“What kind of charity are you planning, exactly?” Whatever it was, she knew the reason behind it would be either publicity or monetary reasons. He didn’t have a generous bone in his body.
His long, silent pause told her all she needed to know. “You haven’t even decided, have you?”
He surveyed her property and stopped on Pudgy, who sat by her feet. When he directed his focus back to her with a calculating look, she braced for trouble. “We’re putting together an animal rescue. We think you’d be perfect to head it.”
Damn him! He’d chosen his words specifically to draw her in, but no matter how hard he tugged on her heartstrings, she wasn’t falling for it. That path lay filled with frustration and heartache. “I’m not interested.”
She turned her back on him and prayed he took the hint and left. The last thing she wanted was to get tangled up in anything that had his fingerprint on it.
And, you know what? She could start her own animal rescue. She and Leigh had joked about it, but why the hell not? She waited inside, watching, as Preston awkwardly turned his car around and left. Then, with the spark of righteous determination glowing bright, she made a phone call.
“Hey, chickie. What are you up to?” Leigh answered immediately.
“I just packed up my leftovers from the farmer’s market. Business slowed down a little early today, so I headed home a bit earlier than usual.” She tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder then pulled her stockpot out of the cabinet.
“How did you do today?” Her cousin’s genuine interest never failed to warm Kate’s heart.
“Pretty damn good, actually. Things were looking kinda slow until some sucker in sunglasses came by and hit on me. I conned him into buying thirty dollars’ worth of jam and strawberries.” She smiled as she waited for the large pot to fill with water.
“Way to go, cuz.” She suspected Leigh’s excitement had more to do with her fleecing the man who’d hit on her than the few dollars she’s earned at the market.
“There was only one problem. Phillip Bailey showed up again.” After she retrieved her bucket of blackberries from the fridge, she began to wash them at the sink.
“That’s creepy.” Revulsion rang clear in Leigh’s voice.
“Definitely. He stayed until the guy in sunglasses appeared, then he left.”
“What else happened? I can hear it in your voice.” Leigh’s tone softened in concern.
“Preston just left. He tried to con me into heading up a charity that, according to Preston, he’s starting with Bailey. I told him no, but I think it’s odd that they both showed up on the same day.” She’d be a fool if she didn’t suspect they were up to something. Did they think her name or title could benefit some scam of theirs? How? Her days in the spotlight were long gone.
“It is. Have you talked to Joe?” Leigh might poke at her brother on a daily basis, but when it came down to it, there was no one more trustworthy than Joe.
“It’s a little weird, but I don’t think it’s anything dangerous. I won’t bother him over ex-husband drama. He’s too busy.” Her cousin was the busiest man she knew, but then again, he was a MacDonald.
“You know he won’t mind.” As his sister, Leigh didn’t think twice to add more to his list of responsibilities, but Kate couldn’t make herself bother him over something that only annoyed her.
“I do. He’d want me to call, but with work, his farm and Kylie, he’s running himself into the ground.” She pulled a bag of sugar from the cupboard and set it on the counter.
“What are you going to do?”
“Feed my animals, shower, treat myself to a candy bar and put my feet up while I research animal rescues. I know we mentioned it in passing when you brought me Bonnie, but I think I’m serious. I’ve got plenty of space. I’ve wanted to do something productive with it since I came home. It feels right.” She might not be willing to let Preston or Bailey use her name, but she damn well would. It belonged to her after all.
Chapter Seven
She lugged her dad’s old ladder out of the storage shed and carried it across the yard. Why had the shutter come loose in last night’s quick and angry storm? The constant banging against the outside wall kept her awake most of the night.
She’d rather spend the entire day cleaning out the barn than climb up to the second story for two minutes. She’d never been fond of heights but, unless she asked someone else for help, the chore was hers.
The sun slid down the sky toward late evening and she wanted a quiet night’s rest. With another storm rolling in, strong winds were predicted for another night. The barn door incident from a few days ago only added to her unease, so she didn’t need another night of rattling and banging on top of it.
She set the ladder just to the left of the shutter and tied her long hair into a ponytail. With a screwdriver in one pocket and a hammer in her belt loop, she climbed and kept her feet to the rungs’ outer edges. She’d always teased her dad that the ancient wood would break under his large frame, but it had always held strong. Plus, it was the only thing she had tall enough to reach the window level.
She hoped she could fix the damn thing but would settle for removing it completely and asking Joe to come out and hang it later. He’d only give her a small amount of grief for her fear of heights.
She slowly climbed higher and cautiously reached up, knowing that she hadn’t climbed high enough but hopeful there’d be some sort of miracle. With one arm fully extended, she still had at least a foot and a half to go. She raised her left foot and lightly placed it on the next rung. She eased her weight onto it and then raised the other at a shaky snail’s pace to the next highest rung. She repeated the procedure, testing the ladder’s will to hold her aloft with her foot on the rung. When it held the majority of her weight without too much complaint, she raised the lower foot and set it beside the other.
She took a deep breath, braced herself the best she could and reached for the shutter. A strong gust of wind caught it and blew it away from her with a loud thwack. When her hand fell about ten inches shy she wanted to bang her head against the wall. She pulled her hammer from where she’d hooked it and repositioned her feet. She leaned out farther and reached out with the handle hoping to use the claw to pull it to her.
