by Tessa Layne
He missed his old life, the rush of adrenaline as he climbed into the chute, the smell of sweat, testosterone, and raging bull. The cheers and encouragement from his buddies, and the roar of the crowd that hit him in the chest when he hopped to his feet. The early morning silence seemed bigger, louder in its absence of those elements.
But what still punched him in the gut as he struggled to consciousness in the dark? The knowledge that right now he was little more than a warm body. He could sit a horse and check on the cows, but not much else. He had no purpose here, no deep abiding love of ranching. No passion for early rising or raising beef. The only deep abiding love he’d ever cultivated came from conquering the beasts that had stolen his father and left him half an orphan at too tender an age.
Worse, he’d started during calving season, which meant everyone on the ranch was sleep deprived - including him. The pregnant cows needed to be checked every four hours, ‘round the clock. Cody didn’t know how Teddy managed, sleeping in two-hour shifts most days. He’d been humbled and frustrated to see everyone closing ranks. Even his brother had taken a turn between shifts at the fire station.
The alarm sounded again, and Cody swung his legs over the side of the bed. Flexing the heel on his injured leg, he lifted, gritting his teeth as he tightened his quad and worked to fully extend his leg. By the time he’d counted to twenty, his leg shook and sweat beaded at his hairline. With grim determination, he repeated the exercise three more times, collapsing back on the bed at the end, breath ragged.
“Fuck you, Damnation,” he muttered. “I hope you end up ground beef.”
He should take this morning as a small victory. His first day in PT, he could barely contract his muscle for a count of ten, and he couldn’t fully extend his leg. Carolina had pushed him to stretch multiple times a day, and more importantly, to concentrate on full extension when he walked. It felt awkward as hell, but for the first time since he’d been off crutches, his limp was less pronounced.
When the alarm sounded the third time, he was dressed and coffee in hand, stepped out the door onto the tiny porch. Full light might still be an hour away, but the cardinals and robins were belting their songs as if it were midday. He threw back the last of the bitter black coffee, and leaving the mug precariously perched on the rail, stepped off the porch. At exactly five-thirty, he arrived at the barn, surprised to see the horses already outside, saddled and waiting.
“Good morning,” Carolina said brightly, from behind the horse he recognized as Angel. “Daddy asked me to take the dawn shift before I head into work today.”
“I see you’ve already hit the coffee.” Why else would she be inhumanly perky at this hour?
“I see you need more,” she shot back without missing a beat as she rounded Angel and held out a thermos. “Help yourself.” She smirked.
“What’s got you so sassy this morning?” he grumbled, taking the thermos and pouring another steaming serving into the lid.
“Seeing you grouchy as a bear just coming out of hibernation. Pretty entertaining.” She cocked her head, the corner of her mouth twitching in the most fetching way. “Cute, actually.”
Cute? He puffed out his chest as he handed back the thermos. “I’m not cute.”
“You kind of are. And your brother was right, you’re not a morning person.”
“This isn’t morning. It’s the ass-crack of dawn.”
Her laughter, sweet and musical, warmed his belly. Carolina’s wasn’t the forced laughter of a buckle bunny looking to get laid, she was genuinely amused. And he found it charming as fuck. Even at this obscene hour. In spite of himself, he grinned at her, and something in his chest twinged when she grinned back.
He cleared his throat. “I’ll check Jackpot.”
“No need. I walked him and checked his cinch.” She looked at him expectantly.
“What?” he growled. He recognized that look. She had her PT hat on underneath her felt cowboy hat. Teddy always made sure to turn his back, or made some excuse to go back to the barn for something while he mounted. It galled him that he didn’t have enough strength yet in his leg to mount up like a man. Instead, he had to use a mounting block like he was some sort of noob around horses.
“What do you mean, what? I want to watch you mount up.”
“My appointment’s not ‘till eleven,” he snapped.
“And maybe watching you in daily life will help me make your appointment better,” she snapped back, not giving an inch.
