by Kayn, Debra
"No. We grew up on our community home—Devon shrugged—or what other's call the reservation, since we were toddlers, and the minute we were old enough to have a say in how we wanted to live, we left our people's land, promising each other that we'd always stay together. We love the community support of our people, our beliefs, but our dreams were bigger than those that could be found on the reservation."
"When we stepped out into the real world, we realized not many people wanted to hire three unemployed Native Americans fresh out of high school, so we worked our asses off busting horses at different ranches in the area and pooling our money." Brody snatched a fry off his plate. "We worked until we had enough to buy this property. We wanted to remain close to our people, and our acreage backs Lakota land."
"There used to be an old shack with barely a roof on it here before we built the house, and we stayed in that while Devon went on to college, and Trace and I worked just to survive." Brody held out a plate for Devon to fill. "Although we run cattle, our passion is in the horses. Devon runs the business side of things too and keeps a roof over our head."
"That's amazing. I can't imagine how hard it must have been to start from scratch." She sat up straighter. "What all is involved with running a ranch this size…it's huge."
"We raise organic beef as our staple, and have a few other investments we dabble in on the side. Later, I'll show you the house, and you'll understand how this is more like separate living quarters than…shackin' up together." Brody motioned for her to eat. "We've all got our own private areas with outside entrances, and only share the living area and kitchen."
She smiled. "Thank you for…dinner."
She tried to concentrate on their conversation, but her mind kept wandering back to she was living with 3 beautiful men for at least the next six weeks. Her sister was going to flip out when she heard where she was working.
Brody popped the last bite of his toast in his mouth. She peered at him while she chewed. Brody's long cinnamon-colored fingers were bare.
Wiping her mouth on the napkin, she chanced a glance at Devon. If her calculations were right, and at this time she wasn't sure what to think since she'd been wrong before, all of the men were unmarried. She wiped her mouth on the napkin. All these gorgeous men would be hanging around her for the next six weeks. She took another drink of orange juice so she wouldn't get lightheaded again.
Chapter Four
For the next two days, Trace lived from one pain pill to the next. He rubbed the area above his cast, and waited for Joan to come to the living room. He'd played it safe and asked whichever one of his friends who were available to assist him to the bathroom, so Joan wouldn't have to help him with his personal care.
The time had come to stop taking the medication, and devote the days to getting stronger. He'd babied his leg long enough. Now he only had to convince Joan to hand over his crutches.
The woman who entered the room a few minutes later was not the nurse who'd taken care of him the past few days. He stared, his finger wedged between the cast and his leg. Gone were Joan's nurse scrubs, and in their place she donned a pair of skimpy denim shorts and a yellow tank top, which barely covered her midriff and hugged her full breasts, leaving nothing to his imagination. He wasn't immune.
"Good morning." She smiled, looking better than a summer day. "How are you feeling today?"
He cleared his throat, unable to tear his gaze away. "What's with the clothes?"
His question came out gruff and rude. If he had to keep reminding himself that she was his nurse and he had to keep a hands-off rule foremost in his mind, it'd make his day even more difficult to bear. Not that he ever forgot she was all woman, that was impossible.
"Brody suggested I make myself comfortable and said there was no reason for me to wear my scrubs," she said. "Should I change?"
"I don't give a shit what you wear," he muttered.
She'd pulled her hair over one shoulder, and when she ducked her head at his curt reply, his resolve softened. He'd noticed how hard she tried to hide how his attitude affected her during the time they were together.
She often bit down on her bottom lip and a few times, he'd witnessed a slight tremble in her hands when she helped him. He hated himself for being an asshole, but that's who he was and he didn't plan to change anytime soon.
"How is your pain level?" She glanced at his leg.
"Fine."
"I'm glad to hear that. You're doing very well. Better than the doctor expected, I believe. You're going longer between pain pills too." She folded the blanket lying on the floor and placed it on the end of the couch. "Are you ready for breakfast?"
"I've already ate." He swept his hair behind his shoulders. "Devon put some food in the fridge, since you missed the meal. You can go warm up a plate for yourself."
"Oh." She pursed her lips and frowned. "Okay."
"Before you go, can you bring the crutches to me?" He lifted his brows. "Please."
For some reason, he was going to put out the effort to get along. She'd proven that she wasn't going anywhere, and if it meant getting back out in the saddle sooner, he'd play along to make the time go faster.
"Sure." She turned around and headed out of the room. "Let me grab a cup of coffee, and then I'll bring your crutches to you.
"Wait."
She froze, pivoted on her toes, and gazed at him. "Yes?"
"You'll let me have them?"
She nodded. "Yes. I think it's a good idea to start using them, and building up your strength."
"Thanks." He inhaled deeply, feeling like shit for snapping at her. "I know I'm not easy to get along with, but if you promise not to force me to take any of that damn pain medicine, I'll try not to…you know."
She grinned. "Act like a dumbass?"
The transformation that came with her teasing left him smiling inside. He nodded. "Yeah, you could call me that."
She laughed. A musical sound that had him grinning back at her, and wanting her to bestow a smile upon him more often. He wouldn't need anything to dull the pain, with the way his body reacted to her. At this moment, he was only feeling the pleasure of her approval, and he liked it.
