by Peak, Renna
I allow myself—for the briefest of moments—to glance over at what Clara and the doctor are doing, and my face feels as though it’s caught fire. She has her dress pulled up so far it reveals not only her panties, but one side of her bra. And if the angry purple bruise wasn’t so prominent, I wouldn’t be able to help but notice the swell of her breast beneath the lacy fabric of her…
What am I doing to myself? I look up at the ceiling tiles again. Twenty-six holes in the first row of this tile. Multiply that by twenty-six in the column down. It’s been a fair amount of time since I’ve been in school, but certainly I can figure out twenty-six times twenty-six in my head—
“You can look now, weirdo.” Clara slides her hand back into mine.
I’ll not tell her that I’ve already looked. Considering how ferociously my cheeks are burning, she likely already knows.
“We can x-ray your ribs if you want,” the doctor says. “But the treatment will be the same either way—ice and rest. And try not to get kicked again.”
Clara apparently left out the bit where her fiancé punched her, but I don’t reveal that to the doctor.
I turn to the physician. “I would feel better if she were to get the x-rays.”
“Don’t be stupid, Nick. It’s a waste of money—”
“It’s not so much that it’s a waste of money. But it’s a needless exposure to x-rays.” The doctor shrugs. “No need to do them, really, if it doesn’t change the treatment.”
“You, on the other hand.” Clara grasps my hand tightly. “It would change your treatment if you got that MRI.”
“Possibly,” the doctor chimes in. “You’ve definitely got some significant instability in that ankle, Mr. Smith. If you won’t get an MRI, you should at least do some physical therapy to try to strengthen those ligaments as much as you can.”
The only physical therapy I can think about at the moment includes what I might do if I see what’s under Clara’s dress again.
What is wrong with me?
I shift on the table, trying to hide what I’m certain is a bulge in my jeans. “I’m quite fine.”
The nurse returns with the walking boot, and within a few minutes, I have what is essentially a removable cast on my leg.
“I’d still recommend crutches,” the nurse calls after me as I exit the room.
It’s still painful to bear weight, but not nearly as bad as it was before. “I’m fine,” I call over my shoulder.
“I’ll come back for them if he changes his mind,” Clara says.
“I’m not changing my mind,” I mutter.
“About anything?” She loops her arm through mine as we leave the clinic. “I think I can change your mind about a lot of things.”
Clara
I swear, this man is way too stubborn for his own good. He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t hurt his ankle even worse because of that stubbornness. Maybe I should have insisted on the crutches, but some people only learn if you let them fall down a few times. Sometimes literally.
But I’m figuring out how Nick thinks, little by little. Just yesterday he refused to see the doctor at all, so at least I know I’m making progress.
I help him into the car and then pull out of the clinic parking lot. I almost suggest stopping at the town diner for some lunch—a milkshake sounds really good right now—but then I glance across the street and see Adam’s car in front of the bed and breakfast.
Immediately my mood sours. I’d managed to forget about Adam for all of ten minutes, but I’m not going to be able to ignore him forever.
Maybe I should deal with this now, I think. Drop Nick off at the house and drive right back here and talk to Adam. End it today.
That would be the smart thing to do. The brave thing. If I weren’t such a damn coward.
I stop the car at a red light, nibbling on my nail. I always knew I could only run for so long, but I was hoping I’d be able to run for at least a little longer than this.
With a start, I realize that Nick is watching me closely, the corners of his mouth turned down.
“What’s wrong?” he asks me. And then, “I should have insisted you get that x-ray. Or at least some powerful medication to—”
“I’ll get an x-ray if you promise to get crutches,” I tell him.
The look on his face assures me that that issue is dead, at least for now. But I know he’s not done, so I decide to cut him off before he can go on. Throw him off balance before he can learn what’s really on my mind.
“Did you look?” I ask him.
His eye darken in apparently confusion. “Pardon?”
I let his use of the word pardon slide. “When Dr. Henson was examining me…did you look?”
“Of course not,” he says, much too quickly.
“Sure you didn’t.” I grin. The light changes to green, and I quickly put the bed and breakfast and Adam far behind us.
I could go on teasing him—his reaction confirms that he at least glanced at me during the examination—but for once, I don’t have the energy. My mind keeps going back to Adam. I need something to distract me.
You weren’t thinking of Adam when you were kissing Nick this morning, a voice reminds me. The easiest way to forget one guy is in the arms of another.
But I shake my head. I just promised myself that I wouldn’t even think of Nick that way again. I’m not looking for a rebound. I’m looking for…a fresh start. Whatever that means.
We’re both silent for most of the ride back to the ranch. When we get there, Nick gets out of the car on his own. The boot allows him a little more movement than before, but I still offer him my shoulder as we head up the porch steps. And he takes it.
I lead him inside and to the living room. His arm is across my shoulders, mine around his waist.
“Thanks again,” I tell him quietly. “For defending me this morning. You didn’t have to do that.”
