about you clear up and Iâll get started in the barn?â
âIâm worried about your shoulder. Youâve had a long day.â
Yeah, it hurt, but that was just how things were going to be until it healed a bit. He rose too and gazed at her across the table. âSally, Iâm not going to be stupid and make the fracture worse. I can handle some barn chores.â
âOkay. But doing my chores, bringing me dinner . . . I donât like to be beholden.â
Nor did he, but folks should help each other out. âYou gave my horse a place to stay.â Before she could say anything more, he turned away and took the steps down from the deck. As he strode past the vegetable garden, a light clicked on behind him, helping to illuminate the rough ground. The light outside the barn door glowed, too.
He yawned and wished the pain in his shoulder would ease up. Sure did hope that if he helped Sally out for an hour, she wouldnât make him hitch up the trailer, load his horse, and drive off looking for someplace to park for the night.
Under his breath, he gave a rueful laugh. When heâd driven here, heâd wondered what itâd be like seeing Sally again. Whether heâd still be attracted to her. Now he knew the answer to that: he was, and might well be until the day he died. She was the first and so far the only woman whoâd gotten under his skin.
Earlier today, heâd also been optimistic enough to wonder if a friendly visit might wind up with him sharing Sallyâs bed.
Sure looked like that wouldnât be happening anytime soon.
Chapter Four
A chorus of trills and chirps accompanied the pale dawn light that came through Sallyâs mosquito-screened bedroom window. After Peteâs death, when sheâd moved from their bedroom to the room sheâd once hoped would be their childâs, she hadnât bothered to put up a curtain or blinds. She always rose at or before dawn anyhow, and no one could see in the second-floor window at the back of the house.
Lying in bed, the fresh, damp scent coming in the window told her it had rained during the night. She wouldnât have to water the vegetable garden, which would save a few dollars.
Pressing her fingers against tired eyes, she wished she had slept better. The knowledge that Ben Traynor was outside in his trailer, parked in her parking lot, had kept her tossing.
He was in her space. He was in her thoughts. She wasnât used to this.
Dave Cousins had spent a lot of Sunday afternoons at Ryland Riding. Heâd eased past the barriers of what he referred to as her stubborn pride, and convinced her to let him help her. He was a kind, gentle man and sheâd slowly grown comfortable with him. He respected her boundaries, too; he didnât invade her personal space and he didnât ask about personal subjects.
Ben Traynor was an entirely different thing. Even though sheâd sworn off menâand sexâfor life, her body was aware of him. It wasnât just that he was handsome to look at. Dave was mighty easy on the eyes, too. With Ben, there was an odd spark. Maybe it was like muscle memory. The fact that she used to find him sexy now sent residual tingles through her blood.
The kind of tingles she hadnât felt in years.
And to be honest, Ben was even more attractive now than he used to be. Behind her closed lids, she thought of his bold features, shadowed jaw, and muscular frame, of the easy confidence in his movements and in those stunning chestnut eyes. And her body tingled. For the grown-up Ben. These werenât residual tingles. And that was bad. She opened her eyes and sat up.
Finding a man attractive and sexy was bad. It could get her into trouble in all sorts of ways. First of all, it was ridiculous: he was young, vital, and distinctly hot, and she was a worn-out, middle-aged woman. He might flirt a little, but that was only habit. If she let herself succumb, sheâd make a fool
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