Montana Sky

didn’t care to count how many times one had been there since his death.
    Gathering her forces, she climbed the steps to the porch and went inside. By the time she’d removed her hat, hung it on the hall rack, Ben was coming down the stairs.
    He’d seen her from the office window, watched her almost staggering progress toward the house, her deliberate squaring of shoulders as she saw the police cars.
    And he’d had enough.
    “How’s Lily?”
    “Bess won’t let anyone but Adam near her.” Willa took her coat off slowly, certain that any sudden move would bang her aching bones together. “But she’s resting.”
    “Good. You can follow suit.”
    “The police will want to talk to me.”
    “They can talk to you later. After you’ve gotten some sleep.” He took her arm and towed her firmly up the stairs.
    “I’ve got responsibilities here, Ben.”
    “Yeah, you do.” When they reached the top of the stairs and she turned in the direction of the office, he simply picked her up bodily and carried her toward her room. “The first is not to end up in a sickbed yourself.”
    “Let go of me. I don’t appreciate the caveman routine.”
    “Neither do I.” He kicked her door shut behind him, strode to the bed, and dumped her. “Especially when you’replaying the caveman.” She bounced up, he shoved her down again. “You know I’ve got you outmuscled, Will. I’m not letting you out of here until you’ve had some sleep.”
    Maybe she couldn’t outwrestle him, but she thought she could outshout him. “I’ve got cops in my office, a sister too sick to say two words to me, a bunkhouse full of men who are speculating on just what the hell happened up in high country, and a ranch nobody’s running. What the hell do you expect me to do, let it all go to hell while I take a nap?”
    “I expect you to bend.” She’d been wrong, he could outshout her too. The explosion might have knocked her back if she hadn’t already been down. “Just once in your damn life, bend before you break. The cops can wait, your sister’s being taken care of, and your men are too damn tired to speculate on anything but who’s snoring the loudest. And the ranch isn’t going to fall apart if you turn off for a couple hours.”
    He grabbed her boot, wrenched it off, then heaved it across the room. She reached for the second, gripped the top in what would have been a comic struggle if his eyes hadn’t been so raw with temper. “What the hell crawled up your butt?” she demanded. “Just cut it out, Ben.”
    The second boot slid out of her fingers and went flying. “You think I didn’t see your face when you walked into that cave? That I don’t know what it did to you, or how you were holding yourself together by your fingernails all the way back down?” He grabbed her shirtfront, and for a moment she was certain he intended to haul her off the bed and toss her after her boots. “I’m not having it.”
    She was stunned enough that she didn’t react until he’d unbuttoned her shirt and yanked it off her shoulders. “Just take your hands off me. I can undress myself when I’m ready. You’re an overseer around here, McKinnon, but you don’t run my life, and if you don’t—”
    “Maybe you need somebody to run it.”
    He lifted her off the bed—clean off, she thought in wonder, as her feet dangled inches above the polished wood floor. And she realized he was as furious as she’d ever seenhim, and she’d seen him red-eyed furious plenty. She’d never seen him like this.
    He added a quick, teeth-rattling shake. “Maybe you need to listen to somebody besides yourself now and again.”
    It was the shake that snapped it. The humiliation of it. “If I do, it won’t be you. And the only place you’re going to be running is for cover if you don’t turn me loose—” Her hand was fisted and ready when he dropped her onto her feet.
    “Take a swing at me.” He ground out the dare. “Go ahead, but you’re going to bed if I have to tie you to the headboard.”
    She grabbed the hands that grabbed at her shirt. “I’m warning you—”
    “He worked for me.”
    That stopped her, stopped them both as they struggled with her thermal shirt. “What?” Now her hands covered his, dug in. “Jesse Cooke?”
    And her hands went limp as she remembered. That day on the road to Three Rocks, that pretty, smiling face at the window of her rig. They’d been that close, as close as Ben and she were now, with only that thin