We’ve reached the couch, and Nick pulls away from me, but instead of sinking onto the cushions, he twists and looks down at me.
“It was nothing,” he says.
“It wasn’t nothing. You didn’t have to get involved. I’m just your employee, and a new one at that.”
“I’m not the sort of man who lets people charge onto my property to make trouble for my employees,” he says after a moment. “And I’m not the sort of man who lets another man show disrespect to a woman in front of me. I don’t know what happened between that fellow and you, but his behavior was inexcusable.”
I wasn’t expecting Nick to be so…compassionate. So understanding. I mean, I’ve known since the day I met him that he’s a decent guy. But I wouldn’t blame him if he stayed out of drama that has nothing to do with him. Instead, he seems surprised that I’d even suggest he would.
I don’t know what comes over me, but I’m suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. Tears well up in my eyes, and I spring toward him, wrapping my arms around him and hugging him tightly. I bury my face in his chest as my fingers clutch the back of his shirt.
“Thank you,” I murmur against his shirt. “I need a friend right now.” The word friend still taunts me, but I don’t care. It’s just nice to know I’m not alone. I realize I’m probably squeezing him too tight—and it’s not like Nick is a huggy person or anything—so with a sniff and a smile, I pull back.
Or at least I try to. I didn’t even notice his arms closing around me, hugging me back, but they hold me against his chest.
I tilt my face up, my grin widening. “Maybe you’re a hugger after all.”
But the look on his face makes my grin falter. I know that look. And by the way my heart flutters, my body knows it, too.
He doesn’t say anything. And he moves so slowly that for a moment I wonder if it’s just my imagination. But little by little, his face inches down toward mine. And little by little, my head tilts back. My eyelids suddenly feel very heavy, drifting closed against my will.
My heart is beating so fast I can feel it in the bruise on my chest. My breath is quick
and shallow. His warmth is all around me, his arms strong and secure around my back. After the kisses we’ve already shared today, my body is eager for more.
It’s not until I feel his breath against my lips that I remember my promise to myself.
My eyes snap open, and I push him back reflexively. A little harder than I intended—he stumbles back on his booted foot and lands on the couch. But I don’t trust myself to go help him. I don’t even trust myself to be here right now.
“I…have something I need to do,” I blurt. Then I turn around and bolt from the room before he can see how red my face is.
How could I forget my promise already? How could I get caught up again so easily? I already knew I was a coward, but I didn’t realize how stupid I was, too.
I’m not ready to face Adam, not at all. But as I hurry outside, I realize that might be my only choice right now.
Nicholas
I rake a hand through my hair as I watch Clara rush outside. I’m not sure what I was thinking, trying to kiss her again. But my body aches with unspent tension, and it’s difficult to think of anything other than how my cock still strains against my jeans.
I should follow her, I think. Tell her…something.
But what could I possibly say to her? She’s made it quite clear that she has no interest in anything physical happening between us. And I’m certainly not going to force that upon her.
It’s better this way—Clara has become a distraction. And it isn’t as though I need any distraction in my life. I came here to get away from this sort of thing.
There’s plenty to do around here, and I certainly don’t need a woman to complicate things. In fact, I probably don’t need her here at all. I’m still not sure what I was thinking when I hired her. She has no experience, no knowledge of how to run a ranch…
You weren’t thinking, you imbecile. You were blinded by her pretty smile. The swell of her breasts. The curve of her ass.
That line of thinking will do little to convince me to do what I know needs to be done, particularly after the events of this morning.
I need to fire Clara.
It’s what’s best for both of us, certainly. She should return to her old life before it’s too late—go back with this fiancé of hers. It’s quite apparent that he’s willing to take her back into his life. She made some sort of rash decision in running away—I can’t say that I haven’t done the same. And now she’s found herself in over her head.
Much as I have.
I shake my head. There’s no sense in allowing myself to even consider that there might be something more than an employer-employee relationship between the two of us. It matters little that her body seems to melt against mine when I take her in my arms. Or how she responds when our lips meet. Or how I can almost feel the warmth from her core when we…
No. This line of thinking will do little to help me with what I know needs to be done. Besides, what will she think when she learns the truth about my identity? And if anything were to ever truly happen between us, she would certainly find out eventually.
I’ve longed my entire life to eschew my birthright. As the second youngest in my large family, it was never much of a birthright, anyway. I love my country—and my family—but I’ve never felt part of the larger tradition of my royal lineage. Perhaps it’s because I have three older brothers—my place in line for the throne has never been more than a footnote, and it grows farther and farther away as each of my brothers have children of their own.
This is my kingdom now. A place to call my own. A place where none of my family has any influence or say over my actions.
And that’s how I should keep it.
A ranch manager might be a nicety, but it certainly isn’t a necessity. I was desperate that day when I wrote the advertisement that brought Clara here. It was…stupid. And something I need to remedy.
I walk to the kitchen, still limping on my injured ankle.
That would be a good reason to keep Clara, at least for a bit longer. How will you ride a horse when you can barely walk?
