by Em Petrova
He tossed her a look over his shoulder. “That’s right.”
One of the mares hit the stall door to be let out, and Wheeler released Gusto’s hoof. He set it back down gently and awkwardly rewrapped the lower leg. Satisfied he'd done it right, Wheeler unhooked a rope from a nail outside the stall and used it as a lead. When he reached the doors to let the horse loose into the fenced area, he struggled with the crutches, the latch and the horse.
The woman moved forward quickly. “Let me help.” She flicked the latch like she did this every day of her life and pushed the doors open. Wheeler loosened the rope and let the horse go free. Gusto took some odd steps into the pasture.
“Probably stiff,” she said quietly as if musing it to herself.
Wheeler looked at her. With her wild hair and wrinkled clothes, she might be down and out, but her voice and the way she held herself spoke of breeding.
“Who are you again?” he asked.
“Aria.”
“Aria,” he repeated.
Her face turned three shades of red before settling on the darkest hue. “Yeah, just Aria.”
“Okay then. I’m Wheeler.”
“Can I help with the mares?”
“I’m afraid if I say no, they’re going to knock down their doors.” By now both mares were angry with him and showing it. The wood of the stalls cracked and shuddered with their sharp movements.
“Sassy ones, aren’t they? Sisters?” Aria went to one stall and opened it. He noted how she stood back as she did so, in case the horse rushed forward. Seemed like she knew some about livestock.
She’s beautiful too.
His awareness of her was new to him—hell, he hadn’t felt even a twinge at a woman’s nearness in a long time. Even a beautiful mess, Aria intrigued him.
She was looking at him, waiting for his answer to her question.
“Yeah, they’re sisters, foals from different years but they get along well enough and they preen over Gusto.”
“Is that the injured gelding?”
“Yeah.” He made a move to reach for the mare he was tending and his crutch fell to the floor. He grunted.
“Let me get it.”
“I got it.” Before she could help, he bent and snatched it up, dragging the wooden device across the floor until he could draw it up under his arm again. “Damn things.”
“I’ve never been on crutches myself, but I’ve had relatives on them, and they were grumpy as old bears the entire time.” She slanted a look his way.
“You calling me grumpy?”
“I don’t know your usual personality, but you seem a bit crabby.”
He huffed air through his nostrils. Again, her words didn’t annoy him as much as… intrigue him? It had been too long since he’d had a woman, if that was the case. After all, a woman with a mouth on her wasn’t exactly foreplay. Or was it?
While she dealt with one mare, he watched to ensure she knew what she was doing. She was gentle, he’d give her that, talking low to the horse who was unfamiliar with her and slowly winning her over so Aria was allowed to stroke her neck.
Aria laughed. The soft tinkling sound gathered up Wheeler’s raw nerves and tugged. What the hell was that about? He wasn’t himself since breaking his foot. That must be it.
“You’re just begging for attention, aren’t ya, girl?” For the first time, he saw Aria smile.
The moment seemed to stand still, stretch out and linger like the warmth of the sun long after the moon rose.
“Yes, you’re a good girl.” She patted the mare’s nose. “What’s her name?”
“She’s called Maisy but I like to think of her as Runs for the Hills.”
“Why is that?” Aria didn’t look away from the horse, obviously smitten with the animal’s reaction to being stroked.
“The minute she gets loose, she makes a break for it. Found her halfway up that mountain two different times. Not something I want to do again, especially for the next two months.”
She nodded and expertly secured the halter with the lead rope to take her outside. He did the same, though much more slowly, inching along on the crutches. Once all three animals were secured inside the fence, Wheeler closed the barn doors again.
Aria looked around. “Do they get supplement feeds?”
“The grazing’s enough for now. Later, I’ll give them a little something.”
“All right.” She looked nervous, eyes downcast. No wonder, because they were two strangers who’d just performed a chore that Wheeler thought of as intimate. Anything to do with stock was sacred and almost ritual. He’d felt it before with guys he worked with—ranchers, other hands and wranglers alike. Camaraderie formed quickly. He’d just never expected to feel it with this woman who’d been sleeping in his barn.
“Has…” She stopped abruptly and gave him a desperate look.
Waiting, he arched a brow.
“Has anyone been here looking for me?”
“No.”
She seemed to melt in front of his eyes, shoulders slumping forward and relief passing across her pretty features. “Thank God. Can you just… not say anything about finding me here?”
He lifted both brows now. “Depends.”
“On?”
“If you’re running from the law.”
“Not the law—a boyfriend. Or fiancé. A wedding. Oh God.”
Wheeler watched her grow more agitated and upset with each stuttering word that fell from her lips. And it was as he’d guessed from the start—a man was involved. While he didn’t want some dude showing up here looking for his fiancé, Wheeler couldn’t exactly ignore her plea for help.
“Why don’t you come up to the house, have some coffee.”
She looked up at him, her lips parting slightly, with a trace of disbelief in her eyes. After a few heartbeats, she gave a nod.
He went out of the barn, and she followed alongside him, though she could walk much faster. It was hard not to ask about the fiancé/wedding thing, but he could pretty much gather the information just from those two words. Some man was trying to corner her into marrying him and she’d run scared.
