Wyatt didn’t want her to feel embarrassed, so he tried to think of something to say to make her feel better. Standing to his feet, he handed the gun back to her and said, “A good hiding can clear the conscience. No shame in it. Next time you can beat my backside.”
She smiled slightly. “I don’t think you mean that.”
She was right, there was no way he’d willingly let her smack him, but he thought making her think so might alleviate her embarrassment. He shrugged. “I might. Not much damage a little woman like you could do to a hard man like me.”
A small whimper escaped her throat. “I don’t know what came over me, asking you to do that.”
“Hey,” he said, his voice stern. “Don’t feel embarrassed, you hear? What happened was a little odd, but I dunno… it felt right.”
His firm tone seemed to shake her out of her humiliated state. She looked at him shyly and then looked down. “I can’t understand it, but it felt right to me too. Thank you, Wyatt.”
He gave her shoulder a small squeeze, feeling like he should be the one thanking her, but not quite knowing how to do so.
Not another word was spoken about the incident that day. She led him to the bunkhouse and introduced him to her ranch hands, and then quickly took her leave.
Chapter 4
Elsie lay in bed, unable to sleep. Her mind spun with the events of the day. Never before had she felt the kind of attraction she felt for Wyatt Parker. His whole being projected masculinity and strength without seeming overbearing. There was also a vulnerability in his eyes that added to his appeal. She could see that he was a man who’d never had an easy day in his life, who had worked and struggled and was there to tell the story because of it. She could relate to that, and she admired it.
When Wyatt had held her hand and threatened a punishment, she’d felt a fluttering of arousal in her belly. Stronger than her physical reaction, however, was the influx of emotions that came along with it. His words brought forth a raw need she wasn’t even aware she had. Feeling Wyatt’s power in the form of pain appealed to her. Elsie didn’t understand her feelings, but one thing was clear to her after the spanking. She wanted more. It had hurt, but it had also brought her momentary healing. For the first time since starting her thieving operation, she didn’t feel the heavy pit of guilt gnawing at her stomach.
The next day, instead of going to the range to assist her men with branding, she stayed behind. Wyatt showed up at her front door early in the morning, ready to carry out any chores she gave him. She could feel her face blazing as she greeted him, but his easygoing manner put her somewhat at ease.
He removed his hat. “Good mornin’, Miss Elsie.” Making no mention of the events of the previous day, he said, “I think the first order of business should be repairing that step leading to your door. What do you think?”
She agreed, grateful that he’d chosen to focus on practical matters instead of attempting to engage in idle chatter, which could lead to talk about the spanking. “That’s a fine idea.”
They walked to the barn together, where her pa’s old workbench and table were kept. She assisted Wyatt by holding the oak wood in place as he sawed it with his left hand to trim it down to size. Over the buzz of grinding wood, her courage grew, and she said lightheartedly, “So you really are left-handed.”
He didn’t crack a smile, nor did he acknowledge what she’d said. He frowned harder and concentrated. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and Elsie thought he might be thirsty. She abandoned the task of holding the wood and walked back to the cabin. Upon returning with a glass of cold lemonade, she was surprised to discover that Wyatt had stopped working in her absence.
He thanked her and drank the lemonade, while Elsie considered why he’d paused in his work. She knew it couldn’t be because he was lazy.
Setting aside the empty glass, he regarded her with his warm brown eyes. “Ready to continue?”
She resumed standing at his side, where she once again held the wood stationary while he sawed. She thought about telling him he didn’t need to make her feel useful, but she decided to hold her tongue. She thought it was sweet of him. He would make a very good father. Just like he was doing with her, he would allow a young son to feel that he was instrumental in a chore’s success.
His reliance on her help continued during the next chore. He asked her to hold nails in place so he could hammer them in. If any other man had asked her to do that, she would have refused, but she trusted Wyatt not to miss the nails and hit her thumb. She knew he had a good aim. After all, every sound swat on her backside had landed perfectly. He proceeded with tapping the first nail, and sure enough, he didn’t miss.
She discovered that he had been a ranch hand in the next town over. “Why’d you leave?” she asked.
He removed the nail he was holding between his teeth and pressed the tip of it into the wood. As though they’d been working together for years and not hours, she reached out and steadied the nail between her thumb and forefinger while he tapped at it with the hammer.
“I left because of difficulties with my boss. He wasn’t exactly a fair man.”
Elsie removed her hand and Wyatt buried the nail into the wood with a hard blow. “That’s too bad. I’ll bet he’s sorry to have lost you. I can tell you’re a hard worker.”
He smiled at her, which made her feel a flutter of happiness. “That’s a nice thing for you to say, Elsie. Truth is, it was time for me to move on from Temple City. The girl I was courtin’ left me for another man, and I wouldn’t’ve liked sticking around to watch them tie the knot.”
Elsie felt surprised, both that a woman had left this gentle, handsome man and that he had revealed his heartbreak to her. Perhaps he felt the same connection toward her that she felt toward him. Just being in his presence made her want to share everything with him, and his revelation indicated he might feel the same.
“I hope you get to liking it better here in Ashton than you did in Temple City.”
