Buckhorn Beginnings Read Online Free

sick now, but she couldn’t lie to herself any longer. She was sick, and it was sheer dumb luck that she hadn’t killed herself, or someone else, in the wreck.
    She still didn’t know if she could trust him. At first, he’d called her honey, and she thought he knew her name, thought he might be one of them. But he denied it so convincingly, it was possible she’d misunderstood. He’d certainly made no overt threat toher so far. All she knew for sure was that he was strong and warm and he said he only wanted to help her. While he held her, she couldn’t find the wit to object.
    But then his strong arms flexed, and she found herself lowered to a soft bed. Her eyes flew open wide and she stared upward at him—until her head began to spin again. “Oh, God.” She dropped back, trying to still the spinning of the room.
    â€œJust rest a second.”
    More cautiously now, she peeked her eyes open. The man—Sawyer, he said his name was—picked up a white T-shirt thrown over the footboard and pulled it on. It fit him snugly, molding to his shoulders and chest. He wasn’t muscle-bound, but rather leanly cut, like an athlete. His wide solid shoulders tapered into a narrow waist. Faded jeans hugged his thighs and molded to his…
    Face flaming, she looked down at the soft mattress he’d put her on. Her drenched, muddy jeans were making a mess of things. “The quilt—”
    â€œIs an old one. Don’t worry about it. A little lake water isn’t going to hurt anything.” So saying, he pulled another quilt from the bottom of the bed and folded it around her chest, helping to warm her. She gratefully snuggled into it.
    That taken care of, he looked over his broad shoulder to the door, and as if he’d commanded it, his son appeared, carrying a medical bag. Casey looked nonplussed to see where his father had put her. “Ah, Dad, I already got a bed ready for her, the one in the front room.”
    Sawyer took the medical bag from Casey, then said, “This one will do.”
    â€œBut where will you sleep?”
    On alert, Honey listened to the byplay between father and son. Casey was earnest, she could see that much in his young, handsome face, but Sawyer had his back to her so she could only guess at his expression.
    â€œCasey, you can go help Gabe, now.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œGo on.”
    Casey reluctantly nodded, casting a few quick glances at Honey. “All right. But if you need anything else—”
    â€œIf I do, I’ll holler.”
    The boy went out and shut the door behind him. Nervously, Honey took in her surroundings. The room was gorgeous, like something out of a Home Show magazine. She’d never seen anything like it, and for the moment, she was distracted. Pine boards polished to a golden glow covered the floor, three walls and the ceiling. The furnishings were all rustic, but obviously high quality. Black-and-white checked gingham curtains were at the windows that took up one entire wall, accompanied by French doors leading out the back to a small patio. The wall of glass gave an incredible view of the lake well beyond.
    There was a tall pine armoir, a dresser with a huge, curving mirror, and two padded, natural wicker chairs. In one corner rested a pair of snow skis and a tennis racket, in the other, several fishing poles. Assorted pieces of clothing—a dress shirt andtie, a suit jacket, a pair of jeans—were draped over bedposts and chair backs. The polished dresser top was laden with a few bills and change, a small bottle of aftershave, some crumpled receipts and other papers, including an open book. It was a tidy room, but not immaculate by any measure.
    And it was most definitely inhabited by a man. Sawyer. She gulped.
    Summoning up some logic in what appeared a totally illogical situation, she asked, “What will your wife—”
    â€œI don’t have a wife.”
    â€œOh.” She