| |
––––––––
Allie felt safe, cocooned in a blanket of warmth. But something was tugging at her pillow and the whole bed was moving, and that sexy voice...
She opened her eyes, blinking up at the man holding her.
“We have to get moving,” Carter said. His cowboy hat shaded his face but his voice was gentle, almost apologetic.
“How long did I sleep?” she asked. He made no move to loosen his arms so she wasn’t inclined to scramble to her feet. This was the safest she’d felt in days. Actually years, if she were being honest.
“About twenty minutes,” he said. “How do you feel?”
“Great.” As long as she didn’t move her shoulder, or her legs, or put weight on her blistered feet. “Ready to run,” she added.
He smiled as if she’d made a joke. She’d been perfectly serious but she liked his smile, so much better than his frown. She liked the way he was looking at her too, and a part of her knew he wouldn’t desert her, not like Janet had.
“I know you didn’t sleep last night,” he said. “But where did you and Janet spend the first evening?”
“Up a tree,” she admitted. “We upset a mother moose.”
His expression remained calm but she felt the muscles in his arms bunch. “No wonder you’re exhausted. We’re going to fill your pockets with those oatmeal bars you like, along with my compass. If Dwight comes—”
“I’m not tired,” she said quickly. “I can keep going.”
He pressed his finger against her mouth and the touch was so intimate she swallowed and quit talking.
“If Dwight comes,” he continued, “I want you to run into the woods and make your way back up to the logging road. Once the race is over, the four-wheelers will be out searching for you.”
Her head snapped up in dismay. She didn’t want to be alone, didn’t want to go back into the bush, and she certainly didn’t want Carter to face Dwight alone. And while she appreciated his chivalry, she was no longer a trail greenhorn. Yet somehow this seemed to have turned from a discussion into an autocratic decision.
She splayed her hand over his chest and leaned back. “I don’t agree. If we stay together it’s two against one. And I can help.”
“This isn’t a game anymore,” Carter said. He was saying more but he’d also cupped her face, staring with such intensity it made her heart pound too loudly to hear the rest of his words. And of course she knew this wasn’t a game. She was the one who’d seen the water swirling over Trina’s dead eyes. She was the one who’d huddled beneath a rotting tree trunk all night, shivering in fear when Dwight passed just inches away.
But she wasn’t afraid now. Not while Carter was talking, holding her as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She could hear the beautiful timbre of his voice, the vibration deep in his chest, such a soothing sound, and she wanted to sit here all day and listen. And then he stopped talking.
He was looking at her with that intent expression, his thumb stroking the sensitive part of her neck and it felt too wonderful to talk. But he was waiting and it was obvious he expected a reply.
“Sorry,” she said. “Can you repeat that? After the part about the game?”
He shook his head, groaning. “You’re exhausted. I was telling you how to find the four-wheelers and you’re too tired to hear a word.”
It was probably good he didn’t know it was his touch that affected her, not exhaustion. His thumb drew circles on the nape of her neck and it was obvious he didn’t realize he was doing it. The sensations made her brain stall and she couldn’t even pretend to be listening. No wonder he didn’t let women touch him. Because if he touched them back there would be chaos, with bewildered guests stumbling around the ranch like lovesick zombies.
She made a huge effort to ignore his touch, to stare at his mouth and try to decipher his words.
“We have to expect Dwight is coming.” Carter was speaking so quietly now it was almost as if he were talking to himself. “I don’t know his background, only that he can ride and track a bit. And that he can probably handle a hatchet.”
“He won the axe-throwing contest,” she said, tilting her head so Carter’s thumb could have better access, deciding that if he was going to touch her, she should fully enjoy the experience. “He used to do a lot of big game hunting,” she added, “and has his outfitters license. For the last couple years he’s been living in Seattle and managing Trina’s company. They sponsor a lot of sports events, and he likes Johnny Cash.”
Carter’s mouth lifted at the corners. “How do you know that?”
“I always read the guest files. It helps me know how to keep them entertained.”
“You are a surprising woman, Allie McIvor.”
His tone was complimentary but his voice was grim. Of course, knowing the type of music that would pull Dwight onto the dance floor wasn’t any help. She didn’t even know why she’d babbled that. Blame it on Carter’s mini-massage.
She closed her eyes, aware they’d have to move soon. But she wanted to enjoy these last moments. He was still stroking her neck. The pad on his thumb was slightly rough but that only emphasized the lightness of his touch. Then she realized he’d spoken her last name. The fact that he even knew it was shocking—he showed little interest in staff who didn’t work with horses—but she was too tired to attach any meaning. Way too tired...
“Are you falling asleep again?”
She gave a guilty start, her eyelids jerking open. “No,” she lied. “I’m just trying to remember Dwight’s file. You know, picture it in my mind.”
“Picture it while you’re walking.” Carter said, dropping his hand and reaching for the saddlebags. “You can sleep tonight.”
