Brandon frowned, then hoisted her into his arms. He carried her to the house as if she weighed nothing. This close to his face, she wanted to kiss the lines of his brow.
To ease those lines of concern on his face.
And she wanted to make him hard, if truth be told. So he'd take her, completely, the way he had last night. She wanted to break through this awkwardness that had settled between them.
Once inside the house, Brandon set her on the couch. He rested his butt on the coffee table and went to work on getting her boot off.
She cringed. "Ouch."
He looked up at her. He'd put his hat on the table so she could see his whole face. That line of concern down the middle of his forehead deepened.
"Sorry, but if you've really injured yourself, we have to get the boot off before your foot swells up."
She took a deep breath. "Okay. I guess just do it all at once."
He shook his head. "That may cause more damage."
She sighed, then lay back on the couch. "Go ahead."
He shimmed the boot off as she clenched her fists. Next came her sock. He let out a low whistle.
She sat up. "That bad?"
"It's red and hot already. Let me get some ice."
"I could just stick it in the snow," she said, trying to lighten the mood.
"Then you'd get frostbite."
"Oh, right."
***
Brandon poured some snow into a plastic bag. He didn't have much use for ice in the winter, so he'd turned off the icemaker in his refrigerator.
"What's going on?" Clint yelled from the barn.
"I think Gemma sprained her ankle. Can you finish the milking?"
"No, problem."
Brandon wrapped a dishtowel around the snow-packed bag and brought it back to Gemma. She sat, frowning, her foot on his coffee table.
With as much gentleness as he could muster, he put the bag on her ankle. "We should probably take you to the urgent care."
"No emergency room?"
He shook his head, sitting on the coffee table. "Closest hospital is in the same town at that Ford dealer."
"Oh. Yes, maybe we should."
"I'm going to put your sock back on before we leave. Otherwise your toes will freeze out there. But first let me get the truck warmed up."
Happy to leave her presence, Brandon went outside, then started the truck and pulled it right to his front door. She looked like a wounded doe and he didn't have any room in his heart for a wounded animal.
He'd always had a soft spot for them, and that's how Jessica had taught his attention. But she hadn't been wounded. She'd been playing him.
He was sure that Gemma wasn't like that, but he had to steel his heart against any invasion, on purpose or not.
"What about the goats? Shouldn't you feed them first?" she asked when he poked his head in to check on her.
She was right. How had he forgotten them? He could give Clint some instructions. "Let me give them some hay and then I'll be back. Don't move."
With the goats fed, he returned to Gemma, who had her sock in her hand and a grimace on her face. "You tried to put your sock on?"
"Yes, but it hurt too much."
He put the bag of snow on the table, then eased her sock over her now swollen ankle. The sock, thankfully, was not too tight. "I'm going to get a bandage and wrap this bag so it stays in place."
"Okay."
He completed that task, then carried her to the waiting truck.
***
The cab was thankfully warm when he put Gemma on the passenger's seat. When he slid into the other side, Brandon said, "I'll try to make this ride as smooth as possible, but no guarantees."
Spraining her ankle had not been part of her plans. At least she'd have time for it to heal before she needed to drive again. Not that she couldn't. It was her left ankle that was injured, and she had an automatic car so she could still drive.
She probably wouldn't be able to drive as far each day as she liked, but she still had time. Time to get to Hollywood.
She shifted in her seat to look at him, wincing as she jarred her ankle. "I'm sorry, Brandon."
He glanced her way for a moment, then put his gaze back on the road. His jaw was tight. He clearly wasn't happy about the circumstances. "For what?"
She rolled her eyes. "For being a klutz. I'm sure you have better things to do than take me to urgent care."
He grimaced. She figured he wasn't going to say anything mean to her. She didn’t know him that well, but she knew that much. "Shit happens."
Gemma settled into the bumpy ride as best she could. She gritted her teeth, not wanting to be whiny. If she could have driven herself to the place, she would have.
Brandon's hand rested on the steering wheel as if he controlled the truck in snow every day. Jersey only had snow a few months a year.
He drove slowly, but with the snow, the roads were uneven. She studied him as he drove. She liked the capable vibe he was giving off. As if he could handle whatever came his way.
Well, except if that person wanted to love him, she figured. He could handle any external disaster, but none that involved his heart.
Finally, he pulled into the parking lot of what looked like a converted convenience store. The windows were the same, though someone had put blinds on them. The sign said, "Urgent Care".
"Let me come around," he said.
She had no plans on moving. Her foot ached, and she didn't want to put any weight on it. She did unbuckle her seatbelt, and Brandon whisked her out of the truck. She pushed the door closed before he carried her into the doc in a box.
He put her onto a chair. "Do you have an insurance card?"
She fumbled into her purse, then produced it. He walked to the counter. She watched his confident stride. If there was an emergency, he could take care of it.
His small swagger made him even sexier to her.
But she wasn't going to sleep with him again. She'd have to figure out a way to avoid him for the next two days.
If she gave her heart away, she'd never leave this small town.
And then she would never be a star.
