She offered a brave smile. “Nothing a trip to the chiropractor won’t fix.”
The doctor muttered under his breath, shook his head, and then handed her a dressing gown. “I’ll be the judge of that. Put this on. I’ll be back in a few minutes to examine you.”
He doctor left the room. Dalton didn’t. Instead, he settled his six-foot-something frame into a nearby chair where he leaned forward, arms resting atop his thighs, fingers twined.
She looked at him in disbelief. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you see anyone else in here?”
He grinned. “I’m waiting to see what the doc says about your ankle.”
“In case you missed this part, I’m supposed to take off my clothes and put this on,” she said, waving the thin cotton gown at him.
“Sorry.” He shot to his feet and started toward her. “You need help?”
She let out a groan. “No, I don’t need any help. I’m perfectly capable of undressing myself.” She pointed to the door. “What I need is you out!”
“Okay. But if you need me holler.” He crossed the room, hesitating in the doorway just long enough to say, “And no standing on that ankle.” Then, he was gone.
She dropped back onto the sheet and blew out a breath. Dalton had no idea how much she wanted to take him up on his offer to help her undress. The man was a walking, talking temptation.
She shot upright. What was she thinking? He was not going to undress her. Not now. Not ever. It was okay to fantasize about men like him, but reality was a whole other story. His type didn’t stick around and she wasn’t into one-night stands.
She hurried to change into the gown Doc McGraw had given her and then she sat at the edge of the table to wait. But having her legs dangle that way made her injured ankle throb more, so she scooted back until her bare feet rested on the end of the examining table.
Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long. There was a light tap on the door and then it swung open as the doctor came back into the room. Trailing right behind him was Dalton.
“I’ll be with you in a sec,” the doctor said as he made his way across the room and busied himself with washing his hands at the sink by the window.
“What are you doing in here?” she whispered to Dalton who flashed her one of those sexy, make-your-knees-go-weak, kind of smiles.
“Making sure you’re okay, seeing as how it’s my fault you’re hurt.”
His concern was really sweet, something she wasn’t used to. Okay, so he could stay while the doctor examined her. It wasn’t as if a man like Dalton had never seen a woman’s bare ankle before.
“Uh, Caitlin…” he muttered, that sexy grin of his widening.
Drawn from her thoughts, she looked up. “What?”
“I think you were supposed to put that gown on with the opening in the back.”
“W…what?” She looked down and gasped. She grabbed at the gaping front of her gown, clutching it to her bare breasts. “Out! Get out!”
“Okay, okay,” he said with a chuckle as he backed toward the door. “I’ll be out in the waiting room if you need me.”
Fifteen minutes later, she hobbled out of the examining room on a pair of crutches, her ankle wrapped.
Dalton shot out of the waiting room chair and raced over to her. “Why didn’t you send doc out after me? I would’ve carried you.”
She stopped, looked at him for a moment, and then planted the rubber stopper of a crutch firmly on top of his boot, eliciting a pained yelp from Dalton. Then she turned and made a beeline for the door.
Damn, that hurt. As he limped after Caitlin’s retreating form, Dalton made a mental note to wear hard-toe boots around females with crutches.
“Hey, if this is about the gown, I really didn’t see anything.”
If looks could kill, the one Caitlin shot him over her shoulder as she headed for the front door would have done the job.
“All right,” he admitted, “so I peeked. What red-blooded male wouldn’t have?”
“You mean pervert?” she corrected as she hobbled out the door.
He couldn’t help but grin. She was damn sexy when her feathers were ruffled. He caught the reprimanding stares of those watching the scene from the waiting room and shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a man.”
“Pervert!” Caitlin repeated, her crutches thumping across the porch in her haste to get away from him.
“Caitlin,” he called out, lengthening his stride as he chased her down the freshly shoveled and thankfully salted sidewalk. He’d never seen anyone move so fast on crutches and he’d had plenty of friends end up on them after getting injured while riding the circuit.
“Go away!” She picked up her pace.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“You live in town?”
The crutches thumped along on the freshly salted sidewalk. “Above the diner.”
Where she worked. That was convenient. He caught up to her in a few long strides. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
She stopped and turned to him, her breathing labored from the exertion of walking on crutches. “You have a lotta nerve expecting me to kiss you goodbye after…”
“After what?”
The color in her cheeks deepened. “After you saw my breasts.”
Whatever you do, don’t grin. Talk about testing a man’s willpower. “I was referring to your car.”
She looked at him blankly for a moment and then glanced past him in the direction they had just come from. “Oh.”
“But if you’d rather kiss me goodbye instead…”
She raised her chin, green eyes flashing in irritation. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
He chuckled. “I was just kidding. Come on, let’s get you home.” Not giving her a chance to refuse his help, he took the crutches from her grasp, leaving her hobbling on one foot.
“What are you doing?”
“Putting these in your car. Wait here.”
At this point, people had stopped along the street to watch. No doubt it was the most excitement Lone Tree had seen in a long time. Not that he’d been around to know that for sure, but things hadn’t seemed to change much in the time he’d been away. This was definitely excitement.
