it.” He jerked his thumb toward the horse. “I’ll hold his head if you’ll rub the kerosene into his hoof.”
He grabbed the halter on either side of Black Thunder’s head. When Loree bent to grab the hoof, Austin almost thanked the horse for nipping him. Her skirt lifted to reveal her bare ankles and pulled taut across her backside. How in the hell had he mistaken her for a boy the day before? His fever must have addled his brain.
Loree Grant was a tiny bundle of delicate femininity. Just as she had at the stove, she swayed her hips slightly with the motion of her hand, rubbing the kerosene into the horse’s hoof. Sweet Lord, it was pure torture to watch, to imagine that backside pressed against him, circling—
She dropped the hoof, straightened, and faced him. “Is there anything else I need to do for the horse?”
He swallowed hard and unclenched his fingers from around the halter. “Nope.”
She lowered her gaze and drew a wiggly line in the dirt with her big toe. “I should probably”—she glanced up quickly, then down—“check your backside, make sure he didn’t break the skin.” She lifted her gaze. “You don’t want to get an infection”—she waved her hand limply in the air—“back there.”
He smiled warmly. “No, ma’am, I surely don’t. I swear, Miss Grant, when I stopped here yesterday, I had no intention of putting you to all this trouble.”
“It’s no trouble, Mr. Leigh. Besides, I’ll put the tincture of iodine on it to begin with so it shouldn’t fester at all.”
He watched her hurry to the house and decided it was a good thing that the medication burned hotter than hell. Otherwise, he didn’t know how he’d endure her gentle fingers touching his backside without his body reacting and making a fool of him.
Loree pumped the water into the sink, then set about scrubbing her trembling hands. What in the world had possessed her to offer to look at Austin Leigh’s backside? She wondered if the tincture of iodine would be as effective if she simply poured it into a pan and told him to sit in it and soak his wound. If there was even a wound to soak.
She heard his boots hit the porch. She inhaled deeply, grabbed a towel, and dried her hands. She glanced over her shoulder. He stood in the room, looking as uncomfortable as she felt.
She’d drawn the curtains aside allowing the late morning sun to pour inside. She pointed to a chair opposite the one he’d used that morning. “I can probably use the sun best if you stand there.”
He gave her a long slow nod, but she thought she saw worry reflected in his blue eyes.
“I’ll be gentle,” she assured him.
“That’s not what concerns me,” he grumbled as he moved to stand behind the chair.
She grabbed the bottle of iodine and a cloth. She hurried to the table, but once she arrived she wished she’d walked more slowly. She pulled the stopper and soaked the cloth. She only wanted to do this once, really didn’t want to do it at all. She glanced up. He was staring hard at something on the far wall.
“I … I guess you need to lower … your britches,” she said hesitantly.
She saw a muscle in his cheek jerk.
“Why don’t you get behind me?” he suggested.
She stepped around him and tried not to think about the buttons his fingers were releasing. Her breath came in short little gasps. She watched as he grabbed the back of his britches and struggled to lower one side while keeping the other raised. He bent over slightly.
“Can you lift your shirt?” she asked.
She stared in amazement as his skin came into view. So incredibly white that it reminded her of clouds on a summer day, but just above his hip, his skin turned as brown as soil. He must have often worked without a shirt, and she realized with sudden uneasiness that she was about to touch a part of him that the sun had never seen.
“Is the skin broken?”
She flinched at the harshness in his voice and dropped her gaze to the area where he had
He grabbed the halter on either side of Black Thunder’s head. When Loree bent to grab the hoof, Austin almost thanked the horse for nipping him. Her skirt lifted to reveal her bare ankles and pulled taut across her backside. How in the hell had he mistaken her for a boy the day before? His fever must have addled his brain.
Loree Grant was a tiny bundle of delicate femininity. Just as she had at the stove, she swayed her hips slightly with the motion of her hand, rubbing the kerosene into the horse’s hoof. Sweet Lord, it was pure torture to watch, to imagine that backside pressed against him, circling—
She dropped the hoof, straightened, and faced him. “Is there anything else I need to do for the horse?”
He swallowed hard and unclenched his fingers from around the halter. “Nope.”
She lowered her gaze and drew a wiggly line in the dirt with her big toe. “I should probably”—she glanced up quickly, then down—“check your backside, make sure he didn’t break the skin.” She lifted her gaze. “You don’t want to get an infection”—she waved her hand limply in the air—“back there.”
He smiled warmly. “No, ma’am, I surely don’t. I swear, Miss Grant, when I stopped here yesterday, I had no intention of putting you to all this trouble.”
“It’s no trouble, Mr. Leigh. Besides, I’ll put the tincture of iodine on it to begin with so it shouldn’t fester at all.”
He watched her hurry to the house and decided it was a good thing that the medication burned hotter than hell. Otherwise, he didn’t know how he’d endure her gentle fingers touching his backside without his body reacting and making a fool of him.
Loree pumped the water into the sink, then set about scrubbing her trembling hands. What in the world had possessed her to offer to look at Austin Leigh’s backside? She wondered if the tincture of iodine would be as effective if she simply poured it into a pan and told him to sit in it and soak his wound. If there was even a wound to soak.
She heard his boots hit the porch. She inhaled deeply, grabbed a towel, and dried her hands. She glanced over her shoulder. He stood in the room, looking as uncomfortable as she felt.
She’d drawn the curtains aside allowing the late morning sun to pour inside. She pointed to a chair opposite the one he’d used that morning. “I can probably use the sun best if you stand there.”
He gave her a long slow nod, but she thought she saw worry reflected in his blue eyes.
“I’ll be gentle,” she assured him.
“That’s not what concerns me,” he grumbled as he moved to stand behind the chair.
She grabbed the bottle of iodine and a cloth. She hurried to the table, but once she arrived she wished she’d walked more slowly. She pulled the stopper and soaked the cloth. She only wanted to do this once, really didn’t want to do it at all. She glanced up. He was staring hard at something on the far wall.
“I … I guess you need to lower … your britches,” she said hesitantly.
She saw a muscle in his cheek jerk.
“Why don’t you get behind me?” he suggested.
She stepped around him and tried not to think about the buttons his fingers were releasing. Her breath came in short little gasps. She watched as he grabbed the back of his britches and struggled to lower one side while keeping the other raised. He bent over slightly.
“Can you lift your shirt?” she asked.
She stared in amazement as his skin came into view. So incredibly white that it reminded her of clouds on a summer day, but just above his hip, his skin turned as brown as soil. He must have often worked without a shirt, and she realized with sudden uneasiness that she was about to touch a part of him that the sun had never seen.
“Is the skin broken?”
She flinched at the harshness in his voice and dropped her gaze to the area where he had
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