CHAPTER THREE
Brandon gave Gemma's information to the woman at the desk, and she gave him a form for Gemma to fill out.
He handed it to Gemma, then sat next to her. In his mind, he was cataloging all the things he wasn't doing today. All the animals were fed, but he'd hoped to fix some things in the barn.
People were trouble. Women even more so. He counted the hours until Gemma would be gone.
Gone from his life. Gone from his house. Gone from his bed. The last one made him sigh. He had enjoyed himself last night. But he couldn't take advantage again.
And now with her hurt, he certainly wouldn't risk injuring her.
On the plus side, she wouldn’t be able to get out to the barn, so he could hide there all day. If he didn't have to deal with her bluntness, he'd be so much happier.
A few minutes later, a nurse called Gemma's name. He picked her up again and carried her to a treatment room. He waited outside the door as the nurse asked Gemma what seemed like a million questions.
Why did the docs need to know so much? It was her ankle that was injured. He frowned, then crossed his legs in front of him to wait for this to be done.
***
Fitted with crutches, and with her ankle tightly bandaged, Gemma hobbled out of the room to see Brandon waiting for her. "Sprained ankle."
She took a few shaky steps, hoping she'd get used to the contraptions.
"Oh? What do you do for that?"
She looked at him with her head cocked. "In all that time as a rodeo rider, you never sprained your ankle?"
"No. I broke quite a few bones and had to have stitches. Never a sprain."
"I have to stay off it for as much as I can. For two days."
He stood. Right now, she appreciated his strong presence. She was in pain and far from home, and Brandon made her feel safe.
She held up a piece of paper. "I have a prescription for pain medication to fill," she said. "Can we go to the pharmacy?"
"Sure."
He walked alongside her as she got used to the crutches. "Once again, I'm sorry."
He grimaced, then shrugged. "Can't be helped."
"I wish there was some way to make it up to you."
Then she realized how dirty that sounded.
"No problem, Gemma. Pay it forward, okay?"
He held open the front door for her. She was thankful that the parking lot had been cleared of snow. When she reached the truck, she had no idea how she would climb into it.
"Here," Brandon said. "Hold onto the truck and onto me."
She obeyed. He put the crutches into the truck, then lifted her onto the seat.
"Thanks."
He closed the door without saying a word.
***
The pharmacy hadn't taken too long, and now Brandon was driving Gemma back to his house. She had taken something strong for the pain, and it seemed to be taking effect. Her eyes were a little glazed, and she was smiling non-stop. Her head lolled against the back of the seat, and only her seatbelt held her in place.
This afternoon would be interesting.
He parked in front of the house, just in time for lunch. While he'd been walking around the truck, Gemma had unbuckled her seatbelt. When he opened the door, she fell into his arms. He guessed that he was carrying her inside.
She laughed as he walked into the house. Her head lolled back, and she almost hit the doorjamb as he went inside.
"Did anyone tell you, you're very handsome," she said, her words slurring together. She run a finger down the side of his face, then giggled. Oh boy.
"I think you did once."
He put her on the couch, but she didn't let go of the arms around his neck. He almost landed on top of her. When he righted himself, he tugged her arms loose, and put her hands in her lap.
"I'll get your crutches," he said.
She was singing as he left. He grabbed her purse and crutches. Spike appeared out of nowhere, and entered the house with him.
He didn't usually leave his dog outside, but he'd been too concerned about Gemma. Damn, she was getting to him. The idea bothered him a lot.
He put her crutches on the floor by the couch. Gemma seemed to be asleep. He sighed. She was a beautiful woman. .
He left her sleeping so he could make lunch.
***
Gemma woke to the smell of soup. Her stomach rumbled, but when she moved, the room spun. Was she hung over?
She didn't remember drinking. Light streamed through the front window, so she knew it was daytime.
Then she remembered the pain meds she'd taken. Maybe she wouldn't take it again. Her foot didn't hurt, but she didn't like how the meds made her feel.
Finally the room stopped whirling, and she was able to sit up. Then the room wobbled, and she was thankful that she had an empty stomach.
"You're awake," Brandon said from the kitchen doorway. "You hungry?"
Her stomach rumbled. She patted it. "Starved."
He put a bowl of soup and some crackers on the coffee table by her. She swung her feet off the couch, and winced a little. Her foot didn’t hurt as bad as yesterday, but was getting sorer by the minute.
"I could have come into the kitchen."
He shook his head. "You're supposed to stay off your foot for a day."
" I'll go nuts doing that." She wasn't a sitter. She was a doer. That's why she was on her quest for stardom.
"If you don't, you'll delay your trip to California," he said.
He leaned against the door to the kitchen.
He had a point. Her trip should continue as planned. She could drive with her left ankle sprained. She could still play for the agent when she got to Hollywood. This injury shouldn't slow her down.
With her latest movement, the room spun again. When it stopped she picked up the spoon. "Thanks for lunch."
He disappeared back into the kitchen. As if he couldn't stand her presence. That's wasn't the reaction he’d had last night. What had changed?
Or was he thinking, like her, that last night was a mistake? They'd never finished that conversation.
