Dalton's Undoing. RaeAnne Thayne

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      “That’s it, honey,” Seth said, keeping his own voice low and soothing. “Concentrate on the breathing and all the good air going into your lungs. You’re doing great.”

      After a moment, the rescue medication did its work and the color started to return to her features. The panic in her eyes slowly gave way to the beginnings of relief and Jenny’s heart twisted with pain for her child’s trials and the courage Morgan wielded against them.

      “Better?” Seth asked after a moment.

      The girl nodded and Seth was grateful to see the flare-up seemed to be under control. “I’d tell you to go on back into the barn where it’s warmer,” he said to Jenny, “but I suspect the hay or the puppy triggered the attack, didn’t they?”

      Her eyes widened as if surprised he knew anything about asthma. He didn’t tell her he could have written the damn book on it.

      “That’s what I thought,” Jenny said. She was starting to lose her tight, in-control look, he saw, and now just looked like a worried mother. “I should have realized they might.”

      “Why don’t we take her into the house over there for a minute until she feels better? This cold can’t be the greatest for her lungs.”

      She looked as if she wanted to argue, but Morgan coughed just then and her mother nodded. “That’s probably a good idea.”

      Seth scooped the girl into his arms easily, and headed for the house with Jenny and Cole following behind him. Morgan still breathed shallowly, her little chest rising and falling quickly as she tried to ease the horrible breathlessness he remembered all too well.

      “I hate having asthma,” she whispered, her voice far too bitter for a little girl.

      He recognized the bitterness, too. He knew just what it felt like to be ten and trapped with a body that didn’t work like he wanted it to. He had wanted to be a junior buckaroo rodeo champion, wanted to climb the Tetons by the time he was twelve, wanted to be the star pitcher on the Little League baseball team. Instead, he’d been small and weak and spent far too much time breathing into a lousy tube.

      “Sucks, doesn’t it?” he answered. “The worst is the one time you forget to take your inhaler somewhere and of course you suddenly you get hit by a flare-up.”

      She blinked at him and he was struck by how sweet it was to have a child look at him with such trust. “You have it, too?”

      He nodded. “I don’t have attacks very often now, maybe once or twice a year and they’re usually pretty mild. When I was your age, though, it was a different story.”

      He set her down on his leather sofa and grabbed a blanket for her.

      She couldn’t seem to get over the fact that he knew what she was going through. “But you’re big! You ride horses and everything.”

      “You can ride horses, too. You just have to watch for your triggers, like I do, and do your best to manage things. When I was a kid, they didn’t have some of the newer maintenance meds they have now and we had a tough time finding the best treatment for me but eventually we did. You probably know you never grow out of asthma, but lots of times the symptoms decrease a lot when you get older. That’s what happened to me.”

      “You probably weren’t afraid like I am when I have an attack. Cole says I’m a big wussy.”

      Jenny looked pained by the admission and Seth sent the boy a pointed look. At least Cole had the grace to look embarrassed.

      “I was just kidding,” the kid mumbled. He needed a serious attitude adjustment, Seth thought, wondering if he’d been such a punk when he’d gone through his rebellious teens.

      “I can’t think of anything scarier than not being able to breathe,” Seth told Morgan. “People who haven’t been through it don’t quite understand what it’s like, do they? Like you’re trapped underwater and somebody’s got two fists around your lungs and is squeezing them tight so you can only take a tiny breath at a time.”

      Morgan nodded her agreement. “I always feel like I’m trapped under a big heavy blanket.”

      “What’s your peak flow?”

      She told him and he nodded. “Mine was pretty close to that when I was about your age.” He paused and saw the conversation was starting to tire her. “Can I get you a glass of water or some juice?”

      She nodded, closing her eyes, and he rose and went into the kitchen to find a glass. Somehow he wasn’t surprised when Jenny followed him.

      “Thank you.” She gave him a quiet smile and he felt an odd little tug in his chest.

      “I didn’t do anything,” he said as he poured a glass of orange juice from the refrigerator.

      “You were very kind to her and I appreciate your sharing your own condition with her. It’s great for Morgan to talk to adults who have managed to move past their childhood asthma and go on to live successful lives. Thank you,” she said again, following it up this time with another small, hesitant smile.

      He studied that smile, the way it highlighted the lushness of a mouth that seemed incongruous with her buttoned-down appearance.

      What was it about her? She wasn’t gorgeous in a Miss Rodeo Idaho kind of way. Not tall and curvy with a brilliant smile and eyes that knew just how to reel a man in.

      She was small and compact, probably no bigger than five foot three. He supposed he’d call her cute, with that red-gold hair and her green eyes and the little ski jump of a nose.

      Seth couldn’t say he had a particular favorite type of woman—he was willing to admit he loved them all—but he usually gravitated toward the kind of women who hung out at the Bandito. The kind in tight jeans and tighter shirts, with big breasts and hungry smiles.

      Jenny Boyer was just about the polar opposite of that kind of woman. Cute or not, he probably wouldn’t usually take a second look at a woman who looked like a suburban soccer mom, with her tailored tan slacks and her wool blazer. Jenny Boyer was the kind of settled, respectable woman men like him usually tended to avoid.

      Yet here they were, and he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her. She might not be his usual type but he sure liked looking at her.

      He frowned a little at the unexpectedness of his attraction to her, then decided to shrug it off. He would never do anything about it. Not with a woman like Jenny Boyer, who had Complication written all over her.

      Morgan’s color was much better when they returned to the living room. She was sitting up bickering with her brother, something he figured was a good sign.

      She took the juice from him with a shy smile.

      “Cole and I have things to do but you two are welcome to hang out here until Morgan feels better.”

      “I think I’m all right now,” the girl said.

      “I should get her home for a nebulizer treatment and to check her peak flow.”

      “I can carry you back out to the car if you want.”

      Morgan СКАЧАТЬ