She grimaced. “He’s not gonna like being cut off by both of us, you know.”
As Delta signed, Kellan snorted. “He sits in that ivory mansion and expects to tell us what to do, when we’re the ones getting’ our hands greasy and risking our lives.” He looked at Delta and his eyes grew shiny.
She smiled at him. “Aw, Kell. I’m fine. You know I’ve got nine lives.”
He grabbed her charred fire suit, set her car keys on the bed next to her, and marched out, mumbling something about ducks and cats.
Delta accepted the release papers from the nurse. “Where is Treven…um…?” She didn’t remember his last name.
“Arnett. He’s in number four.” The other woman gestured to her right and smiled. “He’s one great guy.”
Delta could hear longing in the nurse’s voice. “Are you and he…?”
Her face turned red. “Oh, no. I’m married.” She giggled. “But a girl can still look.” Her face dropped. “I’m sorry. That was…” She turned and nearly ran from the room.
Delta watched her go. “Okay, strange.” She whispered the words as she stood, pocketed her keys in her jeans, then adjusted her Pennington Racing logo T-shirt. She looked in the mirror, finger-combed her hair, and went to find one great guy.
He lay so still in the bed, she wanted to check for a pulse. His hands had been wrapped, and his face had been washed. Delta leaned in closer. One of his auburn eyebrows was completely gone. The thought of how much worse he could have been burned had her sucking in an uneven breath. He’d done it for her. For her. When had anyone done anything that risky for her? Never, that she could recall.
“I can do it tonight.” A male voice came from the hallway. “But I’ve got to be in Fort Worth tomorrow.”
“Okay, I can handle tomorrow, but I won’t get there ‘til sometime after noon.”
Delta recognized the voices and moved toward the open door to close it so Treven could sleep. The two men from the track, Clint and the black-haired man who’d helped her, stood looking at calendars on their phones.
“Shit. His horses have to be fed in the morning. What do you think of setting up a schedule online and get the rest of the crew to take a shift?”
“Leave it open, ma’am.” Treven’s voice came from the bed.
She spun to look at him, and met his dark green gaze. “But you need your rest.”
“They’re trying to split up the work on my ranch, and I’d like to hear how they think they can do it.” He shifted, froze with a pained look on his face, then relaxed. “I’m gonna be helpless for a few weeks.”
Delta’s stomach shifted, thinking of the pain, the scars, the vulnerability this man was facing because of her.
He cocked his head and listened as the guys in the hall plotted and planned.
She shook her head. This was her chance to be useful. To make up for all the times she’d run away from her responsibilities and acted like a pouty, rich brat. She could do this. And she was going to, no matter what roadblocks Treven Arnett threw at her.
As an added bonus, she could let her uncle believe she was doing it to help him with his complicated buyout plan. The big jerk.
Stepping to the door, she poked her head out. “Clint? Could you two come in for a minute?”
The blond man’s brows rose, his gaze shot to his friend’s, then he nodded and they followed her back in.
No one spoke. The three men just stared at her.
She pulled in a deep breath, which caught on a soft cough, and stared at the cowboy. “I’m going to take care of Treven and his horses. For as long as he needs help.”
Chapter Two
Treven wished he could use a finger to clear his ears. Delta Pennington wanted to work his ranch while he was laid up? Were the pain meds causing hallucinations?
“You’re what?” his friend Rex said on a laugh.
Delta stepped closer to Rex and held out her hand. “We haven’t been introduced. I’m Delta Pennington, and I appreciate your help back at the racetrack.”
Rex took her hand, his brows dropping. “Rex Tarrow.” His eyes searched hers. “You serious here?”
“Yeah, I’m serious.” She let go of his hand and squared her shoulders, looking back and forth between Rex and Clint. “Any reason why I shouldn’t be?”
Treven held in a laugh. This woman was straightforward, fearless, and so beautiful, he had to keep blinking to reassure himself she was actually breathing the same air as he was.
