Page 22 of Some Cowgirls are Worth Protecting

She looked away. “I don’t think that’s going to happen any time soon. I can hear everything that’s happening outside of my window.” She glanced over to the window again. “I’m guessing even after we board it up, it will be worse.”

“You’re not sleeping in here anymore.”

When she looked up at him with confusion, he continued.

“You’re staying in the room next to mine. I don’t like you being down here alone. We’ll board up the room and lock the door. It’s better for us to stay close.”

She couldn’t tell him how much his offer meant to her. To do so would inevitably push her to tears again. Instead, she simply nodded and said, “Okay.”

11

Hudson

Hudson couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d been filled with more fury than he was in this moment. Rachel didn’t deserve any of the treatment she’d suffered at the hands of those miscreants.

Holding her trembling body only fueled his rage. It was one thing to damage property, but to put that kind of fear into someone needed punishment. If he hadn’t been so worried about her, he would have jumped in his truck and chased them down. They wouldn’t have gotten far, and he knew it—mostly because he didn’t recognize them.

They were cowboys—but that was as far as their “local” nature took them. They could have been part of any one of the communities that surrounded Copper Creek. Come to think of it, they could be part of one of the criminal groups that had hung around the area a few years back when there was a shoot-out at Sal’s diner.

Whoever they were, Hudson wasn’t going to allow them to get within a hundred feet of Rachel. He didn’t care what he had to do to make that happen. If he had to stand guard outside of Rachel’s door, so be it.

Currently, he sat on his bed, waiting for the shuffling sounds to come to an end. From the sounds of it, Rachel was pacing. She’d refused to call her sister. They’d agreed on filing a report with the sheriff in the morning and leaving the room untouched.

Hudson had to force himself to sit still so he wouldn’t be tempted to go check on the pretty woman in the room next door. The last thing she probably wanted was for him to remind her of what had just happened.

And yet the itch to go in there couldn’t have been stronger.

He eyed the rifle on his bed, prepared to use it at a moment’s notice.

This was why he hated people so much. They were miserable, no-good wastes of space. His angry energy continued to mount until there was a soft knock on his door. He jumped to his feet, grabbing the rifle as he did. Charging forward, he didn’t think twice about what he might have to do next.

Hudson swung open the door to a startled Rachel. Her hair was up in a messy bun, her eyes red from crying. She wore a white tank top with a pair of baggy sweatpants. And the only thing he could think about was how beautiful she looked, even after going through this trauma.

Her wide eyes dropped down to the rifle, then bounced back to his face.

“What is it? Did you hear something? I knew I should have pushed to get those dogs. I swear, that will be high on the priority list?—”

“I can’t sleep,” she interrupted him with a soft voice. Rachel wrung her hands and glanced away. “I’ve tried to lay down on my bed a hundred times. I just keep thinking about… what if they come back?” Her voice broke, and along with it, something inside him.

Hudson could pull her into his chest. He could whisper assurances that nothing would happen to her and he’d be here to protect her. But that wasn’t what their relationship was. He’d be overstepping. “I could sit outside your room if that would help.”

He didn’t think it was possible, but her eyes widened further. Her cheeks colored, and she looked away once more. “I could never ask you to do that.”

What else was there? It wasn’t like he’d be sleeping any time soon. He was wired. There was a part of him that still itched to go out there to hunt, and he wasn’t planning on tracking any defenseless animals, either.

His hand tightened on the rifle, and he shifted uncomfortably. For once in his life, he was at a complete loss for what to do. He wanted to fix this—to help her. His heart yearned to make this right. A very big part of him blamed himself for what had happened. If he’d only been here, maybe he could have prevented this.

The guilt ate at him like a corrosive acid, and his stomach roiled in response. Before he could tell her just how sorry he was for all of this, she spoke again.

“Do you think… would it be weird if…” Her blush deepened a few more shades, and she brought a trembling hand up to her hair as if she needed to fix it. “Could I stay in your room? It would only be for tonight. I could sleep on the floor?—”

“Absolutely not,” he cut off her rambling, to which she gaped at him. He hurried on to clarify, “You’ll take the bed. I’ll keep watch. And before you say anything, I’m not tired. I don’t think I could sleep if I wanted to.” He pulled the door open wider and jerked his chin toward the queen bed he’d been using.

Her eyes darted to the bed, then back to him. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t. You need your sleep.”

“So do you,” she said sharply, her authoritative tone returning. “I can’t have you exhausted when you’re supposed to be keeping an eye on the place.”

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