A loud crack split the air and she fell while the world spun in a dizzying whirl. She braced, holding her breath.
With dark, angry clouds on his tail, Trent pulled his truck into the MacDonald driveway. The humidity had been high for days, but in Kentucky, the resulting storm could last hours or minutes. Turning off the truck, he heard nearby music. He stepped out, glanced at the house and paused.
What in the world was she doing up there? Her height on the ladder gave him a prime view of her ass in a faded pair of jeans that looked soft enough to wrap a baby in. And, heaven help him, just below her left cheek was a frayed tear a few inches wide. She stepped up with her left leg and the tear gaped wider. The peach blush of her skin taunted him through the hanging threads as he got closer.
Damn it all. The ancient, wooden ladder had to be older than he was. Suddenly, he wanted her down from there. Yesterday.
She stood on the third step from the top of the ladder and leaned over toward the window with a hammer in one hand outstretched to hook the shutter’s corner. His stifled his need to yell at her to get down. One, he didn’t want to startle her. Two, he doubted she’d hear him over the radio blasting a loud, old honky-tonk song he knew well.
A loud crack sounded, the step splintered beneath her feet and she fell through the air.
Without thought, he dove for her.
They landed with a jolting thud against the grass. His head hit the ground, making him see stars. If the fall hadn’t knocked enough air out of his lungs, the slight weight of Kate’s body landing atop his abdomen finished the job. Tight and hollow, his chest burned with the emptiness. A sharp, stabbing pain struck in his upper chest.
When his deep draw of breath pulled in the faint scent
of peaches and woman, the pain almost seemed worth it. He couldn’t understand how someone so small made contact with so much of his body. Tied up in a tangle of arms and legs, with her on top, they put the old kids’ twister game to shame, with his one hand on the back of her thigh, the other on her waist. One of hers was around his bicep and the other caught between their lower bodies. He had no idea where his legs began and hers ended.
Somehow, his hand had found its way to the back of her thigh, the very same one with the rip. The hole felt a good deal wider than when he’d seen it. Though he couldn’t see it, he felt the silk of her thigh beneath his fingers.
“Hi.” Kate lifted her forehead from his chest to give him a shy smile. She was plastered tight against him, filling him with her scent and blanketing him in the sexiest sort of heat. His brain had been lulled into stupidity while his body came alive, raring to take what it wanted.
He forced his fingers to stop the slow sweeps it made over her skin and focused on their situation. When he thought of what could have happened if he hadn’t shown when he had, his temper flared hot and bright. “Hi. Question. What the hell were you doing? Do you have a death wish? You could have been killed. Don’t you know better?”
“Excuse me? I was doing just fine on my own, so you can just go on and get out of here. I don’t need your help.” She’d gone from sweet to defensive in a flash of anger.
“Don’t need my help? Honey, you almost got yourself hurt, badly. That doesn’t look like someone who knows what they’re doing to me.” Asking for patience, he laid his head on the ground and took a deep breath, then another. He might never get the memory of her falling out of his head.
“Let me up. Now.” Her jaw barely moved as she spoke through gritted teeth. She tried to move her leg making the skin beneath his fingers move.
He couldn’t stop his grin. “Sweetheart, you’re on top of me.”
“Your fat leg is on top of my ankle. I’m stuck.” She smiled serenely, but damn, she was pissed.
Had he hurt her? He’d tried not to, but the only other option was to let her fall, and he couldn’t do that.
He tried to feel around to ensure it wasn’t broken, but didn’t know where to start. “Which leg? How badly are you hurt?”
“My left knee and ankle are trapped under your right leg.” She spoke to him as if he was an idiot. Maybe he was? Why had he let Rick talk him into coming out here again?
She pulled her arm free and raised her chest a few inches off his.
When the fire of her bright eyes met his and two of his fingers swept over her thigh again he had no idea what she was talking about.
“How do we untangle the human pretzel we’ve made and get up? My ankle seems to be trapped under you knee. It hurts a little.” She repeated herself slowly and reminded him that he was being a dumbass.
Shit.
He’d yelled at her, mooned over her pretty eyes and snuck a sample of the silken skin just below her ass and she was hurting. He was an asshole.
He raised his right leg giving her room to move her foot. She’d been laying low on his thighs and the shift in position tipped her forward to fall, returning flat against his chest with a quiet whimper. She shifted and both her legs were spread wide over his pelvis and lay just outside his. And he’d only moved his fingers farther into the rip of her jeans as he’d attempted to steady her.
Damn. Was that the bottom edge of her underwear at the tip of his fingers? It had to be. His finger slid up beneath the elastic feeling the supple under curve of her ass. His palm tightened on her upper thigh, squeezed.
A hot, soft, wet dream lay sprawled atop him. A perfect match for his, her smaller, softer body stirred his baser instincts. Desire surged to life.
“Are you okay?” Her voice registered, but her words didn’t make sense to his lust-addled brain.
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” Not even thinking of why he shouldn’t be there stopped him from realizing he couldn’t think of a better place to be than underneath Kate.