Clint snorted. “Hay bales that weigh a ton, stalls full of horseshi…” He pursed his lips. “A dozen stalls that need mucking out. Horses that need to be exercised.”
“Worst of all?” Rex gestured toward Treven. “The patient from hell to deal with.”
Treven laughed. “Hey, don’t make her change her mind.” He couldn’t think of anything he’d like more than to haul Ms. Pennington home with him and spend some time with her. For one, he admired the hell out of her, and for two, he could easily fall for a woman with her spunk.
She walked toward his bed. “You’re okay with it? I thought you’d be the one I’d have to convince.”
He shrugged, then instantly wished he hadn’t as the motion jostled his hands. “If you’ve got the time, and you don’t mind a little hard work, I’m glad to accept your offer.”
Behind her, Clint and Rex looked at each other, then back at him with wide eyes. Why the hell shouldn’t he let her come help him? She was a grown woman. Grown very attractively, too. Just having her this close to him sent a tightness to his groin, anticipation to his chest.
Of course, she could be looking at him with pity, like he was a weak foal in need of rescue. But he’d spend the next few weeks showing her—without the use of his hands—that he was one heck of a proud stallion. He smiled as the thought sent heat racing through his veins.
Delta frowned. “Are you okay? You look a little flushed.” She blinked a few times.
He shifted to cover the rise in his jeans. “I’m good. Would you press the call button, please? Let’s see when I can get out of here.”
****
Hours later, with a bag full of gauze, ointments, latex gloves, and pain pills, Delta drove her yellow '67 Shelby Mustang with Treven in the passenger seat to his ranch just outside of town, close to the racetrack. It was the perfect spot for her to make it look like she was only doing this for Pennington Racing, and not because she had a heart and a soul, which her uncle wouldn’t understand.
Driving under an old metal archway proclaiming Rusty Horseshoe Ranch, she smiled. “Cute name.”
He shrugged. “My grandmother’s idea. She and Gramps met when his horse threw a shoe near her ranch outside of Dallas.”
“Romantic.” She pulled to a stop on the gravel driveway in front of a new-looking tan rambler with red shutters and doors. Not what she’d expected at all. “This is nice.” She opened her door and slid out of the car. Looking around, she spotted three barns, corrals with neat white wood fences, and a quonset hut. “How long have you lived here?”
He hadn’t moved.
“Oh, sorry.” Shit, what a dummy. She raced around the car and opened his door.
He gave that sexy little smirk as he swung his legs out and stood. “Not a problem. We’re both gonna have some learning to do up front.” Bumping the door with his hip, he closed it, and offered her his arm. “Quick tour?”
She took his arm, carefully, and let him lead her through the tidy barns then through the unlocked front door of the house. “I’ll go get my things from the car. Be right back.” Delta pulled her suitcase, purse, and the bag of hospital paraphernalia from her car and trudged back inside.
The place was neat and modern, brown leather furniture, hardwood floors and big area rugs, and even curtains that graced the big windows of the living room. The vaulted ceiling made the place look huge, while a big stone fireplace made it cozy. “You have a beautiful home.” She set down her packages.
“Thanks, I have a housekeeper who keeps it t
idy.” He shrugged and toed off his boots, leaving them on a mat by the door.
She did the same with hers. “What now?”
His face turned red. “I’m gonna need you to help me.” He hefted in a breath and puffed it out. “Nature calling.”
Her brows drew together. Then it computed. “Oh, right.” How was this going to work?
“I’m thinking that if you can get me out of my jeans and into some pajama pants, I can probably take it from there.”
Delta felt her own face turn red. When she’d thought about her activities for the next two weeks, she’d imagined cooking for him, working in the barn, mowing the lawn. But never had she considered having to take care of his corporeal needs. “No problem.” She looked to where a hallway led out of the room. “That way?”
He nodded. “Room at the end of the hall.”
They walked along the hallway, her in front. The first room was a big office, the second looked empty except for a rocking chair, the third had a large bed and lots of furniture.
“Guest room.” He nodded toward it. “You can make yourself at home in there.”
