His Outback Cowgirl (Wildflower Ranch Book 4) (15 page)

B
ridie slid out of the driver’s side seat and smoothed down the sleeveless denim sundress she’d bought in Marietta with Finn for her dinner with Ethan. She didn’t know if it was becoming a good or bad habit to wear something besides jeans. At least she still wore her cowgirl boots and had her riding clothes with her. She’d packed an overnight bag in case dinner at Larkspur Ridge Ranch ran late. Payton had again offered her a bed.

Bridie leant into the pickup to collect her purse and the pavlova she’d made for dessert. Her high ponytail brushed her shoulder. Trinity had straightened her curls, pulled them back and then twisted a section of hair around the band to create a stylish look.

Careful that the cream and fruit-topped pavlova didn’t slide around in its container, Bridie walked across the gravel to the front door. She dragged in a deep breath. She’d counted down the hours until she’d see Ethan again and now she was here, her stomach tied itself into knots. Spending the afternoon in the meadow with him had been pure magic and she hoped that in the light of a new day he didn’t regret what they’d shared. Her cheeks burned. She sure didn’t. She only wanted more ... more of the forever kind.

She climbed the front porch steps and unlike on her first visit to Henry’s ranch when she had to wait for the door to open, this visit it swung open before she’d rung the doorbell. Ethan slipped through the doorway closing the door behind him. Finger on his lips he took the pavlova and her purse and sat them on the porch table. Eyes dark, he tugged her close and kissed her, leaving her in no doubt he’d no regrets about yesterday.

When a chorus of barking sounded behind the closed door, he slowly pulled away, grin rueful. “Your welcoming committee has realized you’re here.”

Breathless, she returned his smile. “I’ve no complaints after the way my first welcoming committee greeted me.”

She thought he’d kiss her again but then he brushed the back of his hand across her jaw. “And the third welcoming committee is inside and having trouble with a crossword so will be very happy to see you.”

Ethan collected the pavlova and purse from off the table, before opening the door. Rocket and Milo, tails wagging, bounded out to greet her. She gave them a pat each and then they followed her down the long and wide hallway.

Henry sat at his usual table. From the rigid line of his back she knew he’d overdone it while in Bozeman. Her father used to sit the same way when he was in pain.

“Hi, Henry, thanks for having me for dinner.” On impulse, she bent and kissed his weathered cheek.

A smile overlaid his frown. “Ethan says you’re a crossword whiz?”

She glanced at Ethan as he returned from letting the dogs out the side kitchen door. He mouthed the word, “Sorry.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” she said, again looking at Henry. “But I used to do them with my dad.”

“Pull up a seat, Ethan can cool his heels before he kisses you again.”

She dared not look at Ethan. They hadn’t yet discussed when, and if, to go public with what simmered between them.

Henry chuckled as she sat opposite him. “It’s okay, it’s about time you two got your act together.”

This time she risked a glance at Ethan.

“About time was it?” Laughter lightened his blue eyes. “It’s not like you’ve been pushing us together to speed things up?” He placed a pitcher of iced water on the table. “Okay, so how did you know about the kiss? Was it me slipping Rocket and Milo a bone so they wouldn’t hear Bridie’s truck and I could see her first?”

“Nope. I missed that.” Henry winked at Bridie. “Bridie smells like that dang aftershave you’ve splashed yourself in.”

Ethan grinned and dropped a kiss on the top of Bridie’s head as he returned to the kitchen.

While Bridie helped Henry with his crossword, Ethan stirred a pot on the stove top and busied himself in the kitchen. Soon a delicious aroma made her stomach growl. She’d taken a long ride on Diablo and forgotten to have lunch.

Henry noticed her glance at the stove top and spoke in a stage whisper. “Ethan can cook but don’t let that chili beef fool you, Rosa put it on at lunch.”

Bridie whispered back. “I won’t.”

Ethan approached and shaking his head, put his hand out to Bridie and pulled her to her feet. “Okay, that’s it, insulting the cook means I get Bridie to myself for ...” He checked the stove top timer. “Ten minutes.”

