Chapter 2

Ana blinked several times, trying to wrap her mind around the sights that met her eyes. A hospital monitor blinked beside the bed she lay on. Through the open door she could see medical personnel behind a long counter and people moving up and down the hallway. She turned to look at the other side of the room and her eyes widened in surprise.

Okay, I’m dreaming, she decided, or dead. Either way, the sight that met her eyes was quite appealing. A man dressed in snug, faded jeans, scarred boots and a tight white tee shirt that stretched enticingly over his broad chest and brawny arms, sat in a chair beside the bed, his elbows on his knees holding a black cowboy hat in his hands between his spread knees. His head was bowed, his dark hair falling over his forehead.

Ana had always been a sucker for the cowboy type. Maybe it was genetic. Her paternal grandfather had been a bull rider. Her father, Joshua Stillwater, was not interested in following in his father’s footsteps and left at the age of sixteen to seek his future elsewhere. He found it in the shape of Fia MacGregor, a young woman from the highlands of Scotland whose family had immigrated to America.

Fia, as it turned out, had a soft spot for cowboy types too, so Fiana, shortened to Ana, spent many an evening sitting on rough bleachers watching local rodeo events in whatever place her parents landed for the moment. Even after her parents had been killed in an auto accident, Ana had secretly continued the tradition, watching the rodeo on television, and secretly dreaming of real cowboys with piercing dark eyes and long, lean bodies.

Now it looked like she’d come full circle, because unless her eyes deceived her, the man seated beside the bed was not of the drugstore cowboy variety. His jeans were worn but clean, clinging snuggly to the well-developed muscles of his thighs. His hands appeared rough, not the hands of a desk worker, and his arms were corded with the kind of muscle that develops from work instead of achieved in a gym. He had the kind of body her mother would have called a “real man.”

At the moment Ana could not help but admire that real man physique. But then the man raised his head and looked at her and time stopped. Ana looked into dark eyes that belonged only in her dreams. So dark was the brown that it was barely distinguishable from the black of his pupils. Black thick lashes rimmed the hooded wells of darkness and thick brows drawn elegantly together parted and lifted in surprise.

His face might well have been carved by a master, all masculine angles with a firm, strong chin, and slightly long straight nose over a set of lush full lips that begged to be kissed.

Chase was shocked immobile when her eyes met his. He’d been watching her for hours, waiting for her to regain consciousness and planning his strategy to charm her into letting him off the hook for running over her.

She was a small woman, no more than a couple of inches over five feet. Surprisingly, for a woman so small, she had sumptuous full breasts. Her arms were muscled but not heavily, just well-toned with enough definition to stand testament that she was in good shape.

Her hair was long, silky, and dark, the color so deep a black that even in the artificial light of the hospital, it shone with highlights like the midnight of a raven’s wing. High cheekbones gave her a slightly exotic appeal, as did the luscious full lips and bronze tone of her skin.

But the eyes that locked unblinkingly with his were the most arresting feature of her face. Large and almond-shaped, they were the amber-yellow eyes of a jungle cat. Ringed by the thickest, longest lashes he’d ever seen on a woman that were not manufactured or enhanced, her eyes were the stuff of male fantasy. Which would explain why there was action taking place in a part of his anatomy that made him distinctly uncomfortable. The longer they stared at one another, the harder he got.

Chase finally broke eye contact. He looked down at his hat, using the moment to clear his thoughts, and then looked back up at her.

Ana was disappointed when the man broke eye contact. As long as their eyes were locked, she did not have to be connected to the real world. She could stay inside the fantasy, imagining that she was looking into the eyes of her destiny.

But the moment ended, and she was forced out of fantasy and back to the real world, where she was in a hospital with a man she did not know.

“What’s wrong with me?” she asked.

Chase nearly groaned. It wasn’t bad enough that she was hot enough to start a fire. She just had to have a slightly husky, low voice that inspired thoughts of hot sweaty nights and passion that burned long after the stars had faded from the sky.

“You were—uh, you were in an accident.”

“Yeah, that part I remember,” she said. “But what’s wrong with me? I’m kind of scared to look for myself. Do I still have all my arms and legs and necessary things? Do I look like I went through a meat grinder? Do I still have both ears and a nose and all that?”

Chase could not help but grin at the questions. “Yeah, Sassy, you still have everything and lucky for you there’s not a mark on your pretty face. You have some busted-up ribs but that’s the worst of it.”

Ana blew out her breath in relief and started to sit. “Ouch!” She grumbled at the pain sitting caused. But at least she could sit. She checked out her arms and lifted the sheet to peer underneath at her legs as she moved them and wiggled her toes.

“So,” she pulled the sheet up and arranged herself with her legs crossed in front of her beneath the sheet. “Who are you and why are you sitting here with me? Are you the sheriff or marshal or whatever you have here? Do you know who hit me? Where’s Fergi and where is my purse? How long have I been here? How long was I unconscious? How long do I have to stay—”

“Hold on, there.” Chase held up one hand. “One question at a time.”

