Vivian Arend - Rocky Mountain Angel

Tamara tugged his sleeve to get him to stop. “Is this habit something I should be worried about? Like more worried than not understanding why my cousin likes to get violent?”

Gabe dragged a hand through his hair and wondered how to explain this, then he realized he couldn’t. “You have to ask him. As far as I know he gets something out of it, and he’s not dead at the end of the night. That’s it. That’s my understanding. I like a good fight at times, as much as the average guy. Getting physical lets out the demons, and sometimes that means beating the hell out of something, and sometimes…”

He trickled to a stop and shook his head. Nope. Not a discussion he was willing to continue with her.

Tamara smirked. “You were going to add fucking to that list of physical things guys like, weren’t you?”

Oh sheesh. “Not going there with you.”

“You’re such a girl.”

Gabe laughed. “No, you’re a girl, and my cousin, and I’m not talking sex with you.”

He glanced around the wide-open space. Another fight had begun already, people crowded forward, some with beers in their hands. The few women in the crowd were held tightly, their guys keeping a close eye on them.

He took a quick peek at Tamara. She was far more covered than the other women in the room. Her jeans and flannel shirt were modest, her long hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. She wasn’t going for the femme fatale look, but she was still an attractive woman. “You planning on putting in medical care often?”

She cocked out a hip, her head tilted to the side. “You thinking of becoming my keeper, Gabe? If you figure on following me, or otherwise trying to keep track of me, forget it. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. You’re not responsible for making sure I get home in one piece.”

Something twisted at her words, the echo of ones he’d heard so long ago, burning and painful. He stared her down, hoping he could keep what roiled inside from showing on his face.

The volume rose around them to a roar, someone shouted for a doctor. Tamara whipped away before he could react, elbowing her way through the crowd, ducking under arms. Gabe followed at a much slower pace, her smaller body wiggling easier through tight spaces. He was in time to see her snatch up a bag from the side of the platform then scramble through the ropes. She dragged on gloves before dropping to her knees to examine the downed fighter. Her orders rang out, and a couple of men stepped forward to lift the fallen off the mat. She worked efficiently, pressing a bandage to stem the blood pouring from a head cut.

It took so little time—one minute they were in the ring, the next Tamara had the man secluded to a small area off the side, bright light tilted to make it easier for her to see as she made an injection. Gabe moved in closer as she carefully stitched together the three-inch wound, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings.

The Whiskey Creek Colemans always came across as tough girls, somewhat inevitable as they’d had years of attempting to keep up with their multiple wild male cousins, but Gabe had never actually witnessed one of them in a setting like this before.

“I don’t know why you’re still hanging around, Gabe. I’m fine.” Tamara let go of the fighter’s cheek to slap his hand off her thigh. “And you. If you don’t want me to stitch your eyelids shut, keep your bloody hands to yourself.”

The fighter chuckled. “No harm in trying.”

“I have a scalpel in my bag and an intimate knowledge of anatomy. You really want to get fresh with me?” Tamara was the one to laugh as the man sucked in a hiss of pain as she pulled the thread. “Yeah, poor baby. Concentrate on something other than your head.”

“I was trying,” the man complained.

Tamara didn’t look up from her task. “Go away, Gabe.”

“Going.” But he wasn’t leaving for good until he knew she was safely in her vehicle and headed home.

Gabe grabbed another beer as he casually followed Travis. They’d done this for long enough now he didn’t have to put up with at least one cousin telling him to fuck off. Travis knew the story. Gabe wouldn’t step in unless needed. And at the end of the night, after Travis had enough, Gabe would drag him to the truck and drive him home.

It wasn’t typical, but it was what it was. Gabe didn’t judge. Just did what had to be done.

He pulled himself onto the top of a platform area to the side and leaned on the wall. From here he could see the ring, see Travis clambering back through the ropes for round two of pain and punishment. Off to the right Tamara was finishing bandaging her fighter. Gabe took another pull from his drink and wondered if his life could possibly get any weirder.

He laughed at himself. Oh, yeah, it could. Because when his babysitting tonight was over, he would head home to a woman who planned on turning things upside down and sideways.

Kissing Allison—that had been both a good and a bad idea. Bad because it made him think of all the things he’d put aside over the past while. Trying to keep his family together, all the little bits he’d secretly been dealing with around the ranch.

Her lips were soft, almost innocent under his. Her body? Innocent miss she wasn’t, not with those curves and the way she’d pressed into him. Pretending to be with her and not getting to have more than public tastes of her mouth was going to suck.

But perhaps…

Travis staggered for a moment in the ring, and Gabe held his breath. His cousin’s right eye was swelling shut. Maybe there would be an earlier finish than usual to their evening.

Fists exploded out, rapid jabs flying like electric sparks from a welding gun. Travis’s opponent reeled backward and collapsed onto the ropes.

Far more vertical than the other man, Travis raised a fist in the air in triumph. He headed back to the corner to snatch up his water bottle and press a towel to his face.

Gabe sighed. No reprieve. A long night loomed ahead of him.

After everything was over, after he’d helped Allison, and once the ranch was producing the money they needed to stay afloat, then he could approach Allison for real.

But for now, she was just another lost sheep to care for. His gaze moved carefully over Travis, over Tamara. Gabe leaned his head on the wall and watched.