He chuckled. “Already do, Miss Elsie,” he said softly, without looking at her.
It was a simple statement, but Elsie knew the meaning right away. He liked it better because he liked her, just like she liked him. Happy feelings warmed her insides as though she’d just swallowed a shot of whiskey.
As the hours passed and they continued to work together side by side, Elsie finally noticed something, which eliminated her earlier confusion. She realized he was involving her in the chores because her participation was vital, or at least of great usefulness. Wyatt didn’t use his right arm hardly at all, and several times when even her assistance wasn’t enough to allow it full rest, she spotted the barely perceptible wince on his face that he tried to mask when he moved it.
She didn’t call attention to it right away. She knew a man’s pride could be offended easily, and she didn’t want to do that. But her mother had taught her how to heal injuries that commonly troubled ranch hands. Elsie thought that perhaps if she could take a good look at his arm, she’d be able to help.
She invited him to supper, and he accepted. Before she asked him, she wondered if she was behaving in too forward of a manner. She’d just met him the previous day, after all, and it was customary for a man to ask for a woman’s company, not the other way around. But she convinced herself that it was nothing romantic – just a boss and her hand having supper together to talk about the chores.
Elsie wore her Sunday best to dinner, a blue satin dress with a lace collar. Wyatt smiled appreciatively when he saw what she’d worn for the occasion. She noticed that he, too, had put on a clean shirt and had shined up his boots. It was nice, eating with someone in her cabin again. She’d mostly had supper alone since her father died, unless she went to town and ate with her friend Sue. And never had she dined alone with a man, since no man had ever courted her. She felt awash with romantic feelings every time she looked at Wyatt or when his hand would accidentally brush hers. Around him, sudden bolts of arousal would explode through her body like fireworks.
Supper consisted of ham and potatoes, a simple affair, but Wyatt ate every bite and then had seconds, thanking her and complimenting her cooking with enthusiasm. After supper, they sat together in her sitting room and talked about their shared interest of ranching. Wyatt smoked a pipe, while she drank tea. She noticed a sadness would befall his expression every so often during their conversation. Just when she thought he was enjoying his time with her, he would pull away and stare sadly into space. She wondered if he was still missing his girl in Temple City.
After one such pause, she decided to address his injury. “Wyatt,” she said cautiously. “I hope you’ll forgive what I’m about to say.”
The sadness left his eyes. They became bright with attention and focused on her. “What do you want to say to me, Miss Elsie?”
She looked down and removed an invisible bit of lint from the skirt of her dress before she met his gaze again. “The thing is, I’ve noticed that your right arm is injured, and I’m wondering if you might let me take a look at it without your shirt on.” Her cheeks grew warm at the thought of him half-dressed. “I have some experience fixing up injuries common to ranch hands,” she added quickly.
He groaned and tilted his head back, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “It’s that obvious, huh?”
“Plain as day,” she said with a small smile. “If I hadn’t been working alongside you, I might not have figured it out, but then I would have noticed it was taking you a long time to finish your carpentry tasks. How did you injure it?”
“I reckon it was from overuse. One day I was out swinging a lasso and heard my arm crack like a whip and then I felt a terrible pain. I’ve barely been able to move it since.”
“Did you see a doctor?”
He shook his head. “Nah, I thought after some time it would heal on its own, but it’s only gotten worse.”
She stood and walked to where he sat. His eyes followed her and didn’t leave her face. He set his pipe on the table next to him as she reached out and lightly touched his shoulder. “May I see it?” she whispered.
In answer to her question, he unbuttoned his shirt, starting at the collar. She swallowed hard as his muscled chest came into view, covered in a thin layer of dark hair. When he unbuttoned the last of the buttons, she took hold of either side of the shirt and carefully helped him remove it from his body with as little movement as possible to his right arm.
She looked into his eyes and saw that he was still studying her intently. Her breath hitched. The way he looked at her made her feel very aware of her body so close to his, and she found herself wanting to draw even closer.
She placed both of her hands on his injured bare shoulder and gently pressed against a spot. “Does that hurt?”
“No, ma’am,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.
She continued to feel around his shoulder. “Tell me when it hurts.”
After two more presses, he grunted. “That hurt right there.”
She smiled with satisfaction. “You have a partially dislocated shoulder. It’s called a subluxation.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re smiling like that’s a good thing.”
She nodded. “It is. If you had fully dislocated it, you probably would have noticed it looking very strange and gone straight to a doctor, who would have popped it back in place. Because it’s only partial, it’s not visible, so you didn’t think it needed attention. But I can relocate it. It’ll heal and then you won’t have any more pain.”
“You’re joshin’ me,” he said, his eyes widening with surprise and a glimmer of hope.
She shook her head. “I’m not. I can fix it up right now, but it’ll hurt when I do.”
He waved her ahead with his left hand. “Go right on ahead. You owe me a little pain after what I gave you last night.”
She felt her face and ears heating with embarrassment. It was the first time he’d made any mention of the spanking.