I consider that thought for a few moments—keeping her here, if only through the end of our verbal agreement, might be best. It’s difficult enough to get from one room to another—I’m still not sure how I would get myself onto a horse with this plastic monstrosity casting my leg.
Part of me knows it’s only a matter of time before we do something we’ll both regret. And after what just happened in the living room, she might feel as though I’m taking advantage of her if anything else were to pass between us.
I’m not certain I could live with having her think that of me.
I continue into the kitchen, realizing I’ve not eaten anything today. Clara probably hasn’t either, I think.
My brow furrows. Why am I allowing myself to think of her at all? And why am I so concerned about whether or not she’s eaten?
All valid thoughts, but concerns best left to another time. Now, I need to eat. And figure out how I’m going to fire the woman.
As I pull open the refrigerator, Clara bursts through the back door.
She grins at me. “Making me lunch?”
I straighten, lifting my chin. “I can…” I clear my throat. “That is to say, we should talk.”
“Ooh, we should talk? Sounds serious.” Her grin widens. “Maybe I should make you lunch. Since it’s my job and all.”
I frown at her. I still can’t understand how she can change her emotions so quickly—it hasn’t been even fifteen minutes since she stormed from the house, slamming the door on her way out in what I’d assumed was frustration over our near-kiss.
I motion for her to take a seat at the dining table. “That’s what I’d like to discuss.”
“Lunch?” She pats her stomach. “Good, because I haven’t eaten all day. We should have gone to the diner—”
“Your position.”
“My…position?” She lifts a brow, still grinning. “If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about, I think I made it pretty clear a few minutes ago—”
“Your job.” I feel my face burn at her innuendo. For a woman who seemed so frustrated with my advances, I’m not certain how she can joke about such things now.
It’s a defense mechanism, something whispers in my head. She wants you as much as you want her.
I’ve no idea where that thought even comes from, but I’m certainly not one to assume such things. Nor would I ever presume that she would deny my advances as some pretense for wanting me to beg her. I might be many things, but I’m a gentleman above all else. And I would never assume that a woman saying ‘no’ with her actions meant anything else.
She cocks her head, and her smile tells me she’s still toying with me. “Well, I think I also made it pretty clear that my job doesn’t include…you know.”
“Sit down, Ms. Weaver.” I motion again toward the table.
“Oh, we’re back to Ms. Weaver.” She bobs her head, mocking me. “Okay, Mr. Smith.” She drops onto the seat. “What is it we need to talk about? Because the horses are doing awesome, if I do say so myself.”
“I’ve no doubt.” I take the seat across from her. “But I’ve come to a decision.”
“That you’re going to make my job permanent? Good. Because I was going to talk to you about actually getting paid—”
“That I’ve decided to let you go.”
Clara
I wait for him to crack a smile, to tell me this is all a joke, but he doesn’t. I should have known Nick doesn’t have the sense of humor to make a joke about something like that. I wait about twenty seconds, letting him grow more and more uncomfortable as he waits for me to respond, before shaking my head.
“Mm…no,” I tell him lightly. “I don’t think so.”
His eyes widen. “No?”
“No. I’m not leaving. You need me.”
He shakes his head vigorously—a little too vigorously if you ask me. “This is not up for negotiation, Ms. Weaver. I no longer require your s
ervices.”
“That’s a lie, and we both know it. How do you expect to get around your ranch on that foot? There are things that need to be done around here, horses that need taking care of, and you’re in no condition to do it.” I stand and lean my hands on the table. “Don’t even think about arguing with me, Nick. I’m not going to abandon you in your time of need.”
The corners of his mouth drop down further with every word. “I can manage on my own—”
I cut him off with a laugh. “Stop being stubborn. You need help. And I’m here, willing to give it, free of charge.” My stomach only flip-flops a little as I squint at him. “Is this about what just happened in the living room?”
“Of course not,” he says. “This is about—”
“Because if it is, you need to get over yourself. You and I both know all that kissing is a bad idea. I was doing us both a favor by stopping things. There’s no reason to be embarrassed. Everyone gets carried away sometimes, and we’ve had a stressful day.”
“I’m not embarrassed!” he snaps, struggling to his feet. “And this has nothing to do with that kiss—”
“That’s good, because it’s illegal to fire someone just because they refused to kiss you back. I haven’t met Odis Wakely yet, but Bill down at the Feed and Supply says he’s the best lawyer Firebird Falls has ever had. And I’m sure he’d be eager to hear my case.”
Nick’s eyes narrow. “Are you threatening me?”
“Of course not. I’m simply pointing out how stupid it would be to fire me after what happened this morning. Especially considering how much you need me.” Forcing a smile, I walk over to the pantry. “Now, how about some lunch? I’m feeling like a grilled cheese sandwich. How about you?”
I can feel his eyes staring at my back, practically burning a hole in me. I take the opportunity to suck in a deep breath, trying and settle my emotions. I can’t believe he’s trying to fire me! After everything! When he so obviously can’t take care of himself!