Page 13 of Fatal Vision

His laughter echoed in the recesses of her memories. That damn cocky smile was there too, clearing away so much of the trauma she’d been through in the past few months.

He had no reason to be here, other than for her. That was the best medicine she could ask for.

Her right knee lifted and her foot moved as if by magic. Taking a deep breath, she stopped, focusing on her balance and Colton’s haggard, but so damned welcome, face.

Feeling steadier than she’d felt all day, she walked her left foot forward and gave her right the command to follow.

It did, and she nearly laughed with relief. She stood right in front of Colton, soaking him in.

He needed a shower and shave. A haircut wouldn’t hurt either. But his presence lifted her mood, the smell of coffee and his deodorant filling her nostrils and bringing back that old feeling. The one where she felt safe.

She hadn’t felt that in a long time.

A bubble of fear hit her out of nowhere and her vision blurred like it did sometimes when her blood pressure spiked.

Amazing how much people depended on their eyesight for balance. One second she was fine—ecstatic, actually—and the next, her vision went fuzzy andoops.

She tipped slightly backward, her right foot refused to shift, and the next thing she knew, she was toppling over.

Strong hands grabbed her and her butt landed perfectly in Colton’s lap. “Whoa, there, little filly.”

Warm, brown eyes met hers, full of humor and a bit of vulnerability.

“Little filly? Really?”

“You’re all determination and excitement right now, but no coordination. Just like a newborn filly.”

She chuckled. He was maddening, but she loved it. “And…?”

One of his warm hands was on her lower back. The other across her lap, holding onto her wrist and rubbing the skin where her pulse skipped. “And what?”

“I know you want to say it. You’re the colt to my filly?”

He made a fake frown. “We’re both of breeding age, as I recall, so it’s more like my stallion to your mare.”

That cocky grin, always just below the surface, emerged once more and he waggled his eyebrows at her.

A shot of heat tightened her lower belly. She reached for her braid and twirled it. Yes, indeed, they had certainly proven many times over that they were of breeding age. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me, too. I think,” he added, his gaze dropping to her lips.

Everything in her wanted to throw her arms around him. To nestle into the safety only he could provide. “Youthink?”

He brushed a stray hair from her cheek. “I was worried about you, Shel. It made me crazy that someone would take a shot at you. I searched for months, but…”

“Shh.” She touched a finger to his lips. “I know you did everything you could to find the shooter.”

He kissed the tip of her finger. “Jack told you?”

She drew her finger away, sure she shouldn’t be having so many fantasies about him, or sitting on his lap thinking about making a few of them come true. “Momma did.”

“Oh.”

One word, but it was loaded with pain and unsaid emotions. The leakage was all over his face as he looked away.

Growing up, Colton hadn’t had a mother; his alcoholic father had bailed when Colton was seven, dropping him off at the local orphanage. He’d lived there until one of her Dad’s flock had taken him in. The Sampsons were active members of the Good Hope Church and Colton and Shelby saw each other for Sunday School and youth group activities.

But Colton suffered from ADD and was always getting into fistfights at school. He eventually ended up back at Good Hope Children’s Home when the Sampsons divorced. Her parents had repeatedly tried to save him, believing God would send a miracle, but God had other plans, and finally, like everyone else in Colton’s life, they’d given up too.