“Hey, I need those!” She started after him.
He turned, pinning her with his gaze. “Take another step and you’re going over my shoulder.”
She stopped and stood scowling at him, hands on those sexy hips of hers. “You’re nothing but a big bully, Dalton Barnes!
She was spitting mad, but at least she’d complied with his order to stay where she was. He tossed the crutches onto the backseat of the clown mobile and closed the door.
“I’ll come back for those once I get you safely settled,” he said, closing the distance between them.
“Come back for?” She took a stumbling step backwards. “Dalton, what do you think you’re doing?”
Grinning, he bent and draped her over his shoulder. “Taking your pretty little ass home.”
*
Her pretty little ass? It was hard to be angry at him for slinging her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes when he was being so darn flattering. And she had to admit she kind of liked doing things Dalton’s way. The man was a western version of Tarzan, only instead of a loincloth, he wore jeans.
Tight jeans. Which she couldn’t help noticing, seeing as how her face was hanging directly over his denim-covered backside.
Reality stepped back in when they entered the diner where a roomful of customers looked on.
“Dalton,” she hissed, pounding on his muscular back, “the stairs to my apartment are behind the diner.”
“I know that,” he replied. “I’m taking a shortcut.”
Through the restaurant. She wanted to groan. The clinking of silverware against plates ceased and conversation around them stopped.
“Afternoon,” Dalton said as he mov
ed through the eating area and into the back room where the stairs to the upstairs rooms was located.
“Shoot me now,” she muttered, closing her eyes.
“Can’t,” he replied. “Left my gun back at the ranch.”
“Dalton?” a familiar female voice exclaimed.
“Ethel,” he greeted with a polite nod.
Caitlin grabbed onto his belt, still clutching her purse, and pushed up until she could see her employer and good friend scurrying toward them.
“Caitlin?” the older woman gasped. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“You mean other than having every ounce of blood in my body surging to my head?”
“She’s fine,” Dalton assured her. “Just stubborn. Caitlin sprained her ankle pretty bad and is supposed to stay off it as much as possible for the next several days.”
“I could have made it up to my apartment on my own,” she argued.
“See what I mean?” he said to Ethel. “Stubborn.”
Ethel bent, angling her head to see Caitlin better. “Dalton’s right, honey. You shouldn’t be taking on stairs with an injured ankle. You’re lucky to have a big, strong man offering to take you up to your apartment.”
“You mean big, strong ape,” she snipped.
Dalton snorted.
“Take as many days off as you need,” Ethel continued in a motherly tone. “I can handle things around here until you’re feeling better.”
Guilt plagued her. Ethel was the closest thing she had to family. Now, all because of her foolish attempt to get Brandon Barnes to listen to reason, she had not only ruined any chance of that happening, she had just placed additional burden onto her dear friend.
“I’ll be good to go by tomorrow,” she assured her.
“Only in your dreams,” Dalton cut in. “You can’t stay off that ankle if you’re waiting tables.”
Ethel nodded. “He’s right, you know.” She straightened and took a step back. “Now get her up to her place and into bed. I’ll look in on her before I go home tonight.”
If she had any energy left, she’d roll her eyes. The last thing Dalton needed was someone telling him how right he was and feeding that overblown male ego of his.
“Now there’s a sensible woman,” he said with a chuckle as he continued on through the kitchen and out the diner’s back door.
“Blinded by all that male charm,” she muttered as he started up the steps. When they reached the top, he eased her down and held out his hand. “Key?”
“It’s not locked.”
“You don’t lock your door?”
She shook her head. “Never felt the need. Besides, crime is virtually nonexistent here in Lone Tree.”
His mouth quirked into a grin. “You mean other than a kidnapping here or there?”
“If my ankle wasn’t injured, I’d kick you in the shin.”
He scooped her up with a chuckle and hauled her inside. “Which way to the bedroom?”
She considered refusing him the information, but it wouldn’t be too hard in an apartment as small as hers to find it anyway. She pointed to the closed door on the other side of the living room.
He carried her into her bedroom and eased her gently onto the bed, as if he hadn’t just hauled her through town like some Neanderthal.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked as he helped her out of her coat.
“A bucket of Tylenol,” she replied with a grimace as she stacked the bed pillows up behind her.
“Hurts pretty bad, huh?”
She nodded. “Clear up my leg.”
“You twisted everything pretty good when you fell.” He bent to remove her boot, setting it on the floor just under the bed and then turned his attention to the other foot and her wrapped ankle. His fingers slid beneath the leg of her jeans to caress her calve. “Just lie back and relax.”
“W…what are you doing?”
“Relaxing the muscle. It might help ease some of the pain in your ankle.”
It was working. Funny how the pain seemed to ease up whenever he was touching her. Maybe the FDA should consider bottling Dalton’s hands.
“Better?” he asked, looking up at her.
He had no idea. “Yes.”
“Good.” He pulled his hand away much to her disappointment. “Now where do you keep your Tylenol? I’ll go get you some.”
