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  Nodding, Sky didn’t move. Gray’s expression was available to her now and she saw the kindness linger in his eyes.

  “This changes nothing regarding your employment here,” he told her. “What we do on our time off is our business. Are you okay with that?”

  “I just worry, Gray. I’ve had such a tough time finding a job and keeping it. And I love it here.” Sky fought back tears. “I love everyone here. We’re like a big, sloppy family, and I miss my family so much.”

  Gray reached out. “Come here.”

  Sky dragged in a ragged breath and walked into the circle of Gray’s arms. The instant he pressed her against his tall, hard body, a trembling sigh of relief shimmered through her. Automatically, she slid her arms around his waist, feeling him kiss the top of her head. He understood her crazy seesaw world of emotions. Pressing her cheek against his shirt, she whispered, “I was so afraid...”

  “I was afraid of your rejection, Sky.” Relief shot through him. She felt so damned soft and smelled so good. She’d taken a shower earlier with her almond soap. “And I’m glad you told me. If we don’t talk, we won’t know where the other is at.” Easing her away just enough to snag her gaze, Gray saw her eyes glisten. “What are the tears for?”

  Sky shook her head. “I don’t know. Before being tortured, I was so confident and sure, like you. Now there are hours...days...that I feel confused and unable to make one decision. And when I do, I’m never sure of it...or myself.”

  Gray caressed her flaming cheek. “Stop being so hard on yourself, Sky. It’s normal to feel that way.” He held her unsure gaze. “Last night for me was very special. I couldn’t go to sleep for a long time afterward because I was worried you wouldn’t feel the same toward me in the morning.”

  “I woke up scared, too, Gray.”

  “That I wouldn’t want you this morning? That what we had couldn’t stand the test of time?”

  “Exactly.” She smiled wryly and shook her head. “But you didn’t shun me.”

  “That would never happen,” Gray said. “Probably just the opposite,” he teased, watching Sky relax, the tension dissolving out of her features. Slipping his hands beneath her upper arms, holding her a few inches away, he added, “I’m not sorry, Sky, about what happened between us last night. Not one bit.” Not ever. But he couldn’t say that. At least, not yet. Because Gray could see how tentative Sky was this morning. Fragile.

  “I’m not sorry, either, Gray, but I don’t know about today or tomorrow.”

  “Sky, I’m not going to pressure you. I can see you’re worried about it.”

  “We live in the same house. I’m sorry, Gray, but this is new to me. I don’t know the rules.”

  He shook his head. “We both agree to make up the rules as we go, Sky.” He gently released her. “Look, we work at a fast, steady pace around here. By the end of the day, we’re both tired as dogs. You’re working to heal. I have responsibility for the wildlife center.” He opened his hands. “My personal rule regarding a woman in my life is that she has to come to me. She has to speak up and tell me what she wants. I’m not the type of man to chase a woman, Sky. It doesn’t work well that way. Are we clear about this?”

  Sky dragged in a ragged breath. “Yes. Thank you, Gray. I needed to hear that.”

  “Everything’s in your court, Sky.” Her anxiety seemed to ebb. He wondered if some man had hounded her in the past, made it difficult for her, but that was a discussion for sometime in the future with her. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving to death. Are you up for a Denver omelet if I make them?” he teased.

  Sky smiled a little. “I can dice the onions and green peppers up for you.”

  “You’ve got a deal,” Gray said, walking past her and into the kitchen. She watched him stroll by her with such male grace. Her body took off in heated, burning memory of Gray’s hands, mouth and lips upon her. Sky followed him into the kitchen. “How are your ribs and shoulder this morning?” she asked, pulling an apron from the drawer.

  Gray drew a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. “Better.” Hell, the truth was, he’d felt no pain last night, only awareness of Sky, her sweet, hot body, her warm lips sending him over the edge. “But I’m still going to the E.R. this morning after breakfast and getting examined for the assault and battery charges that Cade is drawing up on those two. Let the nurse take photos of my injuries for proof.”

  “Good,” Sky murmured, relieved.