"I'll be right back." She hurried out of the room.
He never asked the women in his past to stick around on a day-to-day basis before, and having Joan here kept him on edge. He had no interest involving anyone in his life. It was complicated enough without adding the dynamics of a relationship. He wasn't even sure he knew how to have a healthy one-on-one commitment with someone else. Besides, Joan was his nurse. Period.
When she asked him to take his medicine, made sure he moved his toes to increase blood circulation in his leg, and propped his leg higher than his heart to rid himself of swelling, she was the one who appeared more knowledgeable about his own body. He resented her attitude. She didn't know a damn thing about him. Yet if not for her, who would help him?
He couldn't expect the other guys to drop what they were doing to run to his side every time he had to use the bathroom or bring him the phone. He sighed in frustration. His friends had done their best to be there for him since he was six years old, and he knew he couldn't rely on them forever.
If he spent the rest of his life making up for his past, he'd never be able to pay them back for what they'd done for him. He rubbed his chest, hating the tension that came with remembering.
Joan had him overthinking every emotion he'd buried long ago—ones he swore never to feed or allow to surface. It made him feel vulnerable, edgy, and ready to run.
Escaping was plain stupid when he thought about it. He had the life he'd always wanted. He came and went from the reservation, and found safety on Lakota ranch. He had no space in his life to wonder what it would be like to have all of Joan's softness and light touch directed at him.
No, his place was here. He belonged to the land where time never changed and people couldn't hurt him. He knew what to expect each morning when he woke up and at night, if he tried hard enough, he som
etimes succeeded in forgetting.
Joan came back carrying his temporary legs for the next six weeks in one hand, and a coffee mug in the other. "Let me help you up, and then I'll hand you the crutches. Have you ever used them before?"
"Yeah, more times than I want to remember." He took her hand, but refused to rely on her strength to pull him to his feet. He wasn't that helpless.
She barely came to his chin, but he'd found out in a hurry that she wasn't shy about using her strength. She had ways to pick him up from the couch that had him thinking she had super human strength. She probably learned those tricks in nursing school.
"Take a minute to get your balance. Your cast will protect your leg if you fall or bump it while you walk, but you don't want to hurt any other part of you." She moved out of the way. "You also don't want to go too far. It's always harder to walk back to where you came from."
"I need to go outside." He gripped the pads, hopped, and began the motion of crutching across the floor.
"What are you gonna do outside?" She followed behind him.
"Sit."
She placed her hand on his lower back when he leaned too far to the left. "Where?"
"Porch."
She hustled around him, opened the door, while he maneuvered over the doorjamb. "May I come outside with you?"
He stopped, turned his head, and lifted his brow. "Is this your attempt at making me stay on the porch?"
A dimple he hadn't noticed before popped out on her cheek. "Of course not. I'd like to walk around the yard while you get fresh air. You're not the only one who gets cooped up in the house and enjoys the outdoors."
Not wanting to let her know her answer pleased him, he shrugged. "Do what you want. I don't need you."
The flash of disappointment he recognized on her face had him wanting to take his words back. He continued to the rocker and sat down. Feeling damn lucky that he only had a cast from below his knee to his toes, and not the full leg cast he wore five years ago.
Using the crutch, he pulled a small drink table in front of him and propped his leg up. He leaned back, and willed his body to relax. His muscles trembled worse than a newborn foal on its first time standing. In a few more days, he'd have to spend an hour or two in Brody's weight room, so he didn't lose strength in his upper body.
Joan slipped off her shoes, skipped down the steps, and wandered out in the yard. Trace sat at his spot on the porch. Every now and then, he'd glance away from Joan to look around, and the craving would hit him. Not once had he ever taken his life for granted.
The grass went to the horizon, and the property lines were far enough away it took a day's ride on horseback to go half way. The space allowed him his peace and quiet. The animals challenged him in ways he understood, and knew how to deal with. People were another matter.
Occasionally, he'd head into town to make sure he hadn't lost all social skills. He'd relieve his pent up frustrations with a willing woman, and then come back to the ranch. It was the routine he could handle and accept in his life.
He loved having Brody and Devon around. They were his family, and because they'd always been part of his life, he enjoyed their companionship. They were safe. He glowered at Joan. She stood out of place like a sheep on a cattle ranch.
Joan strolled along the flowerbed, her hands hooked into her back pockets, letting her toes dig into the green grass. His breath hitched in his chest. What was a beautiful woman doing traveling from house to house, taking care of invalids?
He remembered her saying she delivered meals to the elderly and disabled around town, yet she was a registered nurse. She never shared anything personal about her own life, and he found himself curious to know more about her. Where did she come from? Was there a man in her life?
"Trace?" Joan stood still, gazing back at the house. "Who planted all the flowers?"
"That's Devon's doing. He has a real talent for making things grow, but he doesn't like anyone to know," he said.
"I won't tell him I know." She laughed, stopped, and opened her mouth but seemed to change her mind.
He shook his head, amused at how much she liked to talk. "You might as well ask, you will anyways."
