Skin Deep (4 page)

Nate had always thought that had to do with balls, not genetics, but he didn’t say that, not with that sweet little girl with the big blue eyes who was sitting just a few feet away.

And then it hit him.

Where was Emily’s father?

He glanced around the kitchen, saw nothing masculine, no work gloves left on the counter, no man’s lunch box, no family photos—nothing to indicate that anyone other than Megan and her daughter lived in the house. That helped explain why her brother was so damned protective. If Nate had a little sister and she lived alone with a child and was being stalked, he would probably act like a pit bull, too.

“This ought to at least help prevent infection. You should have your doctor look at it.”

“Thanks.” He glanced down at the bandage, his gaze following Megan as she removed the gloves and tossed them in the trash.

No wedding ring.

The front door opened and closed, and Megan’s brother appeared in the kitchen. He took one look at Nate standing there shirtless, and his eyes narrowed, his gaze traveling over Nate’s torso—and his scars. “What the…?”

“Nate was shot in the fight with Donny.” Megan gave her brother a look that quite clearly told him to back down. “I offered to clean and bandage the wound.”

Nate flexed his shoulder. The bandage held. “You did a good job of it, too. Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do.” Megan shut the first-aid kit and carried it back to the cupboard. “Are you hungry? I’ve got leftover spaghetti. I can reheat a plate in the microwave.”

“No, thanks.” Nate really needed to get back to the ranch.

“See, Mommy? See, Uncle Marc?” Emily got to her feet and held up her coloring book to reveal a drawing of a mare and foal covered in bold squiggles of brown, pink and blue. “I drawed horsies. There’s a mommy and a baby.”

“Show me.”

Nate watched as Megan knelt down, giving Emily her full attention as if this one drawing were the most important thing in her world. She obviously loved her daughter with every fiber of her being. And Nate found himself wanting to beat the shit out of the man who had brought violence to Megan’s world and fear to her heart.

What kind of animal could threaten a mother’s child?

“Can I have a horsie, Mommy?”

Megan stood, shaking her head. “Not in the city, sweet pea. Our yard wouldn’t be big enough for a horse.”

“Bring her up to the Cimarron sometime.” The words were out before Nate realized he’d spoken. “We breed quarter horses. If there’s snow, I’ll hook up the sleigh, and we’ll go for a sleigh ride.”

For a guy who’s not ready to get involved with a woman, you’re sure involving yourself, West. A sleigh ride?

“I suppose you’re anxious to get back on the road.” Hunter’s message was unmistakable and as subtle as a grenade. He wanted Nate to leave. Clearly the idea of Nate spending any time with Megan had raised his hackles.

But Nate wasn’t going anywhere just yet.

He took his wallet out of his pocket, and pulled out one of the Cimarron’s business cards. “The mares will be foaling come March. Call any time.”

# # #

Megan took the card, glanced at it. The words “Cimarron Ranch” were spelled out in embossed brick red in a font that was evocative of the Wild West, a C and R back to back in the upper left corner. The ranch’s brand? Nate’s name, phone number and address ran along the bottom. She looked up at him. “Thanks. For everything.”

“You’re welcome.” He grinned, his scars seeming to vanish in the brightness of his smile and the warmth in his eyes. “Like I said, I’m just glad I was there.”

Megan’s pulse skipped, something fluttering deep in her belly.

Was she attracted to him?

Oh, God!

She was.

It was even more of a jolt to realize that he was attracted to her, too. And for a moment, she could do nothing but stand there, looking into his eyes.

A tug at her leg drew Megan back to the moment. “Can we see the horsies, Mommy? Can we go see horsies?”

It took Megan a moment to find her tongue, her heart racing, astonishment and panic tangled inside her. “Uh… Yeah, maybe. We’ll see, sweet pea.”

She risked eye contact again and found him still watching her.

If he knew the truth about her, about the things she’d done and the life she’d led, he’d turn his back on her. It didn’t matter that she’d worked hard for years to rebuild her life, getting clean, going to college, holding down a job, winning back custody of Emily from the state. In his eyes, she would be permanently damaged goods.

There were some things the world simply didn’t forgive.