  * * *

  IT WASN’T EASY to get to sleep that night. Sky was exhausted from the day’s activities, plus not getting enough sleep the night before. She hadn’t seen Gray most of the day. He’d been gone to see the sheriff in the morning hours. At 1:00 p.m., Justin had asked for her to go along on a pony ride to a nearby trail, and her afternoon had melted into joy with the autistic boy. They’d stopped in a flowery meadow and spent the time looking, touching and smelling many of the flowers. His parents were so grateful for her attention to their son, but Sky was exhausted.

  And it was Justin’s birthday, so Iris had planned a birthday party for all the children and the adults in the wrangler dining room after dinner. She’d briefly seen Gray, and he’d nodded in her direction as he walked through the dining room with Wes, Kam’s husband.

  There were a thousand loose ends on a dude ranch that had to be attended to. Only at dinner tonight did Gray tell her about the hospital examination. He had bruised ribs. Photos were taken and then sent by computer over to the sheriff’s office. Gray had then gone with Cade Garner to Ace Trucking. He picked out the two men who had attacked him, and they were arrested on the spot and were now in jail awaiting trial. He didn’t return home until late afternoon.

  All day, Sky had waffled between her need for Gray and being scared out of her mind over her body’s suddenly coming alive. It was a shock, almost too much for her to absorb. Closing her eyes, Sky was going to ask Dr. Jordana McPherson for help with her PTSD. She couldn’t even stand herself and the way her emotions swung wildly one way and then the other.

  Aching for Gray to hold her, feeling his warm breath across her skin, Sky shut her eyes. She was grateful he’d backed off, seeming to understand her dilemma. Unable to stop remembering his mouth upon hers, the strength, the tenderness as he took her lips, Sky thought it was better than nightmares. Would she ever sleep tonight? Would she not have a nightmare? Sleeping in Gray’s arms last night was as close to heaven as Sky had ever felt. He made her feel safe, protected and loved.

  Loved?

  Her eyes flew open. Her pulse amped up as she thought more about it. No, it couldn’t be love. It had to be lust. Before, Sky had enjoyed sex and being an equal partner in the best of ways. No man had pleased her more than Gray. His skill showed in every touch upon her body. Sky felt dampness collecting between her thighs as she replayed his hands moving across her, sending sheets of throbbing pleasure through her.

  Sky groaned softly, turned over and pressed her face into the pillow. She wanted to walk down the hall and knock on Gray’s door. Ask him if she could come in. But then, what did that make her? Wasn’t she the one who’d asked for space? Her roller-coaster emotions were driving her crazy. Worse, Sky couldn’t trust her own feelings where Gray was concerned. He was steady, quiet and patient. He clearly knew himself. She used to know herself. Now a wild, insane woman lived within her, jerking her feelings like puppet strings, her emotions overreacting to everything. It took so much of her daily energy not to allow the constant war taking place within her to be unleashed on people in her outer world. She acted normal although she didn’t feel anywhere near normal. Like a nursing friend of hers wryly told her once, normal was a knob on a dryer.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  SKY COULDN’T QUELL her nerves as she walked into Dr. Jordana McPherson’s clinic. It was a beautiful turn-of-the-century house on a side street near the hospital. As she pushed
her damp hands against her Levi’s, hope warred with anxiety within her. Could Dr. McPherson really help her PTSD? When she’d gone over to the office and talked to Iris Mason earlier in the day, Iris was sure of it. And she’d seemed happy to give her a couple of hours off to see the physician.

  Dr. McPherson stood up from behind her desk, offering Sky her hand. “Sky, it’s nice to meet you. Come on in.” She smiled warmly.

  Taking the doctor’s long, spare hand, Sky liked the kindness in Dr. McPherson’s eyes. She was about the same height as her. The glint in her dark blue eyes told Sky that she was sincere. “Hi. Nice to meet you, Doctor.”

  Dr. McPherson had shoulder-length black hair. She had it tamed into a ponytail at the nape of her neck.

  The doctor waved her hand toward one of two chairs out in front of her desk. She picked up a notebook. “Call me Jordana. Come have a seat, Sky. I understand you have PTSD and would like to get some help for it?”

