Emily looked up and saw most of the staff moving toward the back door. Tom was already standing, and Levi was leading Cat by the hand to say farewell to Dean and Naomi, before they headed back into town for the night.

  A muffled yell echoed down the passageway. Emily turned her head and followed Tom’s gaze to the door at the end that led into the main reception area. Everyone else stopped to listen.

  There was another yell, this one much louder and clearer. “Help! Somebody. Anybody. Please help us.”

  What the…? Emily was moving before she had time to think, following Tom’s broad shoulders down the passageway. Dean, Cat, and Levi were close behind.

  She burst into the large, high-ceilinged reception area and almost ran into Tom’s back. She had to peer around him to see what’d made him stop so suddenly.

  A man lay on the polished, slate floor, a woman kneeling next to him, her face white as a ghost. They were guests. Emily recognized the older couple from the cattle drive this morning. It was Stewart and Estelle McKenzie.

  “Help him,” Estelle screamed. “I think he’s having a heart attack.”

  Tom stood rooted to the spot. Emily had to push him so she could get past. “Tom, move out the way. We need to help them.”

  He stared down at her blankly, eyes glazed. What was wrong with him? It wasn’t like Tom to hesitate; he always knew what to do. He was the action hero, ready for anything.

  Dean, Cat and Levi hustled past him, running toward the couple. Emily glanced over at Stewart and Estelle, quickly going through her first-aid knowledge in her head. Was he breathing? Would they have to do CPR? She could do it; she’d been taught how. But her brain didn’t seem to want to function, as if she were trying to think through a film of gooey molasses. What did you do first? Two quick breaths. No, no. You had to tilt the head back first. Oh, God. Oh, God.

  Tom stood still as a statue next to her, and she stared up into his face. Then he blinked, and it was as if something that’d been switched off inside him, suddenly switched back on again. He strode over to the huddle of people and she followed, trotting to keep up with his long strides.

  “Move out of the way, I know first aid.” Tom maneuvered his way through the huddle of people surrounding Stewart, kneeling on the floor next to him. “Someone look after Mrs. McKenzie, please.” His tone was clipped and professional as he concentrated on Stewart. Feeling for a pulse, he quickly loosened the man’s shirt and leaned in to hear if he was breathing. This was the Tom Emily was used to. Efficient, no-nonsense, and practical. Naomi took Estelle by the elbow and led her a few feet away, trying to keep the near-hysterical woman calm.

  “Someone call the paramedics,” Tom barked.

  Emily pulled her cell out of her back pocket and dialed 9-1-1, speaking quickly into the phone, asking them to get here as soon as they could. Stevensville was a twenty-minute drive from the ranch. It was going to be a long twenty minutes if they couldn’t resuscitate this guy. They kept her on the line, asking her to update them with any new information as the ambulance made its way to the ranch. With the cell held to her ear, Emily took a step back, her hand reaching up and covering her heart without her realizing what she was doing. Stewart was having a heart attack. Her own heart beat wildly in sympathy. Memories of doctors staring down her while she lay in a hospital bed, talking about her as if she wasn’t there, flooded in. Her finger traced the scar on her chest beneath the fabric of her yellow shirt.

  “I’m going to start CPR,” Tom said. He gently turned Stewart onto his back and tilted his head to the correct angle. He did two quick breaths, measured the man’s chest with his forefinger and thumb, then began compressions. Emily relayed all of this to the dispatcher, then she watched as Tom continued the CPR.

  She was impressed. It was almost as if Tom had done this before. She knew first aid, her mother had forced all of them to learn; she’d said it was essential knowledge because they all worked on a farm, but Emily knew it had more to do with her illness than any farm accident. That’d been a few years ago. She wasn’t sure she’d know exactly what to do, now. With Tom, however, there was no fumbling, no hesitation. He counted the compressions out loud, each pump of the chest, neat and precise.

