Rocky Mountain Wild (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 6) by Lee Savino

watched his easy, swinging gait with envy.
    “Because I worry about you,” he bit out. “I don’t like watching you struggle.”
    “Then don’t.”
    Calum cursed, and this time he didn’t bother to apologize. “Shite, you are the hardest girl to give help to. Does your prickly nature keep others from getting close to you?”
    “Does yours?” she snapped. The combination of his anger and her scare outside the shop had tears smarting her eyes. “You can’t watch over me every hour of every day. I won’t stand your pity. I won’t!”
    “Pity,” he choked. “Woman… half the time I want to help you, the other half I want to tan your stubborn hide.” He halted, and with his hand on the mule’s bridle, the animal stopped too.
    “You are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met,” he growled. “If you weren’t so beautiful, I’d have strangled you long before now.”
    Phoebe’s mouth flapped open and then closed. How could he call her beautiful? He’d called her thin and stubborn, and he’d even seen her foot. He had to be mocking her.
    Suddenly it was too much. She slid off the side of the mule without saying a word, and strode into the forest glen. She was so angry, she wanted to leave here and be done with him, but the thought of never seeing him again hurt more than her wounded pride.
    “Phoebe,” he called, coming after her.
    “Go away.”
    “Do not run from me, lass, ever. Especially not into the wild. Tis not safe.”
    She stood with her back to him, drawing in ragged breaths.
    “I’m sorry, Phoebe. I didn’t mean to insult ye. I’ve told you before, I often say the wrong thing. It’s been a long time since I’ve spent time with someone.”
    “I have to make my own way.”
    “Why?” he asked, stepping closer and suddenly her heart was struggling to fly out of her chest. “Why can’t you accept my help? Are you afraid of me?”
    “No,” she said, shocked. “I just…” She’d never had anyone help her, only Mrs. Covey, and even then she knew it tied her to the woman’s employ. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
    “You’re no bother.”
    “I’m half lame, Mr. MacDonnell.” She couldn’t believe he was making her say this out loud to reason with him.
    “You work circles around most men I know. And eat less than half as much.” Suddenly, the seriousness was gone and his eyes twinkled. “I know you’re not afraid of me; you were at first, but now you fight every inch.” His tone was frankly admiring.
    “I’m not fighting—”
    “Then accept the gift of the mule.”
    “It’s too much.”
    “It eases my mind to know you have a way to get about. I don’t like horses, but I know she’ll be a gentle servant for you.”
    “I need to be independent.”
    “Why? Who hurt ye, Phoebe?”
    She stiffened. She could never, ever answer that. It was just as shameful as her cursed foot.
    Finally, he sighed. “Never mind. Call it a truce, and come back with me to the lodge, please. There’s a treat waiting there for ye.”
    The treat was the little bird, all healed. Calum had covered the makeshift cage with a cloth to keep it until Phoebe came home. She could hear healthy wings rustling inside as he carried the bucket onto the porch.
    “Here.” He handed it to her like a peace offering. “Go on.”
    She paused a moment, then threw off the cloth and gasped with delight as the bird’s wings took it quickly away, the white patch on its wings winking at them before it disappeared into the brambles.
    “Fly free, wee bird,” Calum called. He grinned down at Phoebe and for a moment, she thought he was going to put his arm around her.
    Instead, she handed him back the bucket. His smile turned tender, and she felt her stomach do funny little flips.
    “Thank you,” she said before she ducked inside.
    *
    That evening, she sewed until she could barely see straight. More and more she caught Calum frowning at her as she stopped to rub her tired eyes. It wasn’t even twilight when