Burly and Rugged (The Men of Silver Pine Ridge #3)

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

LINDY

C ody skids on the trail, his body tilting forward like he’s about to fall.

“Cody!” My yell sends a bunch of birds squawking and escaping into the sky.

His right leg buckles. His hand slams against a nearby tree, gripping the rough bark so hard his knuckles go white.

He doesn’t go down. But only barely.

“Cody,” I say again, hurrying forward, my boots squelching over damp earth and scattered pine needles. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” His voice is tight, but he doesn’t look fine.

I don’t believe him. “Really?”

His jaw clenches and flexes. He exhales sharply, shifting his weight onto his good leg before testing the other gently. But the second he does, his entire body locks up like he’s in serious pain.

I grab him without thinking, trying to help support him. Cody stiffens instantly, his hands gripping my shoulders, his weight settling against me.

For a second, neither of us moves. Then he tries to pull back.

“Let go,” he grits out, his voice rough.

“Not happening,” I say, adjusting my stance to better hold his weight. “You’re not walking like this. Not unless you want to faceplant on the trail.”

His hands flex like he wants to push me away, but he doesn’t. Stubborn male pride.

I glance up, studying his face. His jaw is clenched so tight I swear he’ll break his teeth, his expression locked down like he’s trying to will the pain away.

“Lean on me,” I say. “I’ve got you.”

“Okay. Fine.” Cody grudgingly lets me lead him to a fallen log in a nearby clearing.

“Here. Sit.”

He exhales sharply as he lowers himself onto the log, hands braced on his thighs, his breath jagged. I kneel in front of him, my pack open in front of me as I search for the first-aid kit.

“Lindy.” His voice is rough. “I’m fine.”

I glance up, arching a brow. “You can barely stand. Let me look at your knee. Sit still.”

His jaw tightens, his lips pressing into a thin line. Then he nods and stops fighting me.

I reach for his knee, my fingers brushing the fabric of his hiking pants. The muscle twitches beneath my touch, and he exhales heavily.

“I’m going to unzip the bottom of your pant leg,” I say, keeping my voice even.

The first thing I see is a long, jagged scar slicing across the top of his knee. The surrounding area is already swollen.

I glance up, my chest suddenly heavier. “This happen often? This isn’t a new wound.”

Cody’s gaze flicks past me toward the trees. “Not as often as it used to.”

I don’t push. Instead, I press my fingers carefully around his knee, checking to see if anything serious happened. His breath flares slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. He lets me help, even though I know it’s killing him.

“Okay. Nothing is broken, and it’s not dislocated.”

Something flickers in his expression. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then doesn’t.

I wrap the bandage, my fingers pressing against his skin as I secure the fabric. “Is that too tight?”

“You’re good at this,” he says, his voice quieter now.

I glance at him. “My mom’s a nurse.”

Cody nods and chuckles. “Is there anything you don’t know?”

I shake my head, amused, as I finish securing the wrap. “There’s plenty I don’t know.”

I slide my hands away, my fingers grazing the edge of his thigh before I zip the bottom of his pant leg back on. His breath catches.

When I finally lift my gaze, his dark eyes are locked onto me, his expression unreadable. My pulse pounds, my fingertips still tingling from touching him. This isn’t exactly how I thought kneeling in front of Cody would be, but I’m not sad about it. I like that I’m able to help him.

I swallow hard, my breath shaky. “That should hold for now. Do you need a painkiller?”

Cody exhales, his fingers flexing against his thigh before he nods. “Yeah. I have some in the front pocket of my pack. Thanks.” His voice is rougher than before.

He gently runs his fingers over his knee. When he looks up, his gaze lingers a little too long.

“I’ll get a fire going and make us some coffee,” I say. I need something to do because if I keep touching him, it’s going to move rapidly from “let me help you because you’re injured” to “let me explore your body…naked” and I know it’s foolish to dream like that.

Maybe he feels the heat between us, too, or maybe he doesn’t. It’s foolish of me to fantasize about him, but damn if I can—or even want —to stop.

“You don’t have to take care of me,” Cody protests, but I glance at him and silence him with a look. He didn’t even make it to his feet before he was wincing in pain.

“Yes!” I exclaim, pumping my fist when I get the fire started in one try. One try! I turn to Cody. He’s smiling, and it warms me in so many ways.

He winces again as he shifts his weight. “Good job, Lindy. You’re picking up on everything quickly—and I’m not just saying that. You’re a natural out here.”

I beam at Cody, his praise making every atom of my body wake up and sparkle with pride. As the water for coffee heats up and I get the metal mugs ready, I wonder what his injury means for the rest of this week.

One thing is for certain, though. I don’t want to cut my time with Cody short.