He glared at her. She glared back.
From out of nowhere, a laugh developed in his chest and was out before he could stop it. “Damn,” he said, shaking his head with another chuckle. “You Grace girls are something else.”
“Women,” she rejoined, mouth twitching. “We’re women, and don’t you forget it.”
“Like anyone could forget for a second you’re a woman, Carolina.” A rush of awareness charged through him. Carolina was all woman, all the time. A fact of which he was painfully aware. The air between them electrified. Had he said too much? Probably. He wasn’t used to censoring himself around women. In fact, the ladies he’d met on the circuit seemed to like his boldness. But this was Carolina. She was different. And off-limits he reminded himself sternly. No matter what the air felt like in her presence.
He tore his gaze from her, and retreated to the mounting block where Jackpot stood patiently. With his left hand holding the pommel for balance, he swung his right leg over the saddle and sat, driving his left foot into the stirrup, then his right. His dour mood returned as he adjusted his seat. Even if his left leg were strong enough to launch him into the saddle, it would be months before he had the strength in his right shoulder to pull his body weight. And what kind of partner could he be to a woman, any woman, when his body was so broken?
Urging Jackpot to a trot, he kept his eyes forward, refusing to look her direction. “Any developments on the one-thirty?” Teddy and Cassidy had taken the middle of the night shift last night.
Carolina came abreast of him as they headed out to the nearest pasture. Only used this time of year, the closest pasture was reserved for pregnant and newly delivered cows. This morning, if nothing was amiss, they’d drive the oldest calves and their mothers to a farther pasture, and bring in any cows that looked ‘heavy’ - close to delivering. “Daddy and Cass moved one pair into the shed last night. Baby needed bottle feeding. Mama’s not too keen on it.”
Never a good sign. “Is it feeding now?”
“Not when I looked in on them. Sometimes it takes a few days.” Carolina leaned out and unhooked the gate. “Cass mentioned there were three cows that had separated from the herd, and appeared to be in early labor. We’ll need to check for them around the edges. Why don’t you circle left and meet me on the far end?”
Cody moved Jackpot through the gate, but waited until Carolina had secured it before moving along the fence line. She might be more capable than he was right now, but he’d never abandon a partner. Especially one as lovely as Carolina.
He didn’t know how she managed to look as fresh faced at this hour as she did later in the day. Female magic, he guessed. It didn’t take long to spot the first laboring cow. She lay on her side, breathing heavily. She struggled to her feet with a bellow, and only then did he notice the tiny hooves, still encased in the membrane, protruding from underneath her tail. Jackpot stood stock still, as if aware that a baby calf was about to be born. There was no way to get around the cow without disturbing it, so Cody stayed put, watching in awe as first the feet, then the head were born. With a heave and a low bellow, the calf fell to the ground in a rush of fluid. Mama cow turned her head and gave the baby a baleful look. Cody held his breath. Would she reject her baby? It could happen in as much as ten percent of a herd.
“Come on, little guy,” he muttered under his breath. “Get up. You can get up.” The cow was too big for him to lift on his own, at least in his current condition. More than that, he wanted to see the mother bond with her baby. Mama turn
ed around and bawled at the baby, nudging him and then starting to lick him dry. He gave a silent fist pump for the baby calf as it struggled to stand, quickly staggering to all fours. Call him a sap. At least there was no one here to witness him getting a little misty-eyed over a pair of cows.
“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” Carolina called softly from a few yards away.
How long had she been there, watching them? Watching him? He cleared his throat, and signaled Jackpot to join her. “Looks like these two have bonded.”
“You big softie,” Carolina said with a grin. “I saw the way you were watching them. You can fool everyone else with your big macho exterior, but not me.”
Had it been that obvious? He cleared his throat again and shrugged. “Everyone likes to see a little guy do well.”
