Riding the storm - By Julie Miller Page 0,56
up straight and did her very best to glare through her soggy vision. “But that’s not why I’m upset. You act like you’re tough and in control, but you’re in pain all the time, aren’t you.”
“It’s not that bad—”
“You take care of your family. You rescue drowning bulls and flaky blondes, and deliver babies. You—”
“Jolene—”
Anger and guilt blended with compassion. “My baby and me—we’re an extra burden you’ve decided to take on for the duration of your trip to Texas.”
“Your father asked me to keep an eye on you.”
“You don’t have to.” She hadn’t survived twenty years without a mother or a man of her own without developing a few coping skills. Sure, she’d gotten into plenty of scrapes. But that was human. She’d gotten herself out of just as many. Why couldn’t he see that? “Every father worries. But I’m twenty-eight years old. And you’re not my dad.” Not in any way, shape or form. Not with everything those broad shoulders and tight buns and controlled sense of duty stirred inside her. “You have enough to deal with already. You don’t have to protect me.”
Nate bent his good knee and leaned forward to prop his elbow against it. “Somebody sure needs to. You’re so busy taking care of everyone else, you don’t take proper care of yourself or your baby.”
“We’ve done just fine on our own, thank you very much. Joaquin, Jr., is as healthy as he should be. I’m as healthy as I should be.” She angled her head, pointing to the hole in his jeans that revealed his scarred, swollen knee, and to the shoulder bandage that showed through his white T-shirt. “You’re the one who’s trying to take on too much.”
“I am not an invalid,” Nate said, articulating every word. “I can handle whatever I have to. That includes you…and the baby.”
Jolene’s defensive anger evaporated on her next breath. The conversation stopped, and the room fell silent.
“You have to keep the baby safe.” There was raw emotion in the command and it pierced Jolene’s womanly heart. Then Nate blinked and turned his face away, severing the contact.
The baby again. What was it about children and babies that haunted him so? That turned him into Attila the Protector? She splayed her fingers across her belly, bracing herself, shielding her little one from whatever horrid truth tortured this man.
“What happened with the baby, Nate?” she whispered, needing to know. There was such loss, so much grief, so much defeat in his voice.
But Nate was done talking. She could see it in the controlled set of his face. Jolene hugged herself around the pillow and let the tears roll down her cheeks.
“Ah, hell.” With that much of a warning, he reached out, snagged her by her shoulders and drew her up across his body and into his arms. He tossed the pillow aside and snuggled her down onto the floor beside him so that they lay together, chest to chest, heat to heat. His grip was hard, his body strung tight as a lasso with a running calf caught in its noose.
But the strong, steady beat of his heart soothed her ear. And the warmth of his body seeped into hers.
He nestled her head beneath his chin and rubbed slow, easy circles at her nape. Jolene could only wrap her arms around his waist and hold on and cry. He didn’t explain anything. But countless moments later, she felt the tension inside him break. Felt it in the deep sigh as his chest rose and fell. Then his whole being relaxed.
“Hey, those better not be for me,” he said. “I’m okay.” His low-pitched voice rumbled deep as he pushed the hair back from her face. But something had let go inside Jolene, too, and she couldn’t seem to stop crying. He tipped her chin and marked the trails of her tears with the callused pad of his thumb. “C’mon, angel. I don’t have any cure for this in the first-aid kit.”
She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. It’s those pesky hormones.” And fatigue. And the deep, abiding hurt she felt for Nate’s suffering, despite his assertion that he was okay.
It was frightening to realize that she’d grown closer to this man in one day than she’d been with her own husband after one year of marriage.
Jolene freed her chin and snuggled back against him. They simply held each other. Beyond her father’s loving bear hugs, she’d never been held so securely, so tenderly