Pregnant By The Colton Cowboy. Lara Lacombe
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of the horses grew louder, and Thorne realized the other hands were busy moving them out of the barn. Good—that was one less thing to worry about.
He staggered through the smoke, tears streaming down his cheeks. An odd shape on the ground caught his eye, and he turned, blinking hard and squinting to focus.
It was a shoe.
“Maggie.” He tried to shout her name, but the smoke and his fear caused his throat to lock up. He ran over to find her lying on her back, her eyes closed and her face too pale for his liking.
For a split second, he froze, fear locking his muscles into place. She was so still... He’d never forgive himself if she was dead. If he hadn’t treated her so badly after their night together, she would have listened to him, would have waited for him to catch up instead of running headlong toward danger by herself. This was all his fault...
His hand shook a little as he reached out and gently placed his fingers on her throat. Her pulse beat sure and strong, and the breath shuddered out of his lungs in a gust of relief. She was still alive!
Moving quickly, he ran his hands along her body, feeling for any damp spots that would indicate blood from an injury. When he came up dry, he hooked his hands under her arms and dragged her across the yard. They made it to the relative coolness of the barn just as a fire truck turned off the main road and came screaming up the drive to the dooryard.
The firemen wasted no time attacking the blaze. Under other circumstances, Thorne would have been right in the middle of the response, helping the other ranch hands with the horses and telling the firefighters what he knew about the situation. But he wasn’t about to leave Maggie’s side.
Someone knelt next to him but Thorne didn’t bother to look over. His eyes were glued to Maggie’s face, searching for a sign of awareness, a flicker or a twitch that would indicate she was regaining consciousness.
“What happened?” Mac spoke calmly amid the chaos, and the tension in Thorne’s chest eased at the sound of his father’s voice.
“Her car exploded.” Thorne still couldn’t believe it. Cars didn’t just explode in real life—that was the stuff of movies. Something was definitely off here, but he couldn’t worry about it right now.
“It exploded?” Mac echoed in disbelief. “How in the hell—”
“I don’t know,” Thorne said shortly. “But I watched it happen.” The scene was burned into his brain; Maggie, her body limned in bright light for a split second as the fireball formed, then obscured by a cloud of smoke. It was a terrifying image that would live on in his nightmares for the rest of his life.
Mac gently placed his hand on Maggie’s forehead and she moaned softly in response to his touch. “I can stay with her if you want to check on the horses,” he offered.
“No.” Thorne didn’t bother to elaborate, but he felt his father’s gaze cut over to him in surprise.
There was a brief silence between them as Mac digested his response. “I see,” he said finally, his tone carefully neutral.
The wail of another siren cut through the air, and an ambulance pulled up behind the fire truck. Mac stood and began waving his arms, signaling for the paramedics. They arrived a few seconds later, arms laden with supplies. Mac took a few steps back to allow them access to Maggie, but Thorne couldn’t bring himself to move away. He tried to make himself as small as possible so he wouldn’t interfere with the medic’s exam but he kept a tight grip on her hand. Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay... What he wouldn’t give to see her open those big blue eyes!
“How long has she been unconscious?” asked one of the men.
Thorne jumped at the question, trying to get his brain back on track. It felt like it had taken him forever to find Maggie, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. “Uh, maybe ten minutes?”
The medic nodded and placed a blood pressure cuff around her upper arm. He and his partner moved in a kind of synchronized dance, passing each other instruments and supplies with very little dialogue between them. It was clear they worked well together as a team, and it reminded Thorne of the easy back and forth that developed between a horse and his rider, when man and animal spoke the same language, if only for a little while.
Maggie stirred under the medic’s attention and began to shake her head back and forth. “Stay still for me,” one of the men commanded. The pair of them worked to secure a foam collar around her neck and her eyes flew open in shock.
“What’s your name?” the EMT asked. He gave her a second to respond, then asked again. “Can you tell me your name?”
Thorne held his breath, silently urging her to speak. Was she simply too dazed to answer, or was something more serious going on?
After an endless silence, she spoke. “Maggie.” Her voice was weak and scratchy, sounding as if she’d screamed herself hoarse.
The medic nodded. “That’s great, Maggie,” he said encouragingly. “Can you tell me where you are?”
She frowned slightly. “Mac’s ranch,” she said slowly. “I was working on his books.” She paused, and Thorne could tell by the expression on her face she was replaying her memories, trying to piece together what had happened. Then everything clicked into place, and her confused expression morphed into one of anxiety. “My car!” She tried to sit up, but both medics held her down.
“Whoa,” said one of the men. “Try not to move, please. You may have a spinal injury.”
She let out a small sound of distress that sliced into Thorne’s heart. “It’s okay, honey,” he said, speaking before he could think twice about it. Given the way he’d treated her lately, she probably wouldn’t take comfort from his presence, but he had to try. Seeing her lying on the ground, bruised, battered and scared, triggered a wave of regret so strong it threatened to overwhelm him. He’d spent too much time pushing her away because of his fears—he owed her more than that, and he wasn’t going to waste another minute before trying to make amends.
She glanced over at him, her eyes wide with fear. He saw her body relax as she registered his proximity, and felt something in his own chest ease. “Thorne?” She sounded lost and a little unsure, but he detected no anger in her voice.
It was better than he deserved.
“I’m here,” he said, pushing aside his bitter self-recrimination. There would be time for that later—right now, he had to focus on supporting Maggie.
“Was anyone hurt?”
He shook his head, marveling at her question. Even in the middle of her own troubles, Maggie was concerned for others. “Just you,” he said softly.
The medics counted to three in low voices; they rolled Maggie onto her side and slipped a long board under her, then rolled her to her back again. They secured her in place with thick black straps at her forehead, shoulders, knees and ankles, and one of the men moved to her head while the other knelt by her feet. In one smooth motion, they lifted her off the ground.
“Thorne!” The change in position seemed to startle her—she thrust a hand out, searching the air for him.
He jumped to his feet and jogged after the medics, catching up to them at the ambulance. He slipped his hand into hers and she squeezed hard, causing his bones to grind together painfully. “Please don’t leave me,” she called out, a hint of desperation lacing her words.
Thorne didn’t bother to ask permission; he climbed into the back of the ambulance and slid along the bench seat until he sat by Maggie’s head. Her head was immobilized on the board, so he leaned forward until his face was directly over hers. Her blue eyes were bloodshot, but her gaze was steady as she stared up at him.
“I’m here,” he said, repeating his earlier assurance. He swallowed hard, trying to calm his frayed nerves. “You’re going to be okay.” Was he trying to convince her, or himself? She looked fine to his untrained