On the steps, I stumbled again. My own legs and arms seemed millions of miles away, just like Dustin’s voice, but somehow I was sitting. On something hard. The rain wasn’t falling on us anymore, and Dustin’s arm warmed my shoulders.
Dustin shivered. He was so warm, but he shivered. No, I was shivering. We both were? My clothes were soaked through and freezing cold, and my teeth chattered as water ran down my face and the back of my neck.
“Are you all right?” he asked, and I realized his teeth were chattering too.
Was I all right? I didn’t know. I didn’t know anything.
But I was shivering, and there was no way he didn’t know it, and the sooner he thought I was okay, the sooner we’d be out of this weather, so I just nodded.
“Let’s get you inside,” he said, and helped me to my feet.
And after that, I remembered nothing.
I awoke to a pounding head and raw throat. The roof still purred with the gentle percussion of falling rain, and water sloshed down the gutters outside. Watered-down daylight burned my eyes, and it took more than a little effort to adapt enough to focus on my surroundings.
This wasn’t my bed.
Alarm opened my eyes wider, and in spite of the throbbing in my skull, I looked around. The room was similar to mine but reversed and with different, unfamiliar furniture.
A black cowboy hat hung on the wall beside the dresser. Dustin’s hat. The one he always wore.
So this was his bedroom, then.
Dread crept up my spine and knotted my stomach. The nausea wasn’t just from the hangover now. I was in Dustin’s bedroom—in his
bed
—but had we…?
Slowly, I turned my head. The other side of the bed was empty. The bedclothes were disheveled like someone had been there, but the sheets were cool.
Oh God, please tell me we didn’t…
I racked my aching brain, trying to remember last night, but everything blurred after we’d made it to the porch. As nausea climbed my sore throat, I realized my last semi-lucid memory was of him touching me. Holding me upright but touching me nonetheless. And I’d been in clothes I
wasn’t
in now. This wasn’t my Washington State University T-shirt, nor were these my gray shorts. The clothes were loose, definitely made for someone much taller than me. Broader in the shoulders too. Warm and dry, though, and soft against skin that had been freezing cold hours ago, and holy shit, how drunk
was
I?
And where the hell was he?
And…oh fuck. Daylight? What time was it?
I looked at the clock on the nightstand.
Seven eighteen.
The horses. Oh God.
I jumped out of bed, paused to let my head and stomach catch up, and then pulled the curtain back. I was beyond certain Dustin and John would be out there looking for me, tapping their watches and shaking their heads, but I didn’t see them. And the barn door was open as it always was after the morning feeding, so someone must have fed already.
I exhaled. There would be some awkward explaining at some point today, but at least it wouldn’t include why the horses didn’t eat until after seven. God forbid I get myself fired. Especially from a job where I may or may not have gotten drunk and slept with my boss.
I didn’t
feel
like I’d had sex recently. My knees burned a little, and when I looked down, I remembered dropping onto the gravel. Hoped to God that was all it was, and I hadn’t earned myself a couple of rug burns on Dustin’s bedroom floor.
He wouldn’t really have done that, would he? Dustin was a lot of things, but I couldn’t imagine him taking advantage of me when I was drunk and losing my mind.
Only one way to find out.
Steeling myself against the fallout from whatever I might have done while I was half-drowned on vodka and rain, I pulled open the bedroom door and went looking for Dustin.
He was asleep on the couch, his forearm over his eyes and legs crossed at the ankles on the other armrest. And he was shirtless. Oh my God. In spite of my confusion and my pounding head, I couldn’t help taking a moment to drink in that sight, because he looked even better half-naked than clothed. Smooth, flat abs and a thin line of dark hair leading beneath his waistband. I looked like hell, but Dustin? Heaven in nothing but a pair of jeans.
I shivered. Well, at least I know
some
of my feelings weren’t beyond repair.
Dustin stirred. Then he lifted his arm off his eyes, blinked a few times and sat up. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I folded my arms just to give my hands something to do and to make up for my lack of a bra. “I’m, um, sorry about last night.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He rose slowly, like I was a jumpy horse he didn’t want to spook. “And the horses are already fed, so don’t worry about them.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He tapped his fingers on the sofa’s armrest. “So, last night. What happened?”
I lowered my gaze. “I…guess I just had a bit of a breakdown.”
Right. Talk about an understatement. My head hurt too much to even imagine the barrage of questions he probably had waiting for me. Ugh, just thinking about coming up with answers and explanations made me queasy.
But the only question he asked was, “Do you want some coffee?”
“Please,” I said.
He got up, pausing to stretch a crick out of his back, then went into the kitchen. I followed, alternately stealing glimpses of his beautiful physique and trying not to look him in the eye because he’d seen everything last night. And because he might have…
Now wait. Dustin hadn’t been my favorite person, in the beginning, but even then he’d never struck me as sleazy or anything. Not the kind of guy who’d take advantage of a woman who was half insane or drunk.
But still, I’d been in his bed, and I was in his clothes.
No one spoke as Dustin poured us both some coffee. We drank in silence, and just the smell and taste of the black coffee were enough to settle my stomach and soothe some of the aching in my temples.
“I’m…” I looked around the kitchen. “Why am I here? I mean, instead of…” I nodded toward the wall that divided my place from his.
Dustin shifted his weight, a hint of color blooming in his cheeks. “You locked yourself out.”
A chill ran through me. Christ, what if he hadn’t come out and dragged me back in? I would have locked my idiot ass outside. Drunk, crying, locked out in the rain in the middle of the night, or crawling up to the other house and begging for a key.
Way to look sane and put-together, there, Dover.