She willed him to come back into the living room. She could hear him doing dishes and putting things in the cabinets.
When she finished her soup and crackers, he returned. "You done?"
"I am, but we need to talk."
He grimaced, but sat on the rocking chair. "You can't let things go, can you?"
"No, I can't. I'm the one who always points out what everyone else is afraid to."
"Lucky me."
***
If he could have been anywhere other than his own living room having this conversation, Brandon would have been happy. But Gemma seemed determined to have her say. To analyze what had happened last night.
If she left, he could just shrug it off. Maybe it was a guy thing versus a girl thing.
"Go ahead."
She frowned, then made herself more comfortable on his couch. His couch and his house that she'd fit into so easily. That scared him, but he was counting on her desire to be a star to override what they'd done.
That would mean he had just a day and half or so to get through, and then she'd be gone. Just a pleasant memory for him to take out on cold winter nights.
"I know I instigated last night," she said.
He remained silent. He didn't have anything to say on the matter, except maybe to apologize. In his experience, women didn't like that when it came to sex. They didn't like when you regretted sleeping with them. He guessed he understood that, but his understanding didn't make it easier not to apologize.
He let her speak.
She continued, "But it was probably a mistake. And that's okay. I take responsibility for my actions. I think it would be best if we don't let it happen again."
A sense of relief flooded him. But also felt a sense of regret. She was apologizing to him for having sex. He wasn't sure he liked that idea any better than if he'd been sorry. "Okay."
Silence. This was why he didn't want people in his life. Too many complications.
"That's all you're going to say?"
What was expected of him? "You've said it all. It won't happen again," he said.
She blinked, then stared at him, disbelief coloring her face. "So that's it? Really?"
He shrugged. "You have your life, and I have mine. Those will resume when you get on the road in a day and half."
Her eyes narrowed. "So you're counting down."
A headache was forming in his temple. He'd obviously stepped on a mine he had no idea had been planted. He sighed. "You just said it was a mistake. I'm just admitting that we have separate lives, separate goals. How is that wrong?"
Brandon knew that pragmatism was probably not what she wanted, but that's what he had to give. A leopard could not change its spots. Nor could he suddenly be someone's knight in shining armor.
He'd saved one damsel and she'd left him, so he'd packed up his armor, and now used his horse for farming.
She sighed. "I guess it isn't."
***
Brandon left her to check on the animals. Unlike last night, he'd left her unsatisfied. She wasn't sure what she'd expected him to say.
Had she wanted him to fight for her? Or profess his undying love?
No, she hadn't wanted that, but her ego had. She had to admit that to herself.
She looked at the time. Despite her foot, she still wanted to get to that open mike night at the bar. Hobbling to the bathroom, she found some ibuprofen and popped them instead of her pain meds. She didn't want to be woozy again.
With some trouble, she got herself dressed for the outside weather, then hobbled through the snow to the cow barn.
Brandon once again stood with the pregnant cow. The animal looked more distressed than yesterday.
"Is everythi
ng okay?"
Her reason for coming out here could wait.
"Not sure. She seems to be running a temperature. I've called the vet. He's on his way."
"Is there anything I can do?"
Brandon looked at her, stricken. He was truly concerned about this animal. She couldn't deny that.
"Well, I guess just pat her head. She seemed to like that."
Gemma went over to the head of the cow, rested her bad foot on her good one, and leaned on her crutches. She patted the cow's head and sang in low tones. The animal closed her eyes as if enjoying the song.
Gemma stayed like that as long as she could, then had to sit. Brandon gave her a hay bale to sit on, and put up her foot. "Can you keep singing? She seems to like it."
So Gemma sang some more. All of the slower songs in her repertoire.
Finally, the vet arrived. Gemma stopped singing, though it had been nice to have an appreciative audience.
Even if it was a cow.
CHAPTER FOUR
Brandon hoped the vet could figure out what was wrong. He fretted over his animals, maybe more than he should have.
At least he was trying to make it a commercial venture. The sale of the goat milk and the meat from the cows paid his bills. He wasn't going to get rich, but he'd put away money from his rodeo days.
He'd never go hungry. Still, he didn't every want any of his animals to suffer.
"Let me check her out. Just go sit by your wife and let me do my job."
Doctor Holder looked like a typical country vet. White hair, twinkling blue eyes, and a no-nonsense attitude. He did inspire confidence in Brandon, but he bit his tongue against correcting the man. Gemma was not his wife.
Gemma would never be his wife, but right now he had to worry about the cow, not Gemma's feelings.
Gemma patted his arm. "I'm sure the doc knows what he's doing."
"He's the best around, for sure." He tore his gaze from the doctor's examination to look at her. "Thanks for singing."
She smiled. "It's what I do best."
"Don't sell yourself short. I'm sure you have other talents."
She shrugged. "Only one that will make me a star."
That left his blood cold. As much as he enjoyed the domestic situation and playing house, he had to remember that she was leaving when her car was fixed.
The White Cowboy - Complete BWWM Romance Box Set Page 8