Butch took off toward the trees as if spooked by his shouting.
He got a brief glimpse of Paisley turning around and galloping his way, but then all he could see was snow. The ground rushed up to catch him with all the softness of a prize fighter’s punch. He grunted at the impact, but he didn’t stay there for long. Butch continued on his path with Josh’s designer boot caught in the stirrup.
Snow scraped underneath him, inside his waistband, up his shirt, over his face. He flopped over the ground, not sure if he was shaking his foot loose from the stirrup or if the stirrup was shaking him.
Something sharper than snow jabbed at him, caught hold, ripped at his clothing. A tree limb? But it was gone before he got a look.
Tree trunks raced his way. Josh curled his body forward to prevent his head from colliding. But something got his shoulder.
How long could this go on?
Another horse charged past. Paisley. She grabbed Butch’s reins, and the ground bounced slower underneath him.
He slid to a stop, his leg still hanging from the saddle. His vision stopped spinning, and he could see Butch’s rear legs only inches from his face. He was lucky he hadn’t been trampled.
Josh stared up at the peaceful sky and gulped air. The horse’s hooves may have stopped pounding, but his heartbeat continued to stampede. He took stock of his body parts to register the pain. A few areas throbbed, but nothing screamed broken bones.
He gritted his teeth and rolled up to his elbows to find Paisley unhooking him from the stirrup. What was worse—hurting himself or humiliating himself?
His foot dropped free.
She knelt beside him, amber eyes scanning him up and down. “What do you need?” she asked.
His job back. His condo back. His ego to heal from that bruising.
All he had left was his charm. It would have to get him by. “I need a Band-Aid. Because I think I just fell for you.”
Chapter Seven
As mangled as Josh’s ribs felt, he was afraid to look at his side. He pressed against the pain in hopes of stopping blood flow as he watched Paisley rip off a wad of paper towels in the kitchen on her way to retrieving a first aid kit.
I know what I’m doing, he’d said. I won’t let you down, he’d said.
Gah, even if he didn’t have to make a trip to the emergency room, she should send him packing.
The stabbing sensation in his torso paused long enough for the throbbing in his shoulder to pierce his consciousness. And then a burning in his knee.
At least the fall hadn’t been worse. Not checking his cinch after riding for a few minutes could have resulted in a more severe accident. Which would have negatively affected Paisley’s ranch insurance.
He gritted his teeth at the idea of being a safety hazard. Maybe he should try to walk it off. If he moved slowly, he could make it down to the bunkhouse. Then he could moan and groan without anyone being aware of what a pansy he’d turned into. “You got that Band-Aid for me?”
Paisley snorted and dragged a stool over for him to sit on. “You need more than a Band-Aid.”
No bones were sticking out of his body. She’d been able to stop Butch before his head hit a tree, so he didn’t have to worry about a concussion. And the bleeding would surely stop eventually. “I know you need to go feed the horses, so I’ll take the first aid kit down to—”
“Sit.” Paisley pointed at the stool.
Could she be any more demanding? He didn’t have the energy to fight. “You’re the boss.” But sitting was easier said than done. Josh arched backwards to catch his weight with his right hand and lower himself with control. The muscles all along the left side of his body screamed in protest.
“Here.” She reached for his throat to unzip his jacket then moved behind him to pull it down his arms.
Something white fluffed from it and floated towards the floor. Feathers. Oh man, the thing was shredded. So much for all the money he’d spent on buying name brand apparel. How would he even work outside now?
“You can borrow Grandpa’s field coat. Grandpa always said there’s no such thing as bad weather; only bad clothes.”
If his jaw didn’t hurt from grinding his teeth together so hard, he might have laughed. He’d thought falling off a horse would be humbling enough, but God apparently had more for him.
“Thanks.” He looked down at the tear in his oxford shirt. Blood colored the spot bright red. He reached for the top button.
Paisley’s hand stilled his. “Just . . . uh . . . lift up the side.”
