She gave him a knowing look. “There’s more to being strong than size, young man. Arthur’s just beat me down a bit through the years and I have to admit it weighs on me…makes even my strong spirit weak at times.”
Cole shot Susan an inquiring glance. “Who is that?” he mouthed over the little lady’s head.
“Ohh,” Susan gasped. “Sorry. Mrs. A., as we affectionately call her, and Catherine Elizabeth both suffer from Arthur-itis.”
Mrs. A. shook her head. “He’s a mean one, that Arthur. But the good Lord puts such nice men in my path to help out in times such as these.” She let go of his arm and, leaning on her cane, she walked carefully to her car.
Watching her slow progress, Cole agreed that Arthur was a real bummer. “Will it hurt when I pick her up?” he asked Susan, staring down at the dog.
“Just be careful and she’ll be okay. But don’t throw your back out or anything.” The last part was soft so that Mrs. Abernathy couldn’t hear.
He almost laughed as he leaned down for the dog. Who did she think he was? Some kind of wimp?
“I mean it—lift from the knees,” Susan said, bending over to whisper the words close to his ear.
The warmth of her breath tickled his skin and sent a shiver of awareness rippling over him. He chuckled, both from the humor in the warning and the shock of her warm breath on his skin, then he lifted—whhoa! The dog was deadweight.
Susan slapped him on the back. “Told you lift with the knees.”
“No kiddin’.” Sending her a good-natured scowl, he then gave it a fortified effort. It felt as if he was hauling a bag of lard into his arms. “What does she feed this horse?” he muttered for Susan’s ears only. She chuckled and Catherine Elizabeth promptly gave him a big ole lick across the jaw, as if telling him not to worry.
“Oh, look, my baby likes you,” Mrs. Abernathy called as she swung the door open wide.
“Seems that way,” he grunted. Reaching the car, he leaned in and placed the dog gently into the backseat. She immediately settled into a spot worn into the imprint of her body.
“Can I help you?” He held out one hand to Mrs. Abernathy after gently closing the door on that…dog.
Mrs. Abernathy batted her eyes at him and blushed. “You are such a catch, young man.” She slipped her hand into his. She looked at Susan. “If you were smart you’d snatch this one up before someone else puts a ring on that blank finger of his.”
Susan surprised him by not looking insulted at the notion. Instead she smiled patiently at her client. “You take care now. And call me if Catherine Elizabeth gets uncomfortable. That extra dose of meds should help her.”
“Thank you, dear,” the tiny lady said and eased behind the steering wheel. “You,” she said, squeezing his hand before releasing it, “have made my old heart’s day!”
“And you have made mine,” he said. “You be careful.”
She gave him a mischievous smirk. “What fun would that be? Bye now.”
He laughed and moved out of her way to stand beside Susan. They watched as the big Crown Victoria eased out of the drive. Mrs. Aberathy’s little blue head could barely be seen over the dash and was totally hidden from behind.
“How does she drive a car that big?”
Susan laughed. “Carefully.”
“Thank goodness. I half expected her to blast out of here on two wheels.”
Susan beamed. “There was probably a day when she did exactly that. Arthur’s put a damper on that, I’m afraid.”
“Not on her spirit, though, I can see,” he said, suddenly feeling rascally himself. “So, you gonna take her advice and marry me before someone else does?”
He was kidding. Susan knew he was, but the question took her completely by surprise. “Of course,” she said, turning to face him. “I’ve been waiting on you my whole life,” she teased back, momentarily letting her guard down.
A slow, dangerous smile spread across his no-way-should-he-be-so-handsome face and his eyes lit with mischief. “You did a joke. Sleep agrees with you, Miss Worth.”
She laughed. “I guess it does. But don’t go rubbing it in or I’ll have to hurt you,” she said, before she thought about what a bad idea it was. And it was. She glanced away, toward her truck, taking a breath to settle the strumming of her heart. “Thanks for bringing my truck back.” She headed inside the clinic before she got herself into trouble. The scrape of his boots on the wooden porch said he was following her. “I’m assuming you aren’t still holding it hostage and you’re actually going to hand the keys over to me.”
His low rumble of laughter had her moving faster to get inside and behind the counter. She needed a barrier between them—she’d enjoyed watching him with Mrs. Abernathy and Catherine Elizabeth a little too much. The man was a charmer.
And bossy, she reminded herself.
And a rover with no concept of responsibility…not a man for her.
“Truck’s all yours,” he said, leaning a hip against the counter. “It checked out good. No undercarriage damage at all. Just a whole herd of dirt clods. The only bad working part it had last night was a worn-out driver who needs to take better care of herself.”
And here we go again! “I was tired,” she snapped, letting the pencil she’d picked up fall to the desk. “It happens. Can we drop that?” Of course her anger was welcome because it helped put that much-needed barrier back up.
He cocked a brow and his gaze dropped to the pencil she’d just dropped. He picked it up, then as he studied her, balanced it on his upper lip as a schoolboy might do. Sigh. The man looked entirely too cute…and was probably well aware of it. She tapped her boot.
“Well,” she snapped again, “are you going to drop it?”
“Nope,” he said, causing the pencil to fall. He caught it without looking. “Not unless you admit that you should have taken your safety into consideration. That sleep you got last night did you a world of good, didn’t it?”
She’d slept like a rock for four hours, but boy, she hated admitting it to him. “If you must know,” she huffed, “Mrs. A. had to knock on my door and wake me up this morning.”
“All right! Hit me with five,” he whooped and held up his palm. “That’s good.”
She ignored the invitation. “I don’t like oversleeping.”
He wiggled his fingers. “C’mon. Hit me with some love.”
Huh? “No! Would you stop?”
He shook his head, reached across the counter and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. His touch was gentle and as the slightly rough pads of his fingers slid across her skin she shivered. Startled by his actions and her reaction she started to pull away, but he held firm and laid her palm against his.
“There, that wasn’t so hard,” he said. “You need to loosen up, Susan Worth.”
Tugging free of his grasp, she hoped she wasn’t pink and that she didn’t look as shaken as she felt. “You need to mind your own business,” she ordered.
He slapped his hand to his chest. “Wow, what a blow. And after all I’ve done for you.”
“Look,” she offered, needing to get him gone. The sooner he was out of her hair the better off she’d be. “I’ve got a couple more patients to see this morning and then I’m heading out to Clint Matlock’s ranch for the rest of the afternoon. I could give you a ride back, but not before then. Unless, of course,