“Okay,” she agreed, thinking he was as attractive when he smiled as wearing a somber expression, and what a nice low-pitched voice he had, very soft and low but extremely masculine and sexy. “First question. Who are you and why are you here?”

“My name’s Chase Hawks and I’m here because…” He got up and paced to the foot of the bed, clutching his hat nervously in front of him. “Well, I’m here because it was me that hit you.”

She turned to face him. “You’re the truck that ran over me?” Obviously, her bad luck was holding since the guilty party was standing in front of her, looking for all the world like someone she’d rather rape than rip. But sexy or not, he’d still run her down, and now she’d be faced with hospital bills she couldn’t pay, which was the last thing she needed.

“Yes, ma’am. I am.”

“Yes, ma’am?” she blurted. “No, I didn’t mean to—it wasn’t my fault—you should have been watching more carefully or I didn’t see you?” she shot the questions racing through her mind at him in rapid fire. “Just yes, ma’am?”

He didn’t respond and she studied him. “Well, I appreciate you being so honest, Mr. Hawks, and I’m sorry this messed up your day. I’m sure you have better things to do than sit in the hospital with a stranger.”

Chase had not expected that from her. “Miss…uh, I don’t know your name.”

“Fiana Stillwater.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Now, Mr. Chase Hawks, if you’d be so good as to call the doctor, I think I’ll be leaving.”

“You can’t just leave,” Chase objected.

“Watch me.” Ana threw back the sheet and went to hop off the bed. Only her ribs made her gasp and hang onto the bed for support. “Where are my clothes?” She looked around the room. “And my purse? And you still haven’t told me what happened to Fergi.”

Chase looked around as well. “I don’t know. I guess they put your clothes somewhere. I don’t know anything about a purse. And who the hell is Fergi?”

“Well, find out!” Ana was starting to panic. Every cent to her name was in that purse. Without it, she was completely sunk. No way to get her car fixed, get a place to stay or feed herself.

Chase hurried out of the room. Ana searched the room and found a plastic bag in a small closet containing her clothes. She hurriedly dressed and was putting on her shoes when Chase returned with a doctor.

“Miss?” the doctor addressed her.

“What?” She looked up at him.

“I don’t think it would be wise for you to leave just yet.”

“Nonsense,” she argued. “A few broken ribs aren’t that serious. So, if you’ll just give me my purse and my discharge papers I’ll be leaving.”

The doctor looked at Chase and Chase shrugged. “Miss…?”

“Stillwater,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yes, Miss Stillwater. There was no purse brought in with you. All of your personal belongings—”

“No, no, no, no, no!” She put her hands up to her face, the heels pressing into her eyes. “This cannot be happening!”

“Miss Stillwater, if you would just—”

Ana cut the doctor off. “Get out! I mean it. Get out of here and leave me alone.”

The doctor gave Chase a look and left the room. Ana turned on Chase. “You too. You’ve screwed up my life enough for one day, so get out.”

“Look, Miss Stillwater, I know it’s an inconvenience losing your purse but—”

“An inconvenience?” She turned on him with eyes flashing. “An inconvenience is having to detour a block to get where you’re going. An inconvenience is having no cream for your coffee. This…” she gestured around the room. “This is not an inconvenience. Losing every last red cent to my name is not an inconvenience. Having my car break down in Bumfuck, Arizona, is not an inconvenience. Having my no-account husband shoot at my familiar is not an inconvenience. Getting beat all to shit and having to hide out for two months, getting sued for contributing to the delinquency of a peeping-tom minor, watching your rabbit get eaten by a Doberman, losing your job because your stupid boss couldn’t grow his stupid pot at home—none of that is an inconvenience! It’s life saying, ‘Fuck you, Ana Stillwater—fuck you up the ass and to hell with the jelly.’”

At a loss for more words, yet still filled with rage and anxiety, Ana plunked down on the bed and buried her face in the pillow, screaming her head off. All of the events of the last few months finally burst through the emotional barrier she’d created, and she could no more stop the flood of emotion than she could prevent the sun from rising. The monitor beside the bed started beeping madly and the door to the small closet flew open and banged against the wall.

Chase stood there dumbfounded. The damn machine beside the bed was beeping enough to pierce his eardrums, and the woman was screaming at the top of her lungs into the pillow, kicking her legs like she was swimming and bouncing the bed around.

Part of him wanted to laugh at the dramatics and all the crazy things she’d said. Another part was extremely aroused by her energy, anger, and fire, and yet another part wondered why, of all the people in the world he could have run over, did it have to be a beautiful lunatic.

“You’ve got to stop that!” He walked over to the bed and grabbed her shoulder to roll her over. “You’re gonna have people thinking you’re dying in here.”

“Ouch!” she yelled as he rolled her face-up on the bed. “Get off me, you Neanderthal! That’s hurts!”

Chase released her and stepped back. “Sorry. But you’ve got to calm down.”

“Do I?” she spat at him. “Why? Because it keeps from upsetting other people? Because it makes you uncomfortable? Well, guess what? I don’t care. I’m sick and tired of being everyone’s doormat and getting shit on every time I turn around and if I feel like screaming then I’m going to scream.”