The final room, taking up the whole end of the house, was his bedroom. Another stone fireplace filled one corner, surrounded by a nice gray sectional couch. His bed was a four-poster affair, big enough for a dozen people.
Treven touched his elbow on a drawer in the tall, heavy-looking chest of drawers. “Would you please?”
She opened it and they found a pair of black lounging pants and a white T-shirt. Going for the top first, she removed his slightly-charred shirt and held it over the hamper. Did he want to keep it? She looked at him, he nodded, and she dropped it in. His chest was bigger than she’d expected, a furring of hair across the pecs extended down the middle of his ripped belly to disappear into his jeans.
Those nice, bulky arms invited her to touch. Low in her belly, jitters started, sending a chill along her skin. He was all male, and sexy as sin on a Saturday night. But, he was injured, and she needed to remember that. With extreme care, she got him into the T-shirt, but spotted scars—burns?— on his shoulder and neck. She looked away. This wasn’t the time to go deep into his history, but he’d said there was another reason why he’d saved her life today.
She reached for his belt buckle.
“Um.” He stepped back a few inches.
Those gorgeous eyes of his, she could drift deep into them, looking for the soul of the man. She noticed the long eyelashes on one eye, and shorter ones on the other side where his eyebrow was missing, too. They would grow back, thankfully. But his hands might bear scars, according to the doctor.
He swallowed and looked away.
“What’s wrong?” She unfolded the pajama pants.
“Just ignore whatever you see happening down there.” He fidgeted.
She glanced down to see a mighty bulge behind his zipper. With a smile, she blinked up at him. “Why, Mr. Arnett. You flatter me.” Delta laid on the southern belle accent.
He laughed, and let her unbuckle and unzip his jeans, but turned away from her as soon as the denim dropped to his thighs. She divested him of his jeans, trying hard not to stare at the manly, sexy ass displayed in black boxer-briefs right in front of her, then helped him slip on the soft jersey pants. Off to the side of the bed, she spotted the bathroom door, and walked in, turning on the light. Fancy. A big jetted tub took up one corner, a glass shower big enough for ten spread across one wall, and the entire room was done in soft, glowing, golden tiles.
“I’ll take it from here.” He came in and nodded his head toward the door. Luckily, a few of his fingertips had escaped severe burning and blistering.
“Okay, but shout if you need me.” She winked. “Remember, I travel with a pit crew of mostly men, so I’ve seen it all.”
He tried to stifle a yawn.
“Do you want something to eat?” She checked her watch. “It’s almost time for your next pain pill, and you should have something in your stomach.”
“Sure. Just a sandwich.”
“A sandwich I can do.” Cooking wasn’t a strong point for her. “Ask me to install a brake rotor, and I’m your girl. But to get water to boil? Uh uh.”
He chuckled. “I’m a man of simple tastes.”
“Then we’ll get along just fine.” She left the room, pulling the bathroom door behind her, but leaving it open enough that he could get his foot in the crack to open it. At the bed, she ran her fingers over the blue cotton quilt, then pulled down the corner of the bedding to make it easier for him to climb in. She hoped he’d nap, and the thought of him lying in that big bed made her want to crawl in and wait for him.
In the kitchen, she peeked into the dozens of white Shaker cabinets which seemed to carry everything a chef could need plus the floor space for about fifty people to do the cooking. This house truly took her by surprise. She’d expected a bachelor hovel, not a brand-spankin’ new, state-of-the-art custom home.
When she was halfway through putting together a sandwich for him at the big black-granite countertop on the kitchen island, a car pulled up. Three women climbed out, each carrying a box. “What is this about?” She crossed the kitchen and opened the side door as they climbed the few steps onto the porch and stopped, staring at her through the screen door.
“Ms. Pennington.” The oldest, maybe in her fifties, smiled brightly. “We heard you were here, but didn’t dare to believe it.”
So they’d come out to Treven’s ranch to check? Unbelievable. She put her hands on her hips and tipped her head. “Is there something I can do for you?”
