Buckhorn Beginnings: Sawyer

He had a respected position in the community and refused to take advantage of their offers. Driving out of the area was always difficult, not to mention time-consuming. He’d had a few long-distance, purely sexual relationships when the fever of lust got to him and he had to have relief. He was a healthy man in every way, and he didn’t begrudge himself the occasional weakness due to his sex. But those encounters were never very satisfying, and he sometimes felt it was more trouble than it was worth.

She turned to him, her blue eyes huge again, and worried. She nervously licked at her dry lips. Sawyer felt that damn lick clear down to his gut, and it made him furious, made him wonder if another out-of-town trip wasn’t in order. She was a woman, nothing more, nothing less. And at the moment, she looked pale, on the verge of throwing up, and her mood was more surly than not.

So why was he playing at being a primitive, reacting solely on male instincts he hadn’t even known he had?

Her worried frown prompted one of his own. “You had a lot of stuff stowed in your backseat. Moving?”

She bit her lip, and her fingers toyed with the tattered edge of the shirt he’d given her, telling him she didn’t want to answer his questions. After another bout of coughing where she pressed a fist to her chest and he waited patiently, she whispered, “How do you know my name?”

He lifted one brow. “I don’t.”

“But…” It was her turn to narrow her eyes, and the blue seemed even more intense in her annoyance, shaded by her thick lashes, accompanied by her flushed cheeks. Then the annoyance turned to pain and she winced, rubbing at her temples.

Compassion filled him. Finding out the truth could wait. For now, she needed his control. There was no faking a fever, or that croupy cough. “You’re confused. And no wonder, given how sick you are and that knock on the head you got when your car dove into the lake.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I’ll pay for the damage to your fence.”

Sawyer didn’t reply to that. For some reason, it made him angry. Even the little talking they’d done had weakened her; she was now leaning on him, her eyes closed. But she was concerned for his damn fence? She should have been concerned about her soft hide.

Casey successfully pulled the truck into the yard beneath a huge elm. Gabe sprinted off the porch where he’d been impatiently waiting, and even before Casey killed the engine, Gabe had the truck door open. “What the hell’s going on?” Then his eyes widened on the woman, and he whistled.

Sawyer leaned down to her ear. “My baby brother, Gabe,” he said by way of introduction. She nodded, but kept silent.

To Gabe, he answered, “A little accident with the lady’s car and the lake.”

“Casey told me the lake got in her way.” Gabe looked her over slowly, his expression inscrutable. “What’s wrong with her? And why aren’t you taking her to the hospital?”

“Because she doesn’t want to go.” Sawyer looked down at the woman’s bent head. She was shying away from Gabe, which was a phenomenon all in itself. Gabe was the most popular bachelor in Buckhorn. He smiled, and the women went all mushy and adoring, a fact Sawyer and his brothers taunted him with daily and an accolade Gabe accepted with masculine grace.

Of course Gabe wasn’t exactly smiling now, too concerned to do so. And the woman wasn’t even looking his way. She’d taken one peek at him, then scooted closer to Sawyer, touching him from shoulder to hip.

In almost one movement he lifted her into his lap and stepped out of the truck. He didn’t question his motives; he was a doctor and his first instinct was always to care for the injured or sick. She didn’t fight him. Instead, she tucked her face close to his throat and held on. Sawyer swallowed hard, moved by some insidious emotion he couldn’t name, but knew damn good and well he’d rather not be feeling. Gruffly, he ordered, “Casey, get a bed ready and fetch my bag.”

Casey hurried off, but Gabe kept stride beside him. “This is damn strange, Sawyer.”

“I know.”

“At least tell me if she’s hurt bad.”

“Mostly sick, I think, but likely a concussion, too.” He looked at his youngest brother. “If I can’t handle it here, we’ll move her to the hospital. But for now, if you’re done with the interrogation, I could use your help.”

One of Gabe’s fair brows shot up, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Doing what, exactly?”

“The lady had a lot of stuff in the backseat of her car. Can you go get it before it floats away in the lake or gets completely ruined? And get hold of Morgan to have her car towed out.” She lifted her head and one small hand fisted on his chest. Sawyer continued before she could protest, meeting her frantic gaze and silencing her with a look. “Don’t take it to the garage. Bring it here. We can put it in the shed.”

