by Natalie Dean
But she made it to his side, crouching next to him and watching his strong, broad hands work.
“How’s it going?”
It would have been insulting how hard he flinched away if it wasn’t so funny, but she managed to stifle a chuckle. He reared backward, almost losing his balance, and her hand darted forward to grip his arm on instinct.
Oh wow, that was certainly a bicep. Virginia had always been proud of her powerful arms and toned shoulders, but it was clear the rich Miller from Texas wasn’t a slouch in the bicep department either.
The look he gave her was so shocked, so vulnerable and uncertain that she quickly let go of him. What was she doing? She didn’t have permission to touch him, and she sure wouldn’t like it if someone got all willy-nilly handsy with her. It was one thing to steady him, but another entirely to want to trail her fingertips down his arm, mapping out all of the muscles—
“I was just about to take a break,” he answered unevenly, standing quickly so she had to crane her neck to look up at him.
“Aw, come on. You’re not even being subtle about it now.”
The strange look on his face blending into one of confusion. “Subtle?”
She stood too, putting her hands on her wide hips as she gave him what she hoped was a knowing expression. “Ya stare at me almost every day and then you find an excuse to leave every time I approach you. What is it? Something between my teeth?”
“I haven’t been staring.”
“Aw, come on now. Let’s not be coy about it.”
“I…” his brow furrowed, and it was just so cute that she wanted to lift up her hand and have her thumb rub away those wrinkles on his forehead. But that would be completely inappropriate. “I should go.”
With that he turned on his heel, head ducked. Virginia looked after him, feeling her mood sour. Huh, what climbed up his undercarriage?
She didn’t know, and so she supposed that was just what it was. She clearly wasn’t going to get an answer, and she would drive herself crazy if she kept putting more energy into it. If there was one thing that she had learned, it was not to wrap herself up in stuff that was out of her hands.
Oh well. Some mysteries just weren’t meant to be solved.
It was a shame, though.
Maybe Ma Miller would get better if she wouldn’t keep doing so much. But telling the matriarch that was like telling a storm to stop being a storm. It took a solid two weeks for Virginia and a few others to convince her to stop tending to the chickens every morning, and there was still a long list of other things they were trying to get her to go easy on.
So naturally, when the woman finally conceded, Virginia was the first one to volunteer to tend to the coop.
It wasn’t often that she got to go in there. While none of the chickens, roosters, or ducks were mean, they did tend to be territorial and didn’t like strangers roaming about their home. Virginia wasn’t exactly a stranger, but she certainly wasn’t Ma, Missy, or any of their other regulars.
They eyed her worriedly as she refilled their feed bin, replaced any straw that was too trampled, and changed their water dispensers. Then came the collecting of eggs.
She did put her protection glove on for that. While she loved animals and loved all the little birdies, she wasn’t a huge fan of getting pecked. No matter how cute the fowl were. Although, there were really only one or two birds she really had to worry about. Mostly being Petunia.
Petunia wasn’t as sweet as her name implied. That girl was a bird with a mean streak.
Virginia was so focused on Petunia and grabbing her egg that she wasn’t watching her footing. One moment she was stalking towards Petunia on one of the shelves, the next her ankle was rolling to the side and she crashed into the ground.
“Ow…” she let out a litany of curses, one thing her Ma had always been upset about her picking up as she got older, but at least she didn’t take the Lord’s name in vain. It was a line she wouldn’t compromise on, even if her suddenly throbbing ankle did have her wanting to spit out every single word she knew.
“Just breathe, Ginny. Breathe.”
Clamping down on the panic that always came with an adrenaline rush, Virginia forced herself to take inventory of the situation. Her egg basket was on its side, but it looked like she hadn’t lost any. Reaching down to feel her injury—already throbbing with pain—she probed as much as she could handle.
Either twisted or a sprain, not broken. She’d done those enough to know what both felt and sounded like.
Well, that was good, but it wasn’t going to get her up and out of the coop. She supposed she could get on her knees and crawl out, but that was going to bump and jostle her ankle in a way that would be mighty uncomfortable.
She knew from experience. When she was younger and had been playing soccer in high school with the boys, she’d taken a tumble and ended up snapping her foot nearly in half. Four broken metatarsals and a lot of muscles ripped. Thankfully, she wasn’t nearly in that position, but admittedly not in that much of a better one.
Well, if she managed to get to her feet—er, foot—she could use the shelving to hop to the entrance and then—
Her plans were cut off as there was a gentle knock on the door. She couldn’t help the surprised yelp she made, but she quickly told her heart to settle. She’d just stepped into a gopher hole. That was no reason for her adrenaline to get her so hyped.
“Uh, yeah?” she called out, wondering if it was Missy or maybe even Sophia come to her rescue.
Wait, no. Not Sophia. She was out on her honeymoon and wouldn’t be back for a while. Nice girl, a little jumpy, but probably too small to help someone of Virginia’s size hobble out anyway.
“I thought… I thought I heard something. Are you alright in there?”
Of course, it was him.
She didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse, but she did absolutely know that was the voice of none other than Samuel Miller on the other side of the door.
“I’m fine,” she groused, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just twisted my ankle.”
“You’re hurt?”
Aw, the amount of concern in his voice was sweet. Especially for someone who usually avoided her like she had the plague.
“Just a little.”
“I’m coming in to help.”
It was a statement, not a question, and it was possibly the most direct she’d ever heard him address her. The next moment the door was opening, and goodness if he wasn’t striding in like some sort of knight in shining armor.
“Here,” he said simply, offering her his hands. She took them and was surprised when he was able to haul her up without any sort of effort. It didn’t stop there either. The next thing she knew, he turned and crouched, his broad back so close to her she could feel the heat from it.
Goodness, the Lord really made the Miller boys outta something special, didn’t he?
“What are you doing?” she asked, her brain blinking out.
“I… is it not obvious?”
She had to swallow to wet her dry mouth. “I could be mistaken, but I’m pretty sure that’s the international piggyback ride symbol.”
“Good, then my meaning came across then. Get on.”
Virginia felt herself blush and if that wasn’t the most embarrassing thing. “Uh, I appreciate the offer and all, but I’m heavier than I look, and I don’t exactly look like a lightweight.”
“It’ll be fine.”
Virginia thought about her thighs squishing against both of his sides and his hands wrapping under her legs. While she was normally pretty confident and loved her body, the thought of a man who was practically a complete stranger getting a good grip on her made her nervous.
“I’m not—”
He looked back at her over his shoulder, affixing her with that same intense gaze that had caught her attention before. “Trust me, please? I’ll just take you to the porch so we can get a look at that ankle.”
Virginia began to realize that if she
resisted further, she would end up being rather ridiculous, so she just sighed and shrugged to herself. “Alright then. You asked for it.”
“That I did.”
Putting her hands on his broad shoulders, she went through the awkward process of getting on his back, and then he was standing up.
Sure enough, his hands gripped her as he wrapped his arms around her thighs. Her front was all pressed up against his back and her mind was suddenly a little too cognizant of it. She’d always been a tactile person, hugging her friends, holding their hands. High fives and shoulder rubs. Sitting close together on the couch with a bowl of popcorn in their laps.
But that comfort with touch and connection was a whole lot different than what she was feeling as Samuel picked their way out of the chicken coop. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was more of a… hyperawareness. She could feel his muscles bunching and releasing as he moved. Strong. Sure. She felt a little silly that a grown man was technically rescuing her, but it was also kind of nice. When was the last time she’d ever been playfully carried? It had to be sometime when she was under five foot six. Back before she hit puberty and her figure filled out, at the same time she discovered her vested interest in being able to do all the same chores her male ‘cousins’ did.
From there it was a pretty quick trip to the porch, which he backed up to and gently sat her down on the edge of. Then he turned and faced her, and crouched to the ground, gently pulling her ankle into his lap.
“These are some low boots,” he said casually as he unlaced her working shoes.
“Yeah, I wasn’t doing anything heavy-duty today, just a lot of busywork, so I wore my more easy-going shoes.”
“Huh. The top part is too low, doesn’t support your ankle. Gopher hole?”
She recognized his question a couple of beats after he said it. “Oh yeah. I think so.”
He nodded solemnly then finally finished taking her boot and sock off. She couldn’t help the pained little sound that escaped her throat.
His eyes flicked to her, just as intense as ever. “You alright?”
“Just peachy,” she answered with tight lips and an even more terse tone.
“Good. You mind if I look at it?”
“Sure, you some sort of ankle expert?”
He chuckled lightly at that. “I have experience.”
“Well, alright then. But I’m pretty sure that it’s just sprained.”
He nodded, then one of his big hands wrapped around her calf, supporting her leg while the other probed at the swelling length of her ankle.
She wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but she was relieved to see no bruising. That meant there probably wasn’t a torn muscle or anything like that. Just a very angry joint that had rolled the wrong way.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that it’s just twisted, not even a sprain. I’m sure you can head to the doctor tomorrow if you like, but some ice and elevation overnight should do you well enough.”
Virginia nodded, her tongue coming out to lick her lips. Out of nowhere, she realized that she was sitting within a few feet of the man who had been evading her for days. If there was ever a time to start up a conversation, it was definitely now.
“So, do you often hang outside the chicken coop or were you not-following me again?”
He flushed at that, his head ducking, and for a moment she was sure that he would just excuse himself and rush off. But instead he gently set her foot down and went about sliding her sock back on. “I wasn’t following you.”
“So you’ve said.” She recognized the hunch to his shoulders, the way he ducked down his head, and his face flushed. If she didn’t know better, she would think that he felt guilty maybe. Embarrassed.
Leaning down, she put on the best smile she could. “I never said I minded. But a girl can’t help but be curious, ya know?”
He looked up at her and the expression on his face, once he realized they were so close, was definitely one that she would remember. “Curious?”