"In the house you asked me about my clothes." She shifted her feet. "Brody said I didn't have to stick with my formal wear while I'm staying at the house, but it seemed to bother you. I don't want to upset you, and if you'd like I can—"
"You're fine." He glanced away and waited for her to go on with her walk before going back and keeping an eye on her.
"Okay," she said. "Thank you."
She leaned over, and put her nose into a rose bush. He rubbed his stomach. It felt strange to have a woman around the ranch.
"It's so beautiful here…peaceful." She wandered up to the porch and sat on the steps, sitting sideways to talk with him. "The story of how you built this place from the ground up is fascinating. I'm impressed."
"I didn't do it alone. We couldn't have done this without each other. The old adage of it takes a village is true." Trace clasped his hands together behind his head and scooted down in the chair.
"It must be nice to have your friends with you. You've got a permanent family to help you and each of you have a built in support team." She gazed out over the land. "A lot of people would be envious of the bond you have with the other guys."
A sadness that wasn't there earlier had settled around her, and she slouched on the step. Trace grew more curious. What would one question hurt?'
"You must have the same support system with your family." Since learning more about Joan kept his mind off the pressure in his leg building, he continued to converse with her. He'd never seen her without a smile on her face before, and for some reason her sadness bothered him.
He liked the way her hair swished around her head when she laughed, and in extreme cases covered her mouth when a chortle slipped out. The shadows he recognized on her face now, bothered him.
"No. My sister lives in Bismarck and my dad passed away from a heart attack ten months," she whispered. "My mom died a long time ago, I barely remember her. So, it's just me."
"I'm sorry," he said.
She smiled softly at him and took a deep breath. "It's okay. What doesn't break us makes us stronger, right?"
Trace put his leg down and planned to get up, change the topic, or distract her from how he'd invaded her privacy but by the time he got into position, Brody rode into the yard.
"What a beautiful morning." Brody stopped Red Moon and grinned. "I don't think I've ever seen such a pretty woman sitting on our porch before. Have you, Trace?"
Trace's head jerked up but before he could respond, Joan walked down the steps toward Brody.
"Trace is keeping me company, while I got to check out your beautiful yard. It's gorgeous around here," she said, all her attention shifted to Brody.
Brody lifted his brows at Trace. "Hm. Isn't that nice of him?"
"Yes, it is. I'm a nice guy when I don't have people around me." Trace hobbled to the railing. "What do you want?"
He wanted Brody to know he didn't need any help with Joan. He'd always done things his way and right now, he wanted Brody to ride off the property and let him regain the connection he had with Joan before he'd shown up.
"Nothing. I saw Joan and thought maybe you were asleep." Brody crossed his wrists over the saddle horn and winked. "Guess you're feeling better."
"I was. Now it's time for me to go back in. I've pushed my limit." He turned, managed to get the door open on his own, and hobbled inside.
He had an unexplainable urge to deck Brody. Joan was here to take care of him, not paid to put up with Brody's flirting.
"Joan!" He stopped in the foyer, knowing she'd hear him. "Where are the damn pain pills?"
Chapter Five
The warm, wet washcloth slid between Trace's toes. Joan clamped her lips together, but she couldn't stop the way her body quivered with pent up laughter. Every time she pulled the rag back and forth to clean the end of Trace's expo
sed foot below the cast, he grunted and almost came up off the couch.
She never expected such a tough man to fall apart having his feet touched. Washing his pinky toe, Joan peeked up at Trace. He didn't appear fierce and non-feeling now. With his eyes squeezed tight, the bridge of his nose wrinkled, and his lips puckered as if he had eaten a lemon, the hard mask he always wore slipped off his face. She removed the washcloth and dropped it in the bucket of soapy water.
Trace's shoulders slumped and he opened his eyes. "That was cruel."
She laughed. "No. That's payback."
Patting his toes dry with a towel, she checked to make sure there were no more swelling or tender spots around his foot and the cotton cloth still covered the edges of the fiberglass cast. He was doing remarkably well and never complained outright about any pain.
"Have I been that hard to take care of this week?" He frowned.
"It's understandable. You were in pain and upset about being laid up." She shrugged. "Even I would be grouchy if I wasn't able to move around when I wanted."
He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. "It's hard to stay down. I have work to do and deadlines to meet. Even staying cooped up in the house drives me crazy. I'm not much for sitting around and doing nothing."
"I understand." She stood and picked up the tub of water. "Let me go dump this and throw the rags in the laundry basket, and I'll be right back."
The laundry room also served as the mudroom, and the guys had saddles, boots, and other miscellaneous items stored nearby that they used outside. Joan rinsed out the bucket, set it underneath the sink, and rung out the rags. Trace needed something to do besides stare at four walls all day long.
For someone who made his living outdoors and being active, it was no wonder he was bored and on edge. If she knew more about the kinds of things that he enjoyed doing in his free time, maybe she could entertain him. She switched off the light, and accidently knocked something off one of the hooks lining the wall. Flipping the switch back on, she found a rope with a clip on the end lying on the floor. She hung the piece back on the wall, and paused.
