Kissing the Bull (5 page)

She snorted under her breath
and shrugged.

“I’m a trauma nurse. I’ve seen
much worse…much, much worse…”

Her voice cracked on those last
few words and he thought he detected a hint of approaching tears.
Damn it
.

“Hey…”

He pushed against her shoulder
slightly and she turned to look at him. Tears were welled up in her green eyes,
and her lower lip quivered with the last remnants of the tough-guy attitude
she’d tried to take on just moments before.

As the first tear fell from her
eye, his heart softened a little more for the woman in front of him. He’d been an
absolute jerk to her since the minute she’d stepped on this land. No wonder she
was burning hot and cold in front of him.

Before he could talk sense into
himself, he reached out and pulled her into his arms. She remained rigid at
first, but then sank farther into his chest as she cried. He held her tightly,
her face buried between his arm and chest.

After a few moments, she pulled
back, the look of shame on her face once again.

She walked over to the small
sofa against the paneled wall and motioned for him to take a seat beside her.

“Please, forgive my emotions.
I’m having quite an interesting first day here.” She smiled weakly at him and
swatted at the pesky teardrops remaining on her face.

He walked over and sat beside
her.

“I haven’t exactly been welcoming.
I should be apologizing to you.”

She waved it off and settled
back into the sofa. “I hear that besides today’s incident there have been other
troubles here at the ranch lately.”

He nodded.

“What are you doing to make
this ranch safe for my family?”

He smiled at her.
“Whatever it takes.
I had a suspect in mind but just didn’t have
sufficient proof to move forward yet.”

“And you think this person is
also responsible for that man’s death today?”

He couldn’t really share any
details of an ongoing investigation with her. So he tried another smile.

“You don’t worry yourself about
that. I’m taking care of it. You have my word.”

She snickered sarcastically.
“Forgive me, Sheriff, but your word means nothing to me. I don’t know you at
all.”

He smiled inside at her retort.
She was a ball of fire under that cute, clumsy exterior. He might have run into
more of a challenge than he’d bargained for with this one.

He held up his hands in mock
surrender.

“Okay, I get it. But I can’t
share details of an ongoing investigation with you.”

She seemed to accept his answer
and let out a frustrated sigh.

“I don’t even know what I’m
doing here, but now I don’t feel like I can leave, knowing my family might be
in danger.”

She’d just admitted to thinking
about leaving. This was exactly what he’d wanted all along, but now he felt a
pang of sorrow that she might not be staying.

“Why did you come here?”

The words left his mouth before
he could even begin to censor them. He waited for another emotional outburst
from her about how it wasn’t any of his business, but instead she propped her
auburn head against her hand and took a deep breath.

“I loved my job. I was damned
good at my job. And then I got too close to a patient and my job took over my
life.
And not in a good way.”

An unexplained jolt of
jealously rampaged through him, making his arms flex. She’d gotten too close to
a patient.
A male patient?

“You got fired?”

She laughed without humor and
then closed her eyes as if recalling an image.

“No. But despite my best
efforts, a child died and I couldn’t live with myself.”

****

The memories of Shane Evans
assaulted Baylor’s brain as she recounted the story of a young boy being abused
by his stepfather. She’d seen him come to the ER time and again with both new
and old injuries. She’d reported it to his mother, the police, and Social
Services. They’d done nothing. There’d been no proof one way or the other, and Shane’s
mother refused to give up her sugar daddy husband for her beaten son.

The boy had the softest brown
hair and the biggest cow brown eyes. She’d wanted to hold him and tell him
she’d take him away from all the pain, but she hadn’t been allowed to do that.
Instead she’d been forced to watch him hurt, and suffer, and ultimately die
from his injuries.

It had been too much to bear
and she’d run.
Escaped her life and her career.
She’d
gone to the beach for two weeks just to be alone and in the sun. Then she’d
called her aunt and uncle and asked if she could move in with them temporarily.
She’d always loved Kentucky when she’d visited as a child.

Her father had been military
and they’d moved around a lot. She’d never had just one single home to come
back to again and again. Even in retirement, her parents still traveled the
world together.

Melba and Duane had offered her
the stable family home that she knew would always be there for her. And now in
her pain and confusion about the injustices of life, she had run back to them
and the safety of the ranch. But now there was death and drama here, too.

She spilled the story of her
not so long ago past with Wyatt and he listened without expression, without
judgment, and without comment.

She talked until she ran out of
words.

“Now they want me to stay here
and take over the ranch. They want to move to Florida to retire and live near their
son and grandkids. But I don’t know the first thing about running a place like
this, and I just can’t be around any more crazy, mean people.”

Her body felt drained. After the
recounting of the last year of her life dwindled down to the last few words,
she merely sat, spent and exposed.

Wyatt had remained wordless
throughout her confessions and now he leaned over and caressed her cheek. She
took the comfort he offered. She leaned into his hand and allowed him to look
into her eyes with the compassion she’d so desperately needed over the last few
months.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

His words touched her heart and
lifted her spirit. She knew deep down it wasn’t her fault, but hearing someone
else say it made a small difference. She’d been dwelling in self-blame for
weeks and just hearing his voice say those words released something inside her.

She leaned closer still, wanting
the warmth he offered to fill her and complete the empty space in her heart and
soul.

