Search and Rescue by April Wilson

Chapter 23

Hannah McIntyre

Maggie waits until Owen, with a shotgun cradled in his arm, steps outside with Scout and closes the door. “Oh, my god, he fucking kissed you!” she practically squeals, sounding far more like an excited teenager than a grown woman with two teenagers. “I can’t believe it.”

I smile. “And, we might have been making out just before you guys arrived.”

Maggie looks dumbfounded. “Deets, girl. Give me the deets. I want to know everything.”

I shrug. “You know I’ve had a thing for him for a long time.”

“Yes, and he has a thing for you, too. Get to the point—what happened? Did you have sex?”

I laugh. “No, we didn’t. But we have kissed, several times. It would have gone further, but I hurt my ankle.”

Maggie sits back in the rocker and shakes her head. “I leave you two alone for one day, and you end up sucking face.”

“And he copped a feel,” I say, remember how it felt when his thumb brushed my nipple. “Does that count?”

“Oh, my god. This is fantastic, Hannah. The guy’s a dreamboat. You need to jump on him.”

I glance down at the lovely fiberglass cast that will be with me for the next six weeks. “That would be a bit difficult right now.”

Maggie instantly dismisses my comment. “Don’t be silly. You can improvise.”

When my stomach growls loud enough that Maggie can hear it, we both laugh.

“At least your hunger isn’t affected by a broken ankle,” she says. “But seriously, now what? Are you two an item?”

I shrug. “It seems that way. I think it’s fair to say we both want to give it a try. He knows how I feel about moving back to Chicago, and he said that wasn’t a roadblock for him.”

“You think he’d move here? To Bryce?”

“It’s possible. He said he wasn’t tied to Chicago. I hate to have him uproot—”

“Stop right there. If the man is willing to relocate for you, then embrace it. Men like Killian don’t come along every day, Hannah.”

“What about you?”

She looks puzzled. “What about me?”

“You and Owen—”

She throws up a hand. “Stop right there. There’s nothing going on between me and Owen. Yes, he’s an amazing guy. Yes, he’s gorgeous and kind and smart, and he has muscles that won’t quit. But no. I’m old enough to be his mother.”

I snort out a laugh. “You are not! You can’t be more than—what—five years older than Owen. Max.”

She shrugs. “That’s plenty. I’m a middle-aged, divorced woman with two nearly grown sons.”

“So?”

“What’d you mean, so? I told you, it’s not happening. Come on, Hannah. You’ve seen the guy. He could have anyone.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. And I don’t want to hear another word about it.” Maggie makes a face. “Be serious, Hannah. If Owen walked into Ruth’s, he’d be instantly waylaid by every single woman in town, and you know it. I’m talking younger, prettier, single girls. They’d be all over him. Why in the world would he be interested in me? I come with teenagers and lots of baggage, including an ex-husband who’s in prison.”

“Okay. I won’t say another word.” I mime zipping my lips shut and tossing away the key.

“Thank you,” she says. “Now, how about some coffee? I could sure use a cup.”

While Maggie’s in the kitchen pouring our coffee, the door opens, and Owen and Scout come in. Scout races over to the sofa to greet me, shoving his wet nose into my hands. His tail thrashes back and forth, thwacking the coffee table leg in the process.

Owen hangs his shotgun on the wall gun rack. He looks a bit windblown. Maggie and I watch as he lets his hair down, fingercombs the long, ash-blond strands, and gathers them up in a neat manbun, which he secures with a black hair tie.

“It’s pretty windy out there,” he says, oblivious to the fact that he just had an audience. “We might be gettin’ some more bad weather tonight.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” she says as she winks at me. “September weather in Colorado is unpredictable.”

Owen walks up to the kitchen island counter, which separates him from Maggie. “Anything I can do to help?” he asks her.

She grabs the sugar bowl out of the cupboard. “Want some coffee?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, sounding grateful. “I’d love some.” When Maggie busies herself getting creamer out of the fridge, Owen turns his attention to me. “I’m supposed to tell you that someone named Cameron is on his way here from Chicago to install outdoor surveillance cameras.”

