallowed her pride and realized Billy Bob was probably right. He did know this part of the ranch better than she did. He had the best chance of getting within phone range in the fastest time. He was the logical choice to go.

But she surely didn’t want to be the one stuck here alone with the sexy and potent Gray Parker.

Whew! Where did that silliness come from? Her injured neighbor was probably in shock and should remain out cold for most of the night. She really had nothing to fear except her own uncalled-for lusting. Besides, he needed her to finish the job she’d started and see to it that he got home alive.

Handing Billy Bob the phone, she gave him instructions and kept reminding herself she had nothing to worry about.

Billy Bob mounted his mare and stared down at her. “You done a right fair job of saving Parker’s life today. Your father would’ve been mighty proud of you, Abby Jo. But I’m reserving judgment on whether you’ll survive as foreman when the time comes.”

It was the longest speech she’d ever heard from the man.

Billy Bob nudged his horse, turning to head up the fence line toward home. “Take care of yourself and the young buck. The chopper’ll be here by dawn.” He tipped his hat toward her. “You have my word, ma’am.”

Ma’am? He’d actually called her ma’am. Well, that was at least a beginning.

When Abby returned to the cabin, she discovered the cool shadows of nightfall had finally reached them, relieving the oppressive heat. It was already so dark that she had to light a couple of kerosene lanterns.

The water pot she’d set on the stove had begun to boil, so she started getting down to work. She put a little of the hot water in the sink and washed her hands and face. It felt so good to scrape off the trail dust and sweat that she nearly cried. Next, she wanted to clean up her patient and make him more comfortable.

Patient. Now wouldn’t that be an excellent way for her to treat him—as well as to think of him?

Abby stepped to his side and looked down. Uh-oh. She suddenly realized she’d actually have to look at him—touch him—in order to treat him. The teenage crush, the nervous shyness whenever he’d been around, all of that came back to irritate her now.

She stood still as a fence post, studying Gray’s body. He’d obviously changed some since she’d last seen him. Funny, they lived on adjoining ranches but she hadn’t laid eyes on him in almost ten years.

The last time she’d seen him, he’d been a boy of eighteen with a tight, lanky build and an even tighter expression perpetually plastered on his face. Now he was truly an adult male. Still firm and athletic, his shoulders had broadened and his body had filled out. Whew, baby. She closed her eyes and counted to ten, trying to stem a zinging shock of nerves that she couldn’t quite name.

When she opened her eyes, she noticed his straight black hair was much shorter than she’d remembered. Thick and full, it didn’t even touch his neck in back.

In high school, his hair had been long and flowing, although he normally tied it back with a rawhide thong. For a young girl that hair had not only been a curiosity but also a terrifically erotic draw.

Now the short, thick strands seemed to be begging for her touch. Her hand reached out, of its own accord, but she dragged it back and vowed to concentrate on his wounds.

The memories still came to haunt her. Gray hadn’t been particularly friendly with the rest of the kids at school. He’d stood aside and watched them with those dangerous, ebony eyes. But that didn’t stop most of the girls from drooling over him—Abby included.

But the eyes had stopped her. They scared her. There was just something in them that she couldn’t understand. Something that made her uncomfortable—jumpy and nervous.

Besides, Abby didn’t go gaga for boys. She didn’t want to date them. If they could be buddies, fine. Otherwise, she could outride, outwrangle and outwork any of them. And to this day, she liked it just that way.

Nevertheless, she did remember Gray taking her side once and being her real-life hero. She found herself swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat by just looking at him. His eyes weren’t staring at her now. They were closed, but she could see the pain etched across his features just the same. She reached for his shirt buttons and decided she’d put these idiotic feelings aside and take care of the injured man.

Determined and dedicated, she managed not to think as she unbuttoned his shirt and rolled him out of it.

There. See? It was easy to—

Whoa! She found herself frozen in place and staring at his chest. It was broad, rippled and so manly it nearly knocked the breath from her lungs. In the shimmering lamplight, she could see the sheen of sweat spreading over his smooth, hairless skin and shining like a glittering lake in the moonlight.

She couldn’t help it when her gaze dropped lower, heading for his waist—and lower yet—to the part of him covered by tight, worn jeans, and shouting to her that he was uniquely male. And more so than most, she’d noted.

But her gaze suddenly returned to a patch of scars, spreading out across his abdomen like the wings of a bird. Gray had been cut. But they weren’t recent wounds, and they really did have some pattern to them.

The urge to follow the featherlike scars with her fingertips nearly consumed her. She longed to soothe his jagged skin—to heal his old, echoing pains.

Abby pulled her hand back before she actually touched him, and shook her shoulders, trying to keep focused. He needed her help to live. She could do this. He was groggy and seemed to be going in and out of a semiconscious state. At times he could almost focus his gaze on her, at others his eyes were closed. She prayed that most times he’d keep those dark eyes shut.

A half hour later, as she put the soapy water and wet towels away, she congratulated herself on remaining so calm and detached. She’d known that her practical nature would win out. After all, he was just a man. Normally, she had no trouble ignoring any minor tingles when she looked at a well-built specimen of manhood. Especially an injured one.

Fixing for a little hot chicken broth for the two of them, she reflected on her actions today and felt good about them. She’d been strong, levelheaded and decisive. Exactly the qualities that her ranch management professor at college had said would be required of a professional foreman.

Being the foreman on the Gentry Ranch was all she’d ever dreamed about doing with her life.

After a while Gray became coherent enough for her to hold his head up and spoon a bit of broth into his mouth. As she did, she thought about how proud of her Jake would be.

He’d been the ranch foreman for as long as she could remember. Always her idol and role model, Jake Gomez had encouraged her to go for her dreams and try for his job when the time came.

Of course, convincing her older brother, Cinco, to give her the job was going to take every bit of strength and determination she could muster.

Abby set aside the bowl of broth, relieved to see that Gray’s features looked decidedly calmer. He didn’t seem to be in as much pain. Maybe he’d sleep through the night.

After she’d washed the bowls and spoons, she figured that if he could rest, perhaps she could catch a couple of winks, as well. She wouldn’t really sleep soundly, she needed to be alert to any changes in Gray’s breathing. But a cat nap or two couldn’t hurt anything.

Abby got comfortable by opening a few buttons on her shirt and loosening her heavy work belt. Then she shut off two of the lanterns and turned down the light on the one she’d kept next to Gray’s cot. The lamplight flickered against the ceiling of the cabin, sending eerie shadows to play hide-and-seek with her mind.

Abby shivered in the heat, but decided she was being silly again. Heading toward the bunk, she smelled smoke. But she’d put out the stove’s fire ages ago after heating the broth. And the lanterns only smelled like kerosene, not smoke.

Smiling at her own foolishness, she moved to the windows and made sure they were wide open. It hadn’t cooled down much at all since the sun had set, but it was certainly more comfortable than when the sun was high in the sky.

At the window she took a deep breath, intending to clear her head. But the smell of smoke was even stronger outside. Now she realized not only was she definitely smelling smoke, but pipe-tobacco smoke at that.