by Peak, Renna
Finally, though, I manage to get everything off Prince, and then I quickly carry it all out of the stall, pulling the door closed behind me. I need to brush him, I know, but honestly, I don’t know if I have the courage to go in there again—not until the storm is over, at least. Now that my job is done, I realize I’m shaking, and when I reach up to wipe a stray bit of hair out of my eyes, there’s a wetness on my cheeks that didn’t come from the rain.
It’s your own damn fault, I think. What did you think, that just because you’ve read all the books you know how to calm a panicking horse? You’re right to be afraid. You’re lucky he didn’t crack your skull open.
I drag the saddle, saddle blanket, and bridle back down to the tack room and leave them there. Only then do I let myself lift up my shirt and examine my chest.
It’s still throbbing, but I don’t think anything’s broken. At least I’m pretty sure a cracked rib would feel worse than this. But there’s a big, purple bruise already forming.
That’s going to be pretty, I think, pulling my shirt back down. But I’m going to have to live with it. And carefully—the last thing I want is for Nick to realize how stupid I was. That would give him the perfect excuse to fire me, since I’m still on probation and all.
I slog my way back to the house through the rain. I deserve an extra mug of cocoa after this. And a long bath.
Nick is sitting up on the couch when I return to the living room.
“I was about to come after you,” he says. “What took so long? Was he there?”
“He was there,” I say. “And he’s safe in his stall now.” I smile. “Everything went great.”
He doesn’t look convinced, so I do what I always do when he begins frowning at me—I turn it back around on him.
“I think your ankle looks even bigger. Are you sure you’re icing it right?”
“How many bloody ways are there to ice an ankle?” he grumbles. “Of course I’m doing it right!”
“We should elevate it more,” I say. “Get another pillow under there. And look, you’re out of cocoa, too.” I grab his mug. “I’ll make you more.”
While the water’s heating up, I run upstairs and change. Gingerly, since the bruise on my chest has grown bigger and even more tender to the touch. The throbbing has stopped though, which is a good sign. When I’m done, I take a detour through his room, grabbing the book I bought him yesterday.
“I brought you some entertainment,” I tell him when I return downstairs. I toss the book to him.
He eyes it suspiciously but doesn’t say a word. A few minutes later, I bring him his new mug of cocoa and return to the armchair.
“See, Nick?” I tell him. “Sometimes everything works out when you let someone else help you.” I smile and curl my hands around my warm mug. “Just think of me as your personal nurse for the next couple of days. If you need anything—”
“That won’t be necessary,” he grumbles. “My ankle will be fine by tomorrow.”
“Just accept the help, Nick,” I tell him. “Why are men always so stubborn about these things?”
“I’m not being stubborn, but I don’t need someone waiting on me hand and foot—”
“Why not? Isn’t that everyone’s fantasy? Someone at their beck and call, there to cater to their every whim?” My grin widens. “It’s something we normal people only ever get to dream of—being treated like royalty.” I laugh. “You have every excuse to be lazy for a few days, to sit around reading and napping and having a pretty young woman waiting on you. Enjoy it.”
He looks like he has absolutely no intention of enjoying any of it. What a weirdo.
I shake my head and sip at my cocoa. Some men you just can’t help.
Nicholas
It’s been several days, and the swelling in my ankle still has not decreased enough for me to be able to do more than hobble on it. Pain still sears up my leg if I even attempt to put any weight upon the thing. I don’t want to admit it, but it might be time to see a physician after all.
Clara has been diligently caring for the horses in my absence, though I suppose that is why I hired her in the first place. She’s also been doing as she offered—waiting on me hand and foot—whether I want her to or not.
She breezes into my room carrying a tray with what I suspect is my lunch. Her pants have bits of hay sticking to them, and there are a few pieces in her hair as well. The entire effect is almost…lovely.
She smiles at me. “Have you thought any more about my offer?”
“You haven’t made me an offer,” I grumble, taking the tray from her. I know exactly what she’s hinting at, but I’ve no interest in what she’s asking.
My stomach rumbles at the sight of the food. I can’t say that Clara’s cooking skills are anything to carry on about, but the woman does make a decent sandwich.
“I meant about getting you to a doctor.” She sits on the edge of my bed. “It’s been five days, Nick—”
“Four.”
“And a half.” She shakes her head, trying to hide her smile. “Why do you have to be so stubborn about it? If it’s broken—”
“It isn’t. I’ve already told you that.”
“And I’ve told you that I still can’t see how you have magical x-ray vision to know for sure. It’s just an x-ray, Nick. It isn’t like they’re going to give you a shot or something. They just take a picture of your ankle—”
“I know full well what an x-ray is. And I’ve already told you—”
“Well…” She draws the word out, interrupting me. “My nursing services are over, then. And my maid services.” She glances at the tray on my lap. “And my chef services.”
“You’re my employee. Your duties—”
“Are to be the ranch manager. And I’m taking really good care of Prince and Pomegranate. I think today I’m going to try to put the saddle on Pom—”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort. Not without me there.”
