A Hero of Her Own. Carla Cassidy
icy around her as she cocked her head to listen, narrowed her eyes to see. “Hello?” she said, the word no more than a whisper.
The moonlight was full, spilling down enough light to illuminate the path, but not able to pierce the darkness of the thick woods.
“Jewel.”
She gasped. Even though she knew it was impossible, that deep male voice sounded like Andrew’s.
“Andrew?” she half whispered his name as tears stung her eyes. She sensed more than saw a form just off to her right. “Andrew, is that you?” Her head filled with wild thoughts.
He hadn’t really died in the car accident. It had all been a terrible mixup, a case of mistaken identity. Somehow he’d survived and he’d come here to find her.
“Andrew, wait!” she exclaimed as she saw the shadowy form moving deeper into the woods. Her heart was now pounding so hard it made her half-breathless.
Her mind went blank as she waded through brush and stepped around tree trunks. She had to find him. She was certain the voice she’d heard calling her name was Andrew’s. She didn’t know how that was possible, didn’t care. All she wanted to do was to get to him, to feel his arms around her once again.
Goose bumps rose on her skin and she was halfdizzy as she fought the underbrush, felt the prickly bite of it against her bare legs.
She stumbled into a low-hanging branch. The whack of the limb across her forehead jarred her back to reality. And the reality was that she was in the middle of the woods chasing after a ghost.
The figure she’d been chasing was gone...or had never been there, she thought. Fighting back new tears of despair, she turned and screamed as she bumped into a solid male chest.
“Jewel. It’s me. Quinn Logan.” His big hands grabbed her shoulders. “Are you all right? I heard you scream.”
“I bumped into a tree branch.” Her voice sounded far away and she mentally shook herself in an effort to get grounded.
“Come on, let’s get back on the path,” he said. He dropped his hands from her shoulders, but took one of her hands in his and led her back to the path.
As her mental fog lifted, she jerked her hand from his and stared at him, his handsome features visible in the full moonlight.
He had a mane of brown hair, with flecks of gold and auburn that enhanced his lean features. A scar across one of his cheeks did nothing to detract from his appeal. His topaz eyes glowed feline and, as always when Jewel looked at him, a crazy fluttering went off in her tummy.
“What are you doing out here in the middle of the night, Dr. Logan?” she asked warily. Quinn was the local veterinarian. At six foot three, he had broad shoulders and a quiet simmering energy and strength that made people believe he could handle anything a large animal might do.
“Quinn,” he said. “Please make it Quinn, and unfortunately sometimes animals don’t get sick during normal business hours. I’ve been over at Clay’s place dealing with a colicky horse.” Clay Colton was Jewel’s cousin and he lived on the large spread next to the Hopechest Ranch.
“Is the horse all right?” she asked, and wrapped her arms around herself, unable to get back the warmth she’d felt before she’d heard that ghostly voice. Had Quinn been the shape she’d seen in the woods? Had he softly called her name?
“The horse is fine. I’m more concerned about you. You said you hit your head?” He placed two warm fingers beneath her chin and raised her face toward the light. Butterflies went off in her stomach at his touch.
“I’m fine,” she said stiffly, and backed away from him.
He reached up and shoved a strand of his hair back from his eyes, gazing at her curiously. “What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”
She hesitated a moment, then decided to be truthful. “I was having some trouble sleeping and thought maybe a walk outside would help.”
“How about I walk you back to your place and see you safely inside?”
“No, thanks. That isn’t necessary,” she protested. She felt off balance, shocked to find him wandering the woods and still confused by thinking she’d heard somebody call her name.
All she wanted to do was get back to the house and into the safety of her own room. At the moment she felt distinctly unsafe, even though Quinn didn’t appear threatening in any way.
“I’ll just say good night now,” she said. She whirled around and hurried back in the direction of the house, grateful when he didn’t try to stop her.
She didn’t relax until she was settled in her room with the doors locked. She lingered at the door, peering outside, but there was no sign of anyone—ghosts or otherwise.
Moving away from the door, she took off her robe and climbed back into bed. Her heart still thudded with adrenaline and she knew sleep would be far off, if at all.
She’d gone a little crazy out in the woods, thinking that she heard Andrew’s voice calling her, believing for a moment that he was someplace out there in the dark woods.
Or was it possible that Quinn had been playing a cruel game with her? She frowned as she thought of the handsome vet. She’d only run into him a half a dozen times since her arrival in town and usually that was out at Clay’s place. But, on each of those occasions, she’d been acutely aware of him, had felt more than a little bit of attraction.
There had been a moment when his warm hands had been on her shoulders when she’d wanted to throw herself against him, feel the heat and strength of his arms enfolding her in an embrace.
She closed her eyes and remembered the sensation of his fingers beneath her chin. It had been so long since a man had touched her in any way. Was it any wonder she’d reacted to his simple touches?
She didn’t know what worried her more, the fact that she might be losing her mind or that she was attracted to a man who might, for whatever reason, be playing games with her sanity?
Mornings were chaotic at the Hopechest Ranch and the next morning was no different. The sounds of childish laughter awakened Jewel just after seven and she blessed Cheryl and Jeff Cookson who would be in the kitchen preparing breakfast for the seven children who were currently residents.
The children’s ages ranged from ten to thirteen, the eldest a girl who had arrived the previous day from Chicago.
Jewel would have a session with the girl, named Kelsey Cameron, this morning. Jewel had official therapy sessions with each child twice a week, but at the Hopechest Ranch therapy never stopped. Every activity, every conversation provided therapy to heal wounds, buoy self-confidence and get the children on the road to happy, healthy lives.
As Jewel showered and dressed for the day, her mind wandered back to those minutes in the woods with Quinn. Even though she was relatively new to the town, she knew Quinn’s story. Clay had told her about how several years ago Quinn had diagnosed one of Clay’s horses with a disease that had threatened the rest of the stock. Clay had been forced to put down the prized stud. At the time most of the other local ranchers had thought Quinn’s diagnosis was wrong.
Ultimately, Quinn had been vindicated, but not before both his reputation and his practice had taken major hits. Clay had stood by his friend and never missed an opportunity to tell Jewel that Quinn was a great guy.
So what was that great guy doing skulking around the woods last night? If he’d gone to Clay’s to take care of a sick horse, why hadn’t he driven his truck over instead of making the long trek by foot from his place to Clay’s?
Once she left her room, there was no more time for thoughts of Quinn. Breakfast was followed by the counseling session with Kelsey Cameron. The young teenager had come to Hopechest Ranch after four years of being shuttled from family member to family member. Her mother, a drug addict, had just awakened one morning and decided she didn’t want to be a mother