Rancher's Refuge

No last name. Interesting.

“Fancy name.” But then she was a fancy-looking woman, sleek and well-groomed. Except for the blood and bruises. “I’m Austin Blackwell. You’re on my ranch.” Practically.

She pressed her lips together in an expression of worry. “I’m sorry.”

He glared at her. “For what?”

Her fingers fluttered. Exactly like the pulse above her collarbone. “Trespassing. I should have asked before...uh...hiking.”

Austin pinned her with a look. “Yeah. Hiking.”

It was none of his business if she fell or jumped or was attacked by Sasquatch, just as it was none of his business if she lied. None.

Austin started to sweat.

The last thing he needed was a woman with suspicious injuries.

They approached Cisco who’d found a patch of grass to nibble on. The sooner he got Miss Annalisa mystery woman off this mountain and into someone else’s care, the easier he could breath.

“You know how to mount? One foot in the stirrup. Throw the other over. I’ll give you a boost. You take care of the arm.”

She nodded and with a gritty determination given her condition, stuck a foot in the stirrup and hopped. Austin leaned in to help, a hand beneath her free foot, the other ready to brace her back. The scent of perfume, definitely not the cheap stuff, but mysterious like her, contrasted with the earthy, wetness of the falls. He did his best not to notice, but the fragrance reminded him of something. Something he’d put out of his mind long ago.

He clenched his teeth against the fantasy, hoisted her other foot and put her into the saddle as gently as possible. She was light if leggy, tall enough to reach his stirrups. And he was no small fry.

Annalisa’s face paled with the movement. She bit back a groan. A small one, but he heard it.

“Easy,” he said, feeling like a heartless slug for hurting her. If he wouldn’t have been thinking of her long legs and heady scent, he could have been more careful.

Yeah, and if that sorry calf hadn’t gotten out, he wouldn’t be here in the first place with his sixth sense screaming like a banshee.

Ifs didn’t mean much in Austin’s vocabulary. If life was as it should be, he’d still be in Texas.

He took Cisco’s reins and tossed them over the saddle horn. In quick, efficient movements he swung into the saddle in front of his guest, taking care not to jar her. Annalisa leaned back, away from contact.

Austin shifted in the saddle to look at her. “Brace your bad arm against my back and give me your other.”

She hesitated, clearly not wanting to touch him. Well, too stinkin’ bad. He didn’t want her falling off.

“One broken arm is enough,” he barked. She flinched, eyes widening.

He grabbed her good hand and slapped it against his rib cage. With a tsk and slight tightening of his knees, he set Cisco on an easy walk through the trees.

Behind him, Annalisa was as stiff as new leather.

What was up with this lady?

Chapter Two

Annalisa curled her fingers into the rough brown duck of the cowboy’s jacket, lips stiff from trying to stifle the moans of pain. Jostling on the back of a horse wasn’t helping her arm or any of the other places she hurt.

Austin Blackwell frightened her with his dark scowls and sharply barked words, although he didn’t seem the violent type. But neither had James when they’d first started dating.

She darted a quick look around, nerves jittery. The forest was gorgeous, a tapestry of rich color and scent, flush with autumn sun. If she’d not been in pain and wasn’t constantly on the alert for James, she could have enjoyed the ride.

When was the last time she’d been on a horse?

The animal—Cisco, he’d called the bay—had a smooth stride, his muscular body easily handling two passengers. She wasn’t sure where they were headed, but the horse knew.

“Is this the way to the hospital?”

The cowboy tilted his white hat forward as if signaling something up ahead. “We’ll take my truck.”

They crested a rise and then started down an incline into a small valley. In the center of clear pasture land, with no other houses around, sat a long, low ranch-style house and a number of outbuildings. Three dogs bolted from the porch, tails wagging, barking a chorus of excited welcome. There was a black lab, some kind of big shaggy shepherd with white eyebrows and...an apricot poodle?

“Shut up!”

Annalisa tensed at the cowboy’s command. He twisted toward her. “Not you. Them.”

She knew that, and yet she’d jumped.

They rode directly to the porch, a structure that ran the length of the red brick house and was railed by rough cedar. A broom leaned against the railing. Someone had planted a big pot of yellow mums next to the door. Annalisa eyed the cowboy. His wife, perhaps?

With the quick, lithe movements she’d noted before, he dismounted and then lifted her easily to the ground. He was big and gruff, but his touch was deceivingly gentle. She’d yet to categorize him other than cowboy. Faded jeans, brown duck jacket and a white hat. And of course, the horse. She had the ridiculous thought that good guys wear white hats. Ridiculous indeed, considering her poor ability to judge men.

Austin Blackwell. Nice name for a cowboy. A pretty big guy with shoulders wide enough to handle a calf, he was around her age. From riding at his back, she knew that he was solid muscle.

She shivered. A big, dangerous man who’d been none too happy about finding her on his land. She slid a subtle glance toward him. He’d started toward the porch, only to be met by the dog trio.

The three groveled around his boots, and the white-browed shepherd bared its teeth in a comical smile of welcome while the poodle pranced on hind legs in a dance of joy. In spite of her throbbing arm, Annalisa smiled, too. Austin dropped a work-gloved hand to the highest head and scratched while the other two butted up against his legs, waiting their turn.

“Truck’s there.” He motioned toward the side of the house to a truck shed. Under an awning sat a white late-model Ford with big wheels flecked with mud. “I’ll grab the keys and we’ll go see the doc.”

He tromped up the steps, taking a minute to stomp his boots on a black welcome mat before disappearing inside.

Panic welled in Annalisa’s throat, a knot she couldn’t swallow. She was suddenly aware of how much the cowboy’s presence eased her anxiety. Now, alone in the open yard, terror rushed in.

Pulse tripping wildly, her breath quickened as she hurried to the white truck and tried the side door. It was unlocked. She clambered inside, slammed the door and slapped at the lock with shaky fingers. Still, her heart raced as wildly as if she’d run all the way from the waterfall.

She leaned her head against the tall seat, shut her eyes and breathed in the scent of new leather from an air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror. “Lord, if you’ll help me find a way out of this mess, I promise—”

The driver’s door opened. Annalisa spun toward the sound. The movement sent shock waves from her shoulder to her wrist. Instinctively she curled inward and grimaced.

“Easy.” The cowboy’s light green gaze steadied her.

Before he could step up into the driver’s seat, the apricot poodle jumped onto the long bench beneath the steering column.

“Get down, you wiggling wad of Brillo.” Face stern, Austin moved to one side and pointed toward the ground. Even though the poodle withered in dejection, her little fuzzy tail worked overtime. The cowboy’s voice gentled. “Go on, Tootsie. Get down. You can’t go this time.”