Carolina made a scoffing noise, but didn’t pursue it further. “Other mamas have also safely delivered and bonded. Let’s cut the older calf-cow pairs and take them to the East pasture. The grass is greening nicely over there.
Cutting fifteen pair with only the two of them took almost the entire morning. Without extra hands to act as a barrier between the calving herd, they had to cut one pair at a time, then escort mother and baby to the next pasture, secure the gate, and double back to repeat the steps. By the time they turned for the barn, Cody had shed his shearling jacket, and his left leg ached. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent four hours in the saddle.
Carolina shot him an admiring glance. “You were great out there this morning. I’d forgotten what a good horseman you were.”
The Hansen family had raised and trained horses for generations, and while it was true that his dad had put him on a horse before he could walk, Cody had always preferred the more unpredictable mounts. “It was all Jackpot. I didn’t have to do much. He knows what to do if you get out of his way.”
“Spoken like a true horseman.”
“But I’m not,” he bristled.
“Tell that to Jackpot. Look at his ears.” She gestured toward the animal’s head. “He likes you.”
Jackpot was just a horse, and he didn’t get attached to animals. He didn’t get attached to anything. Not horses, or cows… or people. Especially not people. “He doesn’t know better.”
Carolina snorted. “You know as well as I do that horses see right through people’s bullshit. You might try to make us not like you, but just like Jackpot, we know better.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She gave him a look. Deep and steady, with just a hint of don’t try to fool me, asshole. “Do you want help coming down off your horse? Or are you too cool for school?”
He should ask her for help. At the very least, a spot. But he just… couldn’t. Some things a man had to struggle through on his own.
With a roll of her eyes and a loud huff, she shook her head. “I’ll be in the tack room.”
He was supposed to be filled with triumph as she led Angel into the barn. This was his big moment - dismounting on his own. But there was no triumph filling his chest as he gripped the pommel hard with his left hand and braced his left leg with everything he had. His balance was all wonky, but it was the best he could do at the moment. Gritting his teeth, he swung his right leg back, squeezing all the muscles in his left leg.
This was the moment of truth. Would his leg hold him as he reached back toward the ground? His quad seized, then in a blink went slack, taking him by surprise. He stumbled back, saving himself from falling only because his right leg compensated. But when his left foot jerked out of the stirrup and landed, his leg failed, and he dropped to the earth like a boulder. Tucking, he rolled, protecting his right shoulder, and he came up sitting, as if he’d just been tossed by a bull. Winded, but intact. The exhilaration of surviving was quickly replaced with a wave of soul-crushing despair. Would he ever do anything again on his own?
Chapter Five
Carolina led the horses into the barn, fuming. Why did the man have to be so stubborn? Especially with her? She was his physical therapist for chrissakes. It wasn’t like she’d never seen him struggle. Quite the contrary. She’d been the one pushing him to stretch. She’d been the one telling him to breathe through the pain as she worked to break up the scar tissue in his shoulder.
She looped Angel’s reins around the post nearest the tack room door, and pulled off the saddle, hauling it to the stand for cleaning later.
Cody wasn’t the first injured man she’d worked with who turned asshole at the thought of not regaining his independence. But unlike the others, his attitude pissed her off. Somehow, the sexy, grouchy cowboy had managed to crawl under her skin, and made her care about him, dammit.
Carolina brought in the saddle blanket, laid it over a barrel to dry, and retrieved her grooming tools. Starting at Angel’s neck, she methodically worked her way over the horse, letting her mind wander.
When he wasn’t obsessing over his injuries, Cody was downright charming. Too charming. From a professional standpoint, she preferred him gruff and annoying. That she knew how to manage. But when he turned gentle, or flashed her the panty-melting smile that had graced the covers of umpteen rodeo magazines? When he made her heart race like a giddy teenager? Then he scared her to death.
Cody was the kind of man whose magnetic personality could make her forget Michael - all they’d shared, everything she’d loved about him. And what would that say about her? One enigmatic look from a sexy as sin cowboy and Michael became nothing more than a distant memory? Dead in every sense of the word? She couldn’t let that happen. She’d made promises.
