Search and Rescue by April Wilson

Chapter 17

Hannah McIntyre

I jump when Killian’s phone rings. He looks at the screen and answers. “Salut, Mama.” Then he listens. “Oui. Elle va bien. Elle s'est cassé la cheville.”

My French is rusty, but I can follow some of what he’s saying. Hi, Mom. Yes, she’s fine. “What was that last bit?” I whisper.

“She broke her ankle,” he whispers back.

The rest of his conversation is lost on me. Maybe if he spoke slower I could follow some of it, but it’s way too fast.

He laughs and says goodbye. “Au revoir, Mama. Je t’aime aussi.”

That last bit I understand. Goodbye, Mama. I love you, too.

“That was your mom.”

“Yeah. Mama and my grandparents. They were all on speaker phone.”

“Where do they live?”

“Lafayette, Louisiana. Right in the heart of Acadiana.”

“And that is?”

“The Cajun heartland.”

“Your dad, too?”

“No.” His expression flattens. “He died while serving in the Army, when I was a baby. That’s where my name came from. He named me Killian after his best friend in the service.”

“Your dad was Cajun, too?”

“Nah. He was Creole, from New Orleans. Mama’s Cajun. When my dad died, Mama took us back to Lafayette to live with her parents. That’s where I grew up. I worked a fishing boat with my grandpapa until I was eighteen. That’s when I enlisted in the Army.”

We both grow silent as we hear a vehicle approaching the cabin. Killian jumps up to look out the front window, but his posture quickly eases. “It’s Owen and Maggie,” he says, the tension in his shoulders relaxing. “Along with two boys and a dog.”

“Scout!” 

Killian opens the door for our guests. Scout rushes inside and runs straight for me, jumping up on my lap and eagerly licking my face. He’s sixty-five pounds of unbridled affection.

“Whoa, pal,” Killian says as he grabs Scout’s brown leather collar and pulls him off me. “On the floor before you squash her.”

Scout sits beside the sofa and rests his head on my lap, gazing up at me with big dark eyes that beg for attention.

I scratch behind his ears. “Hello, sweet boy. Did you miss me? I sure missed you.” I glance up at Maggie’s sons. Riley, the eldest, is seventeen. Brendan is fifteen. They’re both tall, lanky boys, not quite done growing. “Thanks for taking care of Scout for me, guys. I hope he was well-behaved.”

“He was the best,” Brendan says with enthusiasm. “I taught him some new tricks.”

“He’s a fast learner,” Maggie says. She sits down at the far end of the sofa, careful not to jostle my ankle, and pats my good leg. “It’s so good to see you home again.” Then she glances at Killian, who’s standing by the door conversing with Owen. “I’m also glad to see you have a houseguest.”

“Do you want us to take Scout back home with us?” Brendan asks, his expression hopeful. “Just until you get your cast off? He’s a handful.”

I lean down to kiss the top of Scout’s head. “Thanks, Brendan, but I think I’ll keep him here. I’ve really missed him.”

“Okay, sure,” the kid says. “But if you change your mind, just let me know.”

Maggie catches my gaze. “So, how do you feel? Are you in pain?”

“It’s getting better.” I carefully flex my right arm. “The arm’s doing well. Mostly it’s my ankle that still bothers me.”

“If there’s anything you need—anything at all—you just holler. You know we’re here for you.”

“I will. Thanks.”

“Hannah?”

I glance back at Killian, who nods toward the door.

“Owen and I are going to step outside for a few minutes. Call if you need me.”

As soon as they’re out the door, Maggie says, “Boys, why don’t you take Scout outside and throw the ball for him?”

“Can we take him through the agility course, too?” Brendan asks.

“Absolutely,” I say, grateful because I know Scout needs the exercise. “He’d love it.”

Brendan whistles for Scout, and they all race out the door.

Once we’re alone, Maggie moves to sit on the coffee table, facing me. “How are you really doing?”

I laugh. “Fine, honestly.” I pat my cast. “It’ll take time, I know that.”

She nods toward the front of the cabin. “And your handsome shadow? How’s he working out so far?”

“Killian’s been wonderful.”

“This is your chance, Hannah. It’s just the two of you holed up inside this cabin—two people who both have crushes on each other—you know where that leads. Passions erupt and things just happen.”

“Maggie, be serious.” I’m tempted to tell her I don’t have a crush on Killian, but that would be a lie.

“I am being serious! And please, don’t bother trying to kid me. How can you not have a crush on that man? He’s sex on a stick.”

I laugh. “Yes, he is. But he also has a good heart, and that’s even more attractive than his looks.”

Maggie grins. “So, you do like him.”

“Of course I like him. But it’s pointless. You know that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Maggie says, easily dismissing my argument. “So you keep saying. But I think life here in the Rockies would suit him just fine. Have you thought about asking him?”

