Rancher Under Fire. Vickie McDonough

soft moan erupted from behind him, and he spun around. Ms. Reyes’s arm rested across her forehead. He hurried to her side and eased onto the edge of the bed. “What can I do to help?”

      She lifted the washcloth from her head, staring unseeing for a few moments. “Please...”

      “What?” Jackson leaned forward, noticing her long, dark lashes.

      “Please tell me I didn’t pass out.” She pressed her hand against her trim stomach.

      “Wish I could, but—”

      “Oh, I did, didn’t I? I’m so embarrassed.” A faint flush of scarlet darkened her olive skin, and then panic dashed across her pretty face as she scanned the room. “I didn’t upset Hailey, did I?”

      She started to sit up, but he gently grasped her shoulders, pressing her back down. Her concern for his daughter warmed him. Maybe he’d been too harsh and misjudged her at first glance. “You need to rest for a bit while I doctor your leg. And no, Hailey wasn’t here when you passed out.”

      “Thank goodness. I wouldn’t want to frighten her. She’s such a sweet little thing.”

      “Yes, she is.” Jackson smiled. Hailey could talk the ears off a mynah bird, but she certainly was a sweetie pie—and tough. She hadn’t even fussed when Sabrina yanked her to the ground or when he’d doctored the rope burns on her hands a few minutes ago. He was proud of his daughter’s fortitude, unlike this city gal, who fainted at the sight of a little gash. A ranch was no place for someone like her.

      The sooner he patched up her leg, the sooner he could get away from her. He refocused his attention on the woman’s injury and forced a politeness in his voice that he didn’t feel. “If you’re done with the washcloth, I’ll finish cleaning your leg with it, Ms. Reyes.”

      Her cheeks darkened in a deep blush again. “Call me Mariah, and I can clean my own leg.”

      Jackson couldn’t refrain from smirking. “I saw what happened when you merely looked at your bloody knee. How do you expect to stare at it long enough to doctor and bandage it? Am I wrong in guessing that you pass out at the sight of blood?”

      Mariah’s faced paled, and she glanced away. “No, you’re not wrong,” she said on a whisper. “This is so embarrassing. Go on and get it over with.” She grabbed the damp cloth and tossed it in his direction.

      He snagged it in midair, cleaned her wound, then washed off the blood that had trailed down her slim leg. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

      “No, not really, but I imagine I’ll be sore tomorrow.”

      Relief washed over him as he cleansed the wound with peroxide. He squeezed some triple antibiotic salve onto the inch-long gash then applied two wide bandages. No problem. Just like treating one of Hailey’s banged-up knees. Well, not exactly, but at least the woman didn’t cry or fuss about it hurting. Without thinking, Jackson reached behind Mariah’s leg and gave her calf a soft caress, just like he would Hailey’s. He wasn’t prepared for the electric arc that sprinted up his arm. He released her as if he’d been shocked and glanced up.

      His eyes locked with her black gaze and held. Awareness sizzled between them.

      “Daddy, I’m done helpin’ Deuce.” Hailey peered in the doorway. “Are you gonna go catch Sabrina? Can I go, too?”

      Instantly his connection with the troublesome reporter severed. He shook his head, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Leaping off the bed, he accidentally looked in Mariah’s direction again.

      She must have sensed whatever it was he had felt, because she wore a dazed expression, too—or maybe she’d gotten a glimpse of the bloody washrag. Jackson shrugged off the unwanted sensations. This wasn’t good.

      Women were trouble, and he had enough trouble already—especially with all the strange goings-on lately. To make matters worse, Tim Denton couldn’t begin fixing the reporter’s car until the first of next week—and that was if the vehicle wasn’t totaled. He was stuck with the nosy reporter for at least the whole weekend since Westin, the nearest town to the ranch, didn’t have a motel—or a car rental agency.

      “Oh, you hurt your leg?” Hailey crossed the room to the bed, and Jackson stepped back.

      “It’s nothing. Just a little cut.” Mariah sat up and rolled down her pant leg then turned to sit on the side of the bed. “Your dad patched me up.”

      “He’s good at fixin’ things. See, he put princess bandages on my hands.”

      Hailey held up her palms as if they were trophies and flashed him a dimpled smile, sending a warm sensation, better than a cup of hot coffee on a chilly day, down his midsection.

      “So, what about Sabrina?”

      “I’ll catch her.” He stalked out, not bothering to look at the reporter again. He and his daughter were a team. They got along fine and didn’t need another female around to mess up things. He especially didn’t need a reporter around when problems were plaguing him. What if she got hurt? Or what if she told the world about what had been happening here?

      He clenched his jaw. He needed to get her car fixed and get her on the road home.