Gabe considered that a moment, then shook his head. “I hope you know what the hell you’re doing.”

Slowly, the woman looked away, hiding her face against him again. Sawyer went up the porch steps to the house. To himself, because he didn’t want to alarm anyone else, he muttered, “I hope so, too. But I have my doubts.”

CHAPTER TWO

IF SHE HAD her choice, Honey Malone would have stayed buried next to the warm, musky male throat and hidden for as long as possible. For the first time in over a week, she felt marginally safe, and she was in no hurry to face reality again, not when reality meant villains and threats, along with an aching head and a weakness that seemed to have invaded every muscle in her body. In varying degrees, she felt dizzy and her head throbbed. Every other minute, her stomach roiled. She couldn’t even think of food without having to suppress the urge to vomit. And she was so terribly cold, from the inside out.

At the moment, she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and sleep for a good long time.

But of course, she couldn’t.

It was beyond unfair that she’d get sick now, but she couldn’t lie to herself any longer. She was sick, and it was sheer dumb luck that she hadn’t killed herself, or someone else, in the wreck.

She still didn’t know if she could trust him. At first, he’d called her honey, and she thought he knew her name, thought he might be one of them. But he denied it so convincingly, it was possible she’d misunderstood. He’d certainly made no overt threat to her so far. All she knew for sure was that he was strong and warm and he said he only wanted to help her. While he held her, she couldn’t find the wit to object.

But then his strong arms flexed, and she found herself lowered to a soft bed. Her eyes flew open wide and she stared upward at him—until her head began to spin again. “Oh, God.” She dropped back, trying to still the spinning of the room.

“Just rest a second.”

More cautiously now, she peeked her eyes open. The man—Sawyer, he said his name was—picked up a white T-shirt thrown over the footboard and pulled it on. It fit him snugly, molding to his shoulders and chest. He wasn’t muscle-bound, but rather leanly cut, like an athlete. His wide solid shoulders tapered into a narrow waist. Faded jeans hugged his thighs and molded to his…

Face flaming, she looked down at the soft mattress he’d put her on. Her drenched, muddy jeans were making a mess of things. “The quilt—”

“Is an old one. Don’t worry about it. A little lake water isn’t going to hurt anything.” So saying, he pulled another quilt from the bottom of the bed and folded it around her chest, helping to warm her. She gratefully snuggled into it.

That taken care of, he looked over his broad shoulder to the door, and as if he’d commanded it, his son appeared, carrying a medical bag. Casey looked nonplussed to see where his father had put her. “Ah, Dad, I already got a bed ready for her, the one in the front room.”

Sawyer took the medical bag from Casey, then said, “This one will do.”

“But where will you sleep?”

On alert, Honey listened to the byplay between father and son. Casey was earnest, she could see that much in his young, handsome face, but Sawyer had his back to her so she could only guess at his expression.

“Casey, you can go help Gabe, now.”

“But—”

“Go on.”

Casey reluctantly nodded, casting a few quick glances at Honey. “All right. But if you need anything else—”

“If I do, I’ll holler.”

The boy went out and shut the door behind him. Nervously, Honey took in her surroundings. The room was gorgeous, like something out of a Home Show magazine. She’d never seen anything like it, and for the moment, she was distracted. Pine boards polished to a golden glow covered the floor, three walls and the ceiling. The furnishings were all rustic, but obviously high quality. Black-and-white checked gingham curtains were at the windows that took up one entire wall, accompanied by French doors leading out the back to a small patio. The wall of glass gave an incredible view of the lake well beyond.

There was a tall pine armoir, a dresser with a huge, curving mirror, and two padded, natural wicker chairs. In one corner rested a pair of snow skis and a tennis racket, in the other, several fishing poles. Assorted pieces of clothing—a dress shirt and tie, a suit jacket, a pair of jeans—were draped over bedposts and chair backs. The polished dresser top was laden with a few bills and change, a small bottle of aftershave, some crumpled receipts and other papers, including an open book. It was a tidy room, but not immaculate by any measure.

And it was most definitely inhabited by a man. Sawyer. She gulped.

Summoning up some logic in what appeared a totally illogical situation, she asked, “What will your wife—”

“I don’t have a wife.”

“Oh.” She didn’t quite know what to think about that, considering he had a teenage son, but it wasn’t her place to ask, and she was too frazzled to worry about it, anyway.

