Page 29 of Fatal Deception

Maybe she could walk on it without limping. Maybe she could…

“Why are you being weird?” he demanded. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking. I think that’s about it for the day.”

He looked up at the sky, then back at her. “You’ve worked yourself to the bone until dark every day I’ve been here.”

“I planned a light day so I can go see the baby,” she lied. Then she smiled at him. “You go on ahead. I’ll catch up in a minute. I just have to lock up the stables.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. She was usually a pretty good liar, but something about the man unnerved her. Always made her feel like he was going to see right through it.

“You’ve got dirt all over the side of your pants.”

She looked down at them. “Oh. Well, you know. Ranching. Dirty work.”

“You didn’t have dirt all over your pants yesterday.”

“Every day is different. The joys of ranching.”

He shook his head. “It’s a no-go, Audra. Spill. What happened?”

She blew out a frustrated breath. “I just stumbled on the hole. I’m fine.” She took a step to prove it. She had to prove it. And winced and couldn’t quite put her full weight on it. Cursed herself and the hole and whoever the hell was harassing her in the most obnoxious ways.

“You’re limping.”

“Just twisted my ankle a bit.”

He bit off an oath. Just as she suspected. So irritated. So put out. “Sorrythat someone is out to get me, and I can’t seem to make that go away. You don’t have to—”

He stepped toward her, and she stepped back instinctively, then let out a yelp when she put weight on the twisted ankle.

“Stand still,” he ordered.

“What are you going to do?”

“What any sensible human being would do with someone who twisted their ankle. You could just lean on me and hop and hobble all the way back to the house, but that’s dumb. I can carry you, so I’m going to carry you.”

“You can’t carry me.”

“Is that a commentary on my strength or your stubbornness?”

“Neither. Copeland. It’s—” But she didn’t finish the sentence. He grabbed her, swept her legs out from under her, and then she was just…in his arms. And he began marching across the long expanse of yard.

It wasn’t comfortable. It certainly wasn’tromantic. But it did do something unfair and foreign to her insides. Scrambled them up. Because hewasstrong. She wasn’t exactly a lightweight. Maybe she leaned toward skinny when she wasn’t taking care of herself, but she was tall and sturdy.

He carried her like she was nothing. In her dad’s coat that didn’t smell like Dad anymore. He grumbled about her stubbornness the whole way, but he didn’t put her down until he got her inside, where he dumped her on the couch. Except it wasn’t exactly adumping.He did it in a way that protected the injured ankle.

She couldn’t find her voice, because that had been a whole…situationher heart and breathing hadn’t recovered from.

He’dcarriedher. And now… Now, he was kneeling in front of her, unlacing her boot and tugging it off.

Gently.

Then he pulled off her sock. Hersock. His bare hands were on her ankle, and that was hardly sexual. It was hardlyanything. Her ankle hurt when he pressed his fingers to it, but the restdidn’t hurt. It skittered little sparks of something she would not name while he was doing it all the way up her leg, to tangle at the center of her like something very,verydangerous.

“It’s swollen,” he muttered. “You need to ice it, tape it up and stay off it.”

The order cut through all the things happening inside of her body. She sat up a little straighter. “I can’t stay off it.”