Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Quinn woke with a start. The house was dark, but somebody was knocking on a door across the hall, which must have been what woke Quinn in the first place.
“Jo!” called a man in a loud whisper.
Quinn threw the covers back and got out of bed.
He’d heard that locking the house wasn’t always done out here in the neighborly west, so maybe neighbor Dick was back.
Maybe Dick didn’t know the meaning of the term ex-husband.
Jo was probably out like a light after being up so many hours straight.
Emmy Lou slept in a bedroom downstairs, but this joker had obviously slipped right past her. Jo’s safety was in Quinn’s hands.
Treading softly, he opened his door as quietly as possible and peered into the hall. Sure enough, a man was opening Jo’s bedroom door. Talk about nerve.
Quinn crept across the hall and through Jo’s bedroom door just as the creep leaned over Jo. “Oh, no, you don’t, lizard breath.” Quinn launched himself at the intruder’s knees.
The guy let out a screech, followed by a loud yell from Jo as both men tumbled into bed with her.
“Don’t worry, Jo!” Quinn wrestled with the guy as best he could, considering it was very dark and he wasn’t sure which arms and legs belonged to which person. “I’ve got him!”
“I think you’ve got me!” Jo yelled. “How many of you are there? Let go! Ouch!”
“Help!” cried the man, flailing wildly. “Help, murder, police!”
“Murder sounds like a great idea,” Quinn said, gasping. He made a grab for where he thought the guy was and encountered warm bare skin. Wonderful soft skin. “Whoops. Sorry, Jo.” He tried for the intruder again and caught the guy’s leg.
“What in hell is going on?” Panting, Jo struggled away from both of them.
“I’m protecting your honor.” Quinn got hold of the guy’s belt as he tried to squirm off the bed. “And where do you think you’re going, buster? What makes you think you can—oof!” Quinn lost his grip as the guy kicked him in the privates. Groaning, he sprawled across Jo’s legs.
The overhead light flashed on. “Everybody freeze or I’II shoot!” Emmy Lou bellowed.
“Go ahead,” Quinn said. “Put me out of my misery. But save a bullet for your friendly neighbor, here.”
“Don’t shoot, Emmy Lou!” the guy cried.
“She can’t, Benny.” Jo sounded thoroughly disgusted. “That shotgun’s not even loaded.”
“You’re not supposed to tell anybody that,” Emmy Lou said.
“It’s okay to tell Benny,” Jo said.
Quinn’s pain subsided enough for him to lift his head and gaze at Jo. She wore a plaid flannel nightshirt, which had become sort of twisted around as he’d tried to save her, and the effect was rumpled and very sexy. “Who’s Benny?”
“Me,” the guy said.
Quinn raised himself on one arm and glanced to the other side of the bed where someone who was definitely not Dick lay half on, half off the bed, staring at Quinn apprehensively. “Who the hell are you?” Quinn asked.
The guy flinched. “Benny,” he said again. “Emmy Lou, can I move now?”
“You can all move,” Jo said. “I don’t remember inviting a single one of you to join me in bed this evening.”
“I thought Benny was Dick,” Quinn said. “I was saving you.”
“That’s very sweet. But Benny is not Dick. Benny is my wrangler.”
“And Fred’s the foreman,” Benny said. “He’s got a beard.”
“Thanks for the info,” Quinn said. “If he happens to show up at your door tonight I’ll know who he is.”
Jo glanced at Benny. “So I’ve figured out that Quinn is here because you’re here. But why are you—oh, my God!” She threw back the covers and jumped from the bed. “I’ll bet it’s Clarise!”
Benny nodded. “It’s Clarise. Fred sent me. He said you told him to get you if it was time. I didn’t know you had a movie star in your house.”
“He’s not a movie star, Benny. His name is Quinn. But I want to be with Clarise. Thank you for coming to get me.”
Emmy Lou snapped into action. “Foaling time. I’ll make coffee.” Shouldering the shotgun, she headed downstairs.
“I’ll go help Fred,” Benny said. He glanced at Quinn. “You sure look like a movie star. Sorry I kicked you in the—”
“It’s okay, Benny.” Quinn had figured out the guy was somewhat of a lightweight in the brains department. Quinn almost felt bad for scaring him, except that he had a kick like a mule, which took the edge off Quinn’s regret.
“I’ll just go downstairs, okay? Keeping a wary eye on Quinn, Benny eased out the door and pounded down the stairs.
Quinn climbed off the bed, suddenly aware that he wore only his briefs. “I, uh, really thought—”
“I’m sorry he kicked you.” Her gaze drifted to that part of his anatomy. “Are you… okay?”
“I’ll live.” In fact, as she continued to look him over, his injured parts became full of life.
“I imagine you will live, at that.” She looked at him with amused tenderness. “You thought somebody was about to do me wrong, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“So with no weapon, and having no idea what you might be up against, you came charging in here to protect me?”
“Yeah.”
Her gaze warmed even more. “I haven’t had a man risk his own safety for my sake in a long time. It feels nice.”
His pulse started to hammer.
She sighed. “We’d both better put on some clothes. My mare is about to foal, and I want to be there.”
He was encouraged by that sigh and the interest in her brown eyes. “Of course.”
“It’s worth seeing, Quinn.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” With one last look into those wonderful eyes of hers, he turned and headed out of the room. “Meet you downstairs in two minutes.”