a pleading look.
Grimly Wolf stalked over to where Sarah stood.
"Get her a wheelchair," he ordered Evans. "I'll take her home with me for a week."
Sarah's mouth dropped open. "What? Go home with you?" Shock made her voice come out squeaky, not at all in keeping with the confident image she was trying to project.
"That's right." Wolf's tone brooked no argument.
Sarah's eyes grew huge.
"It's me or the hospital, Sarah. Make up your mind." Damn, but she was stubborn.
Evans smiled, placated. "Wonderful solution, Ranger Harding. I'll get the nurse to bring you a wheelchair, Sarah."
Once they were alone, Sarah whispered fiercely, "I'm not going home with you! You take me back to my cabin or else!"
In that moment, Wolf saw just how fragile Sarah really was. Instead of losing patience, he said softly, "Honey, you're in need of a little care right now." He hitched one shoulder upward, his voice turning apologetic. "I'm not the best of caretakers, but I'll do the best I can for you. I've got a small house with one bedroom. I can sleep on the couch in the living room. I'm not such a bad cook—and it's a place for you to rest and heal up." He held up his hands. "Do we understand each other? I'm a friend doing a favor for a friend. Nothing more or less."
Stunned, Sarah couldn't say anything for several moments. She just didn't have the money to stay and pay a huge hospital bill. And right now, her feet were aching as if they were being smashed all over again. The pain was nearly unbearable. But worse than that, when he'd called her "honey," a dam of feelings, both good and bad emotions she'd held onto so long by herself— flowed through her unchecked.
Sarah realized she had no other friends. She didn't dare have friends. Still, she knew in her heart that she needed help. But her recent past caught up with her, and her voice shook with anger. "You promised to drive by my cabin a couple times a day. Why not take me there instead—you can still check in on me."
Wolf felt as much as heard Sarah's panic. She didn't want to lean on anyone for help. That much he under stood, but when he caught and held her distraught gaze, he didn't really see anger, he saw vulnerability.
"The doctor said you had to stay off your feet for an entire week, Sarah. Checking on you twice a day isn't going to do it. I can see it in your eyes. You don't really believe what you're saying."
Fear struck deeply within Sarah. Wolf had seen through her anger and knew her true feelings! Grasping at straws, she snapped, "I'm not going to be your housekeeper, Harding!"
"I'll keep house for both of us."
"Then what do you want out of this?" she demanded. "Everybody always expects something."
Wolf smiled gently. "Where I come from, we were taught to offer our home, food and the roof over our heads to total strangers. This isn't out of the ordinary for me, Sarah, even if it is for you."
Warily Sarah demanded, "Where do you come from?"
"The Eastern Cherokee reservation in North Carolina. I was born and raised there. My father's a full- blooded Cherokee. He met my mother when she came to the reservation to teach. The native American way is to offer help when it's needed, Sarah." He held her mutinous blue gaze. "And you need help."
Sarah was losing the struggle to stay independent, and she knew it. No matter how much she wished her feet hadn't been injured, there was no contradicting the doctor's diagnosis. It would take at least a week for them to heal enough that she could walk again. Silently Sarah vowed never to let her guard down around Wolf Harding. She sensed that to do so could be devastating—in ways she couldn't even imagine. "Okay," she muttered defiantly.
Wolf felt Sarah's disappointment at giving in. And she had every right to be wary of him, as harsh experience had taught him in South America. Still, a strange lightheartedness flowed through him. "It's not a prison sentence, Sarah," he said, and his voice came out almost teasing.
Sarah struggled
Grimly Wolf stalked over to where Sarah stood.
"Get her a wheelchair," he ordered Evans. "I'll take her home with me for a week."
Sarah's mouth dropped open. "What? Go home with you?" Shock made her voice come out squeaky, not at all in keeping with the confident image she was trying to project.
"That's right." Wolf's tone brooked no argument.
Sarah's eyes grew huge.
"It's me or the hospital, Sarah. Make up your mind." Damn, but she was stubborn.
Evans smiled, placated. "Wonderful solution, Ranger Harding. I'll get the nurse to bring you a wheelchair, Sarah."
Once they were alone, Sarah whispered fiercely, "I'm not going home with you! You take me back to my cabin or else!"
In that moment, Wolf saw just how fragile Sarah really was. Instead of losing patience, he said softly, "Honey, you're in need of a little care right now." He hitched one shoulder upward, his voice turning apologetic. "I'm not the best of caretakers, but I'll do the best I can for you. I've got a small house with one bedroom. I can sleep on the couch in the living room. I'm not such a bad cook—and it's a place for you to rest and heal up." He held up his hands. "Do we understand each other? I'm a friend doing a favor for a friend. Nothing more or less."
Stunned, Sarah couldn't say anything for several moments. She just didn't have the money to stay and pay a huge hospital bill. And right now, her feet were aching as if they were being smashed all over again. The pain was nearly unbearable. But worse than that, when he'd called her "honey," a dam of feelings, both good and bad emotions she'd held onto so long by herself— flowed through her unchecked.
Sarah realized she had no other friends. She didn't dare have friends. Still, she knew in her heart that she needed help. But her recent past caught up with her, and her voice shook with anger. "You promised to drive by my cabin a couple times a day. Why not take me there instead—you can still check in on me."
Wolf felt as much as heard Sarah's panic. She didn't want to lean on anyone for help. That much he under stood, but when he caught and held her distraught gaze, he didn't really see anger, he saw vulnerability.
"The doctor said you had to stay off your feet for an entire week, Sarah. Checking on you twice a day isn't going to do it. I can see it in your eyes. You don't really believe what you're saying."
Fear struck deeply within Sarah. Wolf had seen through her anger and knew her true feelings! Grasping at straws, she snapped, "I'm not going to be your housekeeper, Harding!"
"I'll keep house for both of us."
"Then what do you want out of this?" she demanded. "Everybody always expects something."
Wolf smiled gently. "Where I come from, we were taught to offer our home, food and the roof over our heads to total strangers. This isn't out of the ordinary for me, Sarah, even if it is for you."
Warily Sarah demanded, "Where do you come from?"
"The Eastern Cherokee reservation in North Carolina. I was born and raised there. My father's a full- blooded Cherokee. He met my mother when she came to the reservation to teach. The native American way is to offer help when it's needed, Sarah." He held her mutinous blue gaze. "And you need help."
Sarah was losing the struggle to stay independent, and she knew it. No matter how much she wished her feet hadn't been injured, there was no contradicting the doctor's diagnosis. It would take at least a week for them to heal enough that she could walk again. Silently Sarah vowed never to let her guard down around Wolf Harding. She sensed that to do so could be devastating—in ways she couldn't even imagine. "Okay," she muttered defiantly.
Wolf felt Sarah's disappointment at giving in. And she had every right to be wary of him, as harsh experience had taught him in South America. Still, a strange lightheartedness flowed through him. "It's not a prison sentence, Sarah," he said, and his voice came out almost teasing.
Sarah struggled
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