“I did want that, and you promised it to me, but apparently your mother thought it would be a good idea for Taylor to get some peace and quiet as well.”
“And what have the two of you been doing?” Bryson asked, hands on his hips. “The cabin only has one room.”
Taylor saw that her brother was also carrying a gun. This could end badly.
“Are you accusing me of something, Bryson?” Travis asked in an almost deadly calm that sent a shiver down Taylor’s spine. It was time to step in.
“This is none of your damn business, Bryson,” she said, and Bryson turned her way. “If you have a problem or want to make accusations, then maybe you should fire your questions at me.”
“I don’t need you to step in for me,” Travis said, still obviously unhappy with Bryson’s attitude.
“We’ll talk later,” Taylor said, sending him a look that had shut up more than one man during her years on the circuit.
“Yeah, we will.” Another shiver passed down her spine. This one wasn’t fear, though.
Turning away from Travis before the two of them combusted, she faced Bryson again. Finally, his hands dropped and he walked up to her. “I’m sorry, sis. I’m just worried about you,” he said and gave her a hug.
“It’s okay to worry about me, but you don’t have to come in here acting like an ass in the process.” But she easily accepted his apologetic hug and gave him a big squeeze in return. “And though it’s none of your business, we’ve been taking turns with the room. I was quite unhappy to find Travis here at first, and I wanted him to leave, but he’s been . . . helpful, and not bad company.”
“What? You’re making her sleep on the couch?” Bryson said as he turned toward Travis.
Before Travis could reply, she spoke. “That also is none of your business.”
She stared sternly at her brother for several long seconds while he seemed to be gathering his wits. Finally, he gave her a sheepish grin before pulling her close to his side.
“Okay. I’ll leave you alone, but just know that I can be here in less than an hour if Travis gets out of line,” he told her, turning his head and sending Travis a look only guys could read.
“Deal,” she said, sending her own little smirk Travis’s way.
And just like that, the tension was defused. They all made a couple of trips out to her parents’ gigantic SUV and brought in all the new supplies her mother had bought.
“Are you thinking I’ll be out here for the next decade, Mom?” Taylor asked with a laugh as she looked at the bags now covering the counter and kitchen floor.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d need,” Maggie said. Her mother had always been a nurturer to anyone who needed help.
“I really appreciate it,” Taylor said. “I’ll appreciate it a lot more if you help me put it away.” Otherwise it would take all night to get the supplies organized.
The family spent a pleasant afternoon visiting, and when the sun began to set, Travis lit a small fire in the outdoor pit. Taylor curled her legs beneath her and roasted a marshmallow to perfection before slapping it onto a graham cracker with chocolate. An absolutely perfect s’more.
“So flipping good,” she said with a sigh, making her brothers laugh.
Travis, Hawk, and Bryson were on the other side of the fire, enjoying the fragrant cigars Hawk had brought along, and her parents were sitting together on a large log with notches for seats.
Soon the conversation quieted, and Taylor found her eyes drifting closed. She was sound asleep when her parents and brothers packed themselves into the SUV and promised Travis they’d return soon.
She woke up only partially, just enough to think it all a dream, when Travis lifted her into his arms, carried her inside, and laid her on the bed. After removing her shoes and sweatshirt, he covered her up and headed for the door.
Her last sigh was his name on her lips.
Travis jerked straight up on the ridiculously uncomfortable couch, instantly awake and alert as he tried to focus his eyes in the dark room.
Only shadows danced on the walls from the dying embers in the fireplace, but it was enough light for him to get his bearings and see that no silhouettes, either human or animal, were moving around the cabin. What had woken him?
A groan of pain coming from the bedroom answered his unspoken question. Instantly on his feet, grabbing the gun he kept beneath the couch, he moved swiftly to Taylor’s room and pushed open the door, the bathroom light casting a soft glow over her grimacing face as she held her knee to her chest and twisted around on the bed.
“Taylor, what is it?” he asked, instantly putting the gun down on the nightstand and carefully sitting on the edge of the bed as he reached out a hand for her.
“It’s nothing,” she said shakily.
“I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is.”
“My leg,” she groaned. Her body tensed and sweat broke out on her head.
“What happened?” He reached for the leg she was holding, and tried to see whether there was an open wound. He couldn’t find anything, but the light was dim.
“It’s an old injury,” she replied, tears now falling down her face as she writhed in pain before him.
“What can I do?”
“Nothing. I get these muscle spasms in my thigh, and when they hit, they’re pure hell, but I just have to suffer through it.” She twisted again, moaning, and this time, her body fell against his. She was in too much pain to scoot away.
“What if I massage it?”