His first inclination had been to lecture her because she had gone out into the woods without any kind of survival gear. Sure, it was only a trail. Only a trail pretty damn close to the rest of the ranch, but it was the kind of place where accidents could happen. Accidents could always happen.
Zane had never been a Boy Scout, but he knew damn well that you always had to be prepared.
Prepare for the worst. Prepare for anything.
He always carried flares, rations, a spaceblanket or two. He always had a flashlight, an extra headlamp, all kinds of things, because once you had accidentally spent the night out in the wilderness, you made sure that if it ever happened again, you’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable.
Cara had obviously just learned that lesson. Or rather, she needed to make sure that was the lesson. Hell, he would make sure it was the lesson.
Marlowe still looked worried. She was rubbing her hands and looking unsettled. “We should bring her dinner.”
“I could do that,” Zane said, before he even realized what was going to come out of his mouth. “I had an errand to run anyway. I was headed over to the hardware store.”
“Really?” Marlowe asked.
“Yeah. I’ve got to grab some new work gloves. I wore a hole in mine.” He had worn a hole in his work gloves more than a week ago, and he hadn’t been all that rushed to get new ones, but this was a good excuse. He needed to see her. He needed to make sure she was okay. This had hooked into something ugly inside of him.
He had just seen too much death.
No, she wasn’t at death’s door. Yes, she had gone to the hospital just like she should, and yes, everything had appeared like it was going to be okay, but there was a sour note in his stomach that refused to go away.
He knew why. He also wasn’t in the mood to fight it. He could bring her her dinner, he could get a visual on her, just make sure that she looked fine, double-check that she didn’t have any kind of head injury.
His medical training was specific to what he’d just done with Cara. He was trained to evaluate injuries in the field and administer emergency medical treatment as necessary. He had high-octane EMT skills, and logically, he knew he could trust them.
When he’d seen her leaning against the side of theembankment, he had checked her over as best he could without leaving her down in the cold for too long.
He didn’t think she had a concussion or anything like that. She’d been coherent, even if a little bit sluggish.
But the nagging feeling…
It was trauma, not a gut feeling, he had lived long enough to know the difference.
But still, his body reacted to them the same, and he had to lay it to rest the only way that he could.
“All right, I need you to bring a few things for her then,” Marlowe said, hopping up and scurrying back into the house. He stuffed his dinner down as quickly as possible. To keep it plausible, he needed to get out of here because the hardware store closed at seven.
“That’s nice of you,” Walker said.
He turned toward Walker and gave him his hardest stare. “It just makes sense. I’m already headed into town.”
“Are you?” Walker asked, smiling with that winning, charismatic way that he had.
Zane wanted to punch him in the face.
He wondered how Cara felt about Walker. Walker was the one who had asked her to come up to his place. He had gathered. Maybe she had done it because she liked Walker.
He wouldn’t be able to blame her.
Most women liked Walker.
He had an easy way about him. In more ways than one. He was a certified slut, and good for him.
In the sense that if it wasn’t so much goddamn work to hook up, Zane would probably enjoy that sort of lifestyle.
But he needed specific things. The whole process of it all was challenging.
Truth be told, he hadn’t figured it out here.
