Chapter 18 Colt
Colt
Gabriel's ranch sits peaceful in the morning sun as I roll up the gravel drive, Tyson panting like a lovesick fool in the passenger seat.
The damn dog's been moping around the clinic since Lucy got hurt, barely touching his food, just camping by the door like he's expecting her to walk back through it any second.
Mrs. Cross finally cornered me yesterday with her hands planted on her hips and that look that means I'm about to get my ass handed to me whether I like it or not.
"That dog needs your girl," she'd said, brooking no argument. "Fix it, Dr. Mercer."
So here I am, showing up at Gabriel's door with a hundred-pound Rottweiler who's got it bad for the same woman who's been scrambling my brains since day one.
The front door opens before I can even kill the engine, and there she is. Lucy emerges onto Gabriel's wraparound porch, moving carefully but smiling, and something that's been wound tight in my chest finally loosens at seeing her on her feet.
"Tyson!" Pure joy rings in her voice as the dog launches himself out of the truck like he's been shot from a cannon.
I watch them reunite, Tyson pressing his whole massive body against her legs while his tail threatens to knock her over, Lucy burying her face in his fur like he's her lifeline to something good in this world.
"Easy there, boy," I call out, but I'm grinning like an idiot watching them. "You'd think you two hadn't seen each other in months instead of a few days."
Lucy looks up from Tyson's fur, and her smile hits me with the force of absolute certainty. I'm completely and utterly fucked.
"I missed you too, handsome."
"What about me? No greeting for the guy who drove him all the way out here?"
"Hi, Colt." The way she says my name, soft and warm like honey over biscuits, makes me want to hear it again. Preferably whispered against my ear while I'm doing things to her that would make a preacher blush.
I grab Lucy's duffel bag from the truck bed, the one I packed with her permission from what was left in her van. "I was hoping for a little more enthusiasm than that."
"I'm very enthusiastic. Just sore."
The reminder of her injuries kills my playful mood faster than a bucket of ice water. "How're you feeling? Really?"
"Better. Gabriel's been taking excellent care of me." She gestures toward the house. "Though I'm starting to feel like I'm causing way too much trouble. Surely I don't need round-the-clock babysitting."
"Actually, you do." I set down her bag and pull out the ace I've been saving. "Doctor's orders for the concussion, remember? And besides, our boy here has been acting like his world ended. Mrs. Cross and I had ourselves a little chat about his... dietary situation."
Her eyes widen. "His dietary situation?"
"Turns out Tyson's been getting a few too many treats from certain soft-hearted vet." I can't help the shit-eating grin spreading across my face. "Mrs. Cross thinks he needs to go on a supervised diet. Someone who'll make sure he gets proper exercise and only appropriate snacks."
"Colt, what are you saying?"
"I'm saying this dog needs a caretaker for the next week or so. Someone who knows him, who he trusts. Someone who might benefit from having a furry companion while she recovers." I cross my arms, feeling pretty damn pleased with my own brilliance. "Think you're up for the job, Shortie?"
The squeal of joy that escapes her makes my heart do backflips, but then I watch reality crash back down.
"Wait, this isn't my house. I should ask Gabriel—"
"Already cleared it with him this morning. Said Tyson's welcome as long as you want him here."
Having the dog here will be good for both of them, and if it gives me an excuse to check on them more often, well, that's just smart planning.
Gabriel appears from around the back of the house, probably hearing the commotion. He gives me a small wave.
"Everything all right out here?" Gabriel asks, approaching with that measured stride of his.
"Just delivering your houseguest," I say, scratching Tyson behind the ears. The dog's already claimed his spot pressed against Lucy's legs. "Hope that's still okay."
"More than okay. Lucy's been too quiet this morning. Dog'll do her good." Gabriel's smile is genuine, but he catches my eye with a look that says we need to talk. Man to man.
"Coffee?" Lucy offers, oblivious to the undercurrent. "I was just making a fresh pot."
"That sounds perfect," I say at the same time Gabriel nods.
Lucy disappears into the kitchen with Tyson trailing after her like a shadow, and Gabriel jerks his head toward the porch. I follow him, both of us taking positions against the railing like we're discussing the weather instead of the woman who's got us both twisted in knots.
"How's she been?" I ask quietly.
