High Country Rebel. Lindsay McKenna

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СКАЧАТЬ 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.

      Talon didn’t look closely into his eyes. He knew what was in there, hoping no one else could read him. His sixth sense, honed by years of combat and saving his and the lives of his men, told him Cat Edwin saw everything about him. He sensed she could look into his soul and that made him nervous.

      He wiped his face free of the dampness caused by the steam of the shower and dropped the towel on the counter. Opening the door, he saw Zeke standing by the bed.

      “Come,” he called to his dog.

      Instantly, Zeke bounded into his opened arms after he crouched down. It was important to have playtime with his Belgian Malinois. Zeke’s black muzzle, dark ears and fawn-colored body was wriggling with excitement. He danced around in Talon’s opened arms, whining and playful.

      There was a knock.

      “Come in,” Talon called.

      The door opened.

      Talon told Zeke to sit and he did. He rose as Cat entered with a large tray in both hands. In her fingers beneath it dangled his dried leather boots. He walked over and gently retrieved his boots from them.

      “Thanks,” he told her. Her eyes widened and she almost halted, staring up at him.

      “Y-you look so different,” she stammered. Talon was so ruggedly good-looking that Cat nearly lost her grip on the tray. His eyes were clearer. There was much less tension swirling around him, too. His mouth was relaxed. Cat felt a sweet, building heat bubble up inside her. The man’s mouth without that scraggly beard was so kissable. Chiseled and strong, like him.

      Talon closed the door behind her. “Can you set the tray on the bed?” he suggested, going to the chair and sitting down. He pulled on his hardened leather boots, knowing they’d need some softening work with leather soap. Another day. His legs were weak.

      Talon sat down on the edge of the bed. Cat placed the tray across his lap.

      “Miss Gus made some of her world-famous biscuits for you,” she said, straightening. Cat couldn’t stop her reaction to the coiled tension swirling around Talon once again. It was dangerous. Exciting. Taking a few steps away, she watched as he looked longingly at the bowl of steaming chicken soup. Miss Gus had put СКАЧАТЬ