It was after one, and Gabe still wasn’t back. Allison pulled the packing tape off the bottom of the empty box and unfolded it, sliding the collapsed cardboard under her bed with the rest.

She looked around the room, trying to see if she’d spread out too much. There was surprisingly little when she’d actually decided what she needed to unpack. Clothes, her computer. Her ebook reader. The knickknacks and other parts of her stuff were stacked in the porch to be added to the items already stored in the shed. She didn’t need them here, not for the while she’d be around, and the less she intruded, the better.

Who was she kidding? She’d totally come in and taken over his life. Just being in his house was bad enough.

Allison stepped back into the main living area and flicked on the kettle.

She was writing notes, sipping on a cup of tea, when floorboards outside creaked softly a second before the door opened.

Gabe hung up his jean jacket, turned silently toward the main room. He spotted her and shook his head.

“I thought you’d be asleep for a long time by now.”

Allison hesitated. “I think napping so late threw me off. I’m tired, but I can’t sleep.”

“You’re also worrying yourself to death, ain’t you?”

She nodded. No reason to deny it.

Gabe stepped forward, long limbs eating up the distance between them so smoothly. He pulled out a chair and sat beside her at the table. “You settle in?”

“Feeling guilty the entire time. Not guilty enough to change my mind, though.”

Gabe patted her hand. “I didn’t think you would.” He drew the paper toward him. “I take it this is what you’ve got planned for us.”

“It’s simple.”

“That’s always best.” He read for a minute, nodding slowly. “You got it pretty much covered here, with the whole ‘it’s an engagement to see if it’s gonna work’. That makes sense, with us supposedly dating long distance until now.”

It would also help when they called it off down the road, after her—

Allison rushed ahead, refusing to let the thought fully form in her head. “Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

He leaned back in his chair. “So, tomorrow?”

She nodded. “I’m going to try to catch my mom in the morning, by herself. I think that would be the way to start. Maybe by some miracle she’ll confess what’s wrong before I begin the hoax…”

Surprise registered on his face. “I hadn’t even considered that. Hopefully she’ll see you and change her mind. It’s possible.”

She spotted blood on his fingers. She caught him by the wrist, turning his palm up to see where it had come from. “Did you cut yourself?”

Gabe withdrew his hand and went to the sink. “It’s not mine. Sorry about that, thought I’d washed it off. I was…helping a friend, and he got a bloody nose. That’s all.”

She deliberately didn’t ask. Just sat and took another drink. The tea was lukewarm, and she gave up. Even with the discomfort in her body and mind, she had to get to bed.

Allison took her cup to the sink and suddenly realized her mistake in staying up until he returned. A long hot shower would help relax her, but no way would she suggest she take one tonight. He’d have to wait to go bed until she was done.

Just, no way.

He cleared his throat. Must have clued in where her thoughts had headed. “I didn’t build this place very comfortably for two. The extra bathroom isn’t done yet, so you go ahead and get ready. I’ll take the things in the porch out to the shed, if that’s okay.”

They went in two different directions. Allison hurried through preparations for bed, pulling the door closed to the guest room and crawling under the cold quilts. It seemed to take forever for her body heat to make the room warmer. She gave up and grabbed a pair of thick socks from the suitcase she’d propped on the desk. Crawling back into bed with the fuzzy softness on her feet, and a toque on her head might not have been a fashion statement, but it made her warmer and it worked enough that she finally fell into a restless sleep.

Restless enough that when she woke her eyes were filled with sand and she couldn’t stop yawning. The clock radio said six a.m. and she yawned again in protest.

The knock on the door was followed by Gabe’s soft question. “Awake enough for coffee?”

“Yes. A gallon, please.”

She’d have to give him money for groceries, or pick up some to replace what she’d be eating. All of her thoughts so mundane. Unimportant. Tiny little details of the morning that would all fade away once she got where she actually was going.

Allison squared her shoulders and got out of bed to face the start of the deception.

Her mother’s face lit up for a moment before concern crowded in. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

Allison stepped into the familiar kitchen and wrapped her arms around Maisey, tucking her chin against her mom’s neck and breathing deeply.

The scent of family. The scent of home.

“I’m not allowed to stop in to say hi?”

“You didn’t even tell me you were coming.” Maisey squeezed one last time before releasing her and stepping back. Her gaze darted over Allison, probably noting the blue jeans and cotton shirt instead of her normal more businesslike clothing. “Look at you. You’re in town to visit one of your organic suppliers, aren’t you?”

Allison forced a grin. “Well, kind of. I have a ton to tell you. Are you headed into the restaurant this morning, or do you have time to talk?”

“Paul and Elle are working early today. I’ll go in for dinner and shut down.” Maisey pointed to the table and the coffee carafe. “And I always have time for you.”

Maintaining an excited, happy expression was difficult, but Allison thought she managed, sneaking peeks at her mother as she prepared a coffee. The drink was more to have something to do with her hands than because she was thirsty.

Maisey had grown thinner. The lines on her face were deep this morning, and the shoulder-length hair she usually kept dyed brown was streaked with the grey that had set in during her husband’s long illness.

Allison’s doubts eased even as her concern grew. Returning to Rocky was more than a whim—her mom needed her.