You think this storm front is bad, just wait until the real thing hits us tonight.”
Stay put?
Her feet were already dancing with the antsy need to help, to take action. She needed to do something. “We won’t head for town,” she promised, knowing she could never lie to her father outright.
But she could check her own ranch. She could try to recover Rocky for Gabe and Lily.
“Jolene?” Mitch Kannon was no fool. “Remember, you’re responsible for two people now.”
She hugged her belly. “I know. I promise, nothing will happen to your grandson.”
“Jolene? Put Kellison on the line.” He knew her thoughts were already jumping ahead to her next rescue mission. “Don’t you go off on some—”
“Mitch?” Ruth’s voice interrupted the call. Papers rattled, furniture crashed and someone cussed in the background. Apparently Turning Point had another emergency that required her father’s attention.
Jolene knew the town was in good hands. “I love you, Dad.”
“Love you, too.” He didn’t want to ring off, but he had to. “Call when you can.”
“I will.”
As a flurry of activity filled the fire station, Jolene hung up and stuffed the phone into her pocket. Reassured as she was by her father’s voice, she knew her work wasn’t finished. There was still work to be done before Hurricane Damon struck. And more once he had passed. She might not be able to get to town to help her father, but she could make a difference here.
Lily was worried about Rocky. Deacon couldn’t work with his arm. Wes was no cowboy, and the boys needed Cindy.
The Rock-a-Bye needed its bull to survive.
And there was nothing Jolene could do here but wait.
Sit on her hands and wait for Hurricane Damon to hit and pass.
She swallowed hard, missing her father, missing Joaquin, missing the life that would never be hers, a life like Lily’s.
She couldn’t just sit and wait and worry.
She felt cocooned inside the rambling house, trapped by feelings she didn’t want to have.
Stuffing the last of the sandwich into her mouth, Jolene grabbed the poncho Wes had worn and slipped out the back door.
“CRAZY TEXAS WOMAN.”
Nate grumbled a curse between his teeth and shifted the white bassinet onto his hip as he glared out the bedroom window. With Wes’s help, he was moving Lily and Amber and all the necessary supplies down to the more secure main floor to ride out the storm with the menagerie of survivors they’d collected throughout the day.
But apparently Mitch Kannon’s darling daughter didn’t intend to join them.
Jolene looked more like demon than angel as she dashed from the back of the house, past the empty horse paddock and into the barn. Fast seemed to be the only speed she functioned in. Maybe she’d run track in school. Maybe she hated to get wet. Or maybe she was just used to having to stay a step or two ahead of trouble. Even five months pregnant, she covered the distance like a gazelle.
An urgency clenched his muscles, sharpened his senses. The rapid pulse, the hyper-awareness—the challenge staring him in the face—all reminded him of the adrenaline rush he used to get each time he climbed down into the gate on the back of a bull and braced himself to ride out into the rodeo ring.
Nate shook his head at the notion. He’d thought those days were over. He was a sober, mature adult now. Caretaker to his family. Guardian of their heritage. Protector and healer for the citizens of Courage Bay, California.
But then, he’d never met a woman like Jolene before.
And while the younger, freer part of him enjoyed that rush of feeling again, the sager, more practical man he’d become knew that his blood pressure probably couldn’t take much more of the challenge Jolene presented.
The barn door slammed shut behind her and Nate let the curtains close. He breathed deeply to assuage the grip of fear and frustration and utter destiny that strangled his heart.
Time to go rescue his charge again.
CHAPTER SIX
NATE BLINKED THE RAIN from his lashes and swiped the water from his face, ignoring the wind catching the barn door and slapping it shut behind him. His palm rested on the scratch of his beard as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the barn’s interior. The scents of hay, leather and horses soothed him and sparked familiar memories.
But no way was he relaxing.
The stamp of hooves and creak of leather tack directed his steps.
He sighed heavily as he caught a glimpse of a limp blond ponytail and bright red