Chapter 9 #2
“I’m safe,” she continued. “I’ll be room temperature soon. Thanks to you.”
Emotion clogged his throat. He quickly pushed away from her to find wood for the fire. “I left you at the SUV,” he said.
She muttered something surely unflattering. “Because you know I can handle myself. An hour ago you called me indestructible.”
“I was working out how to get back to you.” A blast of cold air rushed down the chimney when he opened the flue.
“Close it,” she snapped. “If you light a fire, the smoke will be a beacon to Tate and Baker.”
Crap. He’d been so consumed with her wellbeing he hadn’t thought about that. He did as she said and stepped back from the stone hearth.
“Do they sell sleeping bags here?”
“Check the back room,” she said. “The family stores some personal gear back there.”
He found a sleeping bag and a camp stove with fuel. They could use that instead of a fire to keep warm until the heat system started to make a difference. Past the backroom, there was a kitchenette with canned goods, dishes and a working microwave. At least he could get some hot food into her soon.
“Do I want to know how you know the store code and the personal habits of the Greenbriars?” he asked when he returned, setting the sleeping bag and stove between them.
“Probably not,” she admitted from under the heap of blankets.
“Tell me anyway,” he suggested. Firmly.
“Fine. A few years ago, there was a merger in the works between Cottonwood and Greenbriar. It fell apart and Dad never let me hear the end of it.”
His stomach sank. “What kind of merger?” At her cocked eyebrow he knew.
She’d nearly married one of the Greenbriar boys.
He bit back a demand to know which one. None of them were good enough for her.
No one was. Not even him. But Evie would’ve done her best to make it work. Anything to keep Cottonwood going.
“Your dad’s idea?”
“No.” Her fingers tangled together. “Mine. It was one suggestion he didn’t shoot down outright,” she admitted quietly.
Wyatt surged to his feet, needing some distance. He couldn’t picture Evie with another man without a haze of red blotting out the image. She was his, though he had zero claim on her. He had no right to be this angry.
“I took the Silver Aces job instead,” she said.
He scrubbed at his face and pulled himself together.
The close call was news to him, but she’d dealt with all of this alone because he’d stayed away, too afraid to reach out.
He lit the camp stove and moved around behind her, stretching out his legs on either side of hers, her back against his chest. She didn’t resist, though her body was stiff for a few minutes.
It was penance, he decided. Holding her close, keeping the contact friendly and proper when his mind raced down far more intimate paths. There were so many things he wanted to say, things he should’ve said eleven years ago.
She relaxed a little at a time as he stroked her hair, until her head was heavy on his shoulder. Her breathing was deep and even and he peeked down to confirm she’d fallen asleep.
“I’ve loved you all my life, Evelyn Cotton. If I could do it differently I would.”
She never would’ve left her parents and the business to follow his Army career. Maybe, if he’d known how things would turn out, he would’ve tried harder to find a solution closer to home. Closer to her.
Maybe.
He’d had to get away from the places and habits that ruined his mother and left behind a wasteland where a family had been.
Through the years, his memories of Deadwood had turned into a roiling mass of black clouds full of soul-shaking thunder and jagged lightning strikes.
He’d stayed away, so certain he couldn’t survive a visit.
Eleven years was a long time to search for answers that had been right inside him all along. He’d never missed Deadwood much, but he’d never stopped craving Evie. “I’m sorry I was a jerk,” he whispered against her temple. “Then and now.”
Once they were clear of this mess he’d sit down with her and tell her how he felt and what he wanted to do about it.
With the compensation the FBI had promised him for the capture of the thieves and recovery of the diamonds, he could invest in her business.
And keep her from resorting to a marriage for the sake of business capital.
As she slept, he wondered how he was going to leave her when the time came. Did he have to? Was there a solution here that would suit them both?
Despite all his training and service in the Army, he’d never drummed up the courage to come back to his hometown. To Evie. The awareness shamed him. “I’ll get us out of this, baby. Then we’ll sort out you and me.”
Evie woke up in a rush, disoriented and too warm. It was dark and the wind was howling. She tried to wriggle a foot out of the covers, but her legs were wrapped tightly. The pillow under her cheek was hot and there was a firm pressure all along her spine. Where in the world was she?
“Shh. It’s just me.”