“Because I just did my best impersonation of an anvil falling on a coyote when I landed on you. What about your ribs? Are you sure you’re okay?” Her soft fingertips began a careful and teasing exploration of his ribs, leaving him gritting his teeth at the added sexual provocation.
“I am. Let’s get you up and check your ankle. Does anything else hurt?” He still had his hand in her pants and couldn’t seem to make it move away like a gentleman’s hand should. And he couldn’t make himself care.
At least until she moved her leg and released a soft hiss of pain.
His hand regained its manners and retreated to the curve of her hip. Taking her waist, he lifted and gently turned until they were side-by-side. Shifting, he sat near her feet and pulled them into his lap.
Thunder rumbled and a cool, damp breeze blew the scent of rain across his face. “Change of plans. Let’s get you inside.” He stood, helped her to her feet, then scooped her up against his chest just as the first drops of rain fell. Thunder cracked announcing the quick arrival of a vicious summer storm.
“Trent! I can walk… I think.” Her fingers gripped his shoulders as he ran to the porch. “Put me down.”
“This is becoming a habit, beauty.” He opened the front door and set her on the couch. “Do not move.”
“I’m fine, you don’t need to—”
“Hush. Let me take a look.” He sat beside her and put her feet on his lap. Comparing the two, he saw that her left ankle was noticeably larger than the right. He ran his hand over it and watched her carefully. Other than a small wince, she handled it well.
“I promise, it’s okay. It’s sore, throbs a little, but I really don’t think it’s broken. I’ll ice it and be fine.”
He stifled the urge to argue and let her feet go. He wasn’t her keeper, and she didn’t need him to take care of her. She’d told him as much. But he couldn’t leave her like this. He went to the kitchen and looked through her freezer. It was older than dirt, but everything was neatly arranged inside. He pulled a bag of peas out and returned to Kate.
“Put these on there and stay put. I’ll be right back.”
“Wait. Trent, let me look at your shoulder.” He made sure she did as told, ignored her concern and then headed out to the porch. As soon as he’d shut the door, he pulled out his phone and called Rick.
The crack he’d heard as she’d fallen had been a lot louder than he would have expected from splitting wood. And it hadn’t echoed like thunder.
It was just as well that Trent insisted she stay on the couch. If the shaking of her hands was any indication of how her legs would function, she’d be another heap on the ground if she attempted to stand.
But the stubborn, frustrating man had ignored her concern. He was bleeding. His dark gray tee had a rip in the shoulder.
She must have hit him with the hammer or screwdriver when she fell. They were probably lost in the yard now, and she’d have to find them before she cut grass the next time. She put her trembling hand to her forehead and sighed. Either or both of them could have been hurt so much worse. If Trent hadn’t arrived when he had, she would’ve had a whole lot more than a swollen ankle to worry about.
God, she’d known better, but this was her farm now, her responsibility. And, yes, she had people she could call on, but it had seemed silly to ask Joe to drive all the way out there for a chore that would have likely taken him all of ten minutes.
Still, she’d almost hurt herself badly and hurt Trent when he’d only been trying to help. Again she told herself that her upset nerves were a result of the fall and had absolutely nothing to do with the way his hands burned against her in a most delicious way. She might never forget the feel of his fingers rubbing over the back of her thigh when they’d unerringly found their way into her jeans. She didn’t know whether to trash her old favorites or preserve and frame them. Even now, the sweet heat of his touch lingered, a reminder of the firm grip he’d had on her flesh.
Of course, his grip h
ad only been a happy byproduct of his catching her midair and had nothing to do with any feelings or desire for her. And that was fine. She had no need for a relationship—not even with a man who smelled like sin, behaved like a southern gentleman but looked like a cowboy and cared more for horses than people.
Nope. No interest at all.
But no matter how chaotic her feelings were, she owed it to him to at least make sure he was okay. She stood, tested her ankle for pain and decided she’d had far worse injuries. Looking out the window, she saw him talking on his phone.
She’d thought he’d been mad at her when she’d fallen on him?
His anger then had been a low simmer compared to the tight, tense fury she saw in his face as he told whoever was on the other end of the phone to “hurry the fuck up.” She might not have been able to hear his words, but she read his lips clearly.
Deciding against interrupting his call, she settled for gathering a few first aid supplies and setting them on the counter beside the sink. When he didn’t come back inside, she went to the window again. Then she opened the door and hurried out to the porch.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to look at something before it gets any darker.” The stark anger in his face scared her. Not knowing how, she knew it wasn’t directed at her, but something wasn’t right. She followed him down to the yard.
Without hesitation he walked straight to the fallen ladder and righted it.
“You can’t use that ladder! If it couldn’t hold me, how do you expect it to hold you?”
“I’ll be quick and then I’ll explain.”
She watched with her heart in her throat as he set the ladder up in the exact same place she’d had it. He looked up above with a dark expression as the rain dampened his hair and clothes. The gray cotton of his shirt clung to every ripple and ridge of muscle. The faded denim molded thick, muscled thighs.
Protecting Kate: Dark Horse, Inc: Book 1 Page 10