“Your clothes are going to have to come off, you know.”

Stunned by his unreserved statement, she thought about laughing at the absurdity of it; that, or she could try to hide.

She was unable to work up enough strength for either. Her gaze met his. He stared back, and what she saw made her too warm, and entirely too aware of him as a man, even given the fact she was likely in his bedroom and at his mercy. She should have been afraid; she’d gotten well used to that emotion. But strangely, she wasn’t. “I—”

The door opened and a man stepped in. This one looked different than both Sawyer and the younger man, Gabe. Sawyer had dark, coal-black hair, with piercing eyes almost the same color. His lashes were sinfully long and thick and, she couldn’t help noticing, he had a lot of body hair. Not too much, but enough that she’d taken notice. Of course, she’d spent several minutes pressed to that wide chest, so it would have been pretty difficult not to notice. And he’d smelled too good for description, a unique, heady scent of clean, male sweat and sun-warmed flesh and something more, something that had pervaded her muscles as surely as the weakness had.

Gabe, the one now fetching items from her car, was blond-haired and incredibly handsome. In his cutoffs, bare feet and bare chest, he’d reminded her of a beach bum.

His eyes, a pale blue, should have looked cool, but instead had seemed heated from within, and she’d naturally drawn back from him. His overwhelming masculinity made her uneasy, whereas Sawyer’s calm, controlled brand of machismo offered comfort and patience and rock-steady security, which she couldn’t help but respond to as a woman. Accepting his help felt right, but the very idea alarmed her, too. She couldn’t involve anyone else in her problems.

Now this man, with his light brown hair and warm green eyes, exuded gentle curiosity and tempered strength. Every bit as handsome as the blond one, but in a more understated way, he seemed less of a threat. He looked at her, then to Sawyer. “Casey says we have a guest?”

“She ran her car into the lake. Gabe and Casey are off taking care of that now, getting as much of her stuff out of it as they can.”

“Her stuff?”

“Seems she was packed up and moving.” He flicked a glance at Honey, one brow raised. She ignored his silent question.

“Care to introduce me?”

Sawyer shrugged. He gestured toward her after he took a stethoscope out of his bag. “Honey, this is my brother Jordan.”

Jordan smiled at her. And he waited. Sawyer, too, watched her, and Honey was caught. He’d called her by name again, so why did he now look as if he was waiting for her to introduce herself? She firmed her mouth. After a second, Jordan frowned, then skirted a worried look at his brother. “Is she…?”

Sawyer sighed. “She can talk, but she’s not feeling well. Let’s give her a little time.”

Jordan nodded briskly, all understanding and sympathy. Then he looked down at the floor and smiled. “Well, hello there, honey. You shouldn’t be in here.”

Honey jumped, hearing her name again, but Jordan wasn’t speaking to her. He lifted a small calico cat into his arms, and she saw the animal had a bandaged tail. As Jordan stroked the pet, crooning to her in a soothing tone, the cat began a loud, ecstatic purring. Jordan’s voice was rough velvet, sexy and low, and Honey felt almost mesmerized by it. It was the voice of a seducer.

Good grief, she thought, still staring. Was every man in this family overflowing with raw sexuality?

“A new addition,” Jordan explained. “I found the poor thing on my office doorstep this morning.”

Rolling his eyes, Sawyer said to Honey, “My brother is a vet—and a sucker for every stray or injured animal that crosses his path.”

Jordan merely slanted a very pointed look at Honey and then said to Sawyer, “And you’re any different, I suppose?”

They both smiled—while Honey bristled. She didn’t exactly take to the idea of being likened to a stray cat.

“Jordan, why don’t you put the cat in the other room and fetch some tea for our guest? She’s still chilled, and from the sounds of her cough, her throat is sore.”

“Sure, no problem.”

But before he could go, another man entered, and Honey could do no more than stare. This man was the biggest of the lot, a little taller than even Sawyer and definitely more muscle-bound. He had bulging shoulders and a massive chest and thick thighs. Like Sawyer, he had black hair, though his was quite a bit longer and somewhat unruly. And his eyes were blue, not the pale blue of Gabe’s, but dark blue, almost like her own but more piercing, more intent. She saw no softness, no giving in his gaze, only ruthlessness.

He had a noticeable five o’clock shadow, and a stern expression that made her shiver and sink a little deeper into the bed.

