High Country Rebel

She chewed on her lower lip, regarding his warning, searching his eyes. “Is this because you were a SEAL?”

“Yes,” he said. Talon held up his hands. “I know how to kill a person fourteen different ways with these. They are considered lethal weapons here by U.S. law enforcement. Please—” and his voice lowered with emotion “—no surprises. If you need me awake, stay at the door and call my name. I’ll come up in a hurry, like I did just now.”

Her heart contracted with pain. “Got it.” As she pulled the blanket down to expose his chest, she saw more than anxiety in his narrowed eyes. Maybe fear? She wasn’t sure. Talon was still breathing hard. Labored. Cat warmed the stethoscope between her palms so it wouldn’t feel so startlingly cold to his flesh. Gently, she placed the stethoscope against his chest, listening. She tried not to be influenced by his warm, hard flesh. As she grazed him, his skin tightened, the muscles leaping beneath. The man’s chest was powerful.

“Can you move your head to one side? I need to put my ThermoScan into your ear for a moment and take your temperature,” she said.

He nodded and turned his head slightly so she had easy access.

Cat felt shaky inside. Talon was a sensual, dark, dangerous and exciting man. She wasn’t used to feeling this way.

She looked at the ThermoScan. “Thanks. Your temperature is really going down. It’s a hundred degrees now. That’s good news.”

“How about my lungs?” he asked. “I feel like an elephant’s sitting on my chest.”

Cat gave him a sympathetic look. “I know. There’s still crackling in them. That means a lot of fluid remains in them. I’m going to give you another shot of antibiotics.” She got up.

Talon watched her move. Cat was medium boned, had flesh on her, but she was clearly athletically fit. Her red flannel shirt barely outlined her breasts. They were full breasts, the kind a man could hold in the palms of his hands. She was long in the torso and her hips flared. His gaze roamed the longest pair of legs he’d ever seen on a woman. He liked a woman’s legs and fantasized just how taut and curved her thighs were beneath the material of her jeans. He could feel himself hardening. Cursing mentally, Talon forced his body to not react to her. When Cat turned around, he feasted on her oval face, those so-soft lips of hers, wondering how she would taste beneath his exploration.

Cat sat down and rubbed an area of his upper arm with an alcohol swab. “This is going to hurt,” she warned him. His biceps was huge.

“That’s nothing,” Talon said. Her eyes focused and he barely felt the sting of the needle into his arm. She was good as a paramedic, no question. As she leaned forward, her slightly curled black hair slid off her shoulders and swung forward, bracketing her face. Talon itched to lift and sift the ebony strands through his fingers. He’d probably startle the hell out of Cat if he gave in to the desire, and he didn’t want to scare her. Sometimes, Talon saw fear banked in her eyes. Fear of him? Well, after he came up swinging, yeah, she’d be scared. But there was more to it. At some point, he’d find out the truth because he wanted to know her a helluva lot better.

Cat placed a small piece of gauze over the shot area and quickly wrapped it in some latex. Just getting to slide her fingers around his arm gave her secret pleasure. Talon’s muscles tensed automatically wherever her fingertips brushed against his flesh. Worse, she felt turned-on, a dampness between her thighs. No man had ever elicited that kind of response from her. Ever. Cat had no reasonable explanation for her body’s reaction, as if it acted independently from her mind. And her contact with Talon created dark, intense and unreadable emotions in his eyes. Cat impulsively reached out, touching his wrinkled brow. His skin was warm and drier than before. His eyes instantly narrowed upon her. Her womb contracted. Pulling her hand away, Cat quickly stood and put her equipment into the medical bag. She wiped her damp palms against her jeans and turned.

“Your skin is drier. That’s a good sign, too. Can I get you anything to eat or drink?”

“Water,” he growled. Talon saw her reaction to his rough tone. For a moment, Cat looked confused. Her black hair was mussed around her shoulders. He wanted to thank her for taking care of Zeke. And he felt like hell for snarling at her when she’d awakened him out of a dead sleep. Dammit. The last thing he wanted to do was ever hurt her.

Talon watched Cat walk to the bed stand and pour him a glass of water. He struggled to sit up, the covers pooling around his hips and lean waist. When she turned, he reached out, his fingers wrapping around the glass, accidentally grazing her fingers. The moment sizzled between them, warmth flowing up his hand. God knew, he wanted to touch Cat all over. Her lips parted, as if she was wildly aware their touch had created a firestorm between them.

“Thanks,” Talon said gruffly, taking the glass. He tipped his head back, gulping it down.

“More?”

“Please.” He pushed the pillows against the headboard and relaxed against them, watching her. Cat was tall. And solidly built. She was all grace in motion. Her hands were long, slender and beautiful. Talon saw a number of scars across them and he wondered how she got them. “I’m sorry I scared you earlier.”

Cat handed him the second glass, her body feeling hot and needy. There was regret in his rough voice as he took the glass. “It’s okay. I’ve dealt with combative, injured or sick people before.” But I’ve never seen the reaction I just saw in you. Standing there, unsure, Cat watched him tip back his head, the strong column of his throat exposed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Masculine. He was so blatantly, sexually male that it shook her. And his dark sexuality called to her whether she wanted it to or not. Talon’s shoulders were incredibly broad, the muscles taut. His arms were ropy with lean muscle. There was nothing weak about this man and Cat tried to still her stunned reaction to him: he was pure sex. Her mouth went dry, and she took the emptied glass, needing a glass herself.

“More?” she managed, her voice husky.

Talon shook his head, regretting the anxiety in her eyes. “No...thanks. Look, I’m not going to bite you. I’m sorry I went into combat mode when you opened that door.” His mouth thinned. “I can’t help it.” Talon wished he could.

