Colorado Mountain series by Kristen Ashley

“I’m not sure but I’m guessing awhile ago.”

“You haven’t been to the doctor.”

This was a statement, not a question but I shrugged my answer before I stupidly said, “No need, if my ribs are broken then they can’t do much of –”

I stopped talking when Max’s eyes narrowed.

“Your ribs?”

I saw my mistake instantly but I had the distinct feeling Max wasn’t going to let it go and I had this feeling because his eyes were narrowed but also since he pretty much never let anything go.

Therefore, cautiously I explained, “He kind of…” I paused. “Um… when I was on the floor he kind of…” I hesitated then whispered, “Kicked me.”

Max just stood there, stock-still, his hands still at my jaws, his eyes looking in mine but his were dark, unfocused and they were angry, angrier than I’d ever seen them and that morning I thought he couldn’t get angrier but there it was.

Which brought my mind to that morning.

“Max,” I ventured when he seemed to be unable to move, “what are you doing here?”

He blinked again, his eyes focused on me and he answered, “Bringin’ you home.”

This time I blinked then I started, “But –”

“Now, I’m takin’ you to the hospital.”

“Max –”

I didn’t finish because Max was pulling the towels out of my hands, tossing them on the dresser behind me and speaking. “I’ll call Mick on the way, get him to round up Damon.”

“I think –”

I didn’t finish that time because Max’s hand wrapped around mine and he was dragging me across the room as he said, “After the hospital, we’ll go home.”

“I can’t go home,” I told his back as he kept walking us across the room and he stopped and turned to me.

“What?”

“I’m making breakfast for Norm and Gladys. They’re going to be here at eight thirty. Norm’s worried about me, I think so is Gladys. If I disappear in the night, I mean, they’re not young, as in, they’ve got a great grandchild not young. It’ll give them a fright.”

Max looked at me silently for several moments, his eyes gentle and warm but even so they were very active. Then he turned fully to me, moved into me, his hand dropping mine but coming up to wrap around the back of my neck. Then I watched, in fascinated shock, as his head dipped. Then I felt the sweet, swift touch of his lips against mine.

He pulled away barely an inch before he said quietly, “Duchess, you’re the only person I know who could be in a goddamned cabin in the middle of f**kin’ nowhere all of eight hours and be on a first name basis, sharin’ meals and makin’ breakfast dates with your neighbors.”

I was not hearing his words, I still felt his lips against mine and it was occurring to me, belatedly, that he was acting like what happened between us that morning hadn’t happened at all.

“Are you still mad at me?” I blurted on a whisper and I felt my eyes go wide in fear that the question came out rather than me just asking it in my head where it should have stayed even if that meant it would go unanswered.

I pulled away but his hand only tightened on my neck.

“We’ll talk about that later.”

That meant yes. And he’d already been mad enough at me that morning to last a lifetime, rightfully so, but I couldn’t go through it again. Not then, not ever.

I shook my head and pulled at my neck but his hand only got tighter.

“I…” I swallowed then went on, “Max, you don’t have to take care of me anymore.”

“Shut it, Duchess.”

“No, Max, you don’t –”

His head dipped again and his mouth on mine stopped mine from forming words.

Not taking his lips from mine, when the kiss was over, he repeated, “Honey, like I said, we’ll talk about it later. Yeah?”

“Okay,” I whispered, because, really, what else could I do?

He lifted his mouth but only to kiss my forehead then say there, “Let’s go.”

It was good he took my hand because from the minute his lips touched my forehead I closed my eyes therefore, blind and still feeling his sweet kiss, thus not processing anything else, I needed him to guide me out the door.

* * * * *

When Max brought me back to the cabin after our visit to the small, local hospital, he had no trouble finding the lock to open the door for he’d cleverly flipped on the porch light before we left.

Once he used his hand in mine to guide me through the front door, he hit the light switch and a lamp came on by the couch in the small living room. He closed and locked the door, still keeping hold of my hand then his mobile rang.

He pulled it out of his back pocket and looked at the display.

Then he squeezed my hand and murmured, “You get ready for bed, darlin’, I’ll be there in a minute.”

I stared at him. What did he mean, he’d be there in a minute?

He let my hand go, flipped open his phone and put it to his ear before I could ask my question (which I probably wasn’t going to do anyway) and said, “Yeah?”

Beyond exhausted from fear, adrenalin, heartbreak and a bout of crying unlike any I’d ever experienced in my history of bouts of crying, and I’d had a long history of bouts of crying, I realized I didn’t have it in me to argue or even discuss what was going on. In fact, I barely had energy even to stand there. So I wandered to the bedroom, flicking on the overhead lights, heading to my bag, zipping it open and I dug out my pajamas.

I’d kind of thought he was just bringing me back in order that I could make breakfast for Norm and Gladys and then he would be leaving. After what happened that morning, even if he had told me he’d shown up in the middle of the night to take me “home”, I didn’t exactly understand what that meant. Though my guess was that he was on an errand for my mother who had his number and, Max being Max, regardless of what happened between him and me, he would run that errand for my mother because he liked her and that’s just the kind of thing he did.

He’d kissed me, of course, three times in two places, and I really had no understanding of that

Further, on the way to the hospital, as he said he’d do, he’d called the Gnaw Bone Police Station and told them what Damon did, saying I’d be in the next day to press charges. After he did that, he took my hand but didn’t pull it to his thigh. Instead, he rested his hand on my thigh and released mine to shift then came right back to it, every time. Other than that he didn’t say much, he was acting gentle to the point of being tender but he was also obviously lost in thought.