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Despite being hot and sweaty, I shake like it’s winter. My chest heaves. “Yes,” I whisper, locking my eyes to his handsome face. “Yes.”
“Who did this?” Body bent over mine, Charlie tucks me tighter in his arms. His clenched jaw looks like it’s on the verge of snapping in half. “Who hurt you?”
“I—I don’t know,” I whisper, my head lolling across his forearm. “I don’t ...” I stumble over the words, the memory of what happened. A typical response to one of my flutters. My brain’s washed out. I feel so weak and all I want to do is sleep.
I close my eyes, letting my body and the memories return to me.
“Ruby?” Charlie’s panicked voice calls me back.
I shake my head as an icy wave of nausea washes over me. “There was a man in my cottage.” A whimper escapes me at the rapid images hammering my mind. Rough hands on my mouth, that soft snarl in my ear. “He attacked me.”
“Christ,” Charlie grits out, a strangled sound erupting in his throat. The rage in his eyes makes me go weak. “I’m going to kill whoever did this to you.”
My pulse quickens. “He told me to leave before it was too late. Before someone gets hurt.”
A growl rips out of him as he pulls me deeper into his arms.
“Must’ve gone out the bedroom window,” a muffled voice says.
More muffled voices float. Boots stomp.
When I realize there are other people in the cottage, I struggle to sit up in Charlie’s arms. My eyes widen at the sight of the smashed door.
With shaking fingers, I palm his bearded cheek. Breathless, I ask, “Did you do that?”
He laughs, but his face is tight. “Baby, I was gettin’ to you, one way or another.”
“Jesus,” a drawl says. “Someone ransacked the shit out of the place.”
Davis and Ford storm around in the living room. Two towering ranchers never looked so murderous.
Ford glances down at me, compassion in his brown eyes. “Fairy Tale okay?”
“Fairy Tale?” I wonder.
“No,” Charlie growls. “She isn’t.”
“Oh no,” I whimper, finally making sense of Ford’s words as I take in my surroundings. Hot tears flood my eyes. My poor cottage is trashed. I glance at my shattered laptop. The broken flower pots and dark soil stamped across the rug. My to-do list crumpled in a corner. And—
“My hat,” I whisper, crestfallen. My beautiful cowboy hat from Charlie lies trampled on the floor, the crown smashed like a flower.
Scalding tears spill out of my eyes, streaming into the corner of my mouth. “My cottage.”
A big thumb tracks its way across my cheek. “Shhh. It’s okay. Don’t cry, baby.”
With tender care, Charlie lifts me up. His expression is hard now as he looks at his brothers. His eyes breathe fire. “The same person who attacked Wyatt attacked Ruby.”
“What?” I lift my head, worried. “Wyatt’s hurt?”
Davis shoots a glance in Ford’s direction, then smiles kindly at me. “He’ll be okay. He’s at Charlie’s gettin’ checked over by our staff doctor.”
Charlie’s anger flickers, but seeing my gaze on him, he stamps it down. “And that’s where you’re going,” he says gruffly.
“No.” I shake my head, wanting to avoid any run-ins with a doctor. Reminders of my health unwelcome at the moment. Not when I’ve got my cowboy.
I loop my arms around his neck, ignoring the urge to break down. “I’m okay, Charlie.”
“I’m not okay, Ruby.” Pain crosses his face, and he tips his forehead to mine. A ragged exhale tears from his chest. “Finding you like this, holding you limp in my arms ...I’m not okay. I’m not.”