“And to be honest,” he went on, “I was…um… I was worried. I didn’t want you to…” He looked me in the eye for a second, then dropped his gaze. “I didn’t want to leave you alone until I was sure you were all right.”
I cringed, wondering just how much of a mess I’d really been last night. Bringing my coffee cup up to my lips, I whispered, “Thank you.” I held the cup tighter, searching it for warmth as last night’s chill crept back in. Then I lowered it and made myself look at him. “Okay, I’m sorry, I just have to ask. Last night…did we…?”
“Did we, what?” Dustin furrowed his brow. Then he jumped like he’d just made the connection. “Did we
sleep together
?”
My cheeks burned, and I nodded. “I… look, I don’t remember anything after we got to the porch, and…”
“Of course we didn’t,” he said, almost whispering. “Amy, you were drunk and obviously upset. I would never have touched you in a state like that.”
My face burned even hotter. “I didn’t think you would. I just woke up in your bed, and in your clothes, and I…” I waved a hand. “God, I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s okay,” he said softly, and paused to sip his coffee. As he set the cup aside with a quiet tap on the counter, he said, “You were soaked and freezing cold. You took a shower, and I gave you some clothes. While I was showering and warming up myself, you fell asleep.” He gave a slight shrug. “I figured it would be better to let you sleep.”
“I appreciate it,” I said. “I really do. I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t think you would have—”
“Amy.” When I stopped, he smiled and said, “Don’t worry about it. You woke up in my bed and couldn’t remember how you got there. I’d be asking questions too.”
“Maybe, but still. I wasn’t trying to accuse you of anything.”
He smiled again as he picked up his coffee. “Don’t worry about it.”
I took another sip of coffee. “I, um, I guess I owe you an explanation.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” he said.
“But after—”
“Amy,” he said softly, “if something drove you to break down like that, I’d only be making it worse by asking you to rehash it for my benefit. If you’re not ready, then…” He trailed off, shaking his head.
I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him everything so he didn’t think I was completely insane. And, damn it, I needed to say it to someone. Anyone. But especially him because he’d been the one to see me lose it last night.
Before I could say anything, Dustin said, “Take today off.” He pushed a few strands of hair out of my face and tucked them tenderly behind my ear, his fingertips brushing my face as he did. “Dad and I can manage, but I think you need to catch your breath.”
Pride wanted me to insist I was fine, that I needed to get out and work so I didn’t feel completely limp and useless, but it took all I had just to keep this coffee cup from falling out of my hands. So I just avoided his eyes and nodded. “Thank you.”
“Whatever it is you’ve been through,” he said, “I’m sorry.” To my surprise, he stepped closer and hugged me. I closed my eyes as emotions threatened to overwhelm me, especially as he added, “I am so sorry, Amy.”
He let me go, and then he left. As the door shut behind him, I exhaled.
Dustin didn’t even know what had happened or what had driven me to my knees in the rain, but he’d been so sweet. My face tingled with the ghost of his fingertips, and I realized then that no man had ever touched me that way. Even in his sweetest moments, Sam had never touched me so gently.
My throat ached. My chest ached. My head still hurt.
And emotionally? I felt like I’d just ripped open every scarred-over wound I’d ever had, and the pain that flowed through my veins bordered on unbearable. This was the most pain I’d felt in recent memory. In
years
.
But I closed my eyes and let it wash over me because, pain or not, I was relieved to finally feel
something
.
Chapter Twelve
Dustin
In a complete daze, I went through the motions of my daily tasks.
I hadn’t slept much last night. From the moment Amy’s door had slammed, I’d been wide awake. When she’d screamed, I’d been on my feet and out the door, my mind racing with a million thoughts of what might be happening. Bad news over the phone? A burglar? Something?
The one thing I hadn’t expected was to find her on her knees on the gravel, sobbing in the rain and screaming her late husband’s name into the night. She’d seemed so together and unemotional, stoic after her recent loss, and for a moment, I’d stopped and just stared, not breathing, not moving, trying to make sense of this rock-solid woman cleaving apart and falling to pieces like that. I’d have had an easier time believing my eyes if I’d seen someone effortlessly riding Blue through the storm.
I didn’t even bother grabbing shoes or a shirt, just hurried down the stairs and across the mud and gravel.
When I put my arm around her, I didn’t even think she knew I was there. Not at first, anyway. She’d collapsed against me, and the alcohol stung my eyes even through the heavy rain. Her hands were pressed tightly over her ears like she was trying to block out some sound that had driven her to this in the first place.
“Sam,”
she’d cried out between sobs.
“Sam, I’m so sorry…”
I shivered at the memory. And more than that, I shivered at the memory of what I’d thought of her when she’d first come to the ranch. Now that I’d seen her break open like this, and knowing more about her than she realized, I couldn’t figure out how I’d ever thought she was just cold and indifferent. I felt more than a little guilty for ever making that assumption.
I knew what it was like to be hurt. It was only the last year or two the stubborn tan line on my left ring finger had finally faded away completely, mostly because it had taken me almost two years to make myself take off my damned wedding band. But I couldn’t imagine the amount of pain Amy would have had to bottle up for God knew how long to bring about a breakdown like the one she’d had last night. And how much more was there where that came from?
I knew from reading her website that the loss of her husband had been sudden and unexpected, but there had to be more to the story. What had driven her into a bottle and then out into the rain last night? What had driven her here in the first place?
Jesus, Amy. What in the world happened?
Though my mind was a million miles away, I saddled Ransom and took him into the covered arena to work. As I put him through his paces, though, I couldn’t concentrate. The whole time, Amy’s emotional breakdown lingered in the back of my mind like last night’s storm lingered in the form of a muggy gray drizzle outside.