Henry grunted. “Ten minutes and not a minute more. We’ve got crosswords to do.”

Hand still linked with his, Bridie followed Ethan outside through the side kitchen door. She’d only walked down the first step when Milo brought her a much-loved ball and dropped it at her feet. He lay down, his head on his paws and blinked his big puppy-dog eyes.

Ethan groaned. “Great. Now Milo’s playing the too-cute card. I’ll be lucky to have you to myself for five minutes.”

Bridie brushed Ethan’s lips with hers. “Just three throws, I promise. Then I’m all yours.”

She tossed the lopsided ball across the yard. Milo scampered away to fetch it. Rocket came to Ethan’s side and Ethan sat on the top step to pat the older Australian Shepherd.

Milo returned the ball and waited for Bridie to toss it again. This time she threw it to the back of the yard. Milo followed. When he reached the ball he tried to grasp it but his nose propelled it further and it rolled beneath a bush. Milo whined and looked back at her.

“Okay, you poor possum. I’ll get it for you.”

She walked over and bent to look at the ball wedged toward the back of the bush. She reached into the thick leaves. Too late she registered the small round wasps’ nest in line with her lowered shoulder. She pulled back her hand but not before a pair of angry brown wasps buzzed and swooped. Pain shot through her upper arm.

She clutched at the bite and slowly sank to the ground, trying to keep her breathing even. Soon she’d be fighting for her every breath. Milo’s wet nose nuzzled her leg.

Ethan was beside her in an instant. “EpiPen?” he said hoarsely, even as he lifted her into his arms and turned toward the house.

“Purse.”

Eyes closed, she waited for the pain of the sting to be replaced by a telltale tightness in her chest.

“Hang in there, honey,” Ethan breathed as he maneuvered open the kitchen door and raced inside.

She felt herself laid down on something cold and smooth. She opened her eyes to see Ethan pulling the EpiPen out of her purse that Henry held. She took a deep breath ... and then another. Just when Ethan was about to jab the EpiPen into her thigh, she grabbed his forearm.

“Hang on.”

“Bridie?” Ethan’s tone was tortured. She knew he understood that he had to administer the epinephrine as soon as possible to prevent her body from going into anaphylactic shock.

She sat up and breathed again. Easily. “I ... think ... I’m okay.”

She looked at Ethan. Strain etched his face in sharp, haggard lines.

“The bite hurts but with a bee sting usually I can’t breathe by now. I mightn’t be allergic to wasps. No one knew for sure if I’d react the same way as I do to bees.”

“Henry...” Ethan spoke without looking at his father.

“Calling Marietta Hospital now.”

Henry headed for the kitchen.

Ethan placed the EpiPen on the sofa arm and bent close. “Can I take a look?”

She lifted her hand. They both examined the swollen bite. While it was red and angry, no hives had broken out over her skin and her arm remained the normal size.

“See, everything looks ... fine.” She placed a hand on Ethan’s chest to reassure him she was okay.

Ethan’s only reply was to press a long kiss to her forehead. Beneath her palm she could feel the pounding of his heart and the ripples of his tension.

The shuffle of Henry’s footsteps sounded and he stood in the doorway, expression grim but grip on the phone relaxed.

“Okay. A reaction may still happen half an hour later but apparently bee and wasp venom are different and yes, having a reaction to one, doesn’t guarantee you will react the same way to the other. I’m calling your mother now to let her know what has happened.”

“Thanks, Henry. Please tell her not to worry.”

He nodded and disappeared.

Bridie smiled and swung her legs from off the sofa. “There you go. I’m not allergic to wasps. I’m fine. Crisis over.”

But Ethan didn’t return her smile.

Grave-faced and solemn, he stared at her.

Bridie swallowed. She knew such a look. It was the same one she’d glimpsed on her face in the hospital windows as she’d sat first with her mother and then with her father during rounds of chemotherapy and radiation.

It was a look of abject fear, of powerlessness, of desperation. It was a look that she’d never wanted to see again or to have reflected back at her in the mirror.