  Emily no longer wondered if Tom had done this before. It was obvious he knew exactly what he was doing. Emily wracked her brains to try and remember what Tom had told her about his past. But he’d never mentioned anything about being in the medical profession.

  The more she watched, the more certain she was that he knew exactly what he was doing.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  TOM WORKED METHODICALLY on the older man. Up, down. Up, down. The pace was relentless, but he wasn’t going to let Stewart die. He was running on autopilot, all his training coming back to him in an instant.

  “How much longer till the paramedics get here?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the elderly man’s face.

  “Only a couple more minutes,” Emily answered.

  That was good, too much longer and he might not be able to go on. His arms and shoulders were aching. Dean had offered to take over, but Tom was so focused, he knew he could do this.

  It was time to check for a pulse again. Tom stopped the compressions and put two fingers to Stewart’s neck. It was so faint, that at first, Tom almost wasn’t sure. He waited, holding his breath and stilling his body so he could feel the faint beat of life beneath his fingers. Thready and irregular, but it was there.

  “I’ve got a pulse.” Tom turned the man over, putting him in the recovery position, leaning in close to catch the sound of an exhalation. “He’s breathing.” Tom barely heard the gasps of appreciation from the gathered crowd. “Bring me a blanket, we need to keep him warm.” He heard footsteps as someone walked across the slate floor to do his bidding.

  A siren sounded faintly in the distance. “I’ll go and meet them.” It was Emily’s voice. Thank God, this would soon be over. He could hand it over to the paramedics, and the problem would become theirs. But for now, he kept checking Stewart’s pulse, leaving his other hand resting lightly on the man’s back to make sure he continued to breathe.

  Two paramedics, dressed in dark blue, knelt down next to him. “We’ll take it from here, sir,” one of them said in a clipped voice. “Thank you for your efforts; you’ve done a great job.”

  Of course, he had. This was what he been trained for. This was what he should be doing. If Katie hadn’t died, he’d still be working in the ER at Casper General Hospital.

  Estelle groaned loudly. “I made him go riding this morning. I joked that if he loved me, he’d show me by coming along. I’ll never forgive myself if I thought I caused his heart attack.” Naomi grabbed her by the arm and helped the distraught woman over to the nearest chair, sitting her down and murmuring in her ear. He should go to her, tell her everything would be okay.

  But when Tom stood, the room swirled around him. He needed air. He needed to get out of here. He pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring Cat, who called after him, congratulating him on a good job.

  He might have done it properly today, but he’d still failed his wife. He had to stand by and watch her being taken by cancer, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to help. In the end, it’d been quick, but definitely not painless. He’d do anything if he could bring her back.

  The kitchen door banged shut behind him, and he leaned up against the wall for support. Deep breaths. Take deep breaths. Sinking down onto his haunches, he pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. But it didn’t stop the images of Katie, taking her few, final gasps.

  She’d been studying to become a pediatric oncologist. Kids were her passion; they were her life. All she ever wanted to do was help them. But in a terrible twist of fate, she’d been the one to be taken by that horrible monster. The day she died was the last day he’d ever set foot in the ER. Because if he couldn’t save her, then he didn’t deserve to be a doctor. Didn’t deserve to save other people.

  The door swung open, and someone stopped in the hall beside him. Then a body pressed up against his. It was Em. She’d come to find him. He needed to pull himself together. Taking his hands away from his eyes, he drew in a deep breath and forced himself to look at her.

  “You okay?” Deep concern was etched in the lines around her mouth.

  “Yes, sorry. I just needed a few minutes to myself.”

  “It’s okay, take as long as you like. I know how that feels.”

  He remembered how he’d found her this morning, hiding in the barn. Yeah, she probably did know how it felt.

  “They’re putting him in the ambulance. They say he’s going to be okay. Because of you.”

  “That’s great.” And it was. Although, what none of them realized, and what the paramedics wouldn’t tell them, was Stewart had a long recovery ahead of him. That’d been a massive heart attack, and he’d need surgery and probably rehab to get him back on his feet.

