Hot in the Saddle (Heroes in the Saddle Book 1) (2 page)

“I don’t know. There are always freak accidents.” She had
just been lucky there was someone close by to get her out. The doctor had said
another few seconds in there with no oxygen, and she may not have survived. The
guy had been exaggerating—she kept telling herself—but she owed the cowboy her
life.

“Delta,” Kellan snapped. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

She flung her hands out to the side, palms toward the
ceiling. “Until the crew finds anything out of place, it’s just an accident.”

He stood, his knees cracking. “And last week in
Mississippi?”

That busted brake line had been scary as hell. “Again,
things happen.”

Pointing a finger at her, he narrowed his gaze. “Not to cars
under my watch. And somebody’s ass is going to roll for this.”

She bit her lips to keep from smiling at his mixed metaphor.
“Let’s have Uncle Steve run another background check on the pit crew.” She
contorted her lips and came up with her cartoon duck voice. “Would that make
you happy, Kewwan?”

Kellan’s face turned red. “This isn’t about me, girl. This
is about your safety.”

“Sorry.” She used that stupid voice when she was nervous,
but it irritated the hell out of nearly everyone she knew.

“You need to remember who—” Kellan groaned as her cell phone
rang.

“Hi, Uncle Steve.” She held the phone away from her ear,
waiting for the outburst.

“Delta, are you okay?” Her uncle’s voice came through the
phone, softer than she’d expected.

“The doctors checked me over, and I’m good.”

He sighed, then went on for a while about safety, about
taking precautions, about making sure her car was perfect before she got into
it. “And don’t forget, I want a full report of what the area can provide for
us. For the project.”

That damn project. She didn’t want to get into it with him
now. Not with Kellan in the room and locals wandering through the halls.

“About the car, though. Kellen thinks there might be something
more happening.”

“What? What’s going on?”

The nurse walked in with a clipboard. “You’ve got your
papers, Ms. Pennington.” She winked at Delta. “And I need your autograph.”

“Listen, I’ve got to do some paperwork here, but call Kellen.”
She winked at her crew chief. “He’ll fill you in. Bye.” She hung up before her
uncle could start yelling.

“Thanks.” Kellen glared at her before answering his ringing phone.
“Yeah, I got a theory. Let me get somewhere private and I’ll call you back.” He
hung up on Steven, too.

She grimaced. “He’s not gonna like being cut off by both of
us, you know.”

As Delta signed, Kellan snorted. “He sits in that ivory
mansion and expects to tell us what to do, when we’re the ones getting’ our
hands greasy and risking our lives.” He looked at Delta and his eyes grew
shiny.

She smiled at him. “Aw, Kell. I’m fine. You know I’ve got
nine lives.”

He grabbed her charred fire suit, set her car keys on the
bed next to her, and marched out, mumbling something about ducks and cats.

Delta accepted the release papers from the nurse. “Where is
Treven…um…?” She didn’t remember his last name.

“Arnett. He’s in number four.” The other woman gestured to
her right and smiled. “He’s one great guy.”

Delta could hear longing in the nurse’s voice. “Are you and
he…?”

Her face turned red. “Oh, no. I’m married.” She giggled.
“But a girl can still look.” Her face dropped. “I’m sorry. That was…” She
turned and nearly ran from the room.

Delta watched her go. “Okay, strange.” She whispered the
words as she stood, pocketed her keys in her jeans, then adjusted her
Pennington Racing logo T-shirt. She looked in the mirror, finger-combed her
hair, and went to find
one great guy
.

He lay so still in the bed, she wanted to check for a pulse.
His hands had been wrapped, and his face had been washed. Delta leaned in
closer. One of his auburn eyebrows was completely gone. The thought of how much
worse he could have been burned had her sucking in an uneven breath. He’d done
it for her.
For her.
When had anyone done anything that risky for her?
Never, that she could recall.

“I can do it tonight.” A male voice came from the hallway.
“But I’ve got to be in Fort Worth tomorrow.”

“Okay, I can handle tomorrow, but I won’t get there ‘til
sometime after noon.”

Delta recognized the voices and moved toward the open door
to close it so Treven could sleep. The two men from the track, Clint and the
black-haired man who’d helped her, stood looking at calendars on their phones.

“Shit. His horses have to be fed in the morning. What do you
think of setting up a schedule online and get the rest of the crew to take a
shift?”

“Leave it open, ma’am.” Treven’s voice came from the bed.

She spun to look at him, and met his dark green gaze. “But
you need your rest.”