“It’s all right,” Cat said softly, setting the glass down. “You know where you are, right? You’ve had a high fever since I picked you and Zeke up this morning.”

Talon rubbed his face. “Yeah, I’m here at the Bar H. Right?” His hand fell away and he stared up at Cat. Those eyes of hers made him long to dive deep into them and never resurface. They reminded him of the color of the Indian Ocean he’d swum in as a SEAL. Deep blue. Mysterious. Amazing. He’d like to be deep in her. Buried up to the hilt. The thought was searing. Talon felt himself respond. Great, he was going to get an erection. Not a good idea.

“Yes.”

“And your name is Cat Edwin and you’re a paramedic.”

Shocked at how well he remembered things, she nodded. “Right.”

“I think I remember Miss Gus was in here one time, but I’m not sure. Sometimes, I was hallucinating.” Talon felt filthy and he smelled sour, his body unwashed for weeks. It wasn’t a pretty smell, unlike Cat. She smelled sweet, her hair holding a cinnamon scent and that of cold, winter air. Talon closed his eyes, getting a grip on himself. Yeah, he was horny. No, it wasn’t a good idea to be that way right now. He’d been in and out of the Naval Hospital at San Diego for almost six months. The nurses were nice. Some drop-dead gorgeous, but in the state he was in, sex was the last thing on his mind. His body, mind and soul were struggling to heal.

Until now.

Until her.

Dammit, he was in so much trouble. Pushing his hands along the blankets over him, Talon scowled.

“Do you work for the Bar H?” he demanded.

Cat pulled up a chair and sat facing him. She folded her hands in her lap. “I work here part-time.”

“Is that why you were driving on that road this morning?” Talon saw a clock on the dresser. It was 3:30 p.m. He remembered looking at the watch on his wrist this morning. It had read 7:10 a.m.

Cat nodded. She could see his gray eyes were sharply focused. “My full-time job is as a firefighter with the Jackson Hole Fire Department. On my days off, I come out here and I’m a wrangler.”

He stared at her. “You’re a wrangler?”

She grinned. “What? A woman can’t herd cattle? Fix fence? Tangle with a bull?” She saw color settle briefly in his cheeks. Was Talon Holt blushing? Laughing softly, she said, “It’s a gender-neutral job as far as I know.”

Talon had the good grace to manage a partial, apologetic smile. “You’re right,” he acknowledged. Did Cat know how hot her mouth was? How sexy she would look if she didn’t wear those loose clothes? Oh, why the hell was he noticing her this way? This woman had just saved his sorry ass. He should be feeling grateful, not aching in pain from an erection he kept hidden deep beneath the covers.

“Are you hungry, Mr. Holt? Miss Gus made some chicken soup for you. I could bring you a bowl?”

He looked over at her. “Call me Talon. It’s the least I can do to thank you for saving me and Zeke this morning.” He began to cough. It was a deep, ragged cough and he pressed his hand hard against his chest, trying to catch his breath. When he finally stopped coughing and could breathe, he saw Cat’s concerned look. “Yeah, I could eat a little something.”

She stood. “You’re really underweight.”

Talon gave her a flat look, saying nothing. He wasn’t about to go into why he was underweight with anyone. “I need some clothes to wear.”

Cat walked over to the dresser and brought over some folded men’s clothes and set them next to him. “Griff McPherson is the owner of the Bar H with his wife, Val. He’s about your height and he gave me these for you. Your, uh, other clothes...well...they’re pretty done for.” Cat didn’t want to embarrass him by telling him they were ratty, thin, smelled horrible and that they belonged in the trash. She watched as his large, scarred hand took the jeans, dark blue flannel shirt, boxer shorts and socks out of her hands.

“Thanks,” Talon said, his voice hoarse after the coughing. “While you get me that soup, I’m going to the head, get a shower and put on these clean clothes. Where are my boots?”

“Out by the woodstove in the living room. They should be pretty dry by now. I’ll bring them in with me when I bring in the soup. There are towels, washcloth and soap in the bathroom for you, too.”

Talon nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you in about half an hour?” What he didn’t want was to be strutting naked across the room when she came in unannounced. That would not be a good idea. Talon saw her smile a little. Damn, her mouth was a magnet. Soft, full and that lower lip slightly fuller than the upper one, this side of being pouty, just begging to be kissed, nipped and taken.

“Deal,” Cat murmured, heading for the door. “And next time, I’ll knock first.”

One corner of his mouth quirked upward. She was a fast learner.

Talon had forgotten the sheer luxury of a hot, steamy shower and soap rubbing the sour smell off his flesh. He spent nearly twenty minutes in there scrubbing his dirty hair and beard free of how many weeks of accumulated crud? He was weak, his legs shaky, but he used the glass shower wall to keep himself upright. The softness of the thick terry-cloth towel felt incredibly lush over his flesh. He climbed into Griff’s clothes, found a comb to tame his long hair. He discovered a razor in a drawer. It was a woman’s razor, but it would do. In no time, he’d gotten rid of the damned beard, his face free of the hair. In Afghanistan, as a SEAL, he always wore the beard to fit into the Muslim culture. In reality, Talon preferred his hair military short, his face beardless.

Rubbing his hand across his jaw, he noticed that he’d nicked himself pretty good a couple of times. He used a tissue to blot the blood away, putting pressure on those places to stop them from bleeding. He took a smaller towel to wipe the steam off the mirror. God, he looked gaunt, like a damn skeleton. Dark circles rested beneath his eyes and his skin was stretched tight across his wide cheekbones. Talon forced his hair back into a small ponytail behind his neck after spotting a stray rubber band on the counter.