He slowly pressed his lips
against hers, and she closed her eyes. His lips were smooth and his beard was
slightly rough.
The contrast of soft and scratchy sent
tingles down her spine.
She wanted to crawl over into his lap and wrap
her legs around him. She wanted to be inside the safety net of Wyatt.

She didn’t want to think about
the ugliness, the brutality of the world, or the dangers in her own backyard.
She wanted to be lost inside him.

The kiss deepened and his
tongue flittered inside her mouth in soft movements. She returned the kiss by
stroking his teeth with her own tongue. He pulled back slightly and nipped at
her lower lip with his teeth. She smiled at him.

Then she was somehow in his
lap, just as she had envisioned moments ago. She found herself atop his jean-clad
legs and something hard throbbed against her inner thigh. She quickly returned
to the pre-aroused state she’d been in a short while ago before he’d visited
her room.

She pressed her breasts against
his chest as he worked his hands up her back and into her loose hair. He pulled
back on her hair, exposing her neck. He traced his tongue along the nape and
she groaned.

She buried her face at his
collar and inhaled the sweet, soapy skin she been fantasizing about earlier.

“On fire…”

His voice was in her ear now.

“Me too,” she said, thinking
she really might burst into flames if he didn’t get his hands on her naked skin
soon.

He pushed back against her
shoulders, breaking contact, and he looked toward the window.

His body went rigid.
Disoriented and puzzled by the sudden change in action, she fluttered her eyes
fully open to see what had caused the delay and distraction.

“
Wha
…What?”
she asked, following his gaze out the window.

“I smell smoke. Something’s on
fire.”

Pushing her off his lap, he
jumped up and ran to the window.

“Shit!”

“Wyatt, what is it?” She stood
on shaky legs and started toward him.

“Call 911, the field house is
on fire.” He barked the order at her and raced out of the room before she could
respond. She ran to the bedside table and lifted the cordless phone from its
base.

As she made the call, she
watched out the window as men ran into and out of the field house, pulling
frantic animals by their reins. The screams of the horses made her skin crawl,
and a nervous sweat began to form on the back of her neck.

More death.
More danger.

She swallowed back the
trepidation rising in her throat. She had to get out of this place. When the
dispatcher came on the line, she spoke quickly and then replaced the phone.

Making her way down the steps
and out the kitchen door took only seconds. As soon as she stepped foot into
the yard, her lungs were filled with smoke and she quickly covered her mouth
with the hem of her shirt.

“Get back inside, peanut!”
Uncle Duane was running out of the field house, waving his arms at her.

Behind him, Wyatt was carrying
a limp body over his shoulder.

Her heart began to race and
that familiar light-headedness came over her again. She bit her lip and tried
to focus on the moment. She could not pass out again. Not with all the mayhem
and chaos going on around her. She had to hold it together now. She had to keep
herself strong.

People were hurt. She could
help.

Wyatt lowered the man down to
the grass near her feet.

“He’s not breathing. Can you do
something?”

Despite her best intentions,
Baylor felt herself shutting down. Panic and claustrophobia strained and
pressed against her chest as she looked down at the seemingly dead man. Shane
Evans’ death haunted her. She couldn’t be the only thing between another person
and death. Not again. And this young man at her feet looked to be no more than
a teenager himself. Almost still a kid.
Almost dead.

She shook her head. Wyatt
dropped to his knees and made an effort to perform CPR on the boy.

Sounds and screams drifted in
and out of her ears. Her uncle’s voice yelling nearby almost broke through, but
everything was muffled.

Wyatt was pulling her hand.
Pulling her downward toward the lifeless body.

“Baylor, I need you to help me.
Baylor!”

She looked down at the young
face smeared with soot. He looked so innocent. He was so childlike in the face
but had the body of a man. The contrast was jarring, but then something else
struck her. He looked just like Wyatt.

She looked up at Wyatt’s face. He
looked grief-stricken and heartsick.

That was when she realized this
boy was his son, and she was the only one who might be able to save his life.

She pushed Wyatt’s hands away
from the boy’s chest.
Airway.
Breathing.
Circulation.
She recited the basics in her mind as she
examined the boy.

Placing her ear to the boy’s
chest, she could hear the gurgling sound of a collapsed lung.

“Wyatt, I need a sharp blade
and a straw.”

Without question, he turned and
ran back into the house. She tilted the boy’s head back and looked inside his
mouth. He’d inhaled a lot of smoke and needed oxygen right away, but she had no
way of treating him further until the paramedics arrived.

Wyatt was back with an X-
Acto
knife and a tiny juice-box-sized straw. She rubbed her
face against her sleeve to try to clear her eyes. They were burning from the
smoke and fumes.

She shouldn’t be doing this…
She wasn’t ready to do this. She couldn’t take on this responsibility.

She paused and looked up at
Wyatt. The forlorn look in his eyes told her of a life lost. She could almost
see him trying to accept the loss of his son. It broke her heart. She wasn’t
going to let that happen. He wasn’t going to lose anyone tonight.

She lifted the boy’s shirt and
made a small incision in his chest. Then she inserted the straw. A moment later,
the boy started coughing violently, and she had to hold the straw steady.

“Welcome back,” she said as the
tears began to flow down her cheeks.