The Billionaire of Bluebonnet (11 page)

And now this. The fact that prissy, prim Beth Ann, unofficial Queen of Bluebonnet, was lost wandering in the woods? It got on his last nerve, because he knew he was going to have to be the one to rescue her ass. And wasn't that going to be fun. It was bad enough when he ran across her in town and she glared daggers at him. Now he was going to spend his Friday night tracking her down in the woods, where she would no doubt glare daggers at him again, as if the rain and mud were his fault.

She thought everything was his fault anyhow. He was pretty sure she still blamed him for being Dane's friend, and Dane had hurt her best friend Miranda in the past. It didn't matter that Dane and Miranda were engaged. She might tolerate Dane now, but that toleration didn't extend to his friends. Colt knew she still disliked him. The feeling was mutual.

Colt looked back at the sniffling, drenched girl. “Where's this Templar camp?” he growled.

Lucy hastily stammered directions, and he was able to guess. It sounded like these “Templar” idiots liked to camp right on the edge of the Daughtry land. They were probably the ones Dane had run into before. If so, he knew where that was. “You,” he said in a low voice, and pointed to the waiting ATV. “Go with them.”

“But my sister?”

“I'll find her and send her on her way.”

“But—”

Colt gave the girl a menacing look.

“Uh, tell Beth Ann I said hi and that I'm sorry,” Lucy said in a rush, and then dashed for the waiting group, her boots squelching in the thick mud with every step.

That was better. He headed toward Rob, the head of the volunteer outfit, and handed him the bucket of keys. “All tagged.”

“You've been a huge help, Colt. I can't thank you enough, man,” Rob said. “We're just about done here. We have a full headcount, so we just need to clear everyone out and get them set up at the Johnson Motel.”

Full headcount? Then Beth Ann had come through while he'd been talking to her sister? He noticed the clipboard Rob was holding. “Can I see that?”

Rob handed it over, and Colt scanned the scribbles of handwriting. Lord Colossus. Aragorn. Tasha the Wind Dancer. What the hell was this crap? He skimmed the list of strange names, looking for Beth Ann's. It wasn't there. Either she truly wasn't out here, or she hadn't signed in. Or she was going by a name like Pixy Rainbow-Child, which he doubted. Still, if she wasn't here, then why was her car stuck in the mud with all the others? He handed it back to Rob and squinted at the woods.

“There a problem?” Rob asked.

“I'm going to do a final sweep of the campgrounds,” Colt told him. “Make sure there's no one else lingering out there.”

“Mike already did a sweep,” Rob informed him, then clapped him on the back. “You can go home, take a load off. We appreciate you helping out on such short notice.”

He'd be willing to bet that Mike hadn't found this so-called Templar camp. “Happy to help out. Just the same,” Colt drawled. “I'll swing through. Ease my mind a little.” He nodded at Rob. “If I find someone, I'll bring 'em back to the motel in my Jeep.” It was safely parked on the side of the highway a mile and a half away, clear of any mud or flooding.

“If I don't hear from you, I'll assume you're just fine, then,” Rob said cheerfully.

“I'll check in,” Colt said.

“Oh, that's not necessary—” At Colt's look, he realized he'd said something wrong, and added, “But, uh, check in anyhow.”

“I'll check in,” Colt repeated, his words a little flat. The military would never leave a man out in the field and not have him check in. That was just bullshit.

“Good call,” Mike said, slapping Colt on the back.

“Can't be too careful.” He patted the plastic-covered satellite phone at his belt. “I'll call you later and let you know when I've left.”

“Gotcha,” Rob said, and stuck out a hand. “Thanks again, man.”

“You bet,” Colt said. He made a mental note to discuss additional training for the volunteer group when he got back. They were pretty sad as far as volunteer groups went. And while he didn't expect them to follow military tenets, common sense was still necessary.

Colt grabbed a flashlight, tipped his sodden baseball cap at Rob, and headed off into the woods and the downpour. He ignored the twinge in his bad knee. It'd just have to wait.