“Yeah, of course.” She tried to play it nonchalantly. “I don’t mind when there’s a handsome man who happens to glance once in a while, but all the running away sure did hurt my feelings.”
“Hurt your feelings?”
“Yeah, it’s one thing if a fella likes to look at you once in a while, it’s another if he runs like he’s seen a ghost every time you’re around.”
“…I wasn’t running.”
“You weren’t staring, you weren’t running. Well, what were you doing then?” She flashed him one of her charming smiles, one that usually let her get away with getting an extra cookie from Frida at lunch or maybe the mechanic to charge her the regular price instead of the inflated ‘woman tax’ that happened so often in shops.
The sound he let out was somewhere between a pained chuckle and a laugh, one of those big hands of his coming up to wipe at his face.
“You sure don’t go easy on a fella, do you?”
“Never had much of a reason to.”
The color that spread across the top of his cheeks was flattering. Maybe even cute. Virginia knew she shouldn’t be flirting with the nephew of her employers, but it wasn’t her fault that he was kneeling there, looking all handsome and aw-shucks right in front of her.
“Would it be out of line to ask for a little mercy now?”
“Well, that depends.”
He raised one of his thick brows. “On what?”
“If you give me a reason to be merciful.”
4
Samuel
Samuel would have been content to never actually speak to Virginia again, but life sure had a funny way of working out.
He hadn’t meant to watch her, as she had called it. It was just that she deserved her space and not to have him mooning over her like some sort of teenager, so he tried his best to give her that. Unfortunately, a lot of the fill-in work he was doing brought him in close proximity to her, so he couldn’t help but keep an eye on her location.
He was due back home in another week anyway, so it wasn’t like anything could happen. Besides, he was sure that there was some sort of power imbalance, considering he was related to her employer, so everything was better if he just stayed away.
But then he’d heard her little yelp of pain from the chicken coop. He’d told himself that he should go get someone else. Someone she trusted who didn’t run up in the middle of her fighting exercise and make a fool of himself. Someone who didn’t get tongue-tied and pink-cheeked just at the sight of her.
It wasn’t his fault she was so pretty, though. And strong. And certain. He knew from the past few days that the woman moved with a certain sort of confidence that was undeniably attractive. She knew who she was. What she was doing. What she wanted. In all his time ‘watching’ her, she’d never once seemed to hesitate or waffle.
And now she was looking at him, hazel eyes crinkling at the corners and blond hair a riot around her head. Her curls were thick, impossible ringlets, tied back only by the scarlet red bandana just over her forehead. She was so close and so sweet, smelling like soap and something inherently womanly that it made his priorities shift and blend together like sand. She wasn’t playing fair and she didn’t even seem to know, making his heart beat in his chest at a speed that was probably unhealthy.
“What about good old-fashioned hospitality.”
“It’s not my house you’re staying in.”
“True, but I am a guest in these here parts.”
She laughed, her head tilting back and exposing the long line of her throat. “You should be careful who you use that accent on. It’s practically a weapon.”
“Accent? I don’t sound much different from you.”
She laughed again at that. “You most certainly do. I have been told that I have a wonderfully pleasant western drawl. You have the cadence that undoubtedly comes from the south.”
He narrowed his eyes at her playful banter. “You makin’ fun of the way I talk?”
“Maybe.”
H
e rubbed his chin, feeling himself relax. Despite his making a fool of himself in front of her, despite him being some stranger from the less-liked part of the Miller family, she seemed interested in talking to him. What a strange concept.
“That’s not a very polite way to treat the person who saved you.”
“Oh, you saved me now, did you?”
“That situation did seem pretty dire.”
She laughed and goodness gracious, he would love to hear that sound every day for as long as he lived. “Oh yeah. Real dire. Surely I would have perished without you.”
“Exactly. If that’s not deserving of a little mercy, then what is?”
“You may have a point.” She leaned back on her hands, lifting her leg up and putting her injured ankle over the top of one of his legs.
There was a solid sort of weight to her, one that made his mind tilt towards things it shouldn’t, so he forced it to remain steady. He firmly believed that women weren’t something for him to ogle at, that they were equals and deserving of respect, but sometimes when he looked at Virginia, he felt caught up in all of her personal magnetism.
“Tell you what, if you put those warm hands on my throbbing ankle for a minute, I’ll think about it.”
“Oh, you’ll think about it?”
“Yeah, final offer.”
He found himself chuckling again and did as she asked. Gently, as gently as he could, but he still heard her hiss of pain. That made his stomach churn and all sorts of feelings bloom in his chest. He didn’t like the thought of her in pain. He didn’t like her being hurt or wincing in his hold. She was a hard-working and determined sort of folk. She deserved nice things.
“This okay?”
“Yeah,” she said, somewhat breathless. “Maybe a little more pressure? Please? It’s the throbbing right now that’s, uh, real distracting.”
“Right, right, of course.”
He applied the slightest bit more and that seemed to work for her, the muscles of her shoulders relaxing and her head dipping forward slightly. A heady sort of expression was on her face. He swallowed harshly, trying to ignore it.