He noticed the change in her demeanor and the redness in her face. “None of that,” he said firmly. “I told you not to be embarrassed, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” she agreed softly, the sound of his insistent voice compelling her to quell her embarrassment. She blinked at him a few times before she focused her mind on the task. She settled her hands on his warm skin, placing one hand in front of his shoulder and one on his back to brace the shove. “On three,” she said.
He gave her a nod and looked away, preparing himself for the pain that would come.
“One, two—” With a strong push, she shoved his arm in its socket before she got to three, knowing it would help for the pain to begin before he thought it would.
He let out a grunt that became a long moan. Because his arm had been positioned incorrectly for some time, Elsie knew she’d just caused him an incredible amount of pain. She hastily pressed her fingers against all areas of his shoulder, determining that the arm was in place.
He was clenching his jaw with his eyes shut tight, the waves of pain still radiating through his body. He would be sore for some time, but the severity of pain would lessen in a few minutes.
She left the room and returned with a bottle of whiskey, which she handed to him, and a sling. Carefully she wrapped the white cotton around his neck and down to his forearm, which she cradled into a stationary position.
“Land’s sake! That hurt like the devil. I ain’t never cursed in front of a lady, but I almost did just then.”
“I wouldn’t have minded,” she assured him. “I’m with my hands all day at the range, and I’ve heard some gritty language coming from them when they didn’t realize I was within earshot.”
He smiled at her, a new warmth in his eyes. “Thank you, Elsie. You’re mighty kind.”
She nodded. “It’ll heal properly now, but you shouldn’t move your arm hardly at all for a month or so.” She sat on a stool a short distance away from him and tried not to stare at his bare chest.
He frowned at her. “A month?”
“Or longer,” she confirmed. “Don’t worry, you can still board at the bunkhouse even though you won’t be working.”
The sad expression that he’d worn several times throughout their evening together came to his face once again. He shook his head. His voice sounded both mournful and exasperated when he spoke. “You this nice to everyone, Miss Elsie?”
She shrugged. “I would want any of my hands to recover fully from an injury before working again. That’s what my father would have wanted, too.”
He rubbed his hand along his jaw. “You treat your men well. Keeps them loyal, I bet.”
“Yes, my hands are very loyal. To answer your question, though... No, I’m not this nice to everyone. Not to my enemies.” Her face twisted into a look she knew projected the hatred she felt. “I wouldn’t lift a finger to help the Xaviers.”
“Why not?” he asked quietly, his eyes suddenly intense and boring into hers.
She laughed bitterly and proceeded to explain what Mark Xavier had done to her and her father. It was impossible to know what Wyatt was thinking as she spoke, for his expression remained blank, but when she finished her story, he said, “That’s a terrible shame. I’m sorry to hear you and your pa went through that.”
His sympathy caused tears to spring to her eyes. She looked away and tried to compose herself.
Wyatt took a final swig of whiskey. “I should go. It’s getting late.”
She felt disappointed. She didn’t want him to leave, but it was only proper. It was dark but for the coal oil lamp flickering with a low flame by the window, and she could hear crickets chirping insistently outside.
“I’ll help you put on your shirt,” she said, rising to her feet and moving toward him. She stood between his spread knees and reached behind him with an arm on either side of his neck. They were so close to each other that Elsie could feel the heat from his breath on the exposed part of her upper chest. Her breasts were positioned near his face and nearly touched him as she reached over to position the arm of t
he shirt so that he could slide his left hand into it.
She was aware of his breathing becoming more labored against her skin, which prickled and pulsed with desire as she drew in his scent, a mixture of soap, whiskey, and leather. She lightly covered his injured shoulder with the empty shirtsleeve, keeping his arm in the sling. She didn’t bother buttoning him up.
In a sudden burst of courage and lust, she ran her hand down his bare chest, feeling the soft flesh over his hard ridges.
“Elsie…” he said, his voice low, his tone a warning.
She gazed into his glimmering eyes. She’d never been with a man, but instinct directed her movements. She felt like the most desirable woman in the world, standing there in front of him, having him look at her in that way, and she yearned for him to touch her.
He wrapped his good arm around her waist and pulled her to a seated position on his left leg. His arm still firmly encircling her, he said quietly in a deep voice, “You’re playing with fire, young lady.”
She clenched her legs together and shivered, the chiding having sparked her arousal. “Please, Wyatt.”
“Please what?” he asked gently.
She let out a whimper, a small sound that indicated how vulnerable she was to her onslaught of feelings. She didn’t know how to articulate what she wanted, but she didn’t need to. Her needy mewl spurred him into action. Strong fingers trailed up her back, entwined in her hair, and closed into a gentle fist. Gripping her hair at the roots, he turned her head to face him and crushed his lips against hers. She melted into the kiss. The pressure of his mouth caused an outpouring of sensations in her tummy, her breasts, and between her legs – feelings she’d never felt so strongly before. He growled, and the kiss became deeper, more insistent.
His hand left her hair and wrapped around her back, pulling her close to him so that her breasts flattened against his chest. One of her hard, sore nipples scraped against a button on his shirt, causing her back to arch suddenly. She trembled and gasped when his lips left hers and nibbled at her neck.
Hero Undercover: 25 Breathtaking Bad Boys Page 96