He tried giving her his most ferocious scowl. She smiled sweetly back at him. “Fine, I’ll get it.” He walked across to his mom’s pantry and handed Amy the tub of moisturizer.
“Don’t look so worried, Nathan. I’ll be gentle. Now take your shirt off and straddle the chair.”
He looked at the chair, then at her. “You’re not going to like what you see.”
Amy’s face softened. “I’m a doctor. I’ve seen more than one male body in my career.”
“This isn’t a good idea.” She ignored him, unscrewing the lid and dipping her fingers into the heavy duty moisturizer. He gazed at her hands warily, watching her rub the cream across her palms. “My back’s a mess.”
“Stop stalling, Nathan. Do you want to undo your shirt or do you need help?”
He took a deep breath. Amy didn’t seem worried about seeing his scars. If anything she looked downright bored with the whole conversation. He sat in the chair and pulled the bottom of his shirt clear of his jeans, glaring at the frown on her face.
The domes of each fastening pulled open with a tug. He wouldn’t admit to her how difficult he found undoing a button-down shirt, and how impossible it was to get in and out of a t-shirt.
He slipped the shirt down his arms. Even though he tried to move his right shoulder as little as possible, a stab of pain hit every muscle in his back. He’d overdone everything today. Pushed his body beyond its limits and now he was paying the price.
He focused on the old wooden table, not wanting to see the pity on Amy’s face when she saw his body.
She moved around the chair, standing behind him, not saying anything in the quiet room. “I always knew you never did things by halves.”
He twisted, forgetting about his back until pain shot through his body like a hot branding iron. “Holy hell.”
He took a few deep breaths, hoping like crazy the horse pills he’d washed down his throat started doing something soon.
Amy’s hand gently touched his shoulder.
He flinched, drawing in another deep breath as her fingers traced the edge of his scars. His back arched, and a new pain lodged nowhere near his back.
Her touch was impersonal. Professional. Her hands glided over his skin, reading the story of his accident under every brush of her fingertips.
She gently massaged the cream into his aching muscles. Her fingers roamed across his right shoulder, stroking his skin with infinite care. “Relax, Nathan.”
He closed his eyes. If he tried hard he could almost believe the last few months hadn’t happened. That he hadn’t been thrown into a raging inferno, stripped bare of everything he thought he was. Everything he thought he could be.
“That’s it. Let your body melt against my fingers.”
Amy’s hands became bolder, more certain. She pressed against his skin, releasing muscles chained together in twisted knots. He leaned forward, using his good arm to brace his body against the chair, when the only thing he wanted to do was dissolve into the hands caressing his skin.
“How does that feel?”
He groaned as another knot unraveled. “Like magic.” Her hands stilled and he could have sworn he heard a quiet chuckle behind him. “Don’t stop on account of me. I’m sure there’s more skin you haven’t touched.”
Amy leaned forward, the laughter in her voice as plain as the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows. “I do believe I’ve found your Achilles heel, Mr. Gray.”
“Believe anything you want, Dr. Sullivan. Just keep moving those hands.”
She reached for the moisturizer, wiping more cream across her palms. “Why are you pushing yourself so hard?”
Nathan breathed deeply as Amy’s hands circled his shoulder blade. “It’s been nearly eight months since the fire. I wouldn’t call getting on a four-wheeler exactly pushing myself.”
“It is when it’s been snowing and you’re driving off-road.”
Pain stabbed through his back as Amy pushed against another knot. “Someone needed to go and see Sean.”
“Maybe.”
They fell into an easy silence. His dad must have put his favorite music on. Country gospel drifted through the house as Amy’s hands wrapped around his ribs, rolling and kneading his skin. If the back of the chair hadn’t been holding him upright, he would have slipped to the floor in a puddle of loose muscles and heavy limbs.
“You know, Nathan. Sometimes we can be our own worst enemy.”
He rested his head on his arms. “I can feel a profound moment about to hit me between the eyeballs.”
“You’d better be careful or something else might hit you between the eyeballs,” Amy muttered. “If you want me to keep rubbing you’d better sit still and listen to what I’ve got to say.”
“Yes, ma’am. A bit lower…that’s it.” He sank against the chair. Her hands moved to the small of his back, pressing against aching muscles that quivered beneath her touch. His breath followed the rhythm of her hands, filling his lungs with air in time with the long strokes kneading his skin.
Amy’s hands moved to his shoulders, gently skimming along bones tacked together with thin plates of metal. She moved closer, smearing more cream onto his back. Her breasts brushed against his arm and he started to think that the massage hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
“You’ve gone all tense. Relax.”
He concentrated on ignoring Amy’s body. And the sweet scent that followed her wherever she went. And the memories of what it felt like to have her wrapped in his arms. Her hands dipped to his waist, then pulled slowly toward his spine. The hiss of air that left his throat had nothing to do with his back, and everything to do with his imagination.
“You’re not the only one that’s ever needed to hide what you’re feeling, Nathan. There were times when my self-esteem was so low I could have disappeared and no one would have noticed. When I lived on the ranch, your family didn’t care about where I’d come from or what had happened to me. You cared about me, the person inside the secondhand clothes.”