She paused, arm stretched up to Angel’s spine, a lightbulb going off in her head.
She’d also made promises to Cody, not in so many words, but as his physical therapist. And why hadn’t she thought of this before? Grooming was the perfect exercise for a recovering shoulder. Similar enough in motion to exercises Cody had performed in the office, but better, because… horses. Horses healed the soul. Her sister, Cassie, had confessed over Christmas how working with the wild mustangs at the Hansen ranch and then at Resolution Ranch, had been instrumental to her working through her PTSD. Giving Angel a pat, she dropped her tools and hurried into the barnyard, brimming with enthusiasm.
“Cody, I want to try something-” The rest of the words died in her mouth when she spied him hunched over, on his knees, dusty from an obvious tumble. “Cody.” She rushed over. “What happened? Are you okay?” Of course, he wasn’t okay, he’d fallen. Probably overdoing it trying to dismount from Jackpot.
“I’m fine,” he snapped, face belying his words.
“You’re hurt.”
He shook off the hand she’d placed on his shoulder. “I said, I’m fine,” he gritted, raising his right knee, then lurching to his feet.
“Then why are you yelling?” Her voice rose to match his.
“Because I’m sick and fucking tired of not being able to do the most basic things.” He shook out his legs, glaring at her. “I can’t even pull off a saddle.”
“But you will.”
“Not soon enough.”
Their gazes collided and Carolina was hit with the full force of the heat in his eyes. Her breath balled up in the back of her throat. This was a man on the verge of losing his shit. Had she pushed him too hard, these last few weeks? He’d asked for it, demanded the max from her and from himself. Maybe he needed a different approach. Before she could stop herself, she’d grabbed his hand. “Come here.”
Without a word, she led him into the barn, where Angel stood patiently awaiting her return. Carolina hesitated before dropping Cody’s giant calloused hand, enjoying the feel of it against her palm. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done something as simple as hold hands with a man. And the sharp longing for that kind of easy, intimate touch shocked her. Michael had the hands of a surgeon, long slender fingers, capable and steady. There was a raw energy in Cody’s touch that electrified her.
She dropped his hand with a noise from the back of her
throat. He’s your patient. “Grab the curry comb, will you?” Her voice felt unnaturally high, tremulous.
Cody gave her a curious look before bending to retrieve it.
“Using the same movements you’ve been working on in the clinic, go ahead and give Angel a brush.”
He started tentatively, at first, as if assuring himself he could perform the movements.
“That’s it,” she enthused as his strokes became more confident. “Now stretch as far as you can at the top. You’re not going to hurt yourself.”
She was a big girl, nearly five-ten. But Cody was bigger still. Something she became keenly aware of when he paused, arm stretched over Angel’s withers, and turned her direction.
“I’m sorry. For back there.” He tilted his head toward the barn door. “I’m a shitty patient.”
Her heart melted at the sincerity in his voice, and without thinking, she brought her hand to his cheek. “You’re not alone. It’s normal to experience frustration during recovery. Especially for someone as… driven as you are.”
She’d meant it as a gesture of sympathy, familial friendship, but her reaction to him took her by surprise. Her palm burned, electricity shot through her as if she’d stuck a fork in a socket. Could he hear the thrumming in her ears? So loud it drowned out the sound of her voice?
“Carolina…” He stepped in.
What was she doing with her hand on his face? This was dangerous territory. But his morning scruff and the way it tickled her palm acted like a magnet. His eyes turned molten, and she stilled, heart pounding, breath held. He was going to kiss her. She could see the intention in his eyes. As if in answer, her body swayed in anticipation. Heat pooled between her legs, as a rush of desire overwhelmed her senses. Her nipples tightened, pressing against the thin fabric of her bra. Every cell in her body shouted hell, yes.