Gabriel's quiet for a moment, weighing his words like he always does. "Puts on a brave face, but those ribs are giving her hell. I'm managing the pain meds carefully, making sure she gets exactly what she needs and nothing more."
There's something in his tone that makes me study his face. "Personal experience with that approach?"
Gabriel's jaw goes tight as a steel trap. "Let's just say I've seen what happens when pain medication becomes something else. Lost someone I cared about to pills she hid so well I never saw it coming until she was already gone."
The quiet pain in his voice hits me square in the chest. "Shit, Gabriel. I'm sorry, man."
"It's why I have to ask." He turns to face me fully, sheriff mode kicking in.
"In all the time Lucy's been working for you, have you ever seen anything that would suggest she has issues with substances?
Anything that would make you think she might have been involved with the Cutter brothers somehow? "
The question hits like a sucker punch. "What the hell are you suggesting?"
"I'm not suggesting anything. I'm ruling things out." His voice stays level, professional. "She's keeping secrets, Colt. You can see it as clearly as I can. I need to know what I'm dealing with."
"What you're dealing with?" I can feel my temper starting to flare, the familiar heat that's gotten me in trouble more times than I can count. "She's not some case to be solved, Gabriel. She's a woman who's been hurt and needs our help."
"Did you take her in just to investigate her?" I challenge him, my voice going hard as nails. "Because if that's what this is, I'm taking her back to my place right fucking now."
"You're acting awfully possessive."
"Maybe I am being possessive," I admit, meeting his stare head-on. "Maybe I wouldn't mind being a hell of a lot more, if she wanted that."
Gabriel's expression doesn't change, but something shifts behind those blue eyes. "I see. And you're telling me this because?"
"Because I can see you've got feelings for her too. And I'd rather know where we stand than dance around it like idiots."
For a moment, we just stare at each other. Two men circling the same woman, trying to figure out if we're about to throw punches or find some other way through this mess.
"I don't believe she's involved with the Cutters," Gabriel finally says, deflecting. "My gut says wrong place, wrong time. But I had to ask."
"And I had to make sure you weren't using her trust to build some kind of case against her."
Gabriel nods slowly. "We both care about her more than we should."
"Yeah. We sure as hell do."
Lucy appears with two steaming mugs, and the tension between Gabriel and me shifts, becomes something else. Not competition exactly, but awareness. We both want her safe. We both want her happy. What that means for the future is a problem for another day.
"Here you go." She hands us each a mug, her fingers brushing mine for just a second longer than necessary.
"Thanks, Shortie. This smells incredible."
Gabriel drinks his coffee and checks his watch. "I really do need to get to the station. You two going to be all right?"
"We'll be fine," Lucy assures him.
Gabriel hesitates, like there's something he wants to say but can't find the words. Finally, he just squeezes Lucy's shoulder gently. "Take care of yourself."
After Gabriel leaves, Lucy and I head back inside. The house feels different with just the two of us, charged with possibility and things unspoken. Tyson settles in a patch of sunlight streaming through the windows, already claiming his territory.
"So," I say, rolling up my sleeves. "What's the plan for today?"
"I was thinking I should tidy up the kitchen, maybe do some light cleaning. Gabriel's been so kind, and I feel like I should—"
"Absolutely not." I move to block her path to the sink. "You're supposed to be resting, not playing housemaid."
"I feel fine. And I need to do something useful."
"Then let me help." I'm already moving toward the sink. "We'll tackle it together."
We fall into an easy rhythm, me washing and her drying with her good hand, and the domesticity of it feels natural in a way that should probably scare the shit out of me.
"What do you want to do today?" I ask as I hand her a clean plate, letting my fingers linger against hers. "What would make you happy?"
She's quiet for a moment, considering the question like it's a foreign concept. "I know this might sound silly, but I've only seen Montana's beauty from car windows and this porch. I want to really feel it, you know? Touch the earth, breathe the air without glass between me and the sky."
The longing in her voice catches me completely off guard. "That doesn't sound silly at all."
"When I was little," she says suddenly, "my mom used to take me on picnics in Central Park. We'd spread a blanket right on the grass and she'd say that was how you really experienced a place, by sitting still in it long enough to feel its heartbeat."
"She sounds like she was a hell of a woman."
"She was." Lucy closes the cabinet and leans against the counter, something wistful and achingly sad crossing her face. "I miss those moments. Miss being still somewhere beautiful."