  “I can leave you alone if you like?” Her blue eyes fixed on him.

  “No, I’m good. Let me walk you to your cabin. Then I’m going to bed.”

  “Thank you.” She stood, then offered her hand to help him up. Without thinking he took it, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Her fingers were small and supple inside his large palm. A tingle of awareness shot up his arm. He quickly let go. But then he was standing over her. The passageway too small, closing in on him like it was pushing them together. His near panic attack was almost forgotten as he breathed in the smell of Emily. He was so close he could see the details of the stitching in the collar of her shirt. See the individual strands of red hair as they fell across her cheek. Wanted to tuck them behind her ear to stop them escaping.

  She broke the spell first. “Come on, you must be exhausted.”

  He nodded. He was. That last twenty minutes felt like it’d shaved years off his life. The night air was cool as they stepped out the back door. Summer in the Bitterroot Mountains could be hot and dry, but the nights often remained crisp. Emily’s cabin was a short walk from the main lodge, up a gravel driveway and nestled into a copse of fir trees.

  Tom remembered that Cat had moved out a few days ago, to go and live with Levi. “Are they going to assign you a new roommate? Or are you moving into the staff quarters?” It was important that Emily have a roommate, especially with a potential arsonist on the prowl again.

  “Yes, Naomi has asked Stella to move in with me. But that might not be for a few days, yet.”

  “You can’t stay on your own,” Tom protested.

  They reached the bottom stair leading up to her little porch. Emily unlocked the door and let them in before she answered. “I’ll be fine for a night or two. I’ve done it before. Cat has been spending quite a lot of time at Levi’s over the past month.”

  “Ah.” If Tom had known, he would’ve done something about it. Perhaps he should stay, sleep on the couch tonight and make sure she was safe. Yes, that was a good idea. The thought of staying overnight in Em’s cabin gave him pause, however. Being in the same space as her, at night, while she was sleeping, made him suddenly feel all hot and uncomfortable.

  “Can I get you a drink? I’ve got a bottle of wine in the fridge.”

  A drink would be great, it might help to calm his frazzled nerves. One glass wouldn’t hurt, it’d also give him a chance to decide whether to stay or not. “As long as I’m not keeping you awake.”

  “Definitely not. After the day we’ve had, I think we both deserve it.”

  Tom plonked down into one of the easy chairs with a sigh, throwing his buckskin hat on the side table. Em’s cabin was smaller than the big, luxury ones the guests rented. And the furniture was definitely on the shabby side. But it was neat and clean. Actually, spotless would be a better word for it. The stack of magazines on the coffee table were perfectly aligned. The books in the small bookshelf off to the left were all arranged neatly by size, from smallest to largest. Emily obviously liked the place to be clean. Tom remembered Cat complaining sometimes over how much of a dragon Emily could be about keeping the cabin tidy.

  He stood and strolled over to where Emily was struggling to open the bottle of wine. “Let me help with that.” He took the bottle opener from her and then happened to glance into the top kitchen drawer, which was open. All the cutlery were arranged from smallest to largest, again, nothing out of place.

  Interesting.

  Placing the corkscrew into the top of the cork, he began to unscrew it. Emily leaned back against the countertop, tugging on her hair band, letting all of those wonderful red locks fall free. Watching her shake her long hair around her shoulders, the bottle nearly slipped out of his hands. She probably didn’t realize how sexy she looked, as her hair cascaded around her slim shoulders. It left him wanting to run his fingers through the mahogany-colored, silken strands. She turned towards the kitchen sink to fill a glass with water from the tap. Now her face was in profile, he could sketch her cute, ski-jump nose and high, unlined brow. She was gorgeous. With a heart-shaped face, and peaches-and-cream complexion, she was the image of freshness and hope.