“They’re trying to split up the work on my ranch, and I’d
like to hear how they think they can do it.” He shifted, froze with a pained
look on his face, then relaxed. “I’m gonna be helpless for a few weeks.”

Delta’s stomach shifted, thinking of the pain, the scars,
the vulnerability this man was facing because of her.

He cocked his head and listened as the guys in the hall
plotted and planned.

She shook her head. This was her chance to be useful. To
make up for all the times she’d run away from her responsibilities and acted
like a pouty, rich brat. She could do this. And she was going to, no matter
what roadblocks Treven Arnett threw at her.

As an added bonus, she could let her uncle believe she was
doing it to help him with his complicated buyout plan. The big jerk.

Stepping to the door, she poked her head out. “Clint? Could
you two come in for a minute?”

The blond man’s brows rose, his gaze shot to his friend’s,
then he nodded and they followed her back in.

No one spoke. The three men just stared at her.

She pulled in a deep breath, which caught on a soft cough,
and stared at the cowboy. “I’m going to take care of Treven and his horses. For
as long as he needs help.”

Chapter Two

Treven wished he could use a finger to clear his ears. Delta
Pennington wanted to work his ranch while he was laid up? Were the pain meds
causing hallucinations?

“You’re what?” his friend Rex said on a laugh.

Delta stepped closer to Rex and held out her hand. “We
haven’t been introduced. I’m Delta Pennington, and I appreciate your help back
at the racetrack.”

Rex took her hand, his brows dropping. “Rex Tarrow.” His
eyes searched hers. “You serious here?”

“Yeah, I’m serious.” She let go of his hand and squared her
shoulders, looking back and forth between Rex and Clint. “Any reason why I
shouldn’t be?”

Treven held in a laugh. This woman was straightforward,
fearless, and so beautiful, he had to keep blinking to reassure himself she was
actually breathing the same air as he was.

Clint snorted. “Hay bales that weigh a ton, stalls full of
horseshi…” He pursed his lips. “A dozen stalls that need mucking out. Horses
that need to be exercised.”

“Worst of all?” Rex gestured toward Treven. “The patient
from hell to deal with.”

Treven laughed. “Hey, don’t make her change her mind.” He
couldn’t think of anything he’d like more than to haul Ms. Pennington home with
him and spend some time with her. For one, he admired the hell out of her, and
for two, he could easily fall for a woman with her spunk.

She walked toward his bed. “You’re okay with it? I thought
you’d be the one I’d have to convince.”

He shrugged, then instantly wished he hadn’t as the motion
jostled his hands. “If you’ve got the time, and you don’t mind a little hard
work, I’m glad to accept your offer.”

Behind her, Clint and Rex looked at each other, then back at
him with wide eyes. Why the hell shouldn’t he let her come help him? She was a
grown woman. Grown very attractively, too. Just having her this close to him
sent a tightness to his groin, anticipation to his chest.

Of course, she could be looking at him with pity, like he
was a weak foal in need of rescue. But he’d spend the next few weeks showing
her—without the use of his hands—that he was one heck of a proud stallion. He
smiled as the thought sent heat racing through his veins.

Delta frowned. “Are you okay? You look a little flushed.”
She blinked a few times.

He shifted to cover the rise in his jeans. “I’m good. Would
you press the call button, please? Let’s see when I can get out of here.”

****

Hours later, with a bag full of gauze, ointments, latex
gloves, and pain pills, Delta drove her yellow
'67
Shelby Mustang
with Treven in the passenger seat to his ranch just
outside of town, close to the racetrack. It was the perfect spot for her to
make it look like she was only doing this for Pennington Racing, and not
because she had a heart and a soul, which her uncle wouldn’t understand.

Driving under an old metal archway proclaiming Rusty
Horseshoe Ranch, she smiled. “Cute name.”

He shrugged. “My grandmother’s idea. She and Gramps met when
his horse threw a shoe near her ranch outside of Dallas.”

“Romantic.” She pulled to a stop on the gravel driveway in
front of a new-looking tan rambler with red shutters and doors. Not what she’d
expected at all. “This is nice.” She opened her door and slid out of the car.
Looking around, she spotted three barns, corrals with neat white wood fences,
and a quonset hut. “How long have you lived here?”

He hadn’t moved.

“Oh, sorry.” Shit, what a dummy. She raced around the car
and opened his door.

He gave that sexy little smirk as he swung his legs out and
stood. “Not a problem. We’re both gonna have some learning to do up front.”
Bumping the door with his hip, he closed it, and offered her his arm. “Quick
tour?”

