Page 23 of Defended By the SEAL
“I’m so hot. Get these off me,” Grams said.
“No,” snapped Cowboy. “That’s a sign of hypothermia. Feeling overly warm when your body temp is dropping. You keep those blankets on, Loretta.” He added more fuel, finishing what was in the canister.
One whole tank of gas, and they hadn’t even gotten through the main trunk yet. Beside her, Tom’s teeth were chattering. “Maybe you should go to the other part of the house and warm up for a while,” Charlotte said.
He shook his head. “I’m staying here.”
“We don’t need both of you getting hypothermia. I can take care of Grams.”
“And feed the chickens,” said Grams.
Tom shot Charlotte a pained look. “I’ll be back.” He extricated himself from the branches, nearly losing his balance as he climbed away.
Charlotte repositioned herself to cover more of her grandmother’s body as Cowboy finally got the chainsaw started again. Her ears were so cold they hurt, so she used her mittened hands to cover her grandmother’s ears.
What would she do if her grandma died today, here, like this? She should have spent more time with her, should have made her a larger part of her life. And what about Cowboy? He was breaking his back working to free her, and she knew without a doubt he would do as much for anyone who needed help. He was a good man—the best of men—and she hoped she was doing the right thing by letting him go.
They stayed like that for what seemed an eternity as Cowboy sawed through the rest of the trunk and moved on to the thick branch. Tom came back carrying a steaming bowl of chicken soup for Grams, a wave of nausea rolling through Charlotte’s stomach as the scent reached her nose.
Grams shook her head, and Charlotte was grateful when Tom removed the offending liquid. She frowned. She must be getting sick. For a second there she really thought she was going to hurl, and the same thing had happened yesterday on the plane, then later at dinner.
A terrifying thought dawned on her. When was her period due? It seemed like she should have had it by now. God, could she be pregnant?
No, it wasn’t possible. She was on the pill. Grams’s story had terrified her, the idea of a tiny human being affecting her decisions terrifying her—and for good reason. Still, she itched to check the calendar on her phone. Oh God, what if she was? What if she’d finally gotten the courage to break things off with Cowboy, and she was tied to him forever by a little human being?
You slept with him last night. It’s not like you really got him out of your system.
She squeezed her eyes closed tightly. No, she hadn’t made a successful break, and if she was being completely honest with herself, she wasn’t sure she could do it. He wassawing her grandmother out of an entrapment right that very instant, for goodness’ sake. What kind of woman could walk away from that?
She watched him working, the muscles of his forearms standing out in relief, golden hair covering his skin. She loved the feel of it, loved to run her fingers along his body and hear the deep groan in his throat.
Stop it.
What would a child of theirs look like? She imagined a tow-headed little boy with his father’s mischievous grin, her heart instantly warming to the image. But children were more of a commitment than marriage, and if she couldn’t get herself to marry Leo, then how could she have his child? She might break out in hives just thinking about it.
Maybe Tom poisoned the soup in an attempt to take her grandmother’s fortune, and that was what she’d been reacting to, like some highly trained canine who could smell a dangerous broth from ten paces away.
She rolled her eyes. She was losing her fucking mind.
Suddenly, the chainsaw slipped from the branch and nearly hit the floor, its motor stopping. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Cowboy hopped on one leg, cursing a blue streak of obscenities. When he stopped, he reached for his pant leg, a slice in the denim of his jeans stained red. Charlotte gasped.
“It’s just a scratch,” he said. His eyes went to Grams, so still in her chair. “How’s she doing?”
Charlotte looked at her grandmother. Her eyes were closed, and she appeared to be sleeping. Fear spiked through Charlotte’s bloodstream as she tried unsuccessfully to wake the old woman. “Hurry, Leo.”
This time, the chainsaw started on the first pull, Grams’sfate tied to the remaining few inches of wood between her and freedom.Please don’t let her die, she chanted in her mind.
It took what seemed like an eternity, the repeated stops and starts of the chainsaw getting more and more frequent before stopping once and for all. Charlotte turned hopeful eyes Cowboy’s way, hoping he was done, but the branch remained where it was.
Cowboy punctuated his frustration with a colorful string of curses and unscrewed the gas cap. “The goddamn thing’s out of gas.”
Before Charlotte knew what they were about, Cowboy had sent Tom to look for a manual saw. When he finally returned, he handed Cowboy a hacksaw.
“Not so mechanically inclined, are you?” asked Cowboy, bending with the saw and going to work on the final strip of wood between his cut and Grams’s freedom. He wondered how someone who didn’t know a hacksaw from a hole in the wall could have fixed a broken pipe, and figured there was a decent chance the basement was flooding with water that very instant.
The muscles of Cowboy’s arms burned, but he fought against the fatigue that begged him to stop moving. Finally, the saw broke through the branch, its weight falling away from the chair where Grams sat.
