Buckhorn Beginnings. Lori Foster

Good grief, she thought, still staring. Was every man in this family overflowing with raw sexuality?

       “A new addition,” Jordan explained. “I found the poor thing on my office doorstep this morning.”

       Rolling his eyes, Sawyer said to Honey, “My brother is a vet—and a sucker for every stray or injured animal that crosses his path.”

       Jordan merely slanted a very pointed look at Honey and then said to Sawyer, “And you’re any different, I suppose?”

       They both smiled—while Honey bristled. She didn’t exactly take to the idea of being likened to a stray cat.

       “Jordan, why don’t you put the cat in the other room and fetch some tea for our guest? She’s still chilled, and from the sounds of her cough, her throat is sore.”

       “Sure, no problem.”

      But before he could go, another man entered, and Honey could do no more than stare. This man was the biggest of the lot, a little taller than even Sawyer and definitely more muscle-bound. He had bulging shoulders and a massive chest and thick thighs. Like Sawyer, he had black hair, though his was quite a bit longer and somewhat unruly. And his eyes were blue, not the pale blue of Gabe’s, but dark blue, almost like her own but more piercing, more intent. She saw no softness, no giving in his gaze, only ruthlessness.

       He had a noticeable five o’clock shadow, and a stern expression that made her shiver and sink a little deeper into the bed.

       Sawyer immediately stepped over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder, letting her know it was okay, offering that silent comfort again. But she still felt floored when he said, “My brother Morgan, the town sheriff.”

       Oh, God. A sheriff? How many damn brothers did this man have?

       “Ignore his glare, honey. We pulled him from some unfinished business, no doubt, and he’s a tad…disgruntled.”

       Jordan laughed. “Unfinished business? That wouldn’t be female business, would it?”

       “Go to hell, Jordan.” Then Morgan’s gaze landed heavily on Honey, though he spoke to Sawyer. “Gabe called me. You mind telling me what’s going on?”

       Honey was getting tired of hearing Sawyer explain. She looked up at him and asked in her rough, almost unrecognizable voice, “Just how many brothers do you have?”

       Jordan smiled. “So she does have a voice.”

       Morgan frowned. “Why would you think she didn’t?”

       And Sawyer laughed. “She’s been quiet, Morgan, that’s all. She’s sick, a little disoriented and naturally wary of all of you overgrown louts tromping in and out.”

       Then to Honey, he said, “There’s five of us, including my son, Casey. We all live here, and as it seems you’re going to stay put for a spell, too, it’s fortunate you’ve already met them all.”

       His statement was received with varying reactions. She was appalled, because she had no intention at all of staying anywhere. It simply wasn’t safe.

       Jordan looked concerned. Morgan looked suspicious.

       And in walked Gabe, toting a box. “Nearly everything was wet by the time I got there, except this box of photos she had stashed in the back window. I figured it’d be safer in the house. Casey is helping to unload everything else from the truck, but it’s all a mess so we’re stowing it in the barn for now. And it looks like it might rain soon. It clouded up real quick. I think we’re in for a doozy.”

       Honey glanced toward the wall of windows. Sure enough, the sky was rapidly turning dark and thick, purplish storm clouds drifted into view. Just what she needed.

       Sawyer nodded. “Thanks, Gabe. If it starts to lightning, have Casey come in.”

       “I already told him.”

       “Morgan, can you get the county towing truck in the morning and pull her car out of the lake? I want to put it in the shed.”

       Morgan rubbed his rough jaw with a large hand. “The shed? Why not Smitty’s garage so it can be fixed? Or do I even want to know?”

       “It’s a long story, better explained after I find out what ails her. Which I can’t do until you all get the hell out of here.”

       The brothers took the hint and reluctantly began inching out. Before they could all go, though, Sawyer asked, “Any dry clothes in her things, Gabe?”

       “Nope, no clothes that I saw. Mostly it’s books, hair stuff…junk like that.” He dropped the box of framed photos on the floor in front of the closet.

       “I don’t suppose any of you have a housecoat?”

       Three snorts supplied his answer.

       If Honey hadn’t been feeling so wretched, she would have smiled. And she definitely would have explained to Sawyer that the clothes she wore would have to do, because she wasn’t about to strip out of them.

       “Any type of pajamas?”

       He got replies of, “You’ve got to be kidding,” and, “Never use the things,” while Morgan merely laughed.

       Squeezing her eyes shut, Honey thought, No, no, they’re not all telling me they sleep in the nude! She did her best not to form any mental images, but she was surrounded by masculine perfection in varying sizes and styles, and a picture of Sawyer resting in this very bed, naked as a Greek statue, popped into her brain. Additional heat swept over her, making her dizzy again. She could almost feel the imprint of his large body, and she trembled in reaction. She decided it was her illness making her muddled; she’d certainly never been so focused on her sexuality before. Now, she was acutely aware of it.

       She opened her eyes and would have shaken her head to clear it, but she was afraid the motion would make her unsettled stomach pitch again.

       Casey stuck his head into the room. “I have an old baseball jersey that’d fit her.”

       “No, thank you—”

       Sawyer easily overrode her. “Good. Bring it here.”

       The brothers all looked at each other, grinning, then filed out. Sawyer leaned down close, hands on his hips, and gave her a pointed frown. “Now.”

       “Now what?” All her worries, all the fears, were starting to swamp back in on her. She coughed, her chest hurting, her head hurting worse. She felt weak and shaky and vulnerable, which automatically made her defensive. “I’ll be fine. If…if Morgan would pull my car out, I’d be appreciative. I’ll pay you for your trouble… .”

       Sawyer interrupted, shaking his head and sitting on the side of the bed. “You’re not paying me, dammit, and you aren’t going anywhere.”

       “But…”

       “Honey, even if he gets your car out in the morning—and there’s no guarantee, figuring how it’s stuck in the mud and it looks like a storm’s on the way—but even if he did, the car will need repairs.”

       “Then I’ll walk.”

       “Now why would you wanna do that? Especially considering you can barely stand.” His tone turned gentle, cajoling. He produced a thermometer and slipped it under her tongue, making it impossible for her to reply. “We have plenty of room here, and you need someone to look after you until you’re well.”

       She pulled out the thermometer. “It’s…it’s not safe.”

       “For you?”

       Honey debated for a long moment, considering all her options. But he was trying to help, and with every second that passed, she grew more tired. The bed was so soft, the quilt warm, if she was going to move, it had to be now before she got settled and no longer wanted to. She started to sit up, but Sawyer’s large, competent hands on her shoulders gently pressed her back