She took his arm, carefully, and let him lead her through
the tidy barns then through the unlocked front door of the house. “I’ll go get
my things from the car. Be right back.” Delta pulled her suitcase, purse, and
the bag of hospital paraphernalia from her car and trudged back inside.

The place was neat and modern, brown leather furniture,
hardwood floors and big area rugs, and even curtains that graced the big
windows of the living room. The vaulted ceiling made the place look huge, while
a big stone fireplace made it cozy. “You have a beautiful home.” She set down
her packages.

“Thanks, I have a housekeeper who keeps it tidy.” He
shrugged and toed off his boots, leaving them on a mat by the door.

She did the same with hers. “What now?”

His face turned red. “I’m gonna need you to help me.” He
hefted in a breath and puffed it out. “Nature calling.”

Her brows drew together. Then it computed. “Oh, right.” How
was this going to work?

“I’m thinking that if you can get me out of my jeans and
into some pajama pants, I can probably take it from there.”

Delta felt her own face turn red. When she’d thought about
her activities for the next two weeks, she’d imagined cooking for him, working
in the barn, mowing the lawn. But never had she considered having to take care
of his corporeal needs. “No problem.” She looked to where a hallway led out of
the room. “That way?”

He nodded. “Room at the end of the hall.”

They walked along the hallway, her in front. The first room
was a big office, the second looked empty except for a rocking chair, the third
had a large bed and lots of furniture.

“Guest room.” He nodded toward it. “You can make yourself at
home in there.”

The final room, taking up the whole end of the house, was
his bedroom. Another stone fireplace filled one corner, surrounded by a nice
gray sectional couch. His bed was a four-poster affair, big enough for a dozen
people.

Treven touched his elbow on a drawer in the tall,
heavy-looking chest of drawers. “Would you please?”

She opened it and they found a pair of black lounging pants
and a white T-shirt. Going for the top first, she removed his slightly-charred
shirt and held it over the hamper. Did he want to keep it? She looked at him,
he nodded, and she dropped it in. His chest was bigger than she’d expected, a
furring of hair across the pecs extended down the middle of his ripped belly to
disappear into his jeans.

Those nice, bulky arms invited her to touch. Low in her
belly, jitters started, sending a chill along her skin. He was all male, and
sexy as sin on a Saturday night. But, he was injured, and she needed to
remember that. With extreme care, she got him into the T-shirt, but spotted
scars—burns?— on his shoulder and neck. She looked away. This wasn’t the time
to go deep into his history, but he’d said there was another reason why he’d
saved her life today.

She reached for his belt buckle.

“Um.” He stepped back a few inches.

Those gorgeous eyes of his, she could drift deep into them,
looking for the soul of the man. She noticed the long eyelashes on one eye, and
shorter ones on the other side where his eyebrow was missing, too. They would
grow back, thankfully. But his hands might bear scars, according to the doctor.

He swallowed and looked away.

“What’s wrong?” She unfolded the pajama pants.

“Just ignore whatever you see happening down there.” He
fidgeted.

She glanced down to see a mighty bulge behind his zipper.
With a smile, she blinked up at him. “Why, Mr. Arnett. You flatter me.” Delta
laid on the southern belle accent.

He laughed, and let her unbuckle and unzip his jeans, but
turned away from her as soon as the denim dropped to his thighs. She divested
him of his jeans, trying hard not to stare at the manly, sexy ass displayed in
black boxer-briefs right in front of her, then helped him slip on the soft
jersey pants. Off to the side of the bed, she spotted the bathroom door, and
walked in, turning on the light. Fancy. A big jetted tub took up one corner, a
glass shower big enough for ten spread across one wall, and the entire room was
done in soft, glowing, golden tiles.

“I’ll take it from here.” He came in and nodded his head
toward the door. Luckily, a few of his fingertips had escaped severe burning
and blistering.

“Okay, but shout if you need me.” She winked. “Remember, I
travel with a pit crew of mostly men, so I’ve seen it all.”

He tried to stifle a yawn.

“Do you want something to eat?” She checked her watch. “It’s
almost time for your next pain pill, and you should have something in your
stomach.”

“Sure. Just a sandwich.”

“A sandwich I can do.” Cooking wasn’t a strong point for
her. “Ask me to install a brake rotor, and I’m your girl. But to get water to
boil? Uh uh.”

He chuckled. “I’m a man of simple tastes.”

