Million Dollar Cowboy (Cupid, Texas #5)(79)

"Have a safe trip," she whispered, her eyes full of the same sadness and longing that tugged at him. It was a sensation he'd never before experienced. A sensation that scared him to the bottom of his soul.

He had an overwhelming impulse to tell her to wait for him. To give him some time to figure things out. But how could he ask her to put her life on hold for him when he'd be in China for six months? It wasn't fair to her.

Damn, if he wasn't about to ask just that when her dogs pushed the bedroom door open and barreled inside and piled onto the mattress and buried her in wet doggy kisses.

Kaia giggled, covered her face with her hands.

Ridge stood there watching her with the dogs, wearing nothing but his swim trunks, affection for her swelling his heart. She was so uncomplicated, so honest, so fresh and real. A million miles away from his ordinary, high-speed, high-stress world.

He could taint her so easily.

"They need to go to the bathroom," she said.

"I'll let them out," he offered, and moved to the door. The dogs bailed off the bed, following him.

He was at the back door, the dogs at his heels, when he heard her call out from the bedroom, "Watch out for Dart. He's still a bit feral and he'll bolt if he sees an opening."

But it was already too late. The back door was open and a blur of orange fur zoomed outside ahead of the hounds.

"Dammit!" Ridge cursed and took off after the kitten, barefooted, in the pitch dark.



"Ridge?" Kaia pulled on her robe and padded into the kitchen. When she spied the back door hanging open, she knew at once what had happened. Dart, the little escape artist, had made good his getaway.

She should have warned Ridge sooner about the kitten, but she'd been wrapped in a cocoon of early-morning-after-great-sex bliss, and her brain was fuzzily warped.

"Snap out of it," she scolded, shook her head, and peered out the door. The dogs were in the fenced backyard, wagging their tails, but she saw neither hide nor hair of Ridge or Dart.

Cinching the belt of her robe tighter, she stepped out onto the back porch. "Ridge?"

Not far away, a coyote howled. She shivered. Oh dear. Little Dart was snack-sized, and the desert was filled with dangerous creatures.

"Dart," she called, hearing the anxiety in her voice. "Here kitty, kitty."

From the alley behind the shed, came a crash, followed by a muffled curse and another crash.



       
         
       
        

"Ridge?" She paused to jam her feet into the flip-flops she kept at the back door, and then sprinted across the yard. Buddy and Bess barked and ran along with her, clearly thinking she was up for some kind of game.

Something yowled. Twice.

Dart? Or was it Ridge?

Heart slamming hard into her ribs, she rounded the shed, reached the chain-link fence separating her property from the alley. Stopped, breathless and perspiring.

There stood Ridge in the light of the flood lamp, a wriggling Dart clasped in his hands, his bare chest covered in scratches.

"Gotcha!" Ridge crowed.

Kaia was relieved that he'd found Dart, but concerned for Ridge. She took the kitten Ridge triumphantly handed to her, cuddled him to her chest, felt the frantic rhythm of Dart's tiny pulse.

"C'mon," she said, noticing blood oozing from his scratches. "Let's get you cleaned and doctored."

"This is nothing."

"Nevertheless," she said. "We can't have you flying off with infected wounds. Ever heard of cat scratch fever?"

He looked as if he were about to argue, but nodded and hobbled toward her.

"You're barefooted!"

"Yeah. I was determined not to let Dart get away. Stepped on bull nettle."

"Good grief."

Still clinging to a wriggling Dart, she and the dogs escorted Ridge back to the house. Once inside, she crated the kitten and directed Ridge to the bathroom. Closed the toilet lid, motioned for him to sit.

He plunked down. She rummaged in the medicine cabinet for antiseptic and antibiotic ointment.

"This is going to sting." She knelt in from of him, dabbed the bloody scratches with an antiseptic-doused cotton ball.

Ridge hissed in a clenched breath.

His body heat radiated into her as she tended to the dozen scratches crisscrossing his muscled torso. He'd gotten injured saving her cat.

Between the black eyes and the wounds on his chest and the red welts on his feet where he'd stepped on the bull nettles, he looked like he'd tangled with the wrong character. He'd not had an easy time of it the past few days. She couldn't blame him if he never came back to Cupid.

"Thank you," she whispered.