  Sky had worked with many physicians over her years in the military, and right away, Jordana was in her top-ten list. She was at ease, smiling, and exuded a maternal nurturing that Sky instantly soaked up.

  “Thanks,” she murmured, sitting down. Jordana sat nearby, legs crossed, her notebook across the lap of her green scrubs. “Did you just come from surgery?” she asked.

  “I did,” Jordana said. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

  “No problem. I know how surgeries can go.”

  Tilting her head, Jordana looked at Sky. “And you know this how?”

  Sky had no problem telling her she was an R.N., in the military. She rushed through that information until Jordana held up her hand.

  “Sky, you have a full hour with me, so relax and slow down.” She held up her pen. “I have a computer at my desk and could be madly typing all this in, but I’m old-fashioned and like to handwrite in the information.” She smiled.

  “I thought it was only a fifteen-minute appointment.”

  Shaking her head, Jordana lost her smile and became serious. “Not for my PTSD patients. I have to understand how the symptoms occurred, and we need that kind of time. Are you all right with that?”

  For a moment, Sky hesitated. Gray had urged her to see Jordana, saying she was someone she could trust with all her secrets. That she had counseled and helped a number of returning military vets with the same issues. Sky knit her fingers in her lap, feeling ambivalent. Jordana was patient and kind. She wasn’t arrogant or rushing her along like so many doctors did when they had a short time schedule with a patient. “Okay,” she said in a subdued tone.

  “Then,” Jordana said, “let’s start at the beginning. Was your PTSD from one event, or was it an accumulation over time in a combat zone?”

  Her softly spoken question made Sky freeze for a moment. Only a few people knew a little bit about what had happened to her. Gray knew how she’d gotten her symptoms. Biting down on her lower lip, her voice became strained. “You can really help some of my PTSD symptoms?”

  Jordana remained serious. “I’m sure I can. It’s just a question of how much, Sky. I know you’re nervous about divulging your story, and I’m here to tell you that it’s sacred and secret between us. I need to know in order to help treat you.”

  “You aren’t going to try and drug me up, are you?”

  “Absolutely not. All it does is suppress your symptoms,” Jordana said.

  “Gray said there was a night-and-day difference in his symptoms after he saw you.”

  Jordana gave her a kind look, folding her hands in her lap. “Every case is different, Sky. Being an R.N., I think you know that.”

  “I do.” She felt edgy and nervous. “I just... Well...I was hoping against hope you might help me is all.”

  Reaching over, Jordana placed her warm hand across Sky’s clasped ones. “Tell me everything, and then I’ll know where we need to go next to get you some relief.”

  Relief. God, if only! Sky took a deep, serrated breath and dived in, leaving nothing out. By the time she was done, she was sweating and feeling nauseous because it brought it all back so vividly to her.

  Jordana got up and poured Sky some water and handed the glass to her. “The worst is over, Sky,” she reassured her quietly. “And your secrets are safe with me.” She went over to the examination table and patted it. “Come on over. Let me listen to your heart and lungs.”

  The hour passed swiftly. Jordana gave her a saliva test box that she’d take home with her. Blood was drawn. Sky knew her lungs and heart were fine. Her blood pressure was borderline high, but then Jordana smiled and said that coming in to see her and relive her PTSD event was enough to make it amp up. It was nothing to worry about. She was young, healthy and strong. Clutching the cardboard box that contained the items for the saliva test, Sky sat down with Jordana afterward. The doctor wrote some notes and then lifted her head.

  “The sooner you take that saliva test and send it in, the faster I can help you, Sky.”

  “You really think you can?”

  “I do. Your anxiety stems from high cortisol, a hormone that works hand in hand with adrenaline. When a person lives through a protracted event, the pituitary gland, which is the master switch to turn hormones off and on, stops working to get it shut down. The threat to your life is ongoing, so adrenaline and cortisol are constantly flowing into your bloodstream. At first, the master gland struggles to try and shut it off, but the terror you experienced never let up or stopped. It was constant.”