She pats my hand. “As much as I’d love to have you there, you’re not really in any shape to be riding. Of course, if you went to the doctor and got one of those walking boots—”
“I do not need to go to a physician to know my ankle has been sprained. I also do not understand why I’ve had to tell you the same thing to you so many times. As I’ve already stated—”
“You know what I’ve noticed, Nick?” She grins at me, patting my hand again. “When you get pissed off, your accent really comes out.”
I speak through my clenched jaw. “I do not have an accent.”
“Oh, you do have an accent. You do a pretty good job of hiding it most of the time. But the more I wind you up—”
“Then don’t wind me up.” I narrow my gaze. “I cannot understand why someone would purposely attempt to anger someone.”
“You’re also pretty cute when you get angry.” She shrugs. “Not that I pay attention to those sorts of things.”
“You’re my employee. You shouldn’t be paying attention to those sorts of things.” And nor should I…
“Technically, you’re not paying me, so you probably aren’t actually my employer.” She grins and shrugs again. “Not that I’m paying attention to that, either.”
I’m not certain what her intentions are, but if I wasn’t in so much pain, I’d have already pulled her on top of me and kissed that ridiculous grin off her lips.
“Anyway, I guess my point is, I’m not carrying you to the bathroom anymore.”
“You’ve never carried me anywhere.” I frown at her—I’m not sure why she’s so eager to get me to go to the doctor today. “And the inflammation seems to be better today. If I continue to use ice—”
“How are you going to get it, though? Are you going to throw yourself down the stairs to get the kitchen?”
The woman has a point, though I’m certainly not going to admit it to her.
She pats the top of my leg, and I have to muster the strength to keep the blood from rushing to my cock. I’m not sure what spell this woman h
as put upon me—or why I’m even attracted to her, for that matter. She certainly isn’t my type, not that I’ve had much of a type in the past.
“Well, it’s up to you, Nick. I’ll be glad to help you get to the truck.”
“I thought you said your nursing services had been completed,” I grumble.
“They are. Unless you agree to get in the truck and let me take you into town. I promise it’ll be quick. We’ll get you to the doctor, they’ll snap a picture, get you a boot or a cast—”
“No casts.”
“Whatever. But if you don’t do what they tell you, I’m not helping you. I’ll take care of Prince and Pom, but you…” She shakes her head. “I thought Prince was pretty hard to deal with—his whole entitled demeanor and everything.” She lifts a brow. “He really does act like a prince, you know. And you…” She shakes her head again. “You could challenge him for that title.”
My gaze narrows, but I don’t see any trace of recognition on her face. Maybe I do have some sort of air about me that makes me seem regal, though I’ve tried hard to shed it.
“Fine.” I set my jaw. “I’ll allow an x-ray. But no casts.”
“A boot and crutches it is, then.” She grins, hopping off the bed before she stretches her arms toward me. “And maybe we’ll get a decent meal while we’re in town.”
I glance at the sandwich before I set the tray beside me. Pity to waste decent food, but it isn’t as though I can carry it. Getting out of bed has become something of a chore, and it requires me to wrap my arms around her, pivoting on my good leg to try to get upright.
Something happens as I rise. I’m not sure if I lose my footing, or if Clara pulls me off balance, but instead of grasping her by her shoulders to get myself upright, my arms slide around her waist.
In an instant, my face is so close to hers it’s almost as though there is a magnetic force pulling us together. And instead of doing the gentlemanly thing and releasing her, I pull her tightly against me and press my lips to hers.
Clara
For a moment, I swear Nick is almost as surprised by his kiss as I am.
But then something changes—maybe he realizes there’s no reason to hold back, now that there’s no undoing it. His hands press against my back, holding me against his chest, and his lips move against mine.
And I’m helpless in his arms. Helpless against the rush of heat the sweeps through me, against the sudden dizziness in my head, against the thudding of my heart in my ears. I know I shouldn’t let him do this, and I definitely shouldn’t be kissing him back, but I can’t help myself. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve had steamy dreams about him every night since I arrived here. Or maybe it’s just that, now that I’ve found this new life, I want to dive fully into the fantasy. Into the heated affair with the sexy cowboy. Or whatever he is.
Or maybe I just don’t have the mental strength to talk myself out of it, no matter how much I should.
I’m not sure when my arms moved around his neck. Or when I started kissing him back as deeply as he’s kissing me. But I know I don’t want him to stop. I know the taste of his lips is enough to make me forget everything else.
His hands slide up my back, and one grips the base of my neck, tilting my head back. My lips open wider, letting him deeper, and he gives a little groan in the back of his throat. His other hand moves around my side, caressing my body. It feels mind-numbingly wonderful—until his fingers press against the nasty bruise Prince gave me a few days ago.
With a cry of pain, I jerk back. My bruise has gone from purple to a nasty yellow-green over the last couple of days, and though it’s mostly stopped hurting during normal, everyday activities, it’s still incredibly tender when touched directly.
Before I can explain any of that to Nick, though, he’s already looking away. He hops a step or two away from me, reaching out to the foot of the bed for support.
