Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
TEAGAN
The pain hit first. It wasn’t the first time she’d woken up this way, but it had been a while.
Years of practice helped her push back the agony and assess her situation and level of injury. Both would determine what she did next.
Remaining still, she opened her senses. Low light was visible through her closed lids. The air was warm. She was on her side, in a … bed? The subtle scent of wood smoke tickled her nostrils, and the muted crackling of a fire reached her ears, the only sound in an otherwise silent space.
She struggled to make sense of it. The how, the why, the where. The last thing she remembered was losing her balance and falling out of a tree in the middle of the forest.
This was not the middle of the forest.
She slowly opened her eyes to find herself in a dim, unfamiliar room with flickering shadows, her body covered by a blanket that was not her own.
Neither was the shirt she now wore. Loose and soft and comfortable, it held an unfamiliar scent, one that was clean and male. Her legs were bare. Where were her clothes? Who had undressed her?
Tension coiled in her body—because this was also a situation with which she was familiar.
She quickly performed a self-evaluation. Shoulder, bandaged and painful. Ribs, sore and protesting deep breaths. Ankle, wrapped and pulsing in sync with her now-racing heartbeat.
But no sense of shame or violation.
Beside her, one of the shadows shifted. Not a shadow. A man. A big, golden-haired man, sitting in an armchair, watching her with intense amber eyes and an unreadable expression.
Adrenaline coursed through her veins as her eyes flashed to the door, gauging the distance. Could she make it? Would her ankle hold up long enough to escape wherever the hell she was?
“Welcome back,” said a deep male voice. The shadow rose and moved closer to the bed. “How do you—oof.”
Her good leg shot out before her brain caught up, the kick landing solid and true in the middle of his chest, knocking him back several feet. White-hot pain lanced through her with the action, filling her vision with erratically dancing dots.
Well, that answered at least one of her questions. Making a run for the door was not an option.
When the white dots faded, the stranger was sitting on the floor, rubbing his chest and trying to catch his breath.
“Nice kick,” he wheezed.
He made a move to get up, and she immediately drew back, ready to kick him again if he got too close, no matter how much it hurt.
He held up his hands, eased back down to the floor, and spoke in a calm, soothing tone. “Easy. My name is Noah. I work at the ranch, same as you.”
Yes, she thought. He did resemble the doctor she’d seen from afar.
Noah Ziegler. He didn’t live at the main house. Had his own place over the hill on the edge of the forest. She’d seen it many times during her nocturnal explorations.
She scanned her surroundings again. Registered the wood and stone simplicity and approximate dimensions.
She was in his cabin. In his bed. Wearing his shirt.
Her gaze went back to him, her eyes narrowed.
“Mona was worried. She sent me out to look for you after you took off.” Still on the floor, the doc slowly drew his knees toward his chest and rested his arms over them. “I found you in the forest and brought you back here.”
Even sitting on the floor as he was, she could see that he was big, his muscles visible beneath the casual shirt and jeans he wore. His posture was relaxed, his eyes curious and concerned but not threatening.
“I would have preferred to take you to my office at the house, but Sheriff Jackson’s still hanging around.”
Teagan tensed at the mention of the man who’d come looking for her.
The doc put his hands up again. “Relax. He doesn’t know where you are, and Mona wants to keep it that way—at least for now.”
Teagan relaxed but only slightly. Mona was a mama bear for sure, but she couldn’t keep the sheriff at bay for long.
“You’re safe here,” the doc said, breaking into her thoughts. “What you need is rest. I can give you something for the pain to help with that.”
Let a man she didn’t know drug her while he kept her in his cabin, far enough from the main house that no one would hear her scream? Yeah, that was a big fat hell no. She needed to keep her wits about her.
He sighed. “Look, if I wanted to hurt you, I would have done so already. Besides, you’ve done a pretty good job of doing it yourself.
Your shoulder suffered a nasty dislocation that might or might not include permanent nerve damage, and you’ve got a gash on your back that required stitches—eight, to be exact—not to mention some cracked ribs and a sprained ankle. ”
He had a point. If he decided to overpower her, she didn’t have a chance of stopping him in her current state. That kick had taken everything she had and then some.
And Mona did seem to trust him, so that was something.
She wouldn’t let her guard down completely, but for now at least, she’d turn down the fight or flight to a low simmer and conserve her energy.
She exhaled slowly, trying to minimize the pain in her ribs. Her body ached everywhere.
“Think you can handle some water?”
Water sounded heavenly. She nodded.
He rose to his feet with smooth, masculine grace. “I’ll be right back.”
He left the door open a crack. She could hear him moving around. Opening a cupboard. Filling a cup with ice. Nothing that suggested he was doing anything other than what he’d said. Continuing to listen, she turned her attention to the room.
The walls were knotty pine with hand-hewn beams across the ceiling. The hearth was made of the same kind of stone she’d seen along the creek. There was one large window, dressed with simple curtains and a blackout shade. Medical supplies were neatly arranged on top of a sturdy wooden dresser.
The space was simple, utilitarian, and masculine. Nothing personal to suggest Noah lived here as opposed to anyone else.
Curious, she slid open the nightstand drawer next to the bed. In it, a worn photo of a younger Noah and another man, grinning widely and wearing dust-covered fatigues against an arid, sun-bleached backdrop.
Noah Ziegler had been in the service.
She filed that away, then returned the photo and slid the drawer closed at the approach of Noah’s footsteps.
Teagan attempted to push herself to a sitting position. In response, her torso screamed in protest, and the room began to spin violently.
“Whoa, okay. I’ve got you.”
Strong arms reached out, keeping her from rolling face-first onto the floor. She hissed out in both pain and warning, but the contact ceased as quickly as it had started. She fell back against pillows that had miraculously appeared behind her, propping her up.
He picked up the glass and held it out to her.
She lifted a hand. “Give me a minute, please.”
“Of course.”
The doc set the glass down and retreated to the chair. When Teagan’s stomach calmed down, she reached out, hand trembling slightly, grabbed the glass, and brought it to her lips. The first sip was cool and delicious, heaven against her dry, scratchy throat.
“So, what now?” she asked.
His brows pulled together. “Now, you rest.”
“What about the sheriff?”
“Mona’s keeping him busy. She’ll call when he’s gone.”
“But—”
“No more questions. Rest. I’ll be in the next room in case you need anything.”
Noah rose and began to walk toward the door.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked quietly.
He paused but didn’t turn around. “Because Mona asked me to.”
His straightforward, no-bullshit answer soothed her.
Teagan settled back into the pillows and reassessed her situation. The sheriff was looking for her. She was injured and in a stranger’s bed. Her head ached, her body hurt, and she was one blink away from passing out.
But despite all that, she felt oddly safe. Which was a good thing, since she was in no shape to go anywhere.
She yawned and closed her eyes as exhaustion pulled her under. A few hours of sleep were all she needed. And maybe some ibuprofen. Tomorrow, she’d come up with a new plan.