“Ask me what?” Killian says from the open doorway.

Maggie and I both jump. Shit! Neither one of us heard the door open. My face heats because I have no idea how much he heard.

“Ask you what you want for dinner,” Maggie says quickly. “I brought some steaks—they’re outside in a cooler. I was thinking we could grill them.”

“That sounds great,” Killian says, not missing a beat. His gaze locks on mine, and I can’t tell if he believes Maggie or not. “Sound good to you?” he asks me.

Hoping I don’t look as flushed as I feel, I nod. “Sure.”

“Then I’ll start the grill.” Then he heads back outside, closing the door behind him.

“Do you think he heard us?” I ask.

Maggie’s brow arches in contemplation. “Honestly, I have no idea. But if he did, he’s a damn good actor. And I’d call it a good omen that he didn’t run in the opposite direction.” She walks over to the front window and glances out. “I think you should give it some thought, Hannah. His answer might surprise you.” She looks back at me, eyeing the couch. “What are the sleeping arrangements?”

I frown. “He’s sleeping on the couch.”

Maggie laughs. “He’s not going to fit.”

“I know. I told him he’s welcome to take the bed, and I’ll sleep on the couch, but of course he refused.”

“You two could share the bed.”

“Trust me, that would create more problems than it would solve.”

Maggie purses her lips and resumes watching out the front window.

When I swing my feet to the floor and reach for my crutches, she says, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To see what’s so fascinating.” I heave myself up onto my good foot, catch my balance using the crutches, then slowly make my way to the window.

Outside, the sun is shining, and much of the snow has melted. It’s hard to believe we had nearly two feet of snow just over twenty-four hours ago. I still haven’t gotten used to the weather in Colorado. Back in Chicago, this much snow would last for weeks.

Owen and Killian are standing in front of the gas grill as Killian fires it up. Riley and Brendan are tossing the tennis ball back and forth, playing a game of keep away with Scout. Scout jumps straight up, at least six feet into the air, and intercepts the ball. He runs off with it into the woods, and both boys shout as they give chase.

“You should get a dog,” I tell Maggie.

“I suppose so.” Maggie laughs. “But I can guarantee you I’ll be the one who ends up taking care of it.” She points at the sofa. “Go sit down. I’ve got a baked potato casserole and a salad in the car, as well as a plate of brownies. I’ll bring in the food and set the table. You get off your ankle and rest.”

* * *

While the food is cooking, the sheriff and a deputy show up to ask me some questions about the men who attacked me up on the ridge. Jake had already given them a detailed rundown of what had happened, but they want to hear it from me.

Sheriff Christopher Nelson is a handsome man, in his mid-forties, with blond hair and blue eyes. He’s nearly as tall as Killian, with a broad chest and a bit of a dad bod. The deputy with him is a young woman around my age, with jet black hair pulled up in a tight bun. I’ve seen her with her girlfriend playing pool at Ruth’s tavern. They ask me to tell them the whole story, from beginning to end, which I do. Killian is never far from me, practically hovering as I recite the tale.

The sheriff asks me for a description of the two men, and I tell him what I told Killian. Their descriptions don’t ring any bells, but he promises he’ll do everything he can to identify them.

After the police leave, Killian announces that the steaks are ready. The four guys eat at the kitchen table, while I eat on the sofa, and Maggie sits on the floor across the coffee table from me. Scout scarfs his meal in the kitchen.

After dinner, Maggie, Owen, and the boys say goodbye and head back to Maggie’s farm. It’s not really that late, but I can barely keep my eyes open.

“Sit tight,” Killian says as he clears the table and sets the dirty dishes by the sink. “I’ll clean up the kitchen and take Scout outside. Then we’ll get you in bed. You must be exhausted.”

“Killian, wait. About that.”

“About what?”

“The sleeping arrangements. You’re too tall for the sofa. Why don’t you take the bed, and I’ll sleep out here?”

“Don’t be silly. I’m not kickin’ you out of your own bed.”

“This isn’t just for one night, Killian. We’re talking weeks. You can’t sleep crammed on the sofa.”

“You got a sleeping bag? I’ll sleep on the floor with the dog.”

I bite my lip, trying not to smile. “Actually, the dog sleeps with me. In my bed.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Then he laughs. “It’ll be fine, Hannah. Stop worrying.” He brings me a glass of water and a pain pill. “Here. It’s time for you to take another pill.”

I pop the pill in my mouth and swallow it down with a gulp of water. Killian’s supposed to be here for my protection, but he’s doing far more than that. He’s taking care of me—like a partner would—and it’s unsettling.

Frustration eats at me. He thinks I’m stubborn? That’s like the pot calling the kettle black.

Killian, just share the damn bed with me.