The leg rub works just as well, she was tempted to tell him, but somehow managed to keep that suggestion to herself. “It’s in the medicine cabinet in the hall bathroom.”
He left the room, returning a few minutes later with a glass of water and two capsules. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” She popped them into her mouth and then took several long swallows of the cold water.
“I’ll go grab your crutches from the car,” he said, taking the half-empty glass from her hand and placing it on the nightstand beside the bed. “You sure you don’t wanna fill that prescription the doc wrote you? I could pick it up while I’m in town.”
“I’ll just use what I have here.” She was already suffering from a Dalton Barnes-induced brain freeze. She didn’t need a prescription pain killer to zap what little sense she had remaining.
He nodded. “Suit yourself. I won’t be long.”
The second he’d gone, Caitlin sank back into the pillows with a groan. She had to make Dalton leave before she did something else to make of fool of herself, like invite him into her bed.
She shifted on the bed, trying to get comfortable. Nothing seemed to help. Grabbing the remote for the television, she flicked it on and began searching through the channels for something to watch.
Dalton returned a short while later, carrying the crutches in one hand and a bag of chocolate kisses in the other. “Thought you might like some of these,” he said, dropping the package onto the bed beside her.
She looked up at him. “Kisses?”
“No meaning behind it, I swear,” he said, holding up his hands. “I just know females like chocolate. Thought it might make you feel better.”
She opened the bag and unwrapped one of the chocolate morsels, popping it into her mouth. “Mmm… Feeling better already.” She shifted to set the package of chocolate on the nightstand by her water and winced.
“You might wanna have another one of those,” he teased, but his expression was laced with concern. His gaze slid down the length of her to the foot of the bed where her injured ankle rested. “We’d best get that leg elevated.” Reaching for one of the spare bed pillows beside her, Dalton lifted her injured foot and slid it carefully beneath. “How’s that?”
“Better.” She looked up at him. “Dalton…”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m a little tired.” What she really wanted to say was I’m unbelievably attracted to you. Please, join me in bed. Thankfully, she managed to keep that request to herself.
He nodded. “I’m sure you are. We didn’t get much sleep at the cabin. But I want your promise to stay off that ankle before I leave you here to fend for yourself.”
“I can take care of myself.”
He arched a challenging brow.
“Well, I can,” she repeated stubbornly.
He bent until his lips hovered a few scant inches above hers.
She closed her eyes, heart racing. Dalton Barnes was going to kiss her.
Instead of the kiss she’d expected, warm breath caressed her neck. “I mean it, Caitlin,” he whispered against her ear. “Be a good girl and stay off that ankle. Or I’m gonna appoint myself your babysitter.”
Her eyes snapped open. How dare he think he-
“Try me,” he warned, cutting off her mental protest. Then he walked out.
The apartment door creaked open and then clicked shut. Dalton was gone. She sank back into the welcoming softness of her pillows with a long sigh. A girl could get used to being treated so good by a man. Especially by a man like Dalton Barnes.
Wait a minute. What was she thinking? Dalton was way o
ut of her league. And she was realistic enough to know that men like him were not the stick-around type. She had no intention of putting herself in a position where she could be walked out on again. Once was enough.
*
If she had to spend one more day in this apartment she was going to go crazy! Caitlin dropped down onto the sofa, having managed to hobble out to the living room on her crutches. Despite turning in shortly after eight, she had given up on trying to sleep. Maybe it was the chicken with mash potatoes and gravy dinner Ethel had brought up and forced her to eat every bite of that was keeping her awake. But, chances were, it had more to do with the thoughts of Dalton Barnes that were churning through her mind.
She released a pent-up groan. The man had her so flustered she couldn’t even think straight. It was no wonder she’d put the gown on backwards at the doctor’s office the day before. Oh, and the look on Dalton’s face when he’d brought it to her attention. The memory of it had her cheeks warming. Or maybe she was simply fevered.
She placed a hand to her forehead. Cool. Which was probably a good thing. If she developed a fever, Dalton would probably insist on taking care of her. Again. His reaction when she’d twisted her ankle still surprised her. He’d been so worried. So attentive. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had shown her that much concern. And he wasn’t just anyone. He was Dalton Barnes, hot, hunky, ex-rodeo star.
Dalton was also a man who, by his own admittance, let no grass grow under his boots. A man she definitely needed to push from her thoughts. Otherwise, she’d never be able to think clearly enough to come up with another plan to get Brandon Barnes to change his mind.
Despite her resolve, her thoughts went right back to Dalton. The way he’d looked at her when he carried her into the bedroom and lowered her onto the bed. The way he’d leaned into her before he took his leave. Thank goodness she hadn’t given in to the urge that had come over her to pull him down onto the bed with her.
“Count to ten,” she told herself. A therapeutic way to redirect her thoughts to something other than Dalton.
“One, two, three, four, five, sex…ooh!” This was bad. She was a therapist in desperate need of therapy. Redirecting her thoughts, she tried counting the tiles on the ceiling. When that didn’t work, she tried tracing the floral pattern on the sofa with her finger. Nothing she tried eased her restlessness.
KIDNAPPED COWBOY Page 8
