Her Unexpected Cowboy. Debra Clopton

Чтение книги онлайн.

      Chapter Three

      The morning light was just crawling across her bedroom floor when Lucy opened her eyes. She’d been dead to the world from the moment she’d fallen into bed late last night, and she stared at the ceiling for a moment, disoriented.

      The ache in her arms brought clarity quickly.

      And no wonder with all the manual labor she’d been doing for the past week. The muscle soreness had finally caught up with her last night. Caught up with her back, too. She’d always had a weak lower back and sometimes after a lot of stooping and heavy lifting, it rebelled on her. That moment had happened when she’d taken her last swing at the long wall in her living room—a muscle spasm had struck her like a sledgehammer.

      It had been so painful she’d been forced to stretch out on the floor and stare at the ceiling until it had eased up enough for her to make it upstairs to bed.

      She’d had plenty of time to contemplate her situation and the fact that she really had no timeline to finish her remodel. She could take all the time in the world if she wanted to. Uncle Harvey, bless his soul, had made sure of that.

      He was actually her grandfather’s brother, whom she’d lost as a young girl. He had been in bad health when her world had fallen apart, and hadn’t lived on the ranch for a couple of years. But he’d told her this was where she needed be. And he’d been right. She’d known it the moment she’d arrived. She was making the place her own and searching for her new footing at the same time.

      And yet, things had changed when Rowdy McDermott had offered to help her. She watched him drive off, and her conscience had plucked away at her.

      To prove that she’d made the right decision turning him away, she’d gone at her work with extra zeal...but the pleasure she’d felt had disappeared. Drat the man—he’d messed up her process.

      He’d had no right trying to take over her work. He was only being a good neighbor. The voice of reason she’d been steadily ignoring yesterday was louder this morning. Had she judged him wrong? She didn’t like this distrust that ruled her life these days.

      Sitting up, she had no control of the groan that escaped her grimacing lips. “Hot shower, really hot shower.” She eased off the bed and walked stiffly toward the bathroom.

      She’d wash the cobwebs out of her mind, the dust out of her hair and the pain out of her muscles. Then maybe she could figure out what she needed to do about the problems her good-looking neighbor was causing her.

      She’d told him she would think about his offer. But did she really want him here? And he’d already shown that he thought his way was the best way. Did she want to fight that? Because she wasn’t giving up control of anything.

      The niggling admission that she might be in over her head and needed help on this simmered in her thoughts. The realization that she was allowing distrust of men—all men—color her need for real help bothered her.

      Shower, now! She needed a clear head to sort this out.

      Twenty minutes later, feeling better, she padded down to the kitchen. The shower had helped her spirits, but she knew that today her back was going to give her fits if she did anything too strenuous. It needed a break. Her mind needed a break, too. She couldn’t shut it off....

      When a gal wasn’t quite five feet tall, she grew used to people assuming she was helpless because of her size. Too weak to swing a sledgehammer.

      It was maddening. More so now—since СКАЧАТЬ