This Perfect Stranger. Barbara Ankrum

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СКАЧАТЬ bleeding.”

      “I am?” She raised a hand to her cheek and brought it back stained with red. Oh, God…

      The heat stung and she winced, but he was gentle. Very gentle as he soothed the towel across her cheek, cleaning away the mess she’d made of it.

      “How bad is it?” she asked. He was close enough that she could feel the heat of his nearness.

      “It’s not too deep. I don’t think you need stitches. But you’re gonna have a nice shiner.”

      She sank lower as he moved back to the sink to rinse the towel.

      “You’re lucky,” he said. “It could’ve been worse. A lot worse.”

      He was right, of course. She’d come close many times. But never as close as she’d come today. “So…do you mind telling me what you were you doing riding all the way out here on a motorcycle in the middle of a hailstorm?”

      “It wasn’t hailing when I started out. But we can talk about that later.”

      She grabbed his wrist as he lifted the towel to her face again. “I think we should talk about it now. I mean, it’s not every day I let a strange man carry me into my own house and—” she stared at the towel “—pull my boots off.”

      A small grin softened the hard line of his mouth. Maggie felt her resolve slipping as he lifted the towel again and smoothed it across her jawline.

      “I suppose it’s not every day you nearly get yourself trampled either,” he said. “Or are you in the habit of putting yourself in harm’s way?”

      “Not in the habit, no. What about you?”

      “Oh, it’s definitely one I’m trying to break.”

      The low baritone of his voice vibrated through her. Outside, the hail still battered the window. “So…Moody sent you out here, you said?”

      “That’s right. I’m looking for work.”

      An unreasonable disappointment sluiced through her. “I wish I could’ve saved you the trouble. I’m not hiring.”

      He lowered the towel. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re out here all by yourself.”

      Uncomfortable with his closeness, she slid off the table and stood, taking a moment to get her balance. “Mr. MacCallister—”

      “Cain.”

      “Cain. I don’t know what Moody told you, but—”

      “That your husband left you alone with this place awhile back and that you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. She said you need help. It just so happens that I know a little something about horses and I’m in the market for a job.”

      Maggie pressed her hands together. “You don’t understand. I can’t hire you. I can’t afford to hire anyone.”

      Folding up the towel, he walked back to the sink and stared out the window. “I don’t need much. Three squares and a roof.”

      She blinked at him. “Room and board?”

      Slowly, he turned back to her, but she didn’t miss the way he’d balled his fist against his stomach as if trying to grind away an ache there.

      “I noticed your fences in the south pasture need fixing.” He glanced up at her ceiling where water droplets swelled and dripped in a steady staccato into a dented metal bucket on her kitchen floor. “One more good storm like this one and you can probably kiss your roof goodbye. Not to mention your stock. You need help. I need a place to be for a while. It sounds like a fair trade.”

      The tattoo of hail stopped abruptly on the window and silence invaded the room. Was it her imagination, or had he gone suddenly pale? She dismissed the thought as a trick of lighting. Besides, nobody who looked like he did worked for room and board. His grasp of the English language told her he was educated too, which put him miles beyond most of the itinerant hands that drifted through here. And then another thought occurred to her. “Are you in some kind of…trouble, Mr. MacCallister?”

      Sweat beaded on his upper lip and he braced a hand on the counter behind him. A low curse escaped him.

      “Mr. MacCallister?”

      Without answering, he bolted out the kitchen door. Maggie stared after him for a heartbeat before following him. Jigger shadowed close on her heels.

      She found him leaning over the boxwood bushes around the corner of her house, retching. Maggie watched helplessly, uncertain whether to stay or leave him alone. In the end she found she couldn’t simply walk away from him.

      When he’d finished, he straightened slowly, his color not far off from the winter-pale green leaves beside him.

      He wiped the back of one hand across his mouth. “Sorry about that.”

      “You’re ill?”

      He shook his head. “Moody’s coffee on an empty stomach. Not a good idea.”

      She remembered the way he’d looked at those plates of food at the café. The way he’d hugged that cup of coffee as if it were gold. “How long since you’ve eaten? I mean something solid.”

      His posture stiffened and he blinked as if he were considering lying. “I’m looking for a job,” he said, “not a handout.”

      “That’s not exactly an answer, is it? How long?”

      “A couple of days ago, I guess.”

      “A couple of—?” Maggie blinked at him incredulously.

      He stared first at his feet then off toward his bike. “I’m sorry to have troubled you, Mrs. Cortland. I’ll be on my way.”

      “Troubled me? You saved my life, Mr. MacCallister. I…I owe you something for that.”

      “You don’t owe me a thing.”

      “I can’t offer you a job, but the least I can do is feed you a decent meal. In fact, I insist.”

      His gaze traveled slowly down the length of her, then moved to his own mud-coated boots.

      “Please,” she repeated softly. “Come inside.”

      Reluctantly, he followed her back in the kitchen. Maggie pulled a glass down from the cupboard, filled it with milk and held it out to him.

      “Mrs. Cortland, I—” he began.

      “Drink this. It’ll settle your stomach.” She looked down at her mud-covered clothes. “Look, I’m…a mess. I need a shower and a change of clothes. And then I’ll come back down and fix you some lunch.” She pulled a chair out from the table for him. “Will you let me do that for you?”

      Some of the steel went out of his spine as he took the glass she offered. He was proud. She could see that. But he was СКАЧАТЬ