Sawyer immediately stepped over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder, letting her know it was okay, offering that silent comfort again. But she still felt floored when he said, “My brother Morgan, the town sheriff.”

Oh, God. A sheriff? How many damn brothers did this man have?

“Ignore his glare, honey. We pulled him from some unfinished business, no doubt, and he’s a tad…disgruntled.”

Jordan laughed. “Unfinished business? That wouldn’t be female business, would it?”

“Go to hell, Jordan.” Then Morgan’s gaze landed heavily on Honey, though he spoke to Sawyer. “Gabe called me. You mind telling me what’s going on?”

Honey was getting tired of hearing Sawyer explain. She looked up at him and asked in her rough, almost unrecognizable voice, “Just how many brothers do you have?”

Jordan smiled. “So she does have a voice.”

Morgan frowned. “Why would you think she didn’t?”

And Sawyer laughed. “She’s been quiet, Morgan, that’s all. She’s sick, a little disoriented and naturally wary of all of you overgrown louts tromping in and out.”

Then to Honey, he said, “There’s five of us, including my son, Casey. We all live here, and as it seems you’re going to stay put for a spell, too, it’s fortunate you’ve already met them all.”

His statement was received with varying reactions. She was appalled, because she had no intention at all of staying anywhere. It simply wasn’t safe.

Jordan looked concerned. Morgan looked suspicious.

And in walked Gabe, toting a box. “Nearly everything was wet by the time I got there, except this box of photos she had stashed in the back window. I figured it’d be safer in the house. Casey is helping to unload everything else from the truck, but it’s all a mess so we’re stowing it in the barn for now. And it looks like it might rain soon. It clouded up real quick. I think we’re in for a doozy.”

Honey glanced toward the wall of windows. Sure enough, the sky was rapidly turning dark and thick, purplish storm clouds drifted into view. Just what she needed.

Sawyer nodded. “Thanks, Gabe. If it starts to lightning, have Casey come in.”

“I already told him.”

“Morgan, can you get the county towing truck in the morning and pull her car out of the lake? I want to put it in the shed.”

Morgan rubbed his rough jaw with a large hand. “The shed? Why not Smitty’s garage so it can be fixed? Or do I even want to know?”

“It’s a long story, better explained after I find out what ails her. Which I can’t do until you all get the hell out of here.”

The brothers took the hint and reluctantly began inching out. Before they could all go, though, Sawyer asked, “Any dry clothes in her things, Gabe?”

“Nope, no clothes that I saw. Mostly it’s books, hair stuff…junk like that.” He dropped the box of framed photos on the floor in front of the closet.

“I don’t suppose any of you have a housecoat?”

Three snorts supplied his answer.

If Honey hadn’t been feeling so wretched, she would have smiled. And she definitely would have explained to Sawyer that the clothes she wore would have to do, because she wasn’t about to strip out of them.

“Any type of pajamas?”

He got replies of, “You’ve got to be kidding,” and, “Never use the things,” while Morgan merely laughed.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Honey thought, No, no, they’re not all telling me they sleep in the nude! She did her best not to form any mental images, but she was surrounded by masculine perfection in varying sizes and styles, and a picture of Sawyer resting in this very bed, naked as a Greek statue, popped into her brain. Additional heat swept over her, making her dizzy again. She could almost feel the imprint of his large body, and she trembled in reaction. She decided it was her illness making her muddled; she’d certainly never been so focused on her sexuality before. Now, she was acutely aware of it.

She opened her eyes and would have shaken her head to clear it, but she was afraid the motion would make her unsettled stomach pitch again.

Casey stuck his head into the room. “I have an old baseball jersey that’d fit her.”

“No, thank you—”

Sawyer easily overrode her. “Good. Bring it here.”

The brothers all looked at each other, grinning, then filed out. Sawyer leaned down close, hands on his hips, and gave her a pointed frown. “Now.”

“Now what?” All her worries, all the fears, were starting to swamp back in on her. She coughed, her chest hurting, her head hurting worse. She felt weak and shaky and vulnerable, which automatically made her defensive. “I’ll be fine. If…if Morgan would pull my car out, I’d be appreciative. I’ll pay you for your trouble… .”

Sawyer interrupted, shaking his head and sitting on the side of the bed. “You’re not paying me, dammit, and you aren’t going anywhere.”