Wheeler found he didn’t like that.
“Watch your step here. The wood needs replaced.”
“It’s you who should be watching your step.”
“Tell me about it. Damn things.” He set the crutches onto the second step up and pushed onto the first, swinging his casted foot as he slowly made his way up.
Inside the house, she paused to look around. He wondered what she was seeing. To him, it was home. Some things still remained from the years his grandparents had lived here, but he’d replaced some of the items that weren’t him, like knickknacks or the pair of ugly lamps he’d hated growing up.
“It’s not much,” he heard himself say. What did he care what she thought of his home?
“Just needs some sprucing up.” Direct, was what he’d call her.
He snorted. “You’re not wrong. It was my grandparents’ place before they passed away. I’ve done little to it since.”
“You won’t be anytime soon, either. You can barely manage the horses, what few you have.”
Okay, this was bordering on judgmental and he wasn’t abiding that. Who was she to comment on his lifestyle at all?
“I don’t earn a living off the ranch. Just keep the horses for the love of it. I got plenty of outdoor work elsewhere. Let’s get that coffee.” With an abrupt statement like that, he hoped she took the hint and kept the comments to herself. She followed him to the kitchen and watched him fumble with crutches, mugs and coffee.
“I hope you don’t take sugar, because I’m out.”
“No. Cream?” She made a move to the fridge, and he nodded that she should go ahead and grab it for herself.
“Grab a couple eggs while you’re at it.”
“Are you hungry?” she asked, turning from the fridge with the jug of milk.
“No, but you must be. Eggs are my specialty.”
“I c
ouldn’t ask you to make me breakfast.”
“I’m offering and I can manage fine. Sit and have your coffee. You must have had a rough night in the barn and could use the caffeine.”
“What I’d like is a toothbrush.”
He looked at her. “Got an extra in the bathroom drawer. Uh… through that doorway and first door on your right.” He gestured with his crutch.
She stood, coffee forgotten. “Thank you, Wheeler.”
As she left the room, he watched her go, all round ass in fitted denim and long hair swaying on her spine. Damn if he wasn’t finding himself strangely connected to her. Either it was his natural urge to protect that made him strive to put her at ease, or he was just bored senseless being laid up this way and needed the diversion.
With those curves of hers, it could be coming from the surge of testosterone in my system.
* * * * *
Wheeler’s bathroom was straight out of the 1980s, complete with a baby blue sink and bathtub. His mention that it had been his grandparents’ home made her envision floral accents and perhaps a goose or two holding tiny soaps. But he had only the basics—toilet paper stacked on the back of the toilet, a razor and shaving cream on the sink—which was such a guy thing.
She closed the door behind herself and found the geese she’d expected—on a strip of wallpaper border he hadn’t ripped off all the way. She stood there for a long moment, collecting herself.
She’d really messed up, hadn’t she? She’d run from the impromptu wedding—what woman wanted that, anyway?—and from Jason Lee, a man who would not take being jilted lightly. Rumors were sure to fly about her just to save his reputation.
Clapping a hand to her mouth, she realized if she was discovered here at this small ranch with a cowboy, the rumors would fall into his lap too. Wheeler was innocent and didn’t deserve the viciousness of the media if she was found out.
But who would know to look here? It was the reason she’d chosen it, after all.
With a glance at her reflection, she saw hollows beneath her eyes that would make her makeup girl tsk in displeasure. But the rest of her…
God, when was the last time she’d seen such life in her eyes or pink in her cheeks that hadn’t been put there by a makeup brush?
It was being back on a ranch—a real one and not just the set of Redemption Falls. Even simply touching a horse for her own pleasure and not because it was written into a script felt amazing.
She washed her hands and splashed her face with water. Then she used a fresh towel from a small stack. Wheeler was surprisingly tidy for a single guy, which she guessed he was or a girlfriend would be here fussing over her injured man. It seemed he was not only on his own but isolated. If he went down on those crutches, who would find him?
After locating the toothbrush in the package, she brushed her teeth and felt a thousand times better for it. That was good, because she had something to do and it would take more than a clean mouth to fortify her.
She took out her cell phone. Lucky she’d had it on her when she’d run. Then again, after what she’d done, it could serve as a torment.
When she brought up an app to search the internet, it said not connected. She checked her bars of service and sure enough, there weren’t any. Quickly, she tapped a few keys to see if Wheeler might have Wi-Fi.
Of course he didn’t.
Crap, now she couldn’t check the news about herself, but maybe that was a good thing.
It meant she could possibly hide longer. Just a few more days until she figured out what to say to Jason.
She put away her phone and then went into the kitchen once more. Wheeler’s back was to her, broad-shouldered and chiseled from there down. His attire of western shirt and sweatpants made her want to giggle, but she supposed a cowboy couldn’t wiggle into a tight pair of jeans with his foot in a cast.
At her footstep, he half turned. “Feel better?”
She nodded, pushing her hair behind her ear. His gaze tracked her action, and it suddenly hit her that she was alone with a man she didn’t know. The Hollywood version of herself would never let that happen, but the minute she’d fled from the set, she’d reverted to the Montana rancher’s daughter who sized up a man just by the way he treated his stock.