Nate’s gaze shifted to Marc. “Is there any way you can help expedite the return of my firearm? I’ve got other handguns at home, but the Colt is my favorite and fits my shoulder holster best.”

Marc seemed to consider it. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I suggested Megan get a concealed carry permit and offered to teach her to shoot, but I guess she’s not comfortable with firearms.”

Marc covered for her smoothly. “Yeah, she really hates guns, but she’ll be under police protection until we catch this bastard. I’ll walk out with you.”

It was all Megan could do not to roll her eyes at her brother.

Nate closed his hand over Megan’s, gave it a squeeze, sending sparks of awareness skittering up her arm. “Take care, Megan. Stay safe. Thanks for fixing up my shoulder. The invitation to visit the ranch is an open one.”

“You’re welcome.” Megan surprised herself again by returning the squeeze. “And thanks. What you did today…”

He released her hand at last. “I did what any man would do.”

Megan knew from experience that wasn’t true.

“Your jacket.” She hurried to the coat closet, took it from its hanger, and handed it to him. “It’s cold outside.”

“Thanks. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” She watched as Marc left with Nate through the front door, then hurried to the window and peeked through the blinds. Julian and Zach stood near Nate’s truck, an unmarked squad car parked down the street with a couple of uniforms inside. Julian and Zach turned toward Marc and Nate, both shaking Nate’s hand in turn before heading to Julian’s pickup, leaving Marc and Nate alone.

What was Marc saying? He was probably threatening Nate with bodily harm if he came anywhere near her again. He ought to thank the man. If it hadn’t been for Nate…

Behind her, Emily was playing with her favorite toy pony.

Nate’s business card still in hand, Megan sank legless onto the couch, feeling overwhelmed. First Donny, and then this.

She took twenty deep, slow breaths, but the sense of calm she so desperately needed evaded her, images from the evening invading her mind, one colliding with the next. Donny hopped up on meth, tossing Emily’s photo as if she meant nothing to him. Nate appearing out of nowhere, dragging Donnie out of the car. Nate firing his gun, asking her if she was okay. Marc arriving at the scene, Emily in his arms. Nate standing shirtless in her kitchen. Nate looking down at her, that handsome smile on his face.

Her eyes opened.

She tossed Nate’s business card onto the coffee table. She had no room for a man in her life, not now, not when she was so close to putting the pieces together. Even if she’d wanted to get to know Nate better, he would lose interest in her the moment he knew the truth about her. What was the point of starting down that road?

Although this was supposed to be a new beginning for her, there really wasn’t any such thing as starting over. The past still followed her everywhere. It had dogged her through two years of college. It had come with her to every job interview. And it had been with her tonight when Nate had asked about Donny, when he’d suggested she learn to shoot, even when he’d smiled at her.

An ache formed in her chest, sharp and hollow. No matter how much she wanted to know what it was like to love a man and be loved by him, to be the center of his world, to feel safe and at home in his arms, she knew it would never happen. Even if she found a man who could forgive her past, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to enjoy being touched, having sex.

What man could love a woman who wouldn’t let him touch her?

Emily galloped her pony across the couch cushions.

Feeling empty, Megan stood, willing herself to think only of her daughter. “It’s time for your bath, sweet pea.”

She’d just gotten Emily dried off and into her favorite fuzzy pink jammies when Marc walked inside. She glared up at him. “You didn’t have to be so rough to Nate, you know? You probably hurt him. I’m sure those burns go deep.”

Marc frowned. “You like him.”

“He may have saved my life—and Emily’s. Of course I like him.”

Marc’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

Megan said nothing.

“I did a background check. No arrests. He fought with the Marines, made first lieutenant and was decorated more than once. He was honorably discharged after—”

“You ran a background check on the man who saved my life?” Megan stared at her brother, stunned that he’d gone so far. “Isn’t that a bit extreme?”

“Just because he played the hero today doesn’t mean he is one. He could be anyone, Megan. I needed to know.” Marc turned and knelt down before Emily. “How would you like me to read you a bedtime story?”

Emily nodded and smiled.

“Go pick out your favorite storybooks, and I’ll be right there.”

Megan watched Emily scamper down the hallway toward her bedroom.

