Page 45 of Colton in the Wild
That was why he was thinking that way. They’d nearly lost her, so naturally he was thinking that way.
He’d nearly lost her.
He had to suppress the shudder that rippled through him at the thought. He didn’t know what would happen next, or where they would go from here, but at least he had hope. That small hope could have been destroyed before it had ever seen the light of day. If their attacker had been a better shot, she could have died out there. That night in the cave would never have happened and he would have spent the rest of his life regretting never having told her the truth, and never knowing that her sniping had been as much a cover as his flirting.
As he headed for his folks’ place, a movement above caught his eye. An eagle, not low and searching the water for dinner, but soaring high, in that way Spence had always thought of as flying for the love of it. Kind of like Hetty. He’d never doubted she loved what she did, as much as he loved what he did. Which made them both lucky, he guessed. Loving your work wasn’t something everyone had in life.
And now, maybe they would work on something else not everyone had. Another kind of love. The kind he saw every day between his mom and dad, his aunt and uncle. He knew Hetty had seen it, too, in her parents before her father had died. Had she also doubted she would ever find that kind of bond with someone? Could they take whatever they’d started in that cave and build on it?
Damn, you’re starting to sound like Lakin, mooning about Troy. When did you become mush?
He knew the answer to his own silent question. He’d turned to mush when he’d found Hetty down and bleeding and thought she was going to die.
He picked up the pace the moment he hit his folks’ long driveway up to the house and parked as close as he could get to the front porch. When he got inside, he found his mom and Hetty sitting in the great room, laughing at something. The scene tightened his chest. And when Hetty looked at him with those amazing green eyes, when she saw the pie box he was carrying, with the wordpecanscrawled on it, she smiled. And no matter how much he tried to tell himself it was because he’d gotten the pie she liked, he couldn’t help thinking there was more to it. More to the way she was looking at him, smiling at him.
Maybe even a foundation.
Let the building begin.
* * *
If it weren’t for the occasional little spike of nerves and the more frequent throb of pain from her leg, Hetty would have enjoyed this evening as much—well, even more, if her little brothers were arguing—as dinner at home with her family. Being able to ask Ryan Colton about the founding of RTA, and how he and his brother had decided to do it in the first place, the stories of how he and Abby had met in San Diego, was fun. They’d skipped the gruesome events that had precipitated the move and gone straight to how much they loved their adopted state.
“Alaska’s no place for wusses,” Ryan said, and there was pride in his voice, no doubt at how well and how completely his family had adapted.
“She knows that, Dad,” Spence said, his gaze fastened on her. “All she has to do is look in a mirror.”
“Truer words never spoken,” Abby agreed, but Hetty barely heard her. Spence had taken her breath away, not just with those words but with the way he’d looked at her when he’d said them.
In my arms. At last.
The words he’d said that night when they’d been wrapped around each other under the emergency blanket. Courtesy of that huge, ever-present backpack she would never joke about again.
But tonight all she’d been able to manage was to thank him for the lovely flowers. And suddenly she was face to face with the downside of staying here in this lovely house, with people who were taking such good care of her. She couldn’t seem to get a moment alone with Spence. He didn’t seem particularly concerned about it, and just went on with what probably was, to him, a normal dinner at home with the folks. It was only when she began to doze off on the couch, in spite of the interesting conversation, that he acted.
“Come on,” he said, taking her hand and jolting her back to alertness. “You need to get some rest.”
Her first instinct, born of years of having to prove herself, was to protest and say she was fine. But she wasn’t fine, on a couple of fronts, so she tamped down that reaction and let him help her to her feet. And then startled herself with a sudden wish that he would sweep her up into his arms and carry her, as he had out there in the wild. She even thought about stumbling, intentionally, to see if he would, but that didn’t seem fair. Or smart, since his parents were watching and would then think she was weaker than she actually was and hover even more than they already were.
Instead, he handed her the crutches. She grimaced inwardly. But then he said encouragingly, “When your leg’s a little stronger, we’ll try it with you just leaning on me.”
Did he mean that in more than a practical way? Did he mean for her to lean on him in the way a…a girlfriend might?
The moment they were out of sight in the short hallway, she gave into the urge and said, “We need to talk. Don’t we?” She hated that she’d ended with that question and in an edgy-sounding tone.
“That can wait until you’re stronger, too,” he said as he ushered her into the room she was using. Just as she was about to interpret that as avoidance because he’d changed his mind, he leaned in and whispered, “So hurry up, will you?”
And then, to her shock and delight, he backed her up against the wall and kissed her.
Chapter 24
He shouldn’t have done it.
Spence stopped just outside the bedroom door he’d closed as he’d left, not ready to face anyone at the moment.
He shouldn’t have done it because all his good, responsible resolutions had just been blown to hell. He’d intended to wait until she was well, at least well enough to function on her own. He’d intended to simply be there when she needed him, if only because he knew how stubborn she was about accepting help. He’d intended to be the support she needed right now, nothing else.
He’d never intended to kiss her, especially under his parents’ roof, although that modifier made him feel like a rowdy teenager again. But she’d been right there, looking up at him with those eyes. And her lips had parted slightly, as if she’d suddenly needed more air, just as he had. The temptation was overwhelming and he hadn’t been able to resist. He simply had to touch, to taste. It wasn’t just an urge, it was a necessity.