Wyatt. His scent clicked for her even before the words registered.
His muscular arm was the hot pillow under her cheek.
In some deep part of her Wyatt would always equal safety and comfort, even after he’d broken her heart.
The day came back to her and she remembered how he’d rescued her when her body temperature had dropped and she’d run out of fight.
“When did you tuck us into the sleeping bag?”
“Shortly before my feet turned into blocks of ice.” He shifted around and loosened the blankets. “Better?”
“Definitely less like a mummy, yes. Thanks.”
“Hungry?”
“Famished.” Her stomach rumbled, confirming her answer. “You didn’t eat?”
“I was busy with other things.” He reached over and turned on an LED lantern.
She felt a little guilty. “I fell asleep on you.”
“Best thing you could’ve done.” He handed her another bottle of water. “Drink up.”
“In a minute.” After hiking through the blizzard in less than ideal gear, she’d never thought she’d be too warm again, but the cool air on her bare legs felt good.
Refreshing. Energizing. Deliberately ignoring the embarrassing fact that she wasn’t fully dressed, she darted down the hall to the restroom.
On her way back to their indoor campsite behind the sales counter, she noticed he had their clothes hanging up near an air vent to dry.
She checked the pockets inside the coat and discovered the diamonds were still there.
She touched the pants, still damp, and shivered at the idea of wearing those layers again. It was probably wrong to hope Tate and Baker had been overcome by the storm and wouldn’t threaten or rob anyone ever again.
“Here.” Wyatt folded a blanket in half and wrapped it around her waist. “You don’t need to get chilled again.”
“Too late,” she said. “I was thinking about Tate and Baker.”
“Forget them. If they followed my advice, they’re safe enough at the mining museum.”
“Is it wrong of me to hope they didn’t make it?” Wrapped in the blanket, she shuffled along as he went into the kitchenette. “So what now? Do you call the FBI and tell them where they can pick up the loser duo?”
“The FBI is grounded,” he said. “They can’t move until the storm passes.” He put a cup of soup in the microwave and punched the buttons, refusing to look at her.
“No,” she said, suddenly understanding what he was considering. “You can’t go up against them alone.”
He was searching the cabinets. “I’m definitely not taking you.”
The arrogant tone lanced through her. All the warm intimacy of the past hours, his care and comfort, the sweet familiarity of having her best friend back in her life, soured.
She’d lived here, invested her money and her soul in the community over the past eleven years.
The robbery was a personal affront, Cordell and his crew a blight on the community.
She wouldn’t let Wyatt leave her out now.
A growl rose in her throat as he set the cup of steaming soup in front of her. With a show of wisdom, he backed away. “Evie, you passed out a few hours ago.”
She spooned up soup, inhaling the savory aroma. “I didn’t have the right gear.” She sipped the broth, let the heat slide down her throat. “I was dehydrated. Both problems can be solved now.”
“You’ve been through—”
She cut him off with a sharp look. “Everyone’s been through stuff. Me. You.” She paused as he brought his own cup of soup to the small table. “Maybe some food will restore your common sense.”
He frowned into the wisp of steam rising from the cheery red and white container.
The silence wasn’t so friendly this time, the only sounds breaking the tension were the wind buffeting the building outside and the softer sounds of two people enjoying hot soup.
Somewhere in the fog of her hypothermia, she remembered the touch of those lips against her hair, the delicate skin of her temple.
He’d demonstrated such care after shocking her at the casino.
“Without me, where would you have spent the night?” she asked.
His lips twisted a grim resignation in his eyes. “With Cordell and Baker, wherever we could have survived until the meet.”
“Wyatt, he held a gun to your head.”
“He’s not the first,” Wyatt replied too easily.
She tensed from head to toe, a far different kind of chill moving over her skin. How could he be so cavalier about his life? He meant something to her. Regardless of what tomorrow held, she wouldn’t let him throw his life away. “That’s no excuse to leave yourself open to a worst-case scenario.”
“No room for worst-case. I’m here with you.” He drank more water, then set the bottle down, his face serious. “I’m thinking any reward money I get should go to you.” He leaned forward, determination in his blue eyes. “I could be the right investor for Cottonwood.”
“Reparations?”
He nodded, still not meeting her gaze.