Home For a Cowboy Christmas(12)

How he’d smiled in triumph as he said, “You forgot where your loyalties lie.”

Her heart had jumped into her throat. Time had slowed, her life flashing before her eyes as she realized that she hadn’t done any of the things she had wanted to do. There had always been one reason or another to put them off. It became crystal-clear how much of her life she had allowed to pass her by. And it was all going to end.

All she could think about was whether she would feel the bullet enter her brain before she died.

She heard sniffing and a soft whine that pulled her out of her musings. Then she heard the soft thud of footfalls as Dwight walked up the stairs. Sam’s nails clattered on the hardwood as he moved out of the way onto the rug that ran the length of the hall.

Dwight knocked softly. “Emmy? Dinner’s ready.”

Dinner? How long had she been up here, lost in the fear?

Sam pawed at the door, whining again. She wanted to get up and open it because she knew if she put her arms around the dog, she’d feel much better. But she couldn’t move.

“Emmy?” Dwight called again, a thread of worry in his voice. “Can you let me know if you’re okay? Sam wants in bad. He’s acting like he needs to get to you. Do you mind if I let him in?”

“Please,” she forced the word as fresh tears came.

She watched the knob turn and the door open just enough for Sam to squeeze in. He rushed to her. He didn’t lick her face, didn’t try to climb on her. He simply stood beside her and let her wrap her arms around him as she pressed her cheek against his fur and cried. Sam inched closer, and she held him tighter.

The tears quickly passed this time, and just as she had known, her breathing calmed. No longer did she feel as if she were back in the hotel room, about to die. Sam had helped to steady her. He had reminded her that she was somewhere else.

“Thank you,” she whispered to the dog.

She sniffed and lifted her face. He turned his head to her and started panting. The parting of his lips made it look as if he were grinning at her. Emmy couldn’t help but smile back.

“You’re an amazing dog, Sam. Thank you.”

He nudged his cold, wet nose against her cheek and lay down before her. She climbed to her feet and washed her face. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she was able to stare back at her reflection without flinching.

She turned to Sam. “Ready? I think Dwight is going to want some answers.”

Sam jumped up and trotted to the door before looking back at her, waiting patiently. Emmy walked to the door and opened it. The dog bolted downstairs, but she took a moment for another deep breath before following him.





Chapter 6


Dwight kept looking up the stairs, waiting and wondering. He knew what had happened to Emmy, but he wasn’t sure she did. At least, she had allowed Sam to enter. He’d dealt with his own post-traumatic stress, and Sam had been a part of his healing. The dog had an uncanny sense of when someone suffered from the disorder.

He kept the food warm, hoping Emmy would be up for a meal. Dwight finished checking the Brussel sprouts he had in the oven, and when he looked down, Sam was there, his tongue lolling and his tail wagging. When Dwight didn’t immediately give him any food, Sam looked toward the stove, then back at Dwight.

“You’re too damn smart for your own good,” he told the dog and cut him a small slice of chicken.

Sam wolfed it down, then turned his head toward the stairs. Dwight followed his gaze to find Emmy.

He smiled, noting the strain around her eyes. “Hungry?”

“I am, yes. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Don’t worry about that. Grab a plate and come help yourself. There’s lemon-rosemary chicken, garlic-roasted Brussel sprouts, and a salad. I tried to cook healthy. Wasn’t sure what kind of food you like.”

She grinned at him as she approached with a plate. “The bad kind. Cheeseburgers, hot wings, potato wedges, and the like.”

“Wish I would’ve asked sooner,” he said.

“This smells delicious. I’m not against healthy food, but it’s easier to get the other kind.”

He watched her put the food on her plate. “Maybe in the city. Not so much out here. If I want pizza, I have to drive into town.”

“You should get your own pizza oven. I hear that’s a thing now.”

He rolled his eyes. “Please don’t ever mention that to my sister. She’s been threatening to buy me one for a year now.”

“Why are you against it?”

“Because all I’d eat is pizza.”

Emmy laughed. The sound was light. Breezy. And completely caught him off guard. Dwight found himself staring at her, unable to look away. He had to physically force himself to turn around. Even then, he was aware of her, of her every movement. He fixed his plate, barely paying attention to what he was doing.

He sat across from her at the table. Her light brown eyes regarded him silently. The color resembled that of a fawn’s coat. Her thick, caramel-colored waves tumbled around her shoulders. He wondered if she knew how incredibly sexy her hair was. Did she spend hours getting it to look like that? Somehow, Emmy didn’t strike him as that kind of woman. Which meant that her hair was in its natural state.

Suddenly, he wanted to touch it, to run his fingers through it.

“Thank you,” she said.