Chapter 22
Roarke
“P lease?” she repeated softly, toning down her insistent attitude.
What the hell is going on with you?
She was scared, pissed, and nervous all at once. I didn’t need a degree in psychology to see it on her face. I didn’t know her story, and I wasn’t about to try to get it out of her now, when she was all over the place like this.
But what motivated her to do a one-eighty and want to help me with my arm? It wasn’t that bad. I could deal with it myself even though it was on my dominant arm. As far as I knew, she wasn’t a nurse to be able to offer me accurate medical assistance I didn’t need in the first place.
Is she scared to be alone?
The fact that she touched me, that she reached out to me and grabbed my arm, had to be important. Until now, she’d been consistent in keeping her distance. The only time we’d touched or came close enough to make contact was when we were both asleep.
“It’s not that bad,” I argued, not trusting how quickly she’d change her tune.
“It’s bleeding through,” she said, tugging on my arm to coax me into her place.
“I can handle it.” I followed, slowly, cautious about her behavior and mine. I’d been waiting to have a chance for her to open up to me. An invitation into her cabin was a hell of a sign of trust. With this volatile moment, though, I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing. When a woman asked a man to back off, that was a clear warning every man should obey, including me. But what was the protocol when they changed their mind quickly?
“It’s the least I can do.” She frowned at my arm, releasing it when she seemed to assume I would continue walking with her. “It’d be hard for you to reach up like that.”
It would. The wire had sliced me up high and more onto my back than down my shoulder and upper arm. And they weren’t dinky, short gashes, either.
“Why are you acting so off?” I asked when we reached her door and she unlocked it.
I was confused, and I wasn’t sure what made her ping-pong around so many emotions to behave this erratically. Asking her directly seemed like the best move.
“I’m acting off?” she replied.
Don’t be delusional, Heather. “Yes. Telling me to go then begging me to come inside.”
I did, though. I stepped into her cabin and let her close the door behind me.
“I’ve had an, um, stressful afternoon.” She walked further into the one-room space, casting her gaze down low. “But I don’t think it’s fair for you to say that.”
“To call you out on acting like a walking contradiction?” I sat at one of the dinette table’s chairs when she gestured for me to be seated there. She busied herself in the cupboards below the sink, seeming to search for something.
“I don’t think it’s fair for you to say that,” she said, putting me on the spot when she stood and faced me with a first-aid kit in her hands. “You don’t know me to be able to determine when I’m acting ‘off’ or unusually.”
I twitched my lips to the side, fighting a smile. “I suppose you’re right there.”
“There’s no supposing about it,” she argued mildly as she walked toward me. She put the slim box on the table and rested her hands on the back of the other chair.
“I agree. I don’t know you all that well.” I gave in to a single laugh. “But I’m supposed to let you clean up my wound?”
She rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows a little about first-aid.”
I held her gaze for a long moment, giving this connection between us a chance to solidify and strengthen. So many unspoken things passed between us, but I was confident they were rooted in awareness. Maybe even the start of a minor friendship.
I cleared my throat, snapping out of the draw to simply look at her and appreciate that we could talk. That she wasn’t, in the end, pushing me away. “I don’t know you all that well, Heather, but despite my better judgment, I want to.”
She didn’t speak as I pulled my thermal shirt off. It wasn’t easy to remove it with the thick, wet bandages coiled around my bicep, but the rest of my maneuver went smoothly. With one tug of my hand, I had the garment off my chest and other arm, over my head. It was snagged and bunched above the bandages though.
When she didn’t move, staring at me, I tried not to let her heavy-lidded gaze get to me. Lust was good and well, but this wasn’t the time to indulge in it.
Blinking quickly, she tore her stare from my chest and approached. She firmed her face into a more serious expression of concentration as she helped me with my shirt at my wound. “How did this happen?”
Again, she was deflecting. I told her that I wanted to get to know her, and she didn’t reply about that remark at all. Her asking me about my injury was a direct opposition. She was, again, asking me about myself, and I wondered when she’d let me do the same to her.
“I was out fixing fence, and something snapped.”
“Barbed wire?” she guessed.
I laughed once, watching her focus on peeling my bandages off. “No. We don’t need the herds getting hurt.”
“Oh.”
“You don’t know much about ranches?”
She shook her head, teasing my nose with the shake. The movement freed her long tresses from being bunched over her opposite shoulder, and with the slight unravel, the sweet scents of her shampoo reached me. I drew in a deep breath, calming under her touch.
“I grew up around here,” she admitted, “but I never spent time on the ranch.”
“Hmm.” I moved my arm to help her drop the last of the bloody gauze.
“Are you sure it wasn’t barbed wire?” she asked as she scooted her chair closer. I kept my legs wide apart so she could stand, and now sit, between them. It ensured a position so she could be close enough to tend to my injuries, but I struggled not to get hard.
Something about her caring, something about her not being combative for once got to me. She’d only been here over a month now, and that wasn’t long enough to see all the sides of her. What I saw now was good. I liked this softer, mellowed version of her, not just because I could reap the benefits of her compassion, but also because I wanted to think she was in a more level mental state and not so stressed.
“Eh, it’s not that bad.” I craned my neck, twisting to see the unstitched portion of the small gash.
“Maybe not,” she said, “but it sure is bleeding.”
She got up to fill a bowl with water and put a roll of paper towels under her arm. Both of them were set on the table before she began to compress the site and dab away the blood.
“What made you go into ranch work?” she asked.
Again. A question about me. I sighed. “I’m not sure. I always liked animals and farms. I went to college for one semester for ag, but it wasn’t my thing. When a buddy took me to a rodeo out near Houston, it made me miss being near horses. I rode a fair amount when I was a scout.”
“You were a boy scout?” she asked, surprised.
“For a while. And I always liked being around horses. Then one thing led to another and here I am.”
“You like working outside like that?”
I nodded. “I’m not a fan of getting cut up or anything. But yeah. I like being outdoors. I like working hard and using my hands.”
I wished I could have my hand on her again, like that morning I would never forget.
She went quiet again, dutifully concentrating on cleaning up my cut. To avoid the quiet, I kept talking, explaining how I’d started at the Gedding ranch, went through more training, ended up with a degree in animal husbandry, and my decision to come here and work at Grand River.
She didn’t seem bored, but she didn’t seem eager to give me a reciprocal answer either.
As she finished up, pressing new bandages to my wound, I sighed and figured I’d try. “Why’d you want to go into your line of work?”
For a long moment, she didn’t reply.
“Banking?” I prompted.
“I didn’t, actually.” She wouldn’t look up at me, tidying the things on the table. “I went to college for PR.”
Once she had the first-aid kit organized again, I flexed my arm and tested out how well those big bandages would hold up. “Maybe you should’ve gone into nursing. This looks better than what they did at urgent care.”
She shrugged, still not wanting to make eye contact.
That’s enough. I was trying to be patient and careful with her, but dammit, something had to give.
Being blunt usually worked.
“Heather? Why are you acting like you’re still...scared?”
She jerked her face up to frown at me.
“Are you scared of me ?”