starring role of some pretty feverish dreams. And played it quite flawlessly.
She turned on the faucet, ran the water as cold as it would go, then took a bracing drink. She could handle this. She had survived eight months in Afghanistan, a terrorist attack and having a third of her leg chopped off, for heaven’s sake.
She could surely face one man.
Chin high, she headed outside, where she found him spreading some of the new hay in the horse pasture.
He stopped working as soon as she approached, foldinghis arms on top of the pitchfork to watch her progress. It took every bit of concentration but she forced herself to walk slowly and confidently, with no trace of limp.
“You must think you’re so clever,” she said when she reached him.
He shrugged. “When I have to be.”
“You Daltons don’t know the meaning of the word no, do you?”
“Oh, we know the meaning of all kinds of words. Like stubborn, for instance. Or obstinate. Thick-headed is another phrase in our vocabulary, though I think we’d all agree you’ve got us beat on that one.”
For one moment, she was tempted to swing her prosthesis out and sweep that pitchfork he leaned on right out from under him. That would probably be childish, not to mention would likely hurt her like the devil.
“I don’t know what you’re hoping to achieve by all this, but I’m not about to make it easy for you. You offered to work so, believe me, I’m going to make you work. I only hope your whole doctor gig hasn’t turned you into a pansy.”
She sounded like a serious bitch, she realized, but he didn’t seem offended. He laughed and gave a mock salute.
“Private Pansy reporting for duty, Lieutenant. Put me to work. I’ll let you know when it’s time for my afternoon nap.”
Her insides twirled at the sight of that smile. How in the world was she going to get through this?
She wiped her hands on her jeans and frowned. “Why are you standing around, then?”
“I’m about done here,” he said. “I was thinking aboutheading back along the fence line you were riding yesterday, if that’s okay with you. I brought my own horse down from the Cold Creek and thought I’d see how far I could get around the perimeter of the ranch.”
“That’s as good a place to start as any, I suppose.” She gave him a determined look. “I’m coming with you.”
She saw arguments brimming in his blue eyes, but after a moment he sighed. “I suppose there’s no way you’ll let me talk you out of that idea so you can rest.”
“You could try. But you wouldn’t win.”
He studied her a moment longer, those blue eyes probing. “And I guess you’re going to climb up my grill if I ask how your prosthesis feels today.”
“It doesn’t have feelings. It’s a fake leg, Doc. That’s kind of the point.”
“Ha-ha. Seriously, how’s the leg?”
He seemed genuinely concerned so she dropped the attitude for a moment and gave him the truth. “A little better. I made sure to put it up last night, just as the doctor ordered.”
“Good. You can do more harm than good if you push yourself too hard. Adjusting to a prosthesis can be a complicated process. You can make it worse if your stump becomes too irritated to wear the thing for the long stretches of time needed to become accustomed to it.”
“Yeah, that’s what they tell me.”
She wasn’t in the mood to take medical advice from a man in a tractor T-shirt, so she quickly changed the subject. “I’ll go get my horse while you finish things here. Oh, and I don’t know how you did things on the Cold Creek but we’ve learned pitchforks work better ifyou actually lift them out of the dirt instead of just leaning on them.”
His low, amused laughter sent shivers rippling down her spine, and she forced herself to turn away and head for the horse pasture as fast as her fake leg would take her.
Jake watched her hurry for the horse pasture. She stumbled a little on a rough patch of grass and he had to fight
She turned on the faucet, ran the water as cold as it would go, then took a bracing drink. She could handle this. She had survived eight months in Afghanistan, a terrorist attack and having a third of her leg chopped off, for heaven’s sake.
She could surely face one man.
Chin high, she headed outside, where she found him spreading some of the new hay in the horse pasture.
He stopped working as soon as she approached, foldinghis arms on top of the pitchfork to watch her progress. It took every bit of concentration but she forced herself to walk slowly and confidently, with no trace of limp.
“You must think you’re so clever,” she said when she reached him.
He shrugged. “When I have to be.”
“You Daltons don’t know the meaning of the word no, do you?”
“Oh, we know the meaning of all kinds of words. Like stubborn, for instance. Or obstinate. Thick-headed is another phrase in our vocabulary, though I think we’d all agree you’ve got us beat on that one.”
For one moment, she was tempted to swing her prosthesis out and sweep that pitchfork he leaned on right out from under him. That would probably be childish, not to mention would likely hurt her like the devil.
“I don’t know what you’re hoping to achieve by all this, but I’m not about to make it easy for you. You offered to work so, believe me, I’m going to make you work. I only hope your whole doctor gig hasn’t turned you into a pansy.”
She sounded like a serious bitch, she realized, but he didn’t seem offended. He laughed and gave a mock salute.
“Private Pansy reporting for duty, Lieutenant. Put me to work. I’ll let you know when it’s time for my afternoon nap.”
Her insides twirled at the sight of that smile. How in the world was she going to get through this?
She wiped her hands on her jeans and frowned. “Why are you standing around, then?”
“I’m about done here,” he said. “I was thinking aboutheading back along the fence line you were riding yesterday, if that’s okay with you. I brought my own horse down from the Cold Creek and thought I’d see how far I could get around the perimeter of the ranch.”
“That’s as good a place to start as any, I suppose.” She gave him a determined look. “I’m coming with you.”
She saw arguments brimming in his blue eyes, but after a moment he sighed. “I suppose there’s no way you’ll let me talk you out of that idea so you can rest.”
“You could try. But you wouldn’t win.”
He studied her a moment longer, those blue eyes probing. “And I guess you’re going to climb up my grill if I ask how your prosthesis feels today.”
“It doesn’t have feelings. It’s a fake leg, Doc. That’s kind of the point.”
“Ha-ha. Seriously, how’s the leg?”
He seemed genuinely concerned so she dropped the attitude for a moment and gave him the truth. “A little better. I made sure to put it up last night, just as the doctor ordered.”
“Good. You can do more harm than good if you push yourself too hard. Adjusting to a prosthesis can be a complicated process. You can make it worse if your stump becomes too irritated to wear the thing for the long stretches of time needed to become accustomed to it.”
“Yeah, that’s what they tell me.”
She wasn’t in the mood to take medical advice from a man in a tractor T-shirt, so she quickly changed the subject. “I’ll go get my horse while you finish things here. Oh, and I don’t know how you did things on the Cold Creek but we’ve learned pitchforks work better ifyou actually lift them out of the dirt instead of just leaning on them.”
His low, amused laughter sent shivers rippling down her spine, and she forced herself to turn away and head for the horse pasture as fast as her fake leg would take her.
Jake watched her hurry for the horse pasture. She stumbled a little on a rough patch of grass and he had to fight
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