Pete mumbled a begrudging, “Thanks,” and turned his horse for the barn. At the hitching rail, he reined his horse to a stop and dismounted. But as soon as his right boot hit the ground, taking his full weight, his knee buckled and he crumpled. Howling in pain, he wrapped his arms around his leg and rolled to his side, curling his body protectively around the injured knee.
He felt a tentative hand on his shoulder, then the warmth of Carol’s body as she knelt behind him. “Pete? What’s wrong?”
He heard the concern in her voice, but had to clamp his teeth together to fight back the dizziness, the pain. “My knee,” he managed to grate out.
With her hand braced on his shoulder, she stretched across him and smoothed her other hand down his thigh, her touch so gentle it brought tears to his eyes. But in spite of her care not to hurt him, when her hand swept across his swollen knee, he couldn’t suppress the moan that swelled up inside him. He released his hold on his knee and rolled to his back, flinging his arms wide. She quickly moved out of his way and stood, staring down at him, her eyes wide with horror. His chest heaving, he squeezed his eyes shut and clawed his fingers at the hard-packed dirt, searching for something to anchor himself to, something to grab a hold of to lift himself above the pain. Something to hide behind, so Carol wouldn’t witness his weakness.
Knowing it was useless, he opened his eyes to find her still standing above him, her fingers pressed against trembling lips, tears glistening in her eyes.
Humiliated by his weakness, he tried to make light of it. “Gee, Carol,” he said, trying to force a smile past the pain. “I didn’t think you cared.”
At the teasing remark, she yanked her hands to her sides and glared down at him. “We need to get you to the house,” she snapped. “Can you walk?”
“Yeah.” He set his jaw and hauled himself to a sitting position. “I think so.” Keeping his movements slow and careful, he drew up his good leg until his boot was fitted tightly against his buttocks. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead at the effort. Blowing out a long, shaky breath, he rested a minute, then stretched out a hand. “I might need some help.”
She hesitated a moment, then thrust out her hand. He took it and wrapped his fingers tightly around hers.
“On the count of three,” he instructed. “One…two…three!” He heaved and Carol pulled, and with a growl he rose from the ground. Not wanting to put any weight on his bad leg, he staggered, off balance, and Carol quickly slipped beneath his arm and braced herself against his right side, supporting him.
“Give me a minute,” he gasped, sweat pouring down his face. He dipped his chin and closed his eyes, gulping in air. After a moment he lifted his head and looked across at the house. Five hundred feet stretched like a mile.
“Come on,” she urged, obviously sensing his hesitancy. “You can do it.” Wrapping her arm around his waist, she took a tentative step, then another, drawing him along with her.
By the time they reached the back door, sweat plastered Pete’s shirt to his back and chest and dripped from his nose and chin. With a quick glance at his pale, pain-wrenched face, Carol opened the back door, braced her hip against it, then carefully guided him through the opening. Once inside, she pressed him on toward the master bedroom.
When they reached the side of the bed, Pete twisted around and fell across the tangled covers with a groan, slinging an arm over his eyes.
Carol immediately dropped to her knees and tugged off his boots, knowing that he would need to remove his jeans before his knee swelled any more. Setting the boots aside, she rose and reached for his belt buckle…but jerked her hands back as she realized the intimacy that would require. She stole a glance at him and was relieved to see that his arm still covered his eyes, and he was unaware of her hesitancy. Frowning, she slapped a hand against the side of his uninjured leg. “Come on, Pete. Drop your pants.”
He lifted his arm to peer at her. “’Scuse me?”
She waved an impatient hand at him. “You haven’t got anything that I haven’t seen before, so drop ’em.”
In spite of the pain, Pete managed a weak grin as he reached for his belt buckle. “Maybe not anything different, but definitely more of it.”
She rolled her eyes and grabbed the waist of his jeans. “Braggart,” she muttered.
His grin broadened into a full-blown smile. “No brag, ma’am. Just fact.” He lifted his hips as she carefully worked the denim down over them, then sucked in air through his teeth when her hand grazed his manhood. She froze at the contact, her gaze snapping to his.
Pete watched the color rise on her cheeks, the panic in her eyes…and remembered a time when such an intimacy would have darkened those green eyes with passion, not panic. “Don’t worry,” he said wryly. “My knee’s hurtin’ so bad, you couldn’t get a rise out of me even if you worked at it.”
Her cheeks flaming, she jerked the jeans down his legs, making him yelp as the rough denim scraped over his swollen knee.
She spun away, folding his pants over her arm. “I need to feed my horses,” she said tersely, tossing the jeans over a chair. “Do you need anything before I leave?”
That she couldn’t look at him, or wouldn’t, irritated Pete. “A phone. I need to call Clayton and tell him to head home.”
She whirled, her eyes wide. “But you can’t! He hasn’t had a chance to talk to Rena yet.”
He scowled and shifted a pillow beneath his knee, gritting his teeth against the pain that even that slight movement caused him. “So what? You said yourself that he was wasting his time chasing after her.”
At the reminder, she caught her lip between her teeth and dropped her gaze, lifting a shoulder. “Yes, I did, but still…”
“Look, Carol,” he said in frustration and grabbed for the sheet. “It isn’t as if I want to call him home, but I can’t take care of his ranch for him if I’m laid up in bed.”
Slowly she lifted her gaze. “You could if I helped you.”
He froze, his fingers fisted in the sheet. “Help me?”
“Yes,” she said, and took a reluctant step closer. “You could tell me what needs doing, and I could do it. Just until the swelling goes down,” she added quickly. “A couple of days off that knee, and you should be able to take over again.”
Still scowling, Pete tried to whip the sheet over his propped-up leg, but it snagged on his toes and hung there.
Carol plucked the sheet free and pulled it up over him, letting it drop to settle at his waist. The ease with which she accomplished the task irritated him, but her reluctance to draw near him or touch him irritated him even more.
“We could do it, couldn’t we, Pete?” she asked hopefully. “It would give Clayton the time he needs to work things out with Rena.”
He stared at her, amazed, after what she’d said earlier, that she’d willingly to do anything to help Clayton win back his wife. “Well, yeah, but that’s easy for me to say since I won’t be doing anything but lying here in bed and giving orders.”
“I don’t mind the extra work. Really I don’t.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” She stooped to pick up his boots and set them out of the way, then headed for the door. “I’ll feed my horses, then I’ll come back and you can give me a list of chores for tomorrow.”
“Will you hand me my pain pills before you go?” He pointed at his duffel bag. “They’re in the side pocket.”
She fetched his pills and a glass of water from the bathroom. Keeping a safe distance, she set both on the bedside table within his reach, then headed for the door. “I won’t be gone long.