  “So,” Sky said, “my fight-or-flight hormones were like an open faucet that couldn’t be shut off?”

  Nodding, Jordana handed her a bottle. “That’s right. The saliva test will show me when your cortisol is outside normal bounds. It will be at those times when I prescribe you this adaptogen. This medicine will literally plug the cortisol receptors at those times and stop it from continuing to flow into your bloodstream.” She sat back as Sky looked at the bottle. “It takes thirty days to retrain the pituitary to control and stop the cortisol from firing off into your bloodstream 24/7. After that, you won’t take it again.”

  “Thirty days?” Sky murmured in disbelief. The bottle she held in her hand was a thirty-day supply.

  “Yes, in most cases. In some extreme cases, it might be a bit longer.” Jordana sat relaxed in her chair, holding Sky’s questioning look. “You should see a change in seventy-two hours after taking this adaptogen, Sky. For most people, it works, and they feel like a miracle has taken place.” Her lips lifted into a smile. “And it is a miracle.”

  “But once this particular symptom is stopped, will it come back, Jordana?”

  “It can,” she told her. “If, for instance, you have another trauma or experience another shock, it could trip open the uncontrolled cortisol release again. If it does—” Jordana shrugged “—I prescribe another round of the adaptogen for perhaps a week, and it will control the cortisol again and shut it off.”

  “I don’t want to be on drugs the rest of my life,” Sky muttered, frowning. “I refused most of the meds at the hospital when I was returned to the States.”

  “I understand,” Jordana said gently. She took the bottle when Sky handed it to her. Setting it on the desk between them, she added, “I’m not into drugs unless it’s a last choice. The adaptogen is a specific regulator to the body, not like a traditional drug. There’s no addiction to it, either. It just goes in and does its job, and you’ll feel the change fairly quickly.”

  “If only,” Sky murmured. “I’m afraid to hope, Jordana.”

  Standing, Jordana said, “I know you are, Sky. It sounds too good to be true. But if Gray shared his experience with you, then you should feel hope that it can help you, too.”

  “He said he doesn’t feel anxiety anymore.” Sky stood up and slipped the strap of her purse over her left shoulder. “He’s made an amazing recovery.”
r />   Jordana patted her shoulder. “One of the reasons I became a physician was to give hope to the hopeless, Sky. I love what I do to help vets with PTSD. It’s very fulfilling to see them take back their lives and live without the hell of anxiety and a jumble of wild emotional reactions.” Her fingers tightened on Sky’s shoulder. “You’ve suffered terribly, Sky. And you’re so very brave and strong. Keep your hope. I’m here beside you. We’ll walk this path together....”

  Sky left the clinic gripping the test box in her right hand. She didn’t try to fight the hope soaring through her because Jordana had been so positive and confident about being able to help her.

  Taking in a deep breath, she walked down the sidewalk, admiring the old wooden houses that had been built in the early 1900s in Jackson Hole. They were blue, green, white and yellow colors, the lawns neatly trimmed, bright flowers in boxes along the windows. The trees that lined the street were mature, their spreading branches lending shade as she walked to where she’d parked the ranch truck along the curb.

  For once, she was hungry, and as she climbed in, Sky decided to stop at Mo’s Ice Cream Parlor on the main square for lunch. Iris didn’t need her back until 1:00 p.m., when she was to take Justin and his family over to the wildlife center and walk with them through the amazing one-hundred-acre facility.

  The sun was warm and bright as Sky climbed out of the white truck. On the side of the doors was a burgundy design with an elk with a rack of antlers enclosed by a circle.

  “Sky!”

  She turned as she heard Gwen Garner’s voice behind her. Smiling, Sky lifted her hand. “Hey, Gwen. How are you?” Gwen owned the quilting store two buildings down from Mo’s, and she’d been one of the first people to welcome her to the town. The older woman with gray-and-brown hair grinned.

  “Going to lunch, Sky?”

  “I am. Want to join me, Gwen?”

  “Love to,” the woman said, smiling up at Sky. “You look better. Life must be agreeing with you out at the Elk Horn Ranch.”