A Family For The Rancher. Allison B. Collins

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СКАЧАТЬ the hell do you want, Hunter? I’m not apologizing to him. Now leave me alone.” He started to slam the door when Hunter moved aside, revealing a petite woman standing on the porch.

      Her black hair was braided, the tail curving over her shoulder and down almost to her waist, but a few strands had escaped and blew in the breeze, teasing her sculpted cheekbones. Startling blue eyes stared at him long enough to make him almost ashamed of his snarls.

      “Ma’am,” he said, the manners his momma ingrained in him bursting forth.

      “This is Kelsey Summers,” Hunter said, putting a hand on her back to guide her past him, shoving Nash back a few steps. “She’s your therapist.”

      His temper peaked again, hitting the boiling point. “I told him I don’t need a therapist. You can go now.” Tilting the bottle again, he drained the last of it. He wavered, tempted to leave them there so he could grab a full bottle, or shove them out first. Another pain slashed through his leg, and the question was settled—whiskey first.

      But he turned too quickly, and his leg couldn’t keep up. He went down hard on his good knee, and his thigh went from simmering to burning hot.

      Hunter rushed over and grabbed his arm, but Nash shoved him away, cursing a blue streak.

      Hunter backed away, hands held up. “Hey, bro. Just trying to help.”

      “I don’t need your help, or Dad’s help, or this woman’s help.” He blew out a breath and braced his arm on the side table to stand up. Wincing, he gently put weight on his bad leg.

      “Why don’t I be the judge of that? Come on and sit down.” Kelsey gestured toward the couch.

      Her voice was quiet, just a little throaty, and held a twang of the South in it.

      “No thanks. I’m fine.”

      She crossed her arms in front of her and cocked a hip. “Sure you are. Feels like fire racing through your quads, right? Have to be careful when you put weight on it?”

      He looked away, hating that she was right.

      “Let me just look at it, then you can kick me out if you really think you don’t need me.”

      He glanced at his brother, wanting to knock the smirk off his face. “Get out. Little lady here wants to check me out. Might get a bit personal here.” He grinned, but without any humor. Maybe if he made her uncomfortable enough she’d leave on her own. Sliding his arm around her shoulders, he started to lead her to the bedroom.

      Kelsey raised her hand up to his and grabbed his thumb, pulling it down, then stepped around to wrench his arm behind his back.

      His arm hurt like hell, and he made sure not to move and antagonize her any further.

      Hunter burst out laughing. “Well I guess I don’t have to worry about Kelsey out here by herself.” He opened the door and slapped his Stetson on his head. “Call me if you need a rescue, bro.” He slammed the door behind him, and his laughter echoed on the breeze outside.

      She let go of Nash’s thumb, then stepped away from him.

      He rubbed the offended thumb and stared at her. “Sorry. Just want to be alone.”

      Picking up the empty whiskey bottle, she said, “Why? So you can drown your sorrows in this stuff?” She plunked it down on the table. “I’m just here to help you, okay?”

      Memories assaulted him of the friends who couldn’t get back to their wives and kids—their lives—because of that last mission.

      “Why don’t you take your jeans off and I’ll assess your leg, okay? Do you want to do it in here, or in the bedroom?”

      Her throaty voice saying bedroom made him twitch, the first sign of life down there in a long time. Bedroom probably wasn’t a good idea, nor was taking off any article of clothing.

      He raised an eyebrow at her.

      Red crept into her creamy cheeks, but she stood up straight and picked up her medical bag. “Get a move on, Mr. Sullivan. I don’t have all day to stand around here while you put the moves on me.”

      Pretty and gutsy.

      He clomped into the bedroom and slammed the door. Grabbing an old pair of gym shorts from the dresser, he stripped out of his jeans. He hauled himself back out to the living room and almost fell onto the couch as a wave of exhaustion hit him.

      “Um...”

      Dreading to look up and see the pity, he finally raised his eyes to see Kelsey staring at his leg.

      “Your dad didn’t tell me you have a prosthetic leg.”

      “Souvenir of the Taliban.”

      “Why didn’t he tell me?”

      “Doesn’t know.”

      The silence drew out so long he finally glanced up at her again.

      “He doesn’t know?”

      “And don’t you tell him, or any of my brothers—got it?”

      “How many brothers?”

      “Four.”

      “And no one knows.”

      “Yep. Can we get this over with? Got things to do.”

      “Like drinking more whiskey and watching TV?”

      He frowned. “None of your business.”

      Kelsey sat down on the old trunk and unwrapped the bandage from his left leg. “Oh my God. How long has your thigh been this red?”

      He looked down and saw slashes of red interspersed with the white scars. “I don’t know. It’s been hurting more the last few days.”

      “Don’t you unwrap it at night and take off your prosthesis?”

      Shutting his eyes, he blocked out the image of her removing the hated brace, leaving just the stump of his leg. “No,” he said, his voice strangled in his throat.

      “Mr. Sullivan, you need to take better care of yourself. That means taking your prosthesis off and giving your body a rest.”

      A cool hand smoothed over his thigh, and he jerked. He stared down at her small hand as she touched the sore spots gently. “I don’t think you have any infection,” she murmured, her hand going a little too close for comfort. “But the fit may be a bit off on this.”

      He grabbed a throw pillow from behind him and set it on his groin, folding his hands over it. Glancing at her, he thought he caught a slight smile as she turned her head away, examining the top of the prosthesis.

      The persistent ache started to ease off. Maybe he should listen to the docs and follow their regimen. A stab of guilt made him jerk. His men were beyond pain, so this was all he deserved.

      She set the leg down СКАЧАТЬ