“But…”

“Honey, even if he gets your car out in the morning—and there’s no guarantee, figuring how it’s stuck in the mud and it looks like a storm’s on the way—but even if he did, the car will need repairs.”

“Then I’ll walk.”

“Now why would you wanna do that? Especially considering you can barely stand.” His tone turned gentle, cajoling. He produced a thermometer and slipped it under her tongue, making it impossible for her to reply. “We have plenty of room here, and you need someone to look after you until you’re well.”

She pulled out the thermometer. “It’s…it’s not safe.”

“For you?”

Honey debated for a long moment, considering all her options. But he was trying to help, and with every second that passed, she grew more tired. The bed was so soft, the quilt warm, if she was going to move, it had to be now before she got settled and no longer wanted to. She started to sit up, but Sawyer’s large, competent hands on her shoulders gently pressed her back on the bed.

Not bothering to hide his exasperation, he said, “Okay, this is how it’s going to be. You’re either going to tell me what’s going on, or I’m going to take you to the hospital. Which’ll it be?”

She searched his face, but the stubbornness was there, along with too much determination. She simply wasn’t up to fighting him. Not right now.

“It’s not safe because…” She licked her lips, considered her words, then whispered, “Someone is trying to hurt me.”

Sawyer stared at her, for the moment too stunned to speak.

“Is this something I should know about, Sawyer?” Morgan asked.

He almost groaned. Wishing he could remove the fear from her eyes, he gave her a wink, then turned to face his most difficult brother. “Eavesdropping, Morgan?”

“Actually, I was doing tea duty.” He lifted a cup and saucer for verification. “Hearing the girl’s confession was just a bonus.”

“It wasn’t a confession. She’s confused from—”

“No.” Trembling, she scooted upward on the bed, clutching the quilt to her chest. She chewed her lower lip, not looking at Morgan, but keeping her gaze trained on Sawyer. After a rough bout of coughing, she whispered, “I’m not confused, or making it up.”

Sawyer narrowed his eyes, perturbed by the sincerity in her tone and the way she shivered. If anything, she sounded more hoarse, looked more depleted. He needed to get the questions over with so he could medicate her, get her completely dry and let her rest. “Okay, so who would want to hurt you?”

“I don’t know.”

Morgan set the tea on the bedside table. “Why would anyone want to hurt you?”

Tears glistened in her eyes and she blinked furiously. One shoulder lifted, and she made a helpless gesture with her hand. “I…” Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat roughly. Sawyer could tell how much she hated showing her vulnerability. “I don’t know.”

Agitated, Sawyer shoved Morgan away from where he loomed over her, then took up his own position sitting next to her on the bed. “Honey—”

The sky seemed to open up with a grand deluge of rain. It washed against the windows with incredible force. Within seconds the sky grew so dark it looked like midnight rather than early evening. Lightning exploded in a blinding flash, followed by a loud crack of thunder that made the house tremble and startled the woman so badly she jumped.

By reflex, Sawyer reached out to her, closing his hand over her shoulder, caressing her, soothing her. “Shh. Everything’s okay.”

A nervous, embarrassed laugh escaped her. “I’m sorry. I’m not normally so skittish.”

“You’re sick and you’re hurt.” Sawyer leveled a look on his brother. “And you aren’t going anywhere tonight, so put the thought from your head.”

Morgan promptly agreed, but the curling of his lips showed how amused he was by Sawyer’s possessive declaration. “Sure thing. We can sort everything out in the morning after you’re rested.” He slapped Sawyer on the shoulder. “Let the doc here fix you up. You’ll feel better in no time.”

Casey came in with the baseball jersey. “Sorry, it took me a little while to find it.”

Sawyer accepted the shirt. “Good. Now we can get you out of these wet clothes.”

Jordan lounged in the doorway, a small half-smile on his mouth. “Need any help?”

And once again, Sawyer had to shove them all out the door. You’d think they’d never seen an attractive woman before, the way they were carrying on, when in fact they all had more than their fair share of female adoration. But as Sawyer closed the door and turned back to her, seeing her lounged in his bed, her long hair spread out over his pillow, her wide, watchful gaze, he knew he was acting as out of sorts as the rest of them. Maybe more so. He’d just never been so damn aware of a woman, yet with this woman, he felt he could already read her gaze. And he strongly reacted to it.