“I’ll take care of Emily,” Marc said quietly. “Why don’t you go fill up the tub, soak, and relax? This has been a tough night for you all around, and you’ve handled it well—too well.”

Megan shook her head, crossed her arms over her chest, tears stinging her eyes. “Not inside I haven’t. I feel like a total wreck.”

“From where I stand, you’re doing great.” Marc hugged her close. “There was a time when you would’ve turned to the needle. Give yourself some credit.”

She nodded, looked into her brother’s eyes. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He released her, his voice taking on a reassuring tone. “There’s nothing to worry about tonight. We’ve got surveillance outside, and I’m staying the night on your couch.”

And just like that Megan regretted being angry with her brother. He was only trying to protect her, after all. “What would I do without you?”

“Hey, I lived half my life without you, Megan. I’m not about to let a crazy asshole like Donny hurt my little sister. Now go rest while I spoil my niece.”

# # #

“You did the right thing.” The old man put his empty scotch glass down on the end table, his long legs stretched out before the fire. “I’ve got no tolerance for a man who hurts women or children. Every man on this planet owes his life to a woman. I hope they catch the bastard and hang him by his nuts.”

Jack West had never been one to mince words. A lifelong rancher and Vietnam veteran, he was unflinchingly honest and took shit from no one. That was one of many reasons Nate respected his father.

“I invited Megan to bring her little girl, Emily, to the ranch to see the horses. The kid loves horses.”

One gray eyebrow arched.

“What?” Nate’s eyes narrowed.

“Sounds like there might be something going on here.”

“Nothing’s going on. That’s wishful thinking.”

For the past six months, his father had been pushing him to get out and meet women, but Nate didn’t want to put himself on the meat market. He wasn’t ready for that yet.

“You don’t so much as mention a woman for two years. Then you save this young lady’s life, drive her wallet to her house so you can deliver it in person, and invite her to bring her child to the ranch. Sounds like something’s going on.”

“Get your hearing checked.”

Irritated, Nate got up, walked to the fireplace, and jabbed at the embers, tossing a few more big pieces of hardwood on the blaze. There was nothing going on between him and Megan Hunter. Yes, there was something special about her, something that had caught his eye, something that had made him look forward to seeing her at the shelter. What he’d seen tonight—her love for her daughter, her concern for him—had deepened his attraction. But he hadn’t rushed in to help her because he wanted to get involved with her. He’d have done the same thing if she’d been a blue-haired old lady. Besides, inviting her to bring her four-year-old to the ranch to look at horses wasn’t exactly asking her out on a date.

And what about the part where she touched you through sterile gloves and you turned into mush? Remember that part?

So he had some pent-up testosterone. So what? Any man who’d spent almost four years fucking nothing but his own fist would.

He walked back to the couch, sank into the leather cushions, and reached for his scotch, taking a deep drink.

“Sooner or later, son, you’re going to have to put Rachel behind you and take a chance again. You’re a young man, and you’re going to want more in your life than this ranch and horses—a wife, a couple of kids.”

“Dad, stop. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You never want to talk about it.”

“Mom has been gone for five years now.” She’d died suddenly of an aneurysm while Nate had been downrange in Afghanistan. He’d gotten a call from his father in the middle of the night and had managed to get emergency leave to return to Colorado for her funeral. His father had seemed to age a decade that day. “Would you like to talk about why
you’re
not out meeting women?”

The old man glared at him. “That’s different. Your mother and I were married for the better part of forty years. We had a life together. We had the ranch. We had you. Rachel was just your fiancée. You never even lived together.”

“This doesn’t have a damn thing to do with Rachel.”

That same eyebrow arched. “Doesn’t it?”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Stubbornness was a quality they both had—in spades.

“What did you say her brother’s name was?”

“Marc Hunter. Marc with a ‘c.’ He’s with Denver SWAT.”

“Marc Hunter.” The old man frowned. “Why does that name sound so familiar?”

Nate shrugged. “No clue.”

His father drained the last of his scotch, then got to his feet. “I’m putting these old bones to bed. Morning comes early. We’ll be doing body condition scoring on bred cows from the north herd tomorrow, and we’ve got a shipment of hay coming in.”