Josh’s gaze slid her way. Would it bother her if he was shirtless? He’d been joking about falling for her earlier, but now it didn’t seem so funny. “Okay.” He gathered the material at his waist and tugged.
The large scrape didn’t look as bad as it felt. The bleeding had pretty much stopped. Though lifting the shirt to see his side made the burn in his shoulder increase in temperature. He cringed and dropped his arm back down.
“What?”
He didn’t want to admit it hurt to lift his arm. So he just pointed to his shoulder. If she checked it out and didn’t think it was anything to worry about, he’d fight through the pain to hold his arm up without complaint.
Her gaze jerked to meet his as if she thought he might be messing with her. “Let me see.”
But she didn’t have to worry. The scorching fire shooting down his arm pushed all thoughts of her proximity away. He pinched his eyes closed and unfastened the top two buttons.
Her cool hands slid the shirt sideways over his shoulder until it snagged on a large splinter of wood embedded in his skin. The internal tug bit deeper than his flesh.
“That’s a doozy.” She wrinkled her nose in concentration as she worked her fingers down the remaining buttons to pull the shirt open before pressing the paper towels to his side. “Hold this.”
He reached across his torso to clamp it in place. The pressure eased the ache, but light streaks of color oozed through. Was he getting light headed or was that her powdery, fresh scent playing tricks with his mind?
Ridiculous because she’d turned clinical, focusing on the chunk of wood in his shoulder. The larger section came out when she tugged at it with her fingernails, but the smaller splinters required tweezers.
Her breath warmed his skin as she worked, and he had to remind himself that she was probably thinking condescending thoughts about him, considering how he’d gotten into the situation in the first place. “I can’t believe I was such an idiot.”
She didn’t look up. “It’s my fault.”
Ouch. He was so incompetent she didn’t think he should even be held responsible for his own actions. “That doesn’t help, Paisley.”
She shrugged a shoulder then squatted back on her heels to remove the paper towel. The blood had started to clot, and when she wiped the excess away, all that remained was the thin beginnings of a scab. “It might not even scar.”
She didn’t even think he was man enough to get a scar? “It better scar.”
She lifted both eyebrows. “You want it to scar?”
Was it because all his brothers had scars? And stories to go with them? Leaving the rodeo to become a big city boy had kept him safe from getting hurt. Well, externally anyway. Inside he was still bleeding from the sting of rejection. “A scar is proof that I’m stronger than whatever tried to hurt me.”
Her dimples flashed as she reached for an antiseptic spray.
She really shouldn’t smile when she was so close to him. “What?” he asked.
She squirted a cold liquid over his side then on his shoulder. Her lips pressed together smugly before her gaze darted his way. “I’m sorry.” She stood above him and covered her mouth. “But Butch has never hurt anybody before.”
Oh man. She was laughing at him. But he probably did create quite a scene as his saddle slipped sideways. It was the kind of stuff YouTube was made of. At least she’d waited until she knew he wasn’t seriously injured before mocking him. “You’re lucky you’v
e got a cute smile,” he said.
She blinked, and her smile disappeared for a moment before lighting up her face once again. “You’re lucky I didn’t get your fall on video.”
Yeah. Because his brothers would never let him live that down. “I never thought you one for blackmail.”
“Ha.” She leaned against the counter, fingers curling around the edge. “Like you have any money to pay.”
“Too true.” Though her reminder didn’t eat at him the way he would have expected. In Chicago, he’d grown accustomed to buying whatever he wanted whenever he felt like it. Maybe he didn’t need as much here. Life was simpler. Slower. More fulfilling.
More fulfilling? Whoa. That’s not what he meant. He loved his job. He loved the success he normally experienced. Ranch life wasn’t fulfilling. It was like medicine. He only needed it to help him recover. Just because the mountains were beautiful and the horses reminded him of his childhood, and because when the woman in front of him looked him in the eye he forgot everything else . . .