The youngest, in her twenties and evidently pregnant, stepped forward. “We wanted to bring a few things for Treven. He’s done so much for everyone in town, the prayer chain is buzzing.”
Delta felt like a total bitch.
The young woman looked behind her as another car pulled into the driveway. “We won’t keep you, but we have some food, and some, um, things that might make it easier for him.” She swallowed, her cheeks turning pink.
“Please.” Delta pushed open the screen door and gave them her biggest smile. “Come in. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“You’re so kind, but no thank you.” The women stood talking for a few minutes, greeting the next arrival who bore her own box of food.
The ladies set their boxes on the center island. Delta unloaded two casseroles, three frozen crock-pot meals in giant plastic baggies, cookies on paper plates, a whole cake, and three loaves of homemade bread. She and Treven were set for a week.
One woman gave her a box of adaptive items she’d brought from the long-term care facility she worked at, and Delta tucked that box away in a closet, for now.
She couldn’t thank the ladies enough, and even admitted she wasn’t enough of a cook to know what to do with everything. The women left copious notes on reheating, and by the time they’d left—with a warning that there would be more folks stopping by—the kitchen island was full.
Delta leaned against the countertop, surveying the booty. She opened the double doors of the stainless steel refrigerator. Too well stocked, and not much room for anything more. Contorting her tongue, she used her cartoon duck voice. “What are we gonna do now?”
“What the heck was that?” Treven wandered into the kitchen, a crooked smile on his face.
“Oh. Sorry.” Very few people knew about her duck voice. “When I’m overwhelmed, I go into cartoon mode.”
“You’re one fascinating woman, Delta. Race car driver by day, cartoon duck by night.” He looked at the plethora on the counter. “You even baked bread?” His smile came with a big yawn.
“Your neighbors and the townsfolk stopped by.” She couldn’t imagine anyone in her neighborhood in Atlanta doing anything like this for her.
“Ah.” He used his foot to pull out one of the tall stools on the far side of the island. “I should have warned you.”
“The prayer chain strikes again.”
He nodded and poked at a plate of bars cove
red in clear wrap. “Gotta love livin’ in a fishbowl.”
She jumped to help him open it, then shrugged. “Short of taping a fork to your bandages.” Picking up what looked like a seven-layer bar, she held it out for him. “Excuse my fingers in your food.”
He opened his mouth and she popped it in. Treven stared at her with those sleepy green eyes. Nothing in her recent memory buzzed with that much sexual energy, or hit her that hard and naughty down low in her belly. She heaved out a breath and went back to making his sandwich. She had to watch herself, or she’d end up tumbling into bed with this cowboy, maybe even falling for him a little. Just a little.
“Some mayo, some mustard, please.” He sat patiently while she dressed the sandwich, set a glass of ice water with a straw in front of him, then plopped down next to him and held up a quarter of the sandwich.
He took a bite, chewed and swallowed, she wiped mustard from his mouth, then he leaned in and kissed her.
****
Goddamnit, what was he doing? Treven pressed his lips against Delta’s, breathing in her sexy, spicy scent, like some foreign opiate that stirred his blood to boiling.
For a second, she froze, then opened her lips on his, inviting him in.
He took advantage, skimming his tongue over her teeth and into her mouth, tangling his tongue with hers, tasting every little bit of her he could reach.
He’d always heard that one kiss could change a man’s life. And this was that kiss. He could barely breathe.
Delta pulled away first. “Wow.” The word floated out on a sigh. She blinked those pretty mismatched eyes at him and licked her lips. “You sure know how to surprise a girl.”
Surprised her? Hell, he couldn’t believe he’d just done that. “If I blame it on the pain meds, would you forgive me?” But the meds had worn off an hour ago. This was all pure desire happening here in his kitchen, and he could feel her response just as if she’d waved a green flag at him.
“Nothing to forgive, cowboy.” She held up the sandwich for him. “And in case you didn’t notice, I was glad to participate.” The smile she gave him was soft and flirty.
Hot in the Saddle (Heroes in the Saddle Book 1) Page 2
