One Bride for Four Ranchers

The doctor nods. “Of course, you can. But try not to get her overly excited. We’re trying to kee

p her calm.”

The four of us follow the doctor to Jessa’s room. And I can’t help but think how tired I am of seeing Jessa in a hospital bed. But seeing her there is better than the alternative. Jessa breaks into a bright smile at the sight of us, and the doctor shuts the door and leaves us alone.

I don’t make it far into the room before I have to stop. She has a bruise on her forehead, and she is pale. Too pale. With nothing better to do except worry, the four of us discussed Jed in the waiting room, and I see no reason to doubt Trey and Clay’s theory that he’s the one behind cutting the brake line.

And right now, I want to kill him.

Blood pounds through my ears, and I take a deep breath to try to calm the rage rolling through me. Showing my anger won’t do anything but stress Jessa and hurting her is the absolute last thing I want to do. Around me, I can see my brothers doing the same. Clay has to take a deep breath, too, and Trey’s fists are clenched at his sides. Joshua’s expression reveals more anger than I think I’ve ever seen from my brother. He’s generally so stoic, but even he has his limits. And like the rest of us, anyone hurting Jessa pushes those limits to the brink.

“I’m going to rip him apart,” Clay says, his voice more growl than speech.

“How are you feeling?” I say, breaking through my brothers to go to Jessa and take her hand. An IV is stuck in her wrist, so I’m careful to only touch her delicate fingertips.

Jessa gives me a wan smile. “I’m okay, I think. The doctor says I’m okay. More importantly, the baby is okay, too.”

“Can we get you anything?” Joshua asks, going to her other side. My brother’s eyes are moist behind his glasses, and I look away, back to Jessa. Damn me if I don’t feel like crying too.

“Nothing wrong with me that a couple days laying here like a lump won’t cure,” she says. Then she hesitates, seeming to want to say something else, but she closes her mouth, instead.

“What is it? Trey asks.

“If it’s okay with the doctor, I’d love some chocolate pudding.”

Her humor draws chuckles from us, and some of the tension in the room dissipates. Then we spend the rest of the evening chatting and tending to anything Jessa needs or wants. Or, as Jessa finally said when she got irritated by us, fussing over her.

We do our best not to bring up the accident.

In the late evening, a nurse peeks her head in to tell us the visiting hours are over. When Clay starts to argue with her, she points out that Jessa needs her rest and she can hardly do so with four hulking men hovering over her in the room. That draws an outright laugh out of Jessa, and grumbling, we promise to stay close by. We file out and load up into Joshua’s truck. After a quick discussion, we decide to sleep there. None of us want to leave, even to find a hotel room. Not tonight. Not without Jessa.

Joshua’s crew cab isn’t exactly comfortable enough for four men to sleep in it peacefully, but none of us are going to sleep anyway.

“I want to destroy Jed,” Clay says, a few minutes after we filed into the truck.

“The sucker deserves our worst,” I say.

Trey opens his mouth, and I expect him to point out that we have no proof Jed actually cut the brake line—he’s usually the voice of reason. But instead, he says “We’ll figure out what to do with him after Jessa is safely at home.”

“He is going to wish he was never born,” Joshua—usually another voice of reason among the four of us—says, voice rough.

I settle back in my seat and cross my arms. Jed Burke is going to regret messing with our woman.

Chapter 22

Jessa

“Do you think it could possibly go slower, Clay? You’re taking granny speed to a new level,” I tease Clay when a motorhome blows by us, only a few minutes after two eighteen-wheelers pass us. But he doesn’t speed up.

Two days after going into the hospital again I’m finally out. And I feel like celebrating, not being in a truck all day. But I settle back into the seat, cross my arms, and try not to harass Clay about his slow driving. After that crazy accident, I guess it’s no wonder that Clay wants to take it slow. I’m sitting between Trey and Clay in one of the newer trucks. Their overprotectiveness is a little annoying, but to be honest, I do find it endearing. Behind us, Tyler and Joshua are both still grumbling about having to ride in the back. Especially about having to ride in the back without me. But I ignore their grumblings in favor of teasing Clay every so often as we drive—ever so slowly—to the Hollister Ranch.

Once we finally arrive, the men help me out of the truck like I might break any second.

“The doctor said I’m fine, remember? A little bedrest, but he said nothing about needing to carry me around.” I tell the guys. “Weren’t you guys listening, too. I swear you were, even harder than I was.”

They all pointedly ignore me, and Tyler sweeps me into his arms as soon as my feet touch the ground.

I find myself grinning about their overzealousness. Once we get into the house, they don’t leave my side until I’m settled into one of the oversized couches in the living room. And when I mention something offhand about being hungry, Clay appears at my side with some leftover lasagna that BethAnn had frozen a few nights before. I’ve never seen anyone eat in the big, beautiful living room. But apparently, it’s happened before, because Joshua produces a wooden tray to go over my lap from one of the storage benches in the room. It works as a perfect table on the couch. No one objects when I find While You Were Sleeping on the satellite and watch it while I eat.