* * *

He checked every campsite. They all seemed to go in a half circle through the woods and were pretty easy to find. He was disgusted at the sight of them, too. Fire pits too close to tents—luckily for them, the water had washed away any embers—cans and empty bottles everywhere. Some of it was the rain but some of it, he knew, was carelessness, and he hated that. Damn idiots. He hated to see the land being ruined by a bunch of fools. They could stand a few lessons on wilderness survival themselves, he thought. Of course, Grant would see this as a business opportunity.

Of course, Grant wasn't out here in the middle of the night, in the rain and the mud. Colt was, and he found their lack of care annoying as shit.

The Templar camp wasn't anywhere in the neat half circle of campsites, and he knew it wouldn't be. When Lucy had mentioned it, she'd made it sound like quite a hike away, and had noted a stream with a fallen log that he was familiar with. He finished his sweep of all of the other campsites first, just to be sure. He found each one full of debris, camping gear, and discarded foam weapons. The rain hadn't let up, and the ground was turning into a muddy sludge. Whoever had purchased this land hadn't bothered to do anything but clear away the trees for the parking lot. No wonder all the cars were stuck in the morass of mud.

When he'd finished checking all the campsites, he doubled back and headed deeper into the woods, looking for the Templar campsite—or Beth Ann.

The trail was mostly washed out at this point, but Colt didn't need it. Even in the downpour, he knew which direction he was headed, an advantage, he suspected, that Beth Ann probably did not have. But he took his time, searching the area to make sure that there were no other stragglers, and watching his steps. It was dark, and wet, and cold, and those three things would be an unpleasant combination for anyone not used to the elements.

He went farther into the woods, past the circle of campsites. He found the stream Lucy had mentioned, now swollen and overflowing, and crossed the log that served as a bridge to the other side. He'd been making his way slowly through the woods for some time, noticing that the ground sloped up ever so gently, when he heard a loud crash in the brush ahead.

Colt clicked off his flashlight, listening. Despite the steady patter of raindrops, he could hear something moving in the dense trees ahead, so he stopped to listen. While there were a few wildcats in the area—not many—they wouldn't be out in the storm. Wild boar might, though, or a coyote.

He paused, waiting.

Another crash. Then, a softly muttered, “Fiddlesticks.”

He didn't know whether to laugh or roll his eyes in annoyance. Of course she was out here. His suspicions were confirmed when a low call of “Lucy? Lucy, are you out here?” echoed through the woods.

He stepped forward out of the brush, toward her.

It took him a moment or two to find her—he was mostly following the thrashes—when he turned on his flashlight again, and the light caught on something glittering.

“Who's there?” she called at the same time, a bit of hope in her voice. “Lucy?”

He stepped out toward her and caught his first good look at Beth Ann Williamson.

She was soaked. Her long blonde hair was plastered to her skull, her bangs like daggers over her pale forehead. She wore some sort of blanket over her shoulders, and a peach-colored sequined, sparkly dress clung to her wet body like a second skin. Her breasts were outlined by the damp, clinging fabric, and the shadow of her nipples could be seen through the pale fabric. Not that he needed that to see them—her nipples were hard as rocks and standing at attention. Her dress was so thin he could even see the vee of her hips under the fabric, and his cock automatically hardened at the sight. Her legs were slick and damp and pale with cold. Below the knee, her calves and feet were covered in mud. She'd clearly been wearing a lot of makeup before coming out—it was smeared over her high cheekbones and dribbled down her face in black streams. She clutched a bag in her hand.

She looked like an utter wreck.

At the sight of him, Beth Ann stopped short. A look of surprise crossed her face, and then her eyes narrowed. “What are
you
doing here?”

He was kind of used to that sort of response from her. They'd formed a momentary truce when Miranda and Dane had gotten engaged, but it had quickly fizzled back into intense dislike on both sides. “I'm here saving your ass.”

She huffed, an action that made her wet breasts heave and his cock jerk in response at the sight. “I don't need saving, Colt. I need to find my sister.”

She was so outraged at the sight of him. It was damn funny to watch. And, okay, a little arousing. “You look like something out of a horror movie,” he drawled, unable to quit looking at those magnificent, heaving wet breasts. She was something out of a horror movie all right. The hot, sexy starlet that took her top off and got fucked by someone for five minutes on screen. Damn. He shifted in the mud. Why the hell was he so turned on by the sight of her all wet and helpless? She had a fine body, but it came attached to that yapping mouth of hers.

A mouth that had just dropped open in shock. “A horror movie?” Beth Ann repeated, stunned. “How
dare
you!”

“That's not what I meant,” he began, and then scowled when she glared at him and turned her back. She was determined to misunderstand him, it'd seem. Prickly woman. Madder than hell and still trying to be a lady about things. “You're misunderstanding me. I'm here to rescue you.”

“Rescue me? Oh,
really
.” Beth Ann turned as if the word made her furious. She put her hands on her hips, the wet bag bouncing against her side as she did. “Here to be the big hero?”

Well, he didn't like to think of it that way. “I guess.”

“Is this some sort of macho joke?”

He raised an eyebrow. Why would he joke about a rescue?

She laughed, the sound bitter and harsh. “Oh, this is unreal. You really do think you're here to rescue me, don't you? How cute. I'm sure that's what everyone told you—that poor little Beth Ann Williamson is desperate for a man to sweep her off her feet and rescue her from her situation. That I'm just waiting for Prince Charming to swoop in and save the day.” Her mouth pursed into a polite little smile, made all the more ridiculous by the makeup running down her face. “Look, Colt, I don't know why you feel this need to show up here and try to play the hero, but the last thing I want is another man deciding that I can't take care of myself and trying to take over my life. So you can just go away now. I don't need saving, and I don't need your help. Oh, and tell Miranda that I said nice try.”

He didn't see what Miranda had to do with anything. “You're turning down a rescue?”

She laughed and flicked her hand, as if shooing a fly. “Oh, I am turning down the entire kit and caboodle. The rescue
and
the person it came attached to.”

All right, now he was getting annoyed. He leaned back, studied her. “Oh
really
?”

“Yes, really,” she said viciously. “I don't know if you were aware, but not every woman in the vicinity needs saving.”

“I don't know,” he drawled, knowing any response he made would irritate her. “You look pretty helpless to me.”

That did it. Her entire body stiffened and she jerked upright. Her mouth clenched into a firm line. Beth Ann Williamson definitely had a stick up her ass tonight. “I am not
helpless
,” she seethed. “Just because I am female does not mean I need you to swoop in and be a hero. Sometimes we can save ourselves, you know.” She gestured at him with incensed, quick little motions. “I realize that's difficult to get through that pile of meat on top of your shoulders that men like to call a brain, but it's true. Not all women are helpless. Not this woman, for sure. And I certainly don't need you stomping in and making my life miserable like you always do, so why don't you just go
away
?”

Go away? He was here, standing in the rain and waiting to save her ass, the ungrateful woman. But that wasn't what she wanted. She wanted to rescue herself. As if the thought of a man helping her out of the woods was somehow insulting to her. Fine. “You expect me to just leave you flailing in this mud all night? In the dark?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “I don't need your help and I sure don't need you here right now, following me around. Go bother someone else.”

He was beyond annoyance now. The woman was irrational. “And so you want me to leave?”

She turned and looked off into the woods, as if in exasperation. As if he were keeping her from finding her sister. “Did I stutter?”

Ah yes. This was the Beth Ann he knew. Colt put his hands up. “Fine then. I will leave you alone. Out here. Just like you want.”

“Good,” she bit out, then glanced down at his pants. He thought she was going to comment on the wood he was sporting despite her nasty attitude. But she pointed at his pocket, where he'd tucked his flashlight, with a finger that was wrinkled and shaking with cold. “Can I buy that flashlight from you?”

“I reckon not,” he said with a drawl.

She scowled at him. “God, I hate you. Go find someone else to harass.”

And with that, she stomped off into the woods again.

Fuck you too,
he thought to himself. Here he was, trying to help her out and she bit his head off, treated him as if he were garbage for even daring to think she might need help. His spine stiffened anew as he watched her crash through the underbrush, and then her form disappeared back into the shadows. “Lucy?”