side, grateful Tag was one of the strongest, steadiest horses in the small Western Sky stable.
“We’ll get you warmed up. I’ve got a fire in the woodstove at home. Just hang on a few minutes, okay?”
She nodded, slumping back against him, and he curved his arms around her, worried she would slide off.
“Thank you,” she murmured, so low he could hardly hear above the moaning of that bitter wind.
He pulled her as close as he could to block the storm as Tag trudged toward home at a hard walk, as fast as Brant dared push him.
“I’m Brant,” he said after a few moments. “What’s your name?”
She turned her head slightly and he saw dazed confusion in her eyes. “Where are we?” she asked instead of answering him.
He decided not to push her right now. No doubt she was still bemused from the shock of driving her SUV into a creek. “My ranch in eastern Idaho, the Western Sky. The house is just over that hill there.”
She nodded slightly and then he felt her slump bonelessly against him.
“Are you still with me?” he asked with concern. When she didn’t answer, his arms tightened around her. Out of pure instinct, he grabbed for the dog seconds before she would have dropped it as she slipped into unconsciousness—surely a fatal fall for the little animal from this height. He managed to snag the dog and shove it back into his coat and his arms tightened around the woman as he nudged Tag even faster.
It was a surreal journey, cold and tense and nerve-racking. He didn’t see the lights of the ranch house until they had nearly reached it. When he could finally make out the solid shape of the place, Brant was quite certain it was just about the most welcome sight he had ever beheld.
He led the horse to the bottom of the porch steps and dismounted carefully, keeping a hand on the woman so she didn’t teeter to the ground.
“Sorry about this, Tag,” he murmured to the horse as he lifted the woman’s limp form into his arms. “You’ve been great but I need you to hang on a few more minutes out here in the cold while I take care of our guest and then I can get you into the warm barn. You deserve some extra oats after tonight.”
The horse whinnied in response as Brant rushed up the porch steps and into the house. He quickly carried her inside to the family room where, just as he’d promised, the fire he’d built up in the woodstove before he left still sent out plenty of blissful warmth.
She didn’t stir when he laid her on the sofa. As he was bent over to unzip her parka so he could check her injuries, the dog wriggled free of the opening of Brant’s own coat and landed on her motionless mistress and began licking her face again, where a thin line of blood trickled from a cut just above her eye.
A raspy dog’s tongue was apparently enough to jolt her back to at least semiconsciousness. “Simone?” she murmured and her arms slid around the dog, who settled in the crook of her arms happily.
She was soaked through from the snow’s onslaught and Brant knew she wouldn’t truly warm up until he could get her out of her wet clothing. Beyond that, he had to examine her more closely for broken bones.
“I’m going to get you some dry clothes, okay? I’ll be right back.”
She opened her eyes again and nodded and he had the oddest sense again that he knew her. She couldn’t be from around here. He was almost positive of that, but then he hadn’t spent more than a few weeks at a time in Pine Gulch for fifteen years.
The bedroom he stayed in when he was here was one of the two on the main floor and from his duffel he quickly grabbed a sweatshirt and a pair of cutoff sweats that would likely probably drown her, then he returned to the family room.
“I’m going to take off your parka so I can get a better look and make sure you don’t have any broken bones, okay?”
She didn’t answer and he wondered if she was asleep or had slipped away again. He debated calling the Pine Gulch paramedics, but he hated to do that on a vicious night like tonight unless it was absolutely necessary. He had some medic training and could deal with most basic first aid needs. If she required more than that, he would drive her into town himself.
But he needed to assess her injuries first.
He would rather disarm a suicide bomber with his teeth than undress a semiconscious woman, but he didn’t have much choice. He was only doing what had to be done, he reminded himself. Feeling huge and awkward, he pulled off what seemed pretty useless pink fur boots first, then moved the tiny dog from the woman’s side to the floor. The dog easily relinquished her guard dog duties and started sniffing around the room to investigate a whole new world full of smells.
Brant unzipped the woman’s parka, doing his best to ignore the soft swell of curves as he pulled the sleeves free, not an easy task since he hadn’t been with a woman since before his last deployment. He was only a rescue worker here, he reminded himself. Detached and impersonal.
Her shirt had remained mostly dry under her parka, he was relieved to discover, but her jeans were soaked through and would have to come off.
“Ma’am, you’re going to have to get out of your jeans. Do you need my help or can you manage by yourself?”
“Help,” she mumbled.
Naturally. He sighed and reached to unfasten the snap and zipper of her jeans. His hands brushed her waist under her soft, blue silk turtleneck. Whether his fingers were cold or whether she was reacting just to the shock of human contact, he didn’t know, but she blinked a few times and scrambled away with a little cry.
The tiny dog yipped and abandoned her investigations of the room to trot over and stand protectively over her mistress, teeth bared at him as if a few pounds of fluff would do the trick to deter him.
“You need to get into dry clothes, that’s all,” he said, using the same calm tone he did with injured soldiers in the field. “I’m not going to hurt you, I swear. You’re completely safe here.”
She nodded, eyes still not fully open. As he looked at her in the full light, a memory flashed across his brain of her in some barely-there slinky red dress, tossing her dark curls and giving a sultry bedroom look out of half-closed eyes.
Crazy. He had never met the woman before in his life, he could swear to it.
He pulled her jeans off, despising himself for the little stir of interest when he found her wearing pink lacy high-cut panties.
He swallowed hard. “I’m, uh, going to check for broken bones and then I’ve got some sweats here we can put on you, okay?”
She nodded and watched him warily from those half- closed eyes as he ran his hands over her legs, trying to pretend she was just another of his teammates. Trouble was, Rangers didn’t tend to have silky white skin and luscious curves. Or wear high-cut pink panties.
“Nothing broken that I can tell,” he finally said and was relieved when he could pull the faded, voluminous sweats over her legs and hide all that delectable skin.
“Are you a doctor?” she murmured.
“Not even close. I’m in the military, ma’am. Major Brant