“Fine.” Chase tossed her the pillow and turned to close the door. “So ahead. Scream. Act like a hysterical, irrational woman but it’s not going to change anything and it sure as hell isn’t going to make things any different.”

“Well, what difference does it make to you?” She came off the bed at him. “You’re going to leave and go on with your nice life, just a little inconvenienced by the fact that you ran over me. Not so easy for me. I’m stuck in this…place with no money, no job, no car and no one to turn to. So don’t preach to me about irrationality, buster.”

With that last word she poked him in the chest with her index finger. Chase looked down at her, trying to keep a lid on the anger simmering just beneath the surface. “Don’t do that,” he warned her in a low voice.

“Or what?” She poked him again. “You’ll run over me again?”

She went to poke him again, but he grabbed her wrist and jerked her up close to him. Ana froze and turned white as a ghost. All of a sudden, she wasn’t in a hospital room railing at a cowboy she didn’t know. She was back at home, staring into the face of her infuriated husband as he rained blows on her. The pain she felt in her ribs was real but at the moment she didn’t see it as due to the truck that hit her but that caused by her husband’s fists and feet.

Chase saw the color drain out of her face and fear rise in her golden eyes. He tried to pull her to him, to comfort her, but that was the wrong move. She went wild, hitting and kicking at him, wild-eyed and panting.

It was all Chase could do to keep her from hurting herself as he fended off her blows. It took longer than he anticipated for her to run out of steam. By the time she literally collapsed in his arms, they were both red-faced and sweaty.

He carried her to the bed and propped her against the pillows. Ana stared at him blankly for a long time then jerked and blinked several times. “Oh my god.” Color flooded her face. “I…I’m…forgive me. I…” She covered her face with her hands, horrified at what she had done.

Chase waited for her to lower her hands. “Look, Miss Stillwater, it’s obvious that you’ve had some trouble in your life, and I’ve just added to it. For my part, I am sorry. And if you’ll let me, I’ll help you get your car back and a place to stay until you can get on your feet and get home.”

Ana laughed hollowly. “That’s kind of you, Mr. Hawks, but that’s kind of the reason I ended up here—trying to get as far away from home as possible.”

Chase considered it for a few moments. The doctor had said that the breaks in her ribs looked to be more of a reopening of unhealed fractures than new breaks. And with what she’d screamed at him, it was a pretty solid bet that she was on the run from an abusive husband. Which made her trouble with a capital T. He could be making a huge mistake, but at this point he didn’t see where he had a choice. “Fine, then don’t go home. Stay here, find another place, do what you want. But until it’s time for you to make that decision, I’m going to help.”

Ana was touched that a complete stranger would be so kind, particularly considering her actions the last hour. “Thank you, but that’s asking too much. When I said I was broke, I really meant it. I had three hundred dollars in my purse and that’s all the money I have in the world. Everything I own is in the back of my car on Highway 70, and I don’t have any family. They’re all dead and now it’s just me. But that’s okay. I’ve been on my own a long time and I’ll figure out a way. I always do. I can’t take anything from you, Mr. Hawks. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Actually, it would,” he argued. “See, the facts are, I ran over you. Now, by rights, you could sue me for that. But I’m hoping you won’t because it really was an accident. I was wrestling my cell phone out of my dog’s mouth and just didn’t see you. But that doesn’t change the fact that I hit you. So, as I see it, the least I can do is help you until you’re able to help yourself. That way we can call it even.”

Ana studied his face and searched his eyes. Was he really as genuine and sincere as he seemed, or was he just another person trying to pull the wool over her eyes and get his butt out of a legal sling into the bargain? She did not want to think so, but she had a habit of thinking the best of people and it often got her into trouble.

But what choice did she really have? “What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Well, I guess you can stay with me ‘til you’re healed up. After that we’ll figure out what to do next.”

“Stay with you?” Ugly doubt rose and she tried to push it aside. “I can’t do that. I don’t even know you.”

“Well, I’m not exactly a serial killer,” he snapped then immediately apologized. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bite. Look, I’m not suggesting that I take you to bed. Just that I give you a place to stay. I have extra room and I’m gone a lot, so you probably wouldn’t see much of me anyway.”

“What do you do?” Ana’s natural curiosity was piqued.

“I run a ranch, and I rope.”

“A ranch? As in cows?”

“A few. Mostly horses.”

Ana opened her mouth to say no, but an image flashed in her mind from Fergi, along with a bit of advice. She would not have acted on the advice it come from another source, but Fergi was the one dependable being in her life.

“Oh, well… Okay, Mr. Hawks, you have a deal. On one condition. I’ll work for you in exchange for room and board until I can get a job and get enough money together to get my car fixed.”

“You want to work for me?” He couldn’t help but smile at the idea. “And just how much experience do you have with ranching?”

Ana returned his smile. “Not much, but I’m a fast learner. So, do we have a deal?” She stuck out her hand.

Chase grinned and took her small hand in his. “We do, Miss Stillwater. We certainly do.”