Ethan cared for her. If he even felt half of what she did for him, then he cared a great deal. Everything she’d ever wanted, love, a family and a home, the man standing before her could give her. But seeing his anguish that he might lose her reminded her of life’s uncertainty, fragility and unfairness.

She’d almost lost her mother and then she did lose her father, could she now open herself up to more pain? Could she take the risk and live the dream with the man she loved knowing he could be taken from her at any moment? She trembled. Even for a risk-taker such a risk seemed overwhelming.

Ethan leaned forward to take hold of her hands. “You’ve gone white.” He squeezed her fingers. “And you’re shaking.”

“I’m okay.” But her words lacked her earlier bravado and conviction.

“No, you’re not. You’re going into shock.”

He carefully gathered her into his arms. “You need to rest and are going to see the inside of Henry’s guest room, after all.”

“H
ow is she?” Henry asked as Ethan returned from checking on Bridie.

“Hard to say. She always puts on a brave face but she doesn’t feel like dinner so that’s not a good sign.”

Ethan dragged a still unsteady hand through his hair. When he’d researched how to use an EpiPen, he’d been left in no doubt about the life-threatening nature of Bridie’s bee allergy. When she’d sunk to the ground holding her arm, it was as though his heart had stopped. And it now had only just resumed beating. While Bridie still hadn’t shown any reaction to the wasp sting, he was taking no chances and would keep a close watch over her.

He spoke again. “She had a bag packed in case she stayed at Payton’s so I’ve taken it to her. There’s no way she’s going anywhere tonight.”

Henry grunted. “Good luck with that. She’s an Ashton. Her great-grandfather rode a whole cattle drive with a shattered elbow. They’re almost as stubborn as us Watsons.”

“So that gives me the edge then?”

“Nope.” A smile shaped Henry’s mouth. “She also has her grandmother Daisy’s blood running through her veins. Your grandmother, Violet, was the sweetest woman to ever live. You don’t stand a chance against Bridie when she sets her mind to something.” Henry’s eyes twinkled. “Unless of course, she’s foolish enough to have feelings for you, in which case that makes you both even.”

“Foolish enough? I am your son remember? You’re supposed to say nice things about me.”

Henry chuckled. “I am. One look at Cordell will tell you what you’re dealing with and to think twice before crossing him. But you, my quietly-spoken son, are far more dangerous. People underestimate and misjudge you. A woman sure would be foolish to care for you without knowing the real you.”

Ethan searched his father’s face. Was he trying to tell him that Bridie did or didn’t know the real him?

Henry squeezed his shoulder as he shuffled past. “But lucky for you, from the first day she met you, Bridie has always seen who you are.”

Henry’s words stayed with Ethan as he prepared a tray for Bridie. He’d take her some toast and juice and see if he could encourage her to eat. He hadn’t missed the earlier rumble of her stomach.

Bridie did see the real him. She knew that beneath his composure he could be as wild and as unbridled as his brother; it was just that life had shaped him a different way. She wasn’t shocked, or dismayed, at the contrast between how he presented to the world and who he really was. Instead the energetic, restless part of Bridie understood his deepest, hidden depths. Just like he now saw that for all her spontaneity and risk taking, a part of Bridie was also sensible, rational and cautious. She’d held onto her grief to mourn in private to spare her mother worry. She also hadn’t rushed into sleeping with him on their first trip away. She’d said they weren’t so different and she’d been right.

He picked up the dinner tray. Yesterday he’d shown her through touch how much he loved her but it wasn’t yet time to put his feelings into words. His conscience still whispered that he had to go slow, no matter that Bridie disagreed. She still needed a chance to heal. At least now they had the summer, and time, to allow what was between them to develop.

He quietly pushed open her door. The bedroom light was on but Bridie could be asleep. As the door widened, he discovered she was far from sleepy. Instead, she paced the width of the guest room, her ponytail loose and her hair tousled.

He stepped into the room and she swung around. Still pale and her eyes wide, she seemed to be having no trouble breathing.