Home For a Cowboy Christmas(11)

Of course, catching up on sleep had helped. Yet, that was only a portion of it. Her mental state hadn’t been good since she had gone to the district attorney with what she knew. She could’ve stayed quiet. Could’ve kept what she knew to herself and allowed a murderer to go free. But she never would’ve been able to live with herself.

So, she had made the decision to go to the DA. They had immediately put her into witness protection. No one should’ve known about her, but given the laws that said the state prosecutors had to turn over all evidence to the defense, she was hunted almost immediately.

Sam’s head suddenly jerked up. Emmy opened her eyes and looked at the dog. His head was turned toward the door, his ears perked. After a moment, he leapt from the sofa and hurried through the doggie door. Emmy rose and followed him to peer out the window. She saw Sam on the edge of the porch, his tail wagging as Dwight’s truck pulled into view.

She watched Dwight as he parked the truck in the garage, then climbed out with some bags in hand. As he drew closer to the porch, she unlocked the door and opened it for him. He wore a smile in greeting.

“Good thing I went when I did. The storm is moving in quicker than expected,” he told her.

Emmy shivered at the cool air that followed him inside. She quickly closed the door behind him and trailed him into the kitchen, where he set the bags on the table. “Thank you for this.”

“It was no trouble at all.”

She wasn’t so sure about that, but she wouldn’t argue. She was just grateful to have more underwear. After she dug through each bag, she took out the pack of panties and opened them. Five wasn’t a lot, but they would do.

“I’m going to go put these in to wash. I think your load of clothes is finished anyway.”

He nodded as he shrugged out of his coat.

Emmy got her clothes out of the dryer and folded them. Then she switched Dwight’s from the washer to the dryer and started it. Her panties were the next to load. Once they were in to wash, she returned to the kitchen to find that Dwight had taken everything from the bags, including the two bras he’d bought.

“I hope those are okay,” he said, glancing at the garments. “If not, I can return them.”

“They’ll do perfectly,” she replied with a smile.

Emmy had never been embarrassed about underwear, but something about having a man buy her bras unsettled her. It almost seemed … erotic. Or maybe she was so crazed from nearly dying that she had, in fact, lost her mind. Why else would thinking about bras be stimulating?

“Are you all right?” Dwight asked with a frown.

Emmy swallowed, the sound loud to her ears. “Yes. I’m fine.”

“You’re flushed.”

“Just my thoughts getting away from me.”

His frown deepened as he studied her. Finally, he relented. “How were things while I was away?”

“Quiet,” she answered. “Sam stayed with me. I have to say, your master bedroom and bath are stunning.”

That made his lips soften into a grin. “Vic kept telling me that the bedroom needed to be an oasis, of sorts, and that I should go all out.”

“Did you?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “No. I did take some of her suggestions, though.”

They stared at each other, the awkwardness making Emmy nervous. She gathered her items. “I think I’ll take these upstairs.”

“I’m going to get back to work then.”

He grabbed his coat and went outside. Sam looked between her and Dwight before bolting out the doggie door to follow his master. Emmy smiled after the duo before continuing up the stairs. She set her things in the bathroom on the counter then went back downstairs and got a couple of the plastic bags. She didn’t have any luggage. Her next best thing would be bags to haul everything in when she left.

She had to chuckle to herself. Not too long ago, she hadn’t believed that she would live even this long. Now, she was actually thinking about making it to the beginning of the year. She still had a long way to go, but maybe Dalton’s words had sunk into her hard head. Maybe she had a real chance of staying hidden on the ranch.

The image of the gun barrel two inches from her face flashed in her mind. In an instant, the calming thoughts were gone, and terror filled her once more, her anxiety shooting through the roof. She backed herself into a corner and wrapped her arms around herself before slowly sliding to the floor.

“I’m safe,” she whispered. “I’m safe, and the gunman is dead.”

Dalton had made her say those words over and over as they sped out of Denver. They hadn’t worked then, and they weren’t working now. She buried her face in her hands and tried not to cry, but it was useless. The tears came in a flood. She sobbed, her shoulders shaking. She didn’t understand how she could have been fine and then knocked on her ass with fear again.

She had no idea how long she sat crying before the tears finally dried. But the panic didn’t subside. She took several deep, calming breaths that helped, but the thought of leaving the bathroom was too much for her to even consider.

Emmy remained in the corner with her legs drawn up to her chest and her mind sorting through all kinds of thoughts—few of them good. She was back to the panic that had clamped its cold, bony hands around her when the man had busted into her hotel room and pulled the gun. She closed her eyes and recalled how he’d forced her to her knees.