Page 23 of Roughing It with the Rancher

He shrugs, wincing at the movement. “Dunno. But it ain’t bad enough for an ambulance or anything. I may need help assessing whatever the fuck happened to my back, though.”

“Yeah, it’s bleeding,” I observe, a shiver running through me as I eye the debris pile, wondering how he survived.

“You may be digging splinters out of places I don’t want to even think about,” he laughs, shaking his head. “I thought for a moment I was a goner. Damn, Esmeralda. I should’ve knownbetter, though. You’re my good luck charm and my guardian angel.”

“But where? How?” I can’t piece my words together, mind-boggled by his escape.

“After I sent you through the hole. I only had a moment to think, sprinting back along the wall and sliding through a space torn open as the structure finished its descent. I came out somewhere over there,” he says, pointing toward the far end of the barn. “In a blinding cloud of debris and dust.”

“You saved my life, Reese, without even thinking about your own,” I observe, my bottom lip quivering.

“You’re my wife, Esmeralda. Fake or real, I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever.”

His words rush through me like a spring breeze. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” I whimper, leaning into him and planting my lips firmly on his, determined not to squelch this second chance with him.

He seizes me without hesitation, pulling me against him with a low, satisfied moan. His arms circle my waist, lips dancing over mine, ardent and tinged with the metallic taste of blood. He must have a cut lip on top of everything. I try to pull away, fearful of hurting him further, but his embrace transforms into steel bands, holding me in place as his warm, velvety tongue slips and slides me into mindless bliss.

My knees feel as weak as the moment they gave out in front of the barn, melting into his robust, safe presence. All I can think about is how I almost lost him and how desperately I need him.Though we still have so much to learn about each other.

I whimper at the rhythm his tongue initiates, my blood igniting from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes as the juncture at the top of my legs sizzles. He claims me ravenously again and again as my mind races with other naughty ways he could use his tongue.

Heart pounding against my ribs like a timpani, I’m certain he can feel it. He pulls back, his eyes pooling with tenderness and warmth. “Come on, Angel. Let’s go back into the house so you can assess whether I’ll need a second call to nine-one-one.”

“Do you think you might?”

He side-eyes me, red-cheeked and smiling warmly. “If it were just me, no. I assure you I’ve been through worse without medical attention. But if you need to see paramedics and hear what they say to feel better, we’ll call.” He swipes a dusty finger over my jawline. “Part of being a decent husband is caring about your wife’s concerns and needs. I’ve done a shitty job of that so far today, but I promise to do better moving forward.”

“No, you haven’t. You saved my life. And then, you saved me from being a widow.”

He stops, his eyes narrowing. “But wouldn’t being a widow leave you sitting pretty? This ranch all to yourself and no grumpy rancher to contend with?”

I strain upwards, kissing him again. “Don’t talk that way. You mean more to me than I can say … though I barely know you.”

Dimples flash in his cheeks as he smiles, returning the warm embrace. “I’m glad to hear we share the same feelings.”

We start up the porch stairs into the house, heated affection growing between us, until he grimaces.

“Are you okay?”

“My knee’s a little sore.” He scowls.

Chapter Ten

REESE

“Welcome to our humble abode, Angel,” I say as I hobble through the front door, still trying to figure out what the hell’s wrong with my knee. It’s fine walking on level ground, but stairs piss it the hell off.

We stand in the large Victorian entryway with its ancient furniture and decor, an homage to the early ranching successes of my great-grandfather. If Esmeralda’s right, that all changed about the time the El Cortez treasure found its way here. I wonder if my ancestor even knew about it? Or if Tyler Eldon Hayes stumbled across the stash, reburied it, and created the map to return at a later date? All I know is I need to take a look at the original.

“I should grab your luggage so we can take a closer look at the map,” I suggest.

“No way,” Esmeralda scolds. “I need to assess your injuries first. See if you need real medical treatment.”

“I’m fine, Treasure. But my head is swimming with a thousand questions about Tyler Eldon Hayes and the map. I need to see it.”

Her face hardens, and she presses her lips firmly together. “No, Reese. I am not putting the treasure before your health. Do you have a first-aid kit somewhere around here?”

“I’m telling you I’m fine, Esmeralda. Let me look at that map.”

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