Quinn by R.C. Ryan Page B

who’d once lived here, Quinn could see it through new eyes.
    He circled the room, seeing the framed photos of a younger Buddy on horseback, in a hay wagon, in the bull-riding ring at the fairgrounds in Paintbrush. There was a small photo atop the dresser of Buddy and Cheyenne, arms around each other, grinning like two conspirators. There was no disputing their relationship. Their dark hair and eyes and wide smiles were identical.
    As he stripped and climbed into bed, Quinn thought about the tragic losses Cheyenne had suffered in the past years. It must seem as if her entire family had disappeared in the blink of an eye.
    What would it be like
, he wondered,
to lose everyone who mattered most?
He lay very still, staring at the crescent moon in the midnight sky outside the window. There were times, even now, when the loss of his mother was like a quick, unexpected knife to his heart, and she’d been gone for better than half his life. Plenty of time to get used to it. And yet he never had. None of his family had. Especially their father.
    Quinn couldn’t imagine what he’d have done if he’d been forced to deal with not only the loss of his mother but of his father and siblings as well.
    Just thinking about them had Quinn eager to head home. He’d been gone way too long. He wanted, needed, to touch base with his family. To sleep in his own bed. And to get back into the routine of hard, challenging ranch chores alongside Josh and his father and Big Jim.
    It had felt good to clean the stalls here and to handle the dozens of ranch chores that had piled up overnight. It would be even more satisfying to tackle the chores on his own family ranch.
    Just the thought of home had him smiling as he drifted into sleep.
    Favoring her shoulder, Cheyenne undressed slowly before turning out the light and climbing into bed. After sleeping away most of the day, she ought to be feeling wide awake. But the truth was, she felt sluggish. As though her brain and her body had somehow disconnected.
    She thought again about the mustang’s unexpected attack. It had all happened so quickly. In the blink of an eye she’d been rendered nearly unconscious from the pain. If not for Quinn’s quick thinking, she wouldn’t belying here comfortably in her own bed. She shivered and drew the blanket firmly around her.
    As warm as Quinn’s arms.
    The thought had her eyes going wide. Quinn’s arms? Around her?
    Had she dreamed it, or had he actually held her? In fact, kissed her?
    She touched a finger to her lips. In that instant the realization dawned.
    It hadn’t been a dream. He had held her and kissed her, and she’d kissed him back.
    The feelings that had stayed with her throughout the day hadn’t been just her imagination. The wild thrill that had coursed through her veins, the hot, sexual awareness that had remained even in sleep, was real.
    And then she remembered her words.
    Have I told you that you’re easy to look at?
    Hold me, Quinn.
    Kiss me, Quinn.
    And he had. Sweet heaven, he had. Because she had initiated it.
    On the one hand, she was mortified at her own boldness. The man had saved her life, and she’d acted like some kind of seductress. She knew it was out of character. Knew, instinctively, that it had been the effects of the tall glass of whiskey. But she couldn’t deny that she’d enjoyed it.
    Even while her face grew hot with the memory, she found herself smiling at the amazing feelings that lingered.
    Quinn Conway wasn’t only easy to look at; he was also a man to be trusted. She could have found herself ina precarious situation, if he hadn’t proven to be a perfect gentleman.
    A perfect gentleman. And a fantastic kisser.
    She was still smiling as she drifted into sleep.
    Quinn had always been a light sleeper. He’d never decided if that was a blessing or a curse. Many a night as a kid he’d lain awake for hours, hearing sounds in the house that had him absolutely certain that his mother had returned. He would creep down