She didn’t find herself uncomfortable around the cowboy she didn’t know, because he’d been good to his horses, and that just added to the feeling of homecoming.
While he finished frying the eggs and flipped them onto a plate straight from the pan, she crossed the kitchen with the dated white tile floor to take her plate from him. “Thank you.”
Their fingers brushed on the edge of the plate, and he pulled back. “Welcome. It’s not much, but I’m a little low on supplies. Why don’t you sit and eat before it gets cold?”
She did, returning to her coffee too, which was still hot and strong, the way she liked it. He watched her a moment before edging over on his crutches to sit with his leg sticking out to the side.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened to your foot and the horse’s leg.” She forked up some eggs. He watched her take the bite and move it around in her mouth.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Salt?”
“By the stove. I didn’t add it because I didn’t know if you liked it on eggs.”
She got up and fetched it herself, sprinkling her eggs liberally. When she took the next bite, she smiled. “That’s just right, buttery and salty.”
“A girl who likes country food.”
She nodded. “Told ya I’m from Montana. My momma didn’t raise a gluten-free kale-loving girl.”
That made him smile, and damn if her heart didn’t give a mini flip at how damn sexy a smile was on him. From beneath her lashes and under guise of taking another bite, she studied him. Skin tanned from the sun with small creases bordering each hazel eye, a nose that looked to have been broken a time or two… and that mouth. Who knew a crooked smile could make a girl’s heart tumble like that?
“Took a bad spill up on the ridge. Knew I’d broken my foot straight off but wasn’t so sure about the horse. For a minute, I thought I’d have to put him down.”
She winced. To a horse lover, that was the worst possible thing to happen in a lifetime of caring for animals. She’d seen her daddy cry like a baby after putting down one of his favorite horses.
“Good you didn’t need to. But you couldn’t have ridden him home.”
“No. Walked, both of us limping along like a pair of old men. Got home after dark and the vet came right up. Said he’s not able to make a call on how it’ll heal until the swelling goes down. In a few more days, he can better treat it and give a prognosis.”
“Might take several months to a year.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t sound too happy about that, but who would be?
“At least he’s not my working horse. He’s for pleasure and a few other things I need him for around the place.”
“And the mares?” She raised a brow.
He tipped his head. “Why, they’re just to keep Gusto company. What man doesn’t want a coupla women to fuss over him?”
She couldn’t help but smile in response, but she noticed how his eyes dropped to her lips, and again her heart gave a flicker that said, Oh, hello.
After she finished eating, she took her plate to the sink. It was piled with other dirty pots and pans and plates, and she started running the water with a squeeze of dish soap.
“You don’t gotta do that.”
“It’s the least I can do for my bed and breakfast.”
He snorted. “Not much of either.”
“I’d like to do the dishes in repayment.” She waited for him to say no, but what bachelor would ever turn down an offer like that? She bit back a smile and turned to the sink again. He got up to fetch another cup of coffee. It took all she could to not take over and carry it back to the table for him, but she recognized a frustrated man when she saw one. An independent one too. The frown between his brows wasn’
t masking how much he hated his current state of immobility, which was affecting everything from ranch chores to having coffee.
When he settled again, she felt his stare on her back. Until now, she hadn’t thought about him not recognizing her. Or maybe he did and just hadn’t said so. Well, she wasn’t about to bring it up—being famous wasn’t something she’d likely ever grow accustomed to.
“So what are your plans now?” His question jerked her from her thoughts.
She swirled the dishcloth over the greasy pan. By the looks of it, he’d been eating a lot of eggs. Or nothing but eggs.
“What do you mean?” She tossed a look over her shoulder.
“While I like not having to be on this foot washing my own dishes, you surely have some idea of what you’re doing next.”
She let out a breath and turned to face him. “Is it crazy that I don’t?”
He stared at her like it was.
Okay, maybe it was. But for once, her life felt like her own, even in this precarious state of indecision. She’d spent too much time letting others make her choices and saying nothing so as not to offend or seem ungrateful for an opportunity.
Right now, she’d decided to wash these dishes.
“Maybe I can take a look at the horse again. Seems like the leg could be iced and rewrapped.”
He eyed her, head cocked and his hat pulled lower than before. “You know what you’re doing?”
“Seen it done on TV.” When his brows shot up, she chuckled. “I’m joking. Yes, I know what I’m doing. The vet told you it needs iced several times a day, didn’t he?”
Wheeler nodded. “Been hell doing it on my own.”
She sensed she could be intruding on his privacy and might have outworn her welcome. “Look, I’ll ice the leg, rewrap it and then be on my way.”
“Your way where?”
She shrugged. “Washington seems like a big place. I’m sure I’ll figure out something.”
When she finished washing the dishes, she dried her hands and neatly draped the towel over the edge of the sink. “You have an ice boot for the horse?”
He laughed. “I’ve got one horse and never had the funds to spend on a fancy ice boot.”
“Oh. Then an old inner tube would work. Fill it with ice and conform it to the swollen area.”