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DOYLE

What am I doing?A Nobel prize, he’d daydreamed about, but not sitting in a coach in 1888 with a gorgeous woman in his arms and the deed to a ranch in his breast pocket. He’d come a long way from reluctantly poking around in the heat outside the TCR, hoping not to run into anyone. Hell. Thoughts of Sadie kept him sane and distracted instead of dwelling on the hunt Nicole and Jackson were on for the saboteur and any additional damage done during his time in the resort.

If he really thought about it, he probably spent more hours out there in the wild with Sadie than he did on board. He’d spent every extra moment he could between tours the previous afternoon and evening working at her table with Teddy on the cloaking device. And he had every intention of doing the same thing the rest of that day and evening, even though he knew he crossed a line by doing it.

But he didn’t want to think too hard, just enjoy these moments while he could, pushing away the guilt of his inevitable departure with reassurances that he’d been upfront on having to leave soon. He’d even gone so far as to have the deed signed over to her properly so he could surprise her with a gift when he left. He supposed it was silly not to just give it to her outright, but he needed something big he could give her to make it easier to leave. Because saying goodbye to her felt impossible. The inevitability of it hung over his head like an anvil waiting to drop.

What an amazing woman. She had no idea, yet she’d willingly continued to allow him in her life. And she didn’t seem to have any compunction about physicality. Something he wasn’t used to from the females of his time.

So much for stereotypes about “proper” women in the olden days.

Doyle chuckled, softly jostling Sadie’s head. He’d much rather have her unpredictable company than any woman in his own time he’d ever met.

As the carriage slowed outside her front door, Sadie yawned and stretched. Doyle couldn’t keep his gaze away from the way the tops of her tan breasts bulged against the restraint of her self-described torture device. His pants grew tight as he imagined helping her out of it.

“Morning, sleepy head,” he teased as she rubbed at her eyes.

She rewarded him with a brilliant smile. “Must’ve lost consciousness from not being able to breathe.”

“Let’s get you inside and changed.” Doyle’s face immediately burned, realizing what he’d just suggested.

Nodding, Sadie climbed across his lap, not seeming to notice when McGovern popped open the door a moment later.

Doyle glared at the man who took far too much pleasure in helping Sadie down.

“Thanks for the ride,” Doyle grumbled as Sadie hurried inside to change and, no doubt, check on Teddy.

“No, thank you, my friend. That was stellar!” Sweeping the hat from his head, McGovern revealed a bald spot Doyle hadn’t known existed. “Don’t repeat this, but I’m fucking glad someone sabotaged us. Don’t look at me like that. No one died, and now you and I get to play cowboy in the real wild west—no one watching.”

Beaming like a boy, McGovern slapped Doyle on the back.

“These are real people,” Doyle spoke between clenched teeth, looking off into the field of cactus in the distance, pops of vibrant colored flowers dotting their tips.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” McGovern snapped, straightening up and blocking the view.

“It’s supposed to mean we can’t interfere in the timeline any more than necessary.” Doyle glanced around to make sure no one was listening.

McGovern guffawed so loud Doyle’s eardrums throbbed. “So it’s okay for you, but not for me?” He poked Doyle in the chest.

“Me?” Doyle repeated.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t fucked her yet. She’s like putty in your hands. What else are you spending your time in this godforsaken hell hole for when there’s a perfectly good brothel in town?”

Fear shot through him truer than an archer’s arrow. McGovern took Doyle’s stunned expression as an admission and switched to “slap on the back” mode.

“Don’t give it a second thought. I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Clucking his tongue and winking his eyes, McGovern got back in the driver’s seat of the carriage and headed toward the road to town instead of the TCR.

“Shit.”

Muscles tensed to run after him, he froze when Sadie’s scream cut through the air. Despite the potential danger to the timeline McGovern could do, Doyle’s legs carried him in the other direction, toward the house.

“Sadie!” Doyle yelled, bursting through the door.

His gaze darted frantically around, searching out the source of the danger. He spotted the shotgun set against the wall beside the door and grabbed it without a second thought.

“Whoa there, Wally,” Sadie said, crouching on the dusty kitchen floor. “If you shoot my oven, that’ll make it worse.”