She gave a relieved nod. It seemed he was agreeable to sticking together as long as Dwight wasn’t in the vicinity and that suited her just fine. She didn’t want to argue about what they would do if Dwight overtook them. He might not even be following. Besides, the nap had done wonders, and she was feeling much more alert. Although she hadn’t noticed when Carter had placed an oatmeal bar and water bottle on her lap, or when he’d pulled a knife from the saddlebags.
His knife was rather small though, not nearly as big as a hatchet. “Dwight’s is much bigger,” she said.
Carter laughed. “Not something a man likes to hear, Allie.”
Underlying his rueful chuckle, there was a tightness to his voice, not embarrassment but frustration. Then she understood.
She’d been so relieved when he found her, so confident in his broad shoulders that she hadn’t really thought ahead. Clearly he was worried he wouldn’t be able to protect her. And that wasn’t fair. Besides, she intended to help, not hinder.
She scrambled to her feet, using the rush of pain to prod her awake. “I’ll eat this energy bar while we walk,” she said. “And I’ll take my turn carrying your saddlebags.”
“You will not.” He was no longer smiling and she realized she’d insulted him.
“At least let me carry the daypack and water bottle,” she said. “They hardly weigh anything. Besides, I’m used to carrying the tent so this will be a breeze.”
His eyes narrowed. “You carried the tent? For two days?”
She nodded, ripping the wrapper off the bar and cramming it into her mouth. “And you’re a much better partner than Janet, so you can understand why I intend to keep you.”
Obviously she was still half-asleep because those words didn’t come out the proper way. A man like him would run a mile. And she didn’t want to scare him off. She just didn’t want him to feel as if he were in this alone, and up to this point she hadn’t been contributing. In fact, the last hours felt like a fog. She was determined to step it up.
She looped the little pack and bottle around her good shoulder. “Lead on,” she said brightly.
He gave her an unfathomable look. “Take a drink first,” he said.
“Oh, yes. Right.” She fumbled with the water bottle. Hydrate, first rule of the trail, and she’d forgotten. No wonder he was staring. And then he was there, helping unscrew the top and even tilting the bottle to her mouth.
“We’ll stop every fifteen minutes,” he said, lowering the water bottle and using his finger to wipe a stray drop from her bottom lip. “You sure have bottom, Allie.”
He turned and led the way along the riverbank while she concentrated on analyzing the word. Bottom. She hadn’t lived twenty-six years without having her backside duly noted and admired. She knew she had a nice ass. But she’d also heard the word used another way, when cowboys talked about their horses, and it was always spoken with the utmost respect.
Coming from Carter, a comparison to a horse was probably a good thing. It certainly felt better than the usual compliments. And the admiration in his voice had been unmistakable. Imagine that, approval from Carter Bass.
It didn’t seem possible that she’d spent fifteen minutes analyzing one little word but Carter had stopped again, and soon “sit and sip” became the main refrain of the afternoon. At least for him. For her, it was always “one more step” as she silently coaxed herself to keep her rubbery legs moving. No way did she intend to quit because if Carter thought she had bottom, she was determined to live up to his belief.
Knowing that at the mark of every rest period, he’d gather her in his arms and let her sit was incentive enough. Although sitting might not be the most accurate way to describe how her legs collapsed. Those breaks were never long enough. Even though she didn’t necessarily sleep, she always closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall of his chest, relishing the feel of his gentle hand against her hair, the way his thumb stroked the back of her neck, the way he made her feel safe.
“It’s almost dark,” Carter said, reaching over and grabbing her before she folded to the ground. “We’ll stop here for the night.”
“How far ahead do you think Monty is?” she asked, surprised the day’s walk was over but unable to rouse the energy to scan the bank for tracks.
“Too far to catch today,” Carter said. “But we should reach the bridge by tomorrow afternoon.”
“How far back do you think he is?”
“Depends how far Dwight had to chase the horses. And if he’s able to catch them. If we’re lucky, he’s still tramping around on the logging road, trying to figure out where you fell off.”
She squeezed her eyes a bit tighter. Dwight knew she wasn’t a good rider. Once he caught up with the loose horses, he’d probably ridden directly back to the river, knowing odds were good she’d fallen off close to camp. But he’d never been kind to the horses. Maybe they wouldn’t let him catch them. Then he’d be on foot too.
Just thinking about Dwight was frightening. Previously she’d been overheated, but now her perspiration turned to a damp chill that settled between her shoulder blades. “Dwight will have to stop at night too, won’t he?” she whispered, pressing into the warm familiarity of Carter’s chest. “He won’t be able to follow us in the dark?”
“That’s right. He has no idea everyone is gathering at the bridge. He’ll see Monty’s tracks and might even think we’re together.”
“So he could turn tail and run.” She felt a little better at that thought and snuggled deeper against Carter’s soft shirt. “Thank you for everything you did,” she added drowsily. “And for keeping me going.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
His arms banded around her and it was clear he had a protective streak a mile wide. And he still smelled appealing, a mixture of man and sweat and the nutty trail bar he’d recently eaten. And while she knew she should eat and drink too, for now sleeping in his sheltering arms topped any other choice.