He grunted, remembering the tall, gangly teen that had taken up residence beside his sister. They’d become inseparable. The quiet, shy, new girl had hung out with the boisterous, sassy, brunette that didn’t give a damn what the rest of the world thought. They’d shared school lunches and secrets, disappeared for hours each weekend and slaved away on the ranch doing Sally’s chores.
“I started feeling good about myself. To think I had a future.”
Amy ran her hands down either side of his spine and he almost purred. “You think I should accept myself the way I am?”
“You’re still the same person you’ve always been. A bit bossier maybe, but that’s got nothing to do with the accident.”
He turned his head and a quick smile darted across her face.
“You need to accept that your body can’t do all the things you want it to. You’re still recovering from the fire. Give yourself time to heal.”
“I don’t have time. Dad wants an answer soon about whether I’ll manage the ranch.”
“It’s what you’ve always wanted.” Amy rested her hands on his shoulders. “Why haven’t you said yes?”
He leaned against the chair and sighed. “Because I can’t do what needs to be done.”
“Just because you won’t be wrestling a steer to the ground doesn’t mean you can’t manage the ranch.”
“It’s not the steers I’m worried about. I can’t even pull myself onto my horse.”
“Use a ladder.”
“That’s not funny.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be.” Amy passed him his shirt. “Get Matthew to rig something up for you. He’s always tinkering in the barn with some piece of machinery. Ask him to make something that could help.”
“It wouldn’t work.”
“You could give it a try. How’s the pain?”
He rolled his shoulders. “I can move, so that’s a bonus.”
“Amen to that.” Matthew said from the hallway. “It mi
ght make you less of a bear to live with.” He glanced at Amy. “Catherine’s woken up and Mom’s gone to get her.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.” She rubbed the last of the cream into her hands and headed toward the door. “Let me know when you need another massage, Nathan. I’m only half an hour away.”
“Amy…”
She turned and looked back at him.
“Thanks.”
“Just remember what I said. No hot-dogging around the ranch until your shoulder’s able to keep up with the rest of you.”
Nathan pulled his shirt on and stood up, carefully straightening his back. Amy had brought relief to his body, but stirred up a whole lot of other issues he wasn’t ready to deal with.
He needed to manage his family’s ranch as much as he needed to breath. And he was ready. More than ready to make his mark on what had been created by three generations of Gray men and women.
He snapped the domes on his shirt together and followed Matthew into the lounge. All of the excuses in the world couldn’t change what he’d been born to do. If his family were willing to help, then his answer to his parents would be yes.
What he’d do about Amy was a whole different matter.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Amy walked toward the new barn, breathing in clean, cold, mountain air. In the last week winter had set in for good, bringing with it more snow, more rain, and more twists in her life than had to be better for her.
The late afternoon light turned the two-story building chestnut brown. White shutters surrounded the windows, gleaming against the dark wood. Compared to the last barn, this building looked like a prima donna poised against the landscape, all shinny and new and waiting for an encore performance.
She pulled the side door open, blinking against the bright lights dangling from the ceiling. The rich scent of raw wood tickled her nose and the whine of the lathe concealed her footsteps as she walked across the room.
Nathan glanced up from the workbench. His mouth hitched into a half-smile as he turned off the lathe. “When did you arrive?”
“About an hour ago. I didn’t think you’d be at your parents’ house.”
“Is that a subtle way of telling me you wouldn’t have come if you’d known I was here?”
Amy pushed her hair behind her ears. “Of course not.” She couldn’t quite look him in the eye, so she stared at the sawdust coating his shirt.
“Dad bought new machinery after the fire. It didn’t make much sense to buy a second set for my place.”
Amy nodded, watching Nathan wind a lever on the side of the lathe. “Your mom said to tell you that dinner will be ready soon. What are you making?”
His hands ran lightly over a length of wood. “A table. When I’ve finished this leg I’m starting on the top.” He moved over to another piece of machinery and gripped the wooden leg in a large vice. “How did the visit with Catherine’s case manager go?”
“How did you know I had a meeting with her?”
“Mum told me…so?”
“Better than I thought,” Amy sighed. “She’s happy with Catherine’s daycare and my work arrangements. She wants to see us in a few months once I’ve found somewhere permanent to live.”
“What about your mom?”
Amy stuffed her hands in her pockets. “She wants to visit Catherine.”
“You don’t like the idea?”
“She didn’t want her a few months ago and now she can’t wait to fly all the way to Montana. I don’t trust her.”
Nathan picked up a piece of sandpaper, lightly swiping it across the wood. “Maybe she’s changed.”
“I doubt it.” Her mother hadn’t changed one bit in all the years they’d been living together. The only time she had any maternal bones in her body was when she passed between mildly drunk and sloshed out of her head. Then she’d wrap Amy in her arms and tell her what a wonderful daughter she was. How sorry she was that things hadn’t turned out better for them. After another couple of glasses of whatever poison she’d been drinking she’d turn into a depressed drunk and crawl into the nearest male she could find.
“What are you going to do?”
