Best of 2017

Rory steadied me and herded me toward the stairs.

“Wait.” Sheriff Crow looked up from the bag. “Did you see anyone? Any clue who’d try to take a shot at you?”

“No.”

“Could it have been another hunting accident?” He took his hat off and threw it onto the small settee. “A stray shot?”

“That would have been possible if there was only one shot. But there were two.”

He shook his head. “I’m beginning to wonder why I took this job. What the hell is going on around here?”

My foot hit the bottom step, and I stumbled. I leaned on Rory as he helped me up the stairs. A distant siren promised help for Garrett, and I was finally able to take a breath without fear overwhelming me. “I have to go with him.”

Rory wrapped his arm around my waist and powered the rest of the way up the stairs to my room. “We’ll see what the sheriff says.”

I started to strip off my coat, then gave the staring Rory a look.

His face fell, and he turned toward the wall. “Let me know if you need help.” His tone still retained some hope that he’d get to see me naked.

I sank onto the bed and slowly dragged my clothes off until I was down to my tank top. The siren’s wail grew to ear-splitting levels, then quieted. Voices wafted up the stairs, and relief hit me like a wave. Garrett was going to be okay. I closed my eyes, and my world went topsy-turvy.

The last thing I heard was Rory’s voice. “Shit, you got hit, too.”

“RED?” Fingers stroked along my face, down my jaw, and to my neck.

I blinked awake. The septic smell of hospital seeped into my lungs as the light pinging of a machine told me my heart was still beating.

“Garrett?” I turned to find him sitting next to me in a wheelchair. Dark circles ringed his eyes.

“Thank God.” He kissed the back of my hand, his lips so much warmer than they had been the last time I touched them.

Memories of our last moments together hit me like a fist. “Are you okay? You lost so much blood.” I realized he wore the same hospital gown as mine, and the pole next to him carried an IV bag connected to his arm.

“I’m good. I made it because of you.”

He ran his thumb along my lips. They felt chapped.

“How long have we been here?” I blinked hard to try to clear the floaters from my vision.

“Only a few hours.”

“Mr. Blackwood, please.” A nurse stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her name badge. “We need to get this done.”

“In a minute.” His voice stayed near a whisper. “Had to see her.”

I sat up, but the pain in my shoulder had me falling back against my pillows. “Damn.” I took a breath as the pain lessened. “What does she want?”

“Surgery.” The nurse’s no-nonsense tone rose with each word. “We drew the air out from around his collapsed lung, but it’s not filling back up. He needs to have it repaired, but the stubborn jerk wouldn’t agree to surgery until he saw you.”

I pressed my palm to his cheek. “Have you lost what little mind you had left?”

He smiled and pressed his lips to my palm. “Maybe.”

How had I ever thought this man was a killer? The love in his heart shone in his eyes, and I leaned forward slowly to give him a kiss. He returned it, then backed away and drew in a wheezing breath. I glanced at the nurse, who shook her head and glared at Garrett.

“Go, stubborn man.” I kicked my chin toward the nurse. “I’ll be here when you get out.”

He squeezed my hand. “I’ll be back.”

“I know.”

The nurse walked over and unlocked Garrett’s wheels.

I wanted to ask her if he was going to be okay. No, I wanted her to promise me he would be. I bit back my question as my eyes welled. Instead, I asked, “Do you think you could give him a shave while he’s out? You know, surgery protocol or something?”

“I don’t see any harm in asking Dr. Brown if it’s medically necessary.” The nurse smiled.

Garrett grunted as she rolled him away. “Not cool, Red. Not cool at all.”

The words, the three words that meant far more than just an arrangement of letters, beat on the bars of my heart, demanding I release them. But I couldn’t say them. Not even as he gave me one last soulful look. It was too soon, too intense.

I lay back in my bed and listened to him go, the slight squeak of the wheels on the linoleum growing fainter as my tears became a deluge that drowned out everything else.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“I NEED MORE BLOWJOBS.” Garrett pushed himself up on the couch as I adjusted his pillows.

“This is the fifth, no, the sixth time you’ve mentioned that since we got out of the hospital.” I finished getting him settled.

He’d been camping out on the couch so he could watch me during the days. I messed around the house, cleaning and trying to get it back into top shape—all the while lecturing him on feminism as he agreed and stared at my tits and ass. I refused to let the wound in my shoulder slow me down, and I itched to get back out into the woods to inspect the shallow grave I’d found.

“I think it’s a valid request.” He gripped my ass as I finished fluffing and stood.

“You know what the doc said.” I grabbed his wrist, and he tried to wrest it away from me.

He put up a fight at first, but then cursed under his breath and let me go. “When I get better, I’m going to blister your ass with my hand, Red.”

My heart flipped at the threat, but I adopted a prim tone. “You’ll have to catch me first.”

He rubbed the scruff along his jaw that the nurse failed to shave away. “I’ll always catch you. And you’ll love every second of your punishment.” He glanced to my shoulder. “How is it?”

I backed another step away and pulled down my tank. “A lot better. I clipped the stitches out myself this morning.”

We’d been home from the hospital for a week. Garrett’s strength was steadily returning, but the doctor cautioned against any intense physical activity until the lung had healed completely. So, despite my patient’s grumbles and my own desire to climb on top of him and fuck him ragged, we had to wait. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t tease.

I slid my tank strap lower. His eyes lit as he stared at my bare skin.

“Lower.” His stern voice had me biting my lip.

“I think you’ve seen enough.” Such a brat. “Healing up great.” I started to pull the strap back up.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He stabbed a finger at me, the bare muscles along his torso tensing with the movement. “Show me.”

“My injury?” I simpered. “I already did.”

“I swear to Christ I will get off this couch and put you over my goddamn knee, Red!” He started to sit up.

“Wait, wait.” I held a hand out to stay him. “I wouldn’t want you getting excited.”

“Too fucking late for that.” He ground his teeth together and pressed his palm to the erection that threatened to break free of his pajama pants. “Show me.”

I trailed my fingers down the edge of my top, then pulled the fabric down to reveal my right breast.

“Oh, fuck.” He reached inside his pants and started stroking.

“Hey!” I darted forward to stop his hand. “You can’t do that. The doctor—”

He grabbed me, one hand clamping around my forearm and the other yanking at my jeans. “I don’t give two shits if this kills me. I need to be inside you. Now.”

“No.” I smacked at his hand, but he’d worked two fingers into my waist band and used his thumb to unbutton them.

“Did you just say no?” He smirked up at me and yanked my jeans and panties to my knees. “You did, Red.” He fell back against the pillows with a pained groan. “Ow, fuck.”

I took the opportunity to scoot away from him. I fell on the ottoman, my bare ass against the leather.

“We can’t! I told you.” I tried not to look as he fre