Where the hell were those cabins?
He paused for a moment, huffing as he looked around.
Had he missed a turnoff? He was far enough away from the old ranch house now that he couldn’t see it. A grove of thick trees blocked his view.
Should he go back?
“Need some help?”
Son of a—
“I’m fine,” he said, pushing off again.
“You don’t know where you’re going,” she called out after him.
“Obviously I can’t be too far away if you’re here.” He glanced back at her, observing that black tail of hair so thick it reminded him of a draft horse’s, which might not be very flattering, but the damn stuff was a thick mass. “What’d you do? Cut through the trees?”
And those eyes. Such a light blue he found himself wanting to look back just to get another peek at them. Instead he pushed on. Obviously, he hadn’t missed a road.
“Shortcut,” she called out after him. “Makes it easier to get to our guests.”
Damn it. He hated gravel roads. And dirt roads. The wheels of the chair would hook on a rock and pitch to the right or left. He constantly had to correct himself.
“Though I’m curious what you’re going to do when you reach the hill.”
He hands paused, but only for a second. “I’ll be fine.”
“We usually escort our guests to their cabins,” she added. “You know...for safety reasons.”
His hands would work as brakes.
“Or we have Tom drop them off.”
Whatever.
“We’ve only had one person attempt that hill in a wheelchair all by themselves. You should have seen it. Reminded me of sled racing in the Olympics—”
“Okay, fine.” He spun his chair to face her, nearly pitching his bag off his lap in the process. “You can help me down there, though I don’t know why Cabe sent his girlfriend along to do his dirty work.”
“I’m not his girlfriend.”
She wasn’t?
“And he sent me because he’s busy dealing with his daughter, who’s a tad upset right now because a man she’s worshipped for years just snapped at her.”
He looked into her eyes then, spotted the disappointment and disgust and, yes, the loathing that she felt for him.
“So I offered to come and help you out, although I was tempted to let you navigate that hill all on your own. With any luck you’d have kept right on going and landed in the river, maybe even been carried downstream where you’d become someone else’s problem.”
She really didn’t like him. If he were honest with himself, he didn’t blame her. He didn’t like himself much these days, either.
“I don’t want to be here,” he heard himself admit. Funny, he’d promised himself he’d stick it out—if only for his mom’s sake—and yet here he was confessing the truth to a woman he’d just met.
She had the dignity to soften her gaze. “A lot of people are afraid to come here, at least at first. They worry they won’t be able to enjoy themselves. Or that the therapy portion of their days will hurt. Or that their families will enjoy themselves and they won’t. But you know what? At least those people aren’t afraid to confront a challenge head-on.”
Ouch.
She meant the words as an insult, and it worked. That stung him right in his belly.
“Some people come here for their families, for a chance to do something with the people they love for the first time in years. But I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so instantly hostile as you are, so if you’re going to continue to be an ass, I might as well push you back to the main house. It’s not too late to call Tom and have him take you back to the airport.”
Was that a challenge she’d just issued?
“What’s it going to be, cowboy?” She stared him down like a wild horse in a rodeo, daring a cowboy to stay on.
He tipped his chin up. “I’ve never backed away from anything in my life.”
He saw her eyes narrow, saw that gaze flicker over him as if doubtful he would amount to anything, the expression in her eyes setting his temper to flare in a way he hadn’t felt in, well, in a long, long while.
“We’ll see.”
Alana insisted on following him, even though he made it clear he didn’t want her to. He didn’t want her to help him, either, but when he saw the size of the hill leading into the river valley, he changed his mind. Alana almost laughed at the way he grudgingly allowed her to guide his chair.
“We’re pretty secluded out here.” She motioned to the log cabin where he’d be residing, the sun’s rays catching the color of the wood and turning it gold. They were making their way toward a low-lying valley, one with a wide swath of lawn to the left with pine trees sprouting up at odd intervals. They’d had cabins built among the trees, the resulting vista something Alana was proud of having had a hand in. Across from the cabins was the Feather River, and though winter was gone, the water still rushed past with a gentle roar thanks to the snowpack in the hills.
“There are landline phones in every room if you ever need any help.” She leaned back, trying to counterbalance the weight of him in his chair with her own. Too bad they hadn’t had Tom take him down. That would have made things easier. Then again, if they’d done that, she wouldn’t be able to give him such a hard time. And if ever a man needed a hard time, this man did.
“I won’t need help.”
Hah.
But the words confirmed her suspicion that it really got under his skin when she reminded him of the disabled word.
So she resolved to use it as much as possible.
She patted him on the shoulder patronizingly. “We’re here for you, Trent. We specialize in helping disabled guests.”
They were halfway down the hill, and she would bet if he didn’t fear a runaway wheelchair, he would have used his hands to jerk away from her.
“Once I get to my cabin, I want to be left alone.”
He sounded like a petulant child, and in a way he was. He was having to learn how to walk again, was completely dependent on other people to teach him to do exactly that. Things he’d taken for granted were no longer easy—like making his way to a cabin in the woods. And as she thought about all that he’d had to overcome, including the death of his best friends in the tragic car wreck that had almost cost him his life, well, suffice it to say she started to wonder if she wasn’t being a little too hard on him.
That was until they reached the bottom of the hill and he did exactly what she knew he’d been dying to do. He wrenched away.
“Damn.” She stopped and rested her hands on her hips, her fingers stinging from the force of the handles being ripped from her grasp. “You’re good at that.”
He ignored her, just made a beeline for his cabin. He must have seen that it was handicapped equipped because he zipped toward the place as if he rode in a two-wheeled sports car. A ramp had been built to run straight up to the front door. His wheels hit the slats with a clackity-click-click. His bag nearly slipped from his lap he stopped so hard as he spun his chair so he could push on the handle.
“It’s locked,” she called out in a singsong voice, knowing it wasn’t very nice of her to take such naughty pleasure in his impatience.
He glanced at the door, then her, clearly frustrated.
She