“Forgive me,” he says roughly. “That was unprofessional of me. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I do,” he says, regaining a touch more of his formality. “I assure you, Ms. Weaver, I will not touch you again. You have my word. I have no idea what possessed me. Clearly the pain in my ankle is making me lose my mind.”
I was about to protest, to explain why I pulled away, but by the time he’s done speaking I’ve clamped my mouth shut. My cheeks are hot, and not just because of that kiss.
“So kissing me amounts to losing your mind?” I demand. “Thanks, that’s a new one. I’ve never had anyone insult me so quickly after sticking their tongue down my throat.”
His head jerks back toward me in surprise, his eyes bulging slightly. “That’s not what I meant—”
“Oh, don’t worry. I know exactly what you meant. And I don’t have time for this game.” I never should have let him kiss me in the first place. What was I thinking? Not even two weeks ago I was engaged to another man. “I’ll be waiting in the car, assuming you still want to go to the doctor—and so you don’t lose your mind from pain again. You can find your own way downstairs.”
I leave before he can see how flustered I am. Inside, I’m torn between annoyance and relief. Honestly, I can take his insults—you don’t make it very far in the business world if you have a thin skin—but his reaction to our kiss gives me the excuse I need to leave him alone for a little while. I need to clear my head. Desperately.
What the hell are you doing, Clara? You’re supposed to be sorting out your life, not making it more complicated! I don’t even want to know what Nick would think if he learns about everything I left behind. Or what my family or Adam would think if they knew I’d already thrown myself into the arms of another man. I’m better than this.
I’m just…confused.
I rub my temples as I walk outside. I shouldn’t have let Nick kiss me, but that’s not even the half of it. The real problem isn’t that he kissed me—it’s how much I enjoyed that kiss. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a kiss that much. Why, if he hadn’t accidentally brushed my bruise, I would have let him…
My cheeks get even hotter as I let that thought dissolve into fantasy. How did I end up in this mess? And with Nick, of all people? He’s so stiff and formal. And grumpy, most of the time. And he’s obviously hiding something.
But he’s also incredibly handsome—there’s no denying that. And his blue eyes are surprisingly deep for someone who holds his emotions so close. And that accent…
He’s also an incredibly good kisser, as I’ve just learned. It’s easy enough to discount my dreams of him—mostly, anyway—but it’s going to be much harder to forget the feeling of his mouth against mine. My lips tingle at the memory of that heat, and I sink down onto the top step of the porch with a sigh.
You never do things halfway, do you? I think. Part of me wants to run back inside and up the steps and throw myself back into his arms, screw his promises to never touch me again. That man wants me—he must, to kiss me like that—however much he wants to deny it. My old life is over. There’s no need to worry about any of it anymore. And how can I say I’ve escaped if it’s still influencing what I do now? It’s time to embrace the new adventures ahead of me.
I’m debating what to do when I hear the creak of the stairs back in the house. I smile. I should probably go help the poor weirdo before he breaks his neck.
As I rise, though, I realize I hear something else—a car.
I frown. Back in New York, I wouldn’t even have noticed the sound of a car. But out here, away from everything, I haven’t heard one in days. As I gaze off toward the road, I realize someone is driving down the long, winding dirt driveway toward us. Someone in a silver sedan.
My breath catches. That looks just like…
I shake my head. That could be anyone coming up the driveway. Silver sedans are probably the most common kind of car out there. And anyway, there’s no possible way he could have…
The porch door swings open behind me, and Nick hobbles out, the
determined set of his jaw almost covering his mild grimace of pain. Instinctively, I reach out and offer him my shoulder to lean on. He hesitates only a moment before taking it, and then he turns his frown onto the approaching car.
“One of your neighbors?” I ask hopefully.
He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. We shouldn’t have any visitors. Unless you called a physician who makes house calls.”
That makes my stomach twist and turn, but I tell myself again that I’m being an idiot. “No, I didn’t call anyone.”
But maybe I should have. Maybe I should have called everyone back home and told them I had no intention of coming back. And to stop calling me.
The car comes to a stop in front of the porch, and for a moment, I’m afraid my knees are going to give out. I may be the one supporting Nick, but I’m grateful to have something to hold onto.
But it’s not until the door opens that the last of my hope disappears. A familiar figure climbs out of the car.
He looks just as I remember him—tall and athletic, pale hair swept to the side, a slight boyishness to his classic features. He looks out of place here in his collared shirt and loafers, and it’s clear from the look he gives his surroundings that he doesn’t know quite what to make of what he sees.
But he only looks around for a moment before turning his gaze toward us. I see the shock register in his eyes when he recognizes me—as if he can’t believe I’m actually here, even though he must have known already, to show up here at all. His eyes take me in, then shift to Nick. And that’s when they harden into anger.
I know exactly what he must be thinking. And I feel the sudden urge to pull my arm away from Nick—except then he’d have nothing supporting him. I can’t do that. So I stay as I am. Nick’s face turns slightly toward me, and I realize the hand I have against his back has tightened its grip, my fingers curling to clutch the fabric of his shirt.
“May I help you?” Nick says stiffly to our new arrival. He doesn’t wait for a response before adding, “Who are you, and why are you on my property?”