“Then we’ll get along just fine.” She left the room, pulling
the bathroom door behind her, but leaving it open enough that he could get his
foot in the crack to open it. At the bed, she ran her fingers over the blue
cotton quilt, then pulled down the corner of the bedding to make it easier for
him to climb in. She hoped he’d nap, and the thought of him lying in that big
bed made her want to crawl in and wait for him.

In the kitchen, she peeked into the dozens of white Shaker
cabinets which seemed to carry everything a chef could need plus the floor
space for about fifty people to do the cooking. This house truly took her by
surprise. She’d expected a bachelor hovel, not a brand-spankin’ new,
state-of-the-art custom home.

When she was halfway through putting together a sandwich for
him at the big black-granite countertop on the kitchen island, a car pulled up.
Three women climbed out, each carrying a box. “What is this about?” She crossed
the kitchen and opened the side door as they climbed the few steps onto the
porch and stopped, staring at her through the screen door.

“Ms. Pennington.” The oldest, maybe in her fifties, smiled
brightly. “We heard you were here, but didn’t dare to believe it.”

So they’d come out to Treven’s ranch to check? Unbelievable.
She put her hands on her hips and tipped her head. “Is there something I can do
for you?”

The youngest, in her twenties and evidently pregnant,
stepped forward. “We wanted to bring a few things for Treven. He’s done so much
for everyone in town, the prayer chain is buzzing.”

Delta felt like a total bitch.

The young woman looked behind her as another car pulled into
the driveway. “We won’t keep you, but we have some food, and some, um, things
that might make it easier for him.” She swallowed, her cheeks turning pink.

“Please.” Delta pushed open the screen door and gave them
her biggest smile. “Come in. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“You’re so kind, but no thank you.” The women stood talking
for a few minutes, greeting the next arrival who bore her own box of food.

The ladies set their boxes on the center island. Delta
unloaded two casseroles, three frozen crock-pot meals in giant plastic baggies,
cookies on paper plates, a whole cake, and three loaves of homemade bread. She
and Treven were set for a week.

One woman gave her a box of adaptive items she’d brought
from the long-term care facility she worked at, and Delta tucked that box away
in a closet, for now.

She couldn’t thank the ladies enough, and even admitted she
wasn’t enough of a cook to know what to do with everything. The women left
copious notes on reheating, and by the time they’d left—with a warning that
there would be more folks stopping by—the kitchen island was full.

Delta leaned against the countertop, surveying the booty.
She opened the double doors of the stainless steel refrigerator. Too well
stocked, and not much room for anything more. Contorting her tongue, she used
her cartoon duck voice. “What are we gonna do now?”

“What the heck was that?” Treven wandered into the kitchen,
a crooked smile on his face.

“Oh. Sorry.” Very few people knew about her duck voice.
“When I’m overwhelmed, I go into cartoon mode.”

“You’re one fascinating woman, Delta. Race car driver by
day, cartoon duck by night.” He looked at the plethora on the counter. “You
even baked bread?” His smile came with a big yawn.

“Your neighbors and the townsfolk stopped by.” She couldn’t
imagine anyone in her neighborhood in Atlanta doing anything like this for her.

“Ah.” He used his foot to pull out one of the tall stools on
the far side of the island. “I should have warned you.”

“The prayer chain strikes again.”

He nodded and poked at a plate of bars covered in clear
wrap. “Gotta love livin’ in a fishbowl.”

She jumped to help him open it, then shrugged. “Short of
taping a fork to your bandages.” Picking up what looked like a seven-layer bar,
she held it out for him. “Excuse my fingers in your food.”

He opened his mouth and she popped it in. Treven stared at
her with those sleepy green eyes. Nothing in her recent memory buzzed with that
much sexual energy, or hit her that hard and naughty down low in her belly. She
heaved out a breath and went back to making his sandwich. She had to watch
herself, or she’d end up tumbling into bed with this cowboy, maybe even falling
for him a little. Just a little.

“Some mayo, some mustard, please.” He sat patiently while
she dressed the sandwich, set a glass of ice water with a straw in front of
him, then plopped down next to him and held up a quarter of the sandwich.

He took a bite, chewed and swallowed, she wiped mustard from
his mouth, then he leaned in and kissed her.

****

Goddamnit, what was he doing? Treven pressed his lips
against Delta’s, breathing in her sexy, spicy scent, like some foreign opiate
that stirred his blood to boiling.

For a second, she froze, then opened her lips on his,
inviting him in.

He took advantage, skimming his tongue over her teeth and
into her mouth, tangling his tongue with hers, tasting every little bit of her
he could reach.