He had to get back to the bunk house before he did something that would make it even harder for him to return to Chicago. Josh leaned forward to stand. His stiff left knee protested, and he dropped back onto the stool.
Looking at Paisley had erased the pain long enough for him to forget he’d been dragged up a hill by a horse. The throbbing in his side intensified enough to keep him from making that mistake again. Maybe if he stayed still for a moment the angry wounds would calm down again.
Paisley stooped over to examine his knee. “Oh, I didn’t even notice this.” She spread the rip in his jeans wider to dab the blood with gauze then squirt it with antiseptic.
Josh grimaced as her touch deepened the stabbing sensation. Punishment for thinking he wanted to be closer to her.
“Your pants are soaked from melted snow. Aren’t you cold?”
Now that she mentioned it. “I guess so.” He’d have to lay them over the fire down at the bunkhouse. Or throw them out along with his jacket. Soft, expensive jeans were a joke on the ranch. He needed something more durable.
She rose to stand. “I’ll get you some of Grandpa’s clothes to change into, then you can warm up by the fire while I broil us some steaks.”
Grandpa’s clothes? They would be durable at least. And steak? His mouth watered. “Sounds good.”
This wasn’t about being with Paisley. It was about nourishing his body and letting it rest. Though he couldn’t think of a better way to do it.
Paisley couldn’t meet Josh’s eyes as she emerged from the hallway a few minutes later. She didn’t want him to guess she was holding back laughter, because then he would never put on the outfit she’d pulled from Grandpa’s old dresser. “I left the clothes in the bathroom for you to change into.”
He hadn’t moved from his spot on the stool. Hopefully he could get up and dress okay.
“Do you need help?” She turned to busy herself with cooking so she could face the fridge and hide her smile.
He grunted.
She glanced over her shoulder to make sure he’d been able to stand. He leaned against the counter, but at least he was on his feet.
She turned toward the fridge again to retrieve the steaks, but she had to tense her shoulders to keep them from shaking in mirth.
“I’m okay.” Josh finally answered. “Are you?”
He read her too well.
“Of course.” She grabbed a knife from the butcher block and sliced the tape off the white paper packaging. “I’ll probably have dinner done before you get out here again. So go.”
His fancy boots clacked unevenly on the hardwood as he limped away.
Paisley spun the dial to turn on the old oven then bit her lip in anticipation. Couldn’t Josh limp faster? She crept closer to the hallway to overhear his first reaction.
The bathroom light clicked on. The door whooshed shut. Something thunked to the floor. Another thunk. Probably his shoes as he undressed.
Wait for it . . .
“Pais-ley.”
Her giggle bubbled out.
“I haven’t worn overalls since preschool.”
How perfect. “That’s all Grandpa had,” she called back. Though Josh wouldn’t believe her if she didn’t stop laughing.
She hadn’t planned to pick out such a hillbilly outfit, but Grandpa only wore overalls through the last decade of life—ever since he had his colon removed and he had to wear an ostomy bag. At least Grandpa was tall, and Josh wouldn’t be stuck in overalls that didn’t reach his ankles.
She ground fresh pepper over the top of the ribeye and slid the pan under the heat element. No matter how upset Josh might be at her, the scent of sizzling meat was sure to improve his mood. Along with a sweet potato and salad. But even if Josh was not amused at all by his new attire, she’d still find great joy in his return.
If anybody had ever told her in high school Joshua Lake would reappear in her life ten years later, broke and wearing overalls, she never would have believed them. Even if they had told her three days ago that the smooth-talking, hair-gelling, Mercedes-driving business man who’d shown up at the Coffee Cottage would volunteer as her ranch hand, she would have taken that bet. But here he was.
The door snapped open, and the padding of his uneven gait drew her around the corner of the kitchen into the hallway for a first glimpse of the new Josh. She couldn’t keep from laughing, though somehow the ensemble made him seem even more lovable.
