In a Cowboy's Arms. Lissa Manley

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СКАЧАТЬ care of Ava and Morgan, all day long she’d been repeating her nighttime musings, dwelling instead on what Ty had revealed to her the night before.

      His wife had deserted him and Morgan.

      And that broke her heart.

      As she’d told Ty, because of her personal experience with loss, she had a hard time wrapping her brain around how a woman could willingly walk away from her family. She had no comprehension of what Ty’s wife had done. She doubted she’d ever understand the woman’s heartless actions.

      What she did understand was the pain she’d seen clouding Ty’s blue eyes.

      They were a lot alike.

      That thought quickly led to another, more bothersome, conclusion.

      She couldn’t deny that he appealed to her. He was quickly shaping up to be a man whom she was incredibly drawn to, a man who might tempt her down a road she never wanted to travel again. That was a risk she didn’t even want to think about.

      She bit her lip and crossed her arms over her chest. Ty was dangerous. As long as she remembered that, she’d be fine. Thank the Lord he didn’t spend much time at home. If she could make it through occasional dinners he showed up for, she could always manage to sneak away into her room the second the girls went to bed.

      A screech drew her attention away from her dire thoughts to the girls. Ava was running around with Morgan’s favorite stuffed bunny in her hand and Morgan was chasing her, screaming. Morgan, who was taller and faster, caught up to Ava and ripped the bunny out of her hand with a howl, then turned and ran away with her prize. Ava burst into tears and plopped her diaper-protected bottom onto the ground and sat there, wailing. Morgan ran to the far corner of the fenced yard, then turned around, her bunny clutched close, and glared at Ava. “My bunny!” she shrieked.

      Jenny sighed and stood. Nap time. With some soothing words to both overtired kids, Jenny scooped Ava up and took Morgan by the hand and led them inside for their naps.

      Luckily, both girls were dead tired. After a quick diaper change, Jenny settled them both into their cribs, Morgan in her room, Ava in Jenny’s, and they both drifted immediately off to sleep.

      Intending to nap, too, Jenny went to the kitchen for a glass of water before heading back down the hall to her room. As she was leaving the kitchen, Dusty burst through the front door, his face red, his battered cowboy hat askew.

      “Where’s Sam?” he asked, his eyes darting around the front room. “Emergency!”

      Jenny’s stomach fell. Before she could react, Sam stepped into the living room. “I’m right here,” he said, his mouth pressed into a grim line. “What’s he done this time?”

      “Old Roscoe jammed him in the ribs.” Dusty took off his hat, shook his head, then replaced the dust-coated thing. “Man that bull’s mean.”

      Jenny stood frozen, ice-cold panic seeping into her. “A…a bull has hurt Ty?”

      Sam moved past her. “Looks like it.”

      She swallowed the bitter taste of fear coating her throat. “Where is he?”

      Dusty hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Right outside in the back of the rig. I had a helluva time—uh, pardon me, ma’am—getting him in there. Ty wanted to walk back.”

      Jenny put herself into motion, hurriedly following a muttering Sam out the front door. Her knees shook. Bulls could gore people, could kill them with one swipe of their horns, could trample a man in seconds. Dear heaven, had that happened to Ty? No, no. Dusty had said Ty wanted to walk. His injury couldn’t be that bad. She hoped.

      Dusty had pulled the dented truck right up in front of the house. By the time Jenny arrived, Sam was already lowering the liftgate of the truck to reveal an ashen-faced Ty, strung out on his back in the bed of the truck on a threadbare blanket like a fallen soldier.

      Jenny relaxed a bit when she didn’t see blood or any other obvious signs of goring. Aside from the dirt smearing his flannel shirt and jeans, he was relatively clean. Although the scowl on his face and the grim shadows in his eyes made it clear he was angry as well as in a great deal of pain.

      Sam climbed into the back of the truck. “What happened?” he asked, kneeling down next to his son.

      Ty shifted and tried to lift a broad shoulder, grimacing. “Just dealing with Roscoe.” He gingerly pressed a hand to his lower chest and closed his eyes briefly. “Think my ribs might be broken.”

      “Dammit, Ty,” Sam said, his jaw noticeably tight. “Why don’t you let someone else handle that ornery bull once in a while? You know he has it in for you.”

      Ty pulled his brows together and shot his dad a searing look. “You know I always handle Roscoe. Don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”

      Jenny stared at Ty, an eerie sense of déjà vu running through her, chilling her from the inside out, creating a dull ache in her chest. How many times had she heard Jack say that very same thing?

      With an under-the-breath snort, she cut off her thoughts. What was wrong with her? She was a medical professional. This wasn’t the time to get all clogged up and sentimental thinking about Jack. She needed to be strong and efficient and take care of Ty. With a lift of her chin, she climbed up into the back of the truck and knelt down next to him.

      “Where are the girls?” he asked in a low, raspy voice.

      “Napping,” she replied with a forced smile. “No need to worry about them.”

      He nodded, then sank back onto the bed of the truck. “Good.”

      “Let me have a look,” she said, donning her trusty professional veneer.

      Ty made noises of argument under his breath, but she ignored him. “Don’t even try to argue. I’ll have to unbutton your shirt to examine you,” she said, briefly meeting his intense blue gaze. She stared him down, telling him, without words, that he better not mess with Nurse Jenny.

      He inclined his head. “Bossy all the time, aren’t you?”

      She nodded. “You bet.” Without asking for any more permission, she reached out and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his firm, well-muscled, lightly haired chest.

      His scent—man, earth and sweat—wafted across the air, raising her feminine awareness to a level that surprised her. She tried desperately to stay in impersonal-nurse mode and think of him as just a patient, as a man who’d been injured and needed her help.

      But kneeling next to Ty, unbuttoning his shirt, sent tendrils of heat into her blood that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. And that absolutely terrified her. It was all she could do not to snatch her hands away and bolt.

      She glanced at his face, noting the pain in his eyes. She looked back down, steeling herself to go on. He needed her—no, he needed her nursing skills. She had no excuse right now for giddy blushes, a racing heart and unprofessional behavior. So she stoically continued, determined to ignore that Ty McCall was very well put together and that he affected her in a way she’d never thought she’d experience again.

      She bit her lip. Too bad ignoring those things was an almost impossible task.

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