Page 23 of The Formation of Us

“I can fix your shoulder for you,” she said, with a confidence that surprised him.

“How do you propose to do that?” His own doctor hadn’t been able to repair the injury or ease the pain, and he strongly doubted Faith could do so.

“Herbal massage.”

“I’m not interested in Iris’s massage.”

“I’ll do it.”

“You?”

Her chin dipped once in a decisive nod. “I’ll make an exception and treat your shoulder, only to prove that I can make it better.”

It would be no hardship having the pretty widow massage his shoulder, but he could, and would, resist his base desire. He’d been sheriff for a long time and had faced life and death situations that taught him how to ignore distractions. If this worked out like he expected, he could get some answers to his questions and prove her healing massage was just a ruse, saving his friends and family from discovering this for themselves. With elections coming up, he couldn’t afford to let anything unsavory take root in this town.

“All right, Mrs. Wilkins, when do we start?”

“Now, if you like—but with one stipulation,” she said. “If I succeed in restoring your shoulder, you must publicly acknowledge that my business is legitimate.”

“If you succeed to my satisfaction, I’ll gladly make a public statement. But I have a condition, too. I pay for my treatment.”

He could see a calculating look creep into her eyes. “Would you consider paying me with lumber?”

He lifted an eyebrow, wondering what she was angling for.

“I need to put up walls in the building we’re living in.”

“I’ll donate the lumber.”

She shook her head. “I can’t accept anything from . . . I can’t accept a donation.”

From him, she’d been about to say. Did she think a donation would leave her in his debt? “My brothers and I donate lumber to several causes.”

“I’m not a cause, Sheriff. I insist on paying for it by fixing your shoulder.”

“Let’s get started, then.”

Duke followed Faith to the back of the greenhouse and sat on a long, wooden table. She retrieved his cuffs from Cora, then sent her daughter outside with Adam and two of her “aunts” to finish planting their vegetable garden behind the cavernous building they called their home.

“You’ll have to remove your shirt, Sheriff.”

His gut clenched, even as he felt an instant stirring of desire. No respectable woman would ask a man to bare his torso in a public place, and he was so taken aback, and so taken with the thought of her hands touching him, that he couldn’t decide whether to chastise her or welcome her invitation.

“I know what I’m doing, Sheriff. I’ve been studying botany and anatomy and forms of healing since I was old enough to read. I’m a widow, not an innocent. I’m capable of tending to your shoulder without compromising my morals or damaging my reputation. But if you’re too uncomfortable with this arrangement—”

“It wasn’t my discomfort I was worried about,” he said, then gritted his teeth and struggled out of his shirt.

Her cheeks flushed as she tied a long length of linen toga-style around his torso, leaving his injured shoulder exposed. She poured a sweet-smelling oil into her cupped palm, rubbed her hands together, then moved behind him. “This is almond oil mixed with arnica.” She smoothed her warm palms up his back and over the crest of his shoulder. “The massage will relax your muscles, and the herb will soothe the ache.”

Relax him? Her touch snapped his body to attention. His stomach muscles quivered and his thighs tensed. His heart thudded so hard it vibrated his rib cage. Damn, he was reacting to her stroking hands like a boