Naomi.
Chaska had forgotten that she would be staying with them. It was good and right to give her a place to rest and recuperate. Their grandmother had taught them to welcome strangers into their home and to offer help and protection to those who needed it. But Chaska knew there was more to his sister’s invitation to Naomi than old-fashioned Lakota notions ofwacantognaka— generosity.
You were led to her.
No. No way. Naomi had been lying in that exact spot for hours before Chaska had spoken those foolish words. It was just a coincidence.
Chaska pushed it from his mind and got back to work.
Chaska unlockedthe front door and carried the food to the kitchen, the house silent. He thought no one was home until he caught a glimpse of Naomi in the back bedroom. He walked to the bedroom door to say hello—and froze.
He’d thought she was beautiful when he’d first seen her, but now…
She slept with her face turned toward him, her lips parted, her breathing deep and even. Dark hair fanned out on the pillow around her, long lashes resting against her bruised cheeks, a bandage on her wounded shoulder. Her dress had ridden up to her thighs, revealing strong, smooth legs and soft skin. Her injured ankle was wrapped in a compression bandage and propped on a pillow, her feet delicate, her toenails painted a frosty shade of peach.
Is there anyone I can call for you—your family, a significant other, an employer?
No. No one.
He wondered how that could be true. How could a woman as brave and beautiful as Naomi have no man in her life? How could it be that there was no one—friends, family, neighbors—who would want to know what had happened to her, no one to help her get home again?
Life wasn’t easy, but walking the path alone made it much harder.
Chaska’s family was far from perfect, but when Winona had been attacked and drugged, there’d been a half dozen pickup trucks parked out front the next day. Their aunties had cooked more food than they could eat—wohanpi, buffalo burgers, fry bread, plum cakes, corn with walnuts. Their cousins had gotten underfoot trying to help. Old Man had held aninipiceremony, pouring water, leading the songs and prayers for Winona. Chaska’s friends on the Team had done their best to help, too. Hell, everyone in Scarlet had pitched in, doing what they could to support Winona and Lexi, who’d been badly hurt, enfolding both women and their families in well-intentioned chaos.
It didn’t seem right that anyone should face a situation like this alone.
Chaska looked at Naomi’s sweet face, whatever doubts he’d had about having her stay here gone. She wasn’t alone—not any longer. She had Winona, and, yes, Chaska, too. They would travel this part of her journey with her, doing whatever they could to help her get back on her feet and home to Rapid City.
It was only when she stirred and he thought she was about to wake up that he realized he’d entered her room and was standing next to the bed, staring down at her.
Aiii. You idiot. What are you doing?
She’d just been attacked by two men. The last thing he wanted to do was startle her or make her feel unsafe.
He turned and walked quietly from the room, shutting the door behind him.
Chapter 6
Naomi awoke with a whimper, her leg throbbing, her shoulder aching. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand and realized she’d slept off her last dose of painkillers and was now two hours behind on the next. Carefully lifting her leg, she sat on the edge of the bed, her mind in a fog. Where had she left her pills?
She reached for her crutches, got to her feet, and made her way over to the rocking chair, where she’d put the bag that held everything from the hospital. She found the bottle of painkillers in the bottom of the bag together with the receipt. She took two pills from the bottle and popped them into her mouth, holding them there as she walked to the closed bedroom door and opened it. She stepped into the kitchen in search of a glass of water—and stopped short.
Chaska.
She forgot about the pills and swallowed hard, tablets dragging their way down her throat, leaving a bitter taste.
She recognized him. Of course, she did. And yet...
How could she not have noticed howbeautifulhe was?
He was tall, over six feet, a black T-shirt stretched over well-developed pecs, his arms lean and muscular. Thick, dark hair hung almost to his waist, long lashes framing intense brown eyes. His face looked like it had been sculpted by an artist—a proud nose, high cheekbones, a wide mouth with full lips.
This was the man who’d stayed with her, who’d promised to protect her, who’d helped save her life. He was the most stunning man she’d ever seen.
His dark brows drew together, and he took a step away from the refrigerator, where he’d been busy putting groceries away, toward her. “Are you okay?”
She searched for words, her thoughts scattered. “I came to get a glass of water.”