  Carefully pouring two glasses of wine, he put the bottle on the countertop. “Here you go.” He stepped closer and handed her one. Their fingers touched, and her blue gaze flew to his face, pupils dilating. There was a heartbeat of awkward silence between them.

  “Here’s to a better day tomorrow.” He lifted his glass in a salute, but barely tasted the wine as it slid down his throat. All his focus was on the way Emily’s mouth curled around the rim of the glass, the way her lips shone, wet and inviting, after she tasted her drink. He had an overwhelming urge to lean in and lick the wine from her lips. Tom was tall. They didn’t call him Big Tom for no reason. And while Emily was of medium height, the top of her head barely made it to his shoulder. He’d have to dip his head, pull her in closer, if he was to reach her mouth.

  “Yes, to tomorrow,” she whispered, moving imperceptibly closer, her eyes never leaving his face. They were the same blue as one of the glacial lakes he’d seen when he visited Alaska. Such a pure, light blue. They were pulling him in, dragging him down into their depths.

  Was he mad? The events of today, bringing Stewart back from the brink of death, might have something to do with this crazy feeling. Or watching all those helpless cows die a painful death in front of him. Thoughts of Katie invading his mind. His emotions were all off-kilter. All the logical parts of his brain had been screwed over today. He wasn’t thinking clearly.

  There was nothing he could do to stop himself; he lowered his head and brushed his mouth against hers. A small gasp was her only sound, before she pressed herself up against him, her mouth warm and alive, eager tongue darting across his teeth, in and out. It’d been a long time since he’d kissed a woman. Not since Katie. A groan erupted from somewhere deep inside. He never even knew how much he missed kissing until this exact minute.

  Em’s hand slipped around the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet her. Her other hand snaked around his back, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. Tom fumbled to put his wine on the counter and didn’t have time to wonder how she’d managed to get rid of her own glass so quickly. Graceful legs rested against his thighs, pert breasts crushed against his chest. His cock was suddenly so hard, he wondered how it didn’t burst out of his jeans. He couldn’t remember the last time he wanted a woman this much.

  He’d expected to compare this kiss to Katie’s kisses. But it wasn’t the case. Emily was nothing like Katie, she was the complete opposite. And that was a good thing, because her kisses were nothing like Katie’s, either.

  Tom picked her up—she weighed nothing at all—and placed her butt on the countertop. This gave him better access to her mouth. And her throat. He lifted her long hair away from her ear and feathered kisses down to her collarbone as she tilted her head back. The skin on Emily’s slender neck was soft, and he suddenly wondered how his week-old scruff must feel. But she wasn’t protesting, and he pushed the thought from his mind. His fingers undid the top buttons of her shirt; he needed access to that wonderful, soft skin.

  Emily drew back, her breathing quick and hitched. What was she doing? Why was she stopping? She bit her bottom lip, then pushed him away so she could jump down from the countertop. Taking his hand, she began to lead him toward her bedroom door and comprehension dawned. She was taking him into her bed. And Lord have mercy, he was going with her.

  A loud knock on the door halted them both mid-step. Em turned to face him, hair mussed around her face, lips pouty from his kisses, and open regret evident in her blue eyes.

  “Shoot. Who do you think that is?” she whispered.

  It was taking his brain too long to catch up with what was going on. He couldn’t think straight, and he shook his head.

  “Emily, it’s me. I wanted to check you made it up here okay.” It was Dean.

  Tom’s legs began working almost before his brain took over. “I’ll get it,” he said. “You better tidy yourself up a little.” Only now did Tom notice how disheveled she looked, shirt untucked from her jeans, one shoulder bared where he’d tugged the clothing down, so he could kiss the sensitive place at the base of her neck.

  She darted into her bedroom, already doing up the buttons of her shirt, and patting her hair down.

  Tom took a few deep breaths. “Hang on a sec,” he said loudly, willing his erection down. Which didn’t take too much effort, not with his boss standing on the other side of the door.

 

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