Amy pulled herself back from the hole her memory had sucked her into and watched Nathan lean over the vice, blowing wood dust in the air. “I can’t do anything. She arrives in ten days. The case worker’s going to arrange supervised visits while she’s here.”
He unclamped the vice and stared at the wooden leg. “Looks to me like she’s making an effort.”
Little did he know. “My mother only makes an effort when it’s in her best interests.”
Nathan grunted and she couldn’t work out whether he was agreeing with her or not. He put the wooden leg on a shelf behind him and took his safety glasses off.
“When did you start woodturning?”
“A few years back. I’ve been coming out here more often since the accident. It’s cheaper than a shrink.”
“You need counseling?”
“I’ve had counseling. A fat lot of good it did me. I still couldn’t sleep for weeks after the fire.”
“Do you remember much?”
“No.” He reached for a broom leaning against the back wall. With deliberate strokes he cleaned the floor, nudging shavings of wood from beneath the workbench.
“How are you sleeping now?”
“About as good as you if those black rings under your eyes are any clue.”
He stopped sweeping, spearing her with a look that would have felled a lesser mortal. And it would have worked, well almost worked, if he didn’t have half a ton of sawdust stuck to his head and shoulders.
“That observation would have meant so much more if you didn’t look like Pinocchio.”
Nathan frowned, glaring at her like she was the one with a wooden brain.
Amy felt a slow smile pull at her lips. “You’re covered in sawdust, big man.”
Nathan glanced down at his shirt, then shook himself like a wet dog. Sawdust floated around him like a snow storm. “Are you happy now?”
Happy didn’t begin to describe how she felt watching him flick his hand through his hair, shaking all her good intentions to the ground with the wood chips. “I’m going to leave you to your clean-up. I’ll see you back at the house.”
Nathan reached forward, holding onto her arm before she could quietly slip out of the barn.
“Not so fast. Why haven’t you been sleeping?”
Amy felt his fingers flex against her jacket, then let go before his touch became too personal, too much of everything she’d once wanted. “I’ve been worried about Catherine.”
“You’ve been looking after her fine for eight months. I think you can stop worrying now.”
“Not with my mother about to be sprung loose. So what’s your excuse?”
Nathan walked across to the lathe and swept a pile of wood shavings into a tray, tipping everything into a bag hanging on the wall. “I don’t need an excuse.”
“Have you told your doctor? There’s medication that might help.”
“I’ve got plenty of pills. They make me feel worse than not sleeping.” He left the broom on the back wall then turned back to the workbench.
“I could help.”
He closed his fist around a sheet of sandpaper. “There’s not much anyone can do, unless you plan on keeping me company at night?”
Heat rushed to Amy’s face. That hadn’t been what she’d been offering, not by a long-shot, and Nathan knew it. He turned toward her. Everything in the barn stilled, even the howling wind seemed to drop to a low whimper. His mouth was set in a grim line and his eyes held a sadness that tore through her heart.
“I have nightmares about the fire,” he said. “Except I don’t know if it’s the fire I was in, or something I’m making up. I feel the heat and hear the roar of the flames getting closer. I can’t move, can’t do anything about them.”
Amy stepped forward and rested her hand on his arm. “It will get better.”
“That’s what Doc Johnson says. But I’m still waking up drenched in sweat.” Nathan cradled her hand in his palm, an embarrassed grin spreading across his face. “I’ve gone a bit crazy with smoke detectors. I bought every alarm in Jake’s store.”
She tried to imagine the nightmares that still haunted him. His smile disappeared and heat that had nothing to do with his dreams flared between them. She let go of his hand, stepping away from the hunger in his gaze. “I umm…I miss the old barn.”
Nathan’s grin almost melted her heart. “You used to sit in the hayloft for hours.”
“That was my dream-time.” The barn had been her refuge. It had stood three stories high, faded to a dull gold, gnarled and warped with age. From the top of the hayloft she’d been able to see forever. She’d spent a lot of time leaning out of the wooden sash window, trying to figure out what she’d do with the rest of her life. What she’d do with the second chance the Gray family had given her. And a lot of time daydreaming about the six-foot cowboy coming home for the holidays.
“I’ve been thinking about what happened before you left for university.” Nathan’s voice slipped like a ripple of silk over her skin. “I’ve missed you.”
Amy held her breath. She felt the weight of tears hover behind her eyes. “It wouldn’t work. I can’t…”
Nathan’s mouth landed against her lips in an explosion of need. Before she knew what was happening her mouth opened, inviting him close, wanting more. She craved the rush of raw emotion flooding her body like a sugar addict in a candy store. He devoured her mouth, sinking hard and fast into her body until she couldn’t remember what it was that wouldn’t work. Her hands wound around his neck, pulling him close, holding onto his shoulders with something that felt close to desperation.
Her back arched as Nathan’s hands moved to her waist, finding the gap between her jeans and sweater. His hands spanned her waist, holding her against his body, heating her skin until she felt as hot as the flames filling his nightmares.
Alarm bells crashed inside her head. She stepped backward, banging into the lathe.
“I can’t, Nathan.”
He stood in front of her, trapping her between the bench and his body. “What’s wrong?”
Forever in Love (Montana Brides) Page 13