High Country Rebel - Lindsay McKenna

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      “I’m a cowgirl now,” Val said, smiling.

      Cat nodded. “And you met Griff in the process.”

      Val’s eyes grew warm with love for her husband. They had been married a year and worked hard to bring the Bar H back from being a total loss. “He’s made it easy to come back.” Val looked around the warm, quiet kitchen. “This place held a lot of really bad memories for me. When Gus broke her hip and I came home to help her, I was really bitter about it at first. But I love her very much. She’s my grandmother and she was so important in my life when I was sixteen and she moved back here to the Bar H. I owed her, so I came back.”

      “And Griff made the difference.” Cat knew they were deeply in love with each other. How often had she fantasized about meeting a man she could trust instead of fear?

      Val wrapped her fingers around the mug. “Oh, yes, a big difference.”

      “I overheard Miss Gus say you were trying to get pregnant?”

      Val flushed. “I think I am, Cat. I got a feeling about it.”

      “Have you tested for it yet?” she asked, thrilled. Cat loved babies and she’d delivered her fair share.

      “No, and say nothing, okay? I haven’t missed a period, but I just feel different. It’s strange,” she said, shrugging. “I can’t put words to it. A new kind of happiness...”

      “Fingers crossed,” Cat said. “Your secret’s safe with me, but do let me know.”

      “I promise,” Val said, touching her arm.

      “Hey,” Gus called from down the hall. “Cat? Talon’s waking up.”

      Quickly, Cat pushed the chair back and stood up. “Be right there,” she said, and a new kind of excitement surged through her.

      CHAPTER THREE

      CAT SHOOED EVERYONE out of the room. Someone in Talon’s shape would easily become confused, with his mental faculties close to hallucinations due to his temperature. Zeke came over to his bedside as she sat down facing Talon, eyes bright and on his master. Talon’s skin appeared less gray and she took a cloth from the nearby bed stand. She gently sponged away the sweat on his brow, pale cheeks and thick, corded neck. Emotions swirled through her. How could one man have such a profound effect on her—and so fast? She watched his lids quiver. Yes, he was beginning to surface.

      Setting the cloth aside, she listened to his lungs through her stethoscope. The antibiotics were starting to take a hold. Relief sizzled through her. She heard less crackling in his lungs. The fluids were slowly being reabsorbed by the body. Looping the stethoscope over her neck, she placed two fingers on the inside of his wrist. More relief. Talon’s pulse was no longer bounding. She picked up her thermometer, placing it inside his ear. Looking at it, she saw why he was becoming conscious. The fever was now down to 102°F.

      “You’re one lucky guy,” she told him.

      His lashes barely lifted.

      Cat placed her hand on his. “Talon? Can you hear me? It’s Cat. You’re at the Bar H.”

      A woman’s voice cut through the confusion rushing across Talon’s closed eyes. Weak. He felt so damn weak it was pitiful. Yet, when her warm, dry fingers curved over his sweaty wrist, the anxiety stopped. Her voice was low, intimate, and even his pounding heart responded to it.

      God, he was thirsty.

      It was the thirst that forced Talon to struggle mightily to raise his lids. When he did, his vision was blurred and all he saw was the color red in front of him. Blinking, the red turned out to be a red flannel shirt someone was wearing. It took every ounce of his strength to lift his gaze upward. When he did, he saw an incredibly beautiful woman with exotic blue eyes somberly studying him, her lush mouth pursed with concentration. And when her fingers curved more surely against his large hand, he felt her soft, maternal touch.

      “Talon?”

      His brow wrinkled. She knew his name. How? His mind wasn’t functioning. It pissed him off because as a SEAL, weakness wasn’t a word that existed in his universe. He forced his lips to open. Only a harsh sound escaped. Had he died? For sure he wasn’t going to heaven. Not in this lifetime. So was she an angel? His mind rolled around like a loose bowling ball with no boundaries.

      She was pretty. Her black hair was slightly curled around her shoulders and framed her oval face. There was hidden strength in her face. A patient face. Her eyebrows were arched over those incredible blue eyes. Talon thought he saw her smile. Maybe he wanted her to smile because she looked so damn serious. Why?

      And then his fevered mind put two and two together. The woman at his side, leaning forward, was also holding his hand. He liked her hand around his. Her skin was velvet, yet strong, like her. He became aware of the strength in her face. She couldn’t be more than twenty-five or so. And he saw redness around the left side of her slender neck, most of it hidden beneath the red flannel shirt she wore. Why? Was her skin burned from some tragedy?

      “Talon?”

      Her voice made him think of warm honey drizzled over his flesh. Talon almost wanted to laugh. As weak and sick as he was, he was thinking about sex. With her. He didn’t even have the energy to smile, much less entertain other things. She certainly inspired his imagination, even if his body couldn’t keep pace with the fantasy he was having about her in his arms, loving her, exploring her, kissing each square inch of that sweet-smelling skin of hers. He saw her lean away, and when she placed a warm, damp cloth against his brow and cheeks, it felt heavenly. He finally realized he was no longer freezing. The warmth of a blanket beneath him radiated heat. He could feel his fingers and toes once again.

      Zeke whined.

      Blinking slowly, Talon carefully turned his head and focused on his dog. Zeke panted and whined, his big ears up and his eyes dancing with happiness, his hot breath moist across his face. Talon wanted to speak, to pat his dog, but he could do neither. The woman laughed softly.

      “Zeke’s been waiting for you to become conscious, too.”

      Swallowing hard, his throat dry, Talon closed his eyes, fighting to put one word together. He didn’t want her to stop moving that warm washcloth against his neck and shoulders. God, it felt good.

      Talon clung to her warm gaze. Her face was less than a foot away from his, studying him. Was she a doctor? He finally realized that black thing hanging around her shoulders was a stethoscope. Though he wanted to tunnel his fingers through that thick, shining mass of gleaming black hair that softly framed her face, he could barely move one finger.

      “W-water...” His voice sounded like the croak of a bullfrog. The woman reached up and then adjusted the IV in his arm. SEALs were trained in giving a team member an IV when they were shot and losing a lot of blood.

      How he enjoyed her profile as she turned and busied herself. It was clean. Beautiful. He laughed to himself. Somewhere in his mind, he remembered her name was Cat, appropriate because of her slightly tilted blue eyes. She wore no makeup. And when he flared his nostrils, he picked up her woman’s scent, a special fragrance that was only her. It felt like life to Talon. Hope. Maybe he wasn’t going to die after all?

      “Water?” she asked him, looking into his barely opened eyes. They felt cloudy with fever.

      “P-please?” he asked. Talon smelled the sweat and filth of his own body. He stank. Yet, this woman didn’t seem to care or mind as she left his side. Where did she go? Talon didn’t have the strength to move his head to find out. The warmth of the blankets felt incredibly good to him. He hated the cold.

      And then she came back. Talon heard her tell Zeke to move and she sat down at his shoulder, her hip brushing his arm. Closing his eyes, he savored her warm, dry arm sliding behind his neck and shoulders.

      “Okay, up you go,” she urged.

      Her breath was sweet and moist as she leaned

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