While waiting for his coffee, Owen adds more wood to the stove and stokes the fire. When his cup is ready, he sits quietly on the stone hearth and drinks his coffee as Scout lies adoringly at his feet.

Maggie sits in the rocking chair, her hot mug cradled in both hands as she savors every sip.

Owen’s eyes are on her, and hers are on me. I honestly can’t tell if she’s utterly clueless as to his interest in her or simply in denial.

When Owen finishes his coffee, he carries his cup to the sink, washes it, and sets it in the dish rack to dry. “How ’bout I take the dog back outside for some exercise?” he asks me. “I’ll have him run the agility course a few times to wear him out a bit.”

“Thank you, Owen.” As soon as he and Scout are out the front door, I turn to Maggie.

“Don’t you even start,” she says before I can get a word out. She gets up and takes her empty coffee cup to the kitchen.

Well, that answers my question. She’s not clueless. She’s avoiding the issue.

While Maggie putzes around in the kitchen, killing time, I haul myself up onto my crutches and make my way painstakingly to the bathroom to relieve my bladder and freshen up by brushing my hair and teeth. Killian should be home soon.

When I swing my way out of the bathroom—I think I’m starting to get the hang of using these crutches—I find the front door wide open and the cabin empty. My heart stops a minute, and then my pulse starts racing. “Maggie?”

Maggie pops her head in the open doorway. “Oh, sorry. I stepped outside to watch Scout run the agility course.”

I shuffle toward her and step outside onto the front porch. I think it’s the first time I’ve been outside since getting home from the hospital.

“Here, sit down before you fall down,” Maggie says, directing me to the wooden swing hanging from the covered ceiling. She holds the swing steady while I lower myself onto the bench seat. Then she takes my crutches from me and leans them against the porch railing.

Across the yard, Owen is guiding Scout through the agility course, although it doesn’t look like Scout needs any instructions. He’s racing through the obstacle course with ease.

“I think you need to make the course harder for him,” Maggie says to me.

When Scout finishes the course, Owen throws a tennis ball across the yard, and Scout tears after it.

When we hear tires crunching on the gravel lane, Scout freezes and turns to face the source of the sound.

Owen reaches into the back waistband of his jeans and takes hold of a black handgun, which he holds casually to his side. “Maybe you ladies should go inside.”

But before we move a muscle, my Jeep pulls slowly into view.

“It’s Killian,” I say.

Scout runs to the driver’s door and waits for Killian to exit, his tail wagging eagerly.

Owen walks over to Killian, and the two of them have a rather lengthy conversation. Then Killian hands Owen two sacks of food to carry inside. Killian grabs a six-pack carton of a popular local beer.

“Food’s ready,” Killian says as he holds up the beer for me to inspect. “Ruth said this is your favorite.” And then he steps up onto the porch and stops in front of me. “Doin’ okay?”

I nod. “Even better now that we have food. I’m starving.”

Killian hands the carton to Maggie, who carries it inside. Then he helps me to stand and hands me the crutches. “Did you miss me?” he says with a hint of a grin.

I nod. “I did. What did Ray say? Is everything okay?”

“I was right—he has a crush on you. But I agree Ray’s on the level. I think the poachers were using him to find you.”

“I knew he wasn’t involved with criminals.”

Killian’s hands cup my face. “You can’t be too careful, love.” He gazes down intently into my eyes. “Would you be opposed to me kissing you? Just to make sure it was as amazing as I remember it?”

I love how he makes me laugh. “I’m okay with that.”

He gives me a kiss—a hello kiss—like he’s glad to be home. It’s all very domestic. His lips are soft, yet firm, a little bossy as he nudges mine open so his tongue can slide in against mine.

“Mm,” he says. “You taste like peppermint.” He deepens the kiss, and all I can think about is his mouth on mine. One of his hands slips around to the back of my head, and the other slides down to cup my waist. Gently, he draws me against him, steadying me, until our bodies are pressed flush together. His erection nudges my belly, and the feel of his hardness makes my belly quiver.

“Ahem.” Maggie clears her throat. “Are you guys coming to eat before the food gets cold?”

We break apart, and Killian catches me when I start to lose my balance. “We’re coming,” he says.