He held out his arms wide so she could get a better look. His shiny boots hung from one hand, and his designer jeans and business shirt hung over the other arm. He spun on his good leg to model the backside of the overalls and the buffalo checked shirt for her. Then he pivoted around again. “Because falling off a horse wasn’t embarrassing enough for me today?”
Her heart softened. Dressing like Grandpa Johan couldn’t be easy for a guy who was used to looking like a GQ model. Especially on top of losing his job and fiancée. But he seemed to be taking it well.
“You’re adorable.” The words came out before she could consider how they might sound to his ears.
“Oh yeah?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I didn’t realize you went for the Pa Ingalls type.”
“Well now you know.” She didn’t. She went for dashing rogues, which was why she’d made sure to keep so much distance between them. It wasn’t fair that the scruff on his face enhanced his masculinity. She cleared her throat. “Go ahead and sit at the island. I’ll get your laundry going in the wash.”
She was cooking and cleaning for him? This was getting a little too cozy. Though Grandpa would have done the exact same thing were he still around to run the ranch.
She stepped forward and reached for Josh’s clothing.
He pulled it back so that she was now standing in front of him for no reason. “Nah. It’s garbage. I’ll just keep the boots.”
“Okay then.” She’d still take his clothes and toss them for him since she was right there within reach. She scooped the clothing from his arms.
As she tugged, one strap of his overalls slipped toward her.
“Ah . . .” Josh grunted.
His shoulder. The one that had the twig sticking from it. She hadn’t considered how the overalls might rub against a wound. Maybe overalls weren’t that funny after all.
“Oh no.” She flung the clothing on top of her garbage next to the fridge then reached to adjust his strap. The splinters had been on the outside part, so if she brought the strap in . . . She situated the strip of denim by tucking it underneath the collar of Grandpa’s flannel shirt. If that didn’t work, she could always run down to the bunkhouse to get one of his extravagant pairs of jeans. As cute as he was in the overalls, she didn’t want him to have to suffer throughout the awesome meal she’d prepared.
“Do you want me to . . .” She looked up to find his eyes only a few inches away. And they seemed way too satisfied with her being that close.
All of a sudden she could feel his heat and smell his m
usk mixed with the scent of mothballs from Grandpa’s clothing. Her blood flooded through her veins like a tidal wave. She’d been this close to him once before. She knew what came next. He was going to ask to kiss her.
She had to speak first. Because if he asked, she might mean to say no but accidentally say yes. Like she had before. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
His eyes flicked up from her lips. The heat of his gaze warmed her toes. “I’m trying not to think about kissing you.”
Warning bells rang in her head even as her heart danced to the tune. Time to back away. “Try harder.”
She tossed her hair as she turned, digging her fingernails into her palms to hide her nervous energy. She flipped the steaks, mixed the salad, dug through her purse on the counter for her lip gloss. Sweet relief.
Josh had made it back to the stool. He watched her every movement. But she had nowhere else to go.
“Why?” he asked.
Oh man. Her snide comment was supposed to have made him back off. If he still wanted to talk about kissing her, she’d have to treat the question with contempt. “Why don’t I want you to think about kissing me?”
He rested his chin on a fist and narrowed his eyes. Could he see right through her? Because it felt like it. “Why don’t you want me to kiss you?” he simplified.
Hadn’t he learned the first time? Well, if he was going to ask so bluntly, she’d have to be just as direct. She tucked her lip gloss in her pocket and stepped forward to face him across the island, dropping down to her elbows to stare at him in return. “Do you want the top reason or the whole list?”
One side of his lips curved up. “You wrote a whole list of reasons why you shouldn’t kiss me?”
That made it sound like she’d spent a lot of time thinking about kissing. Which she hadn’t. Not for some time now. “I didn’t have to write a list. You came with it. Kind of like a warning label.”
Josh nodded thoughtfully. “What kind of warnings?”
Finding Love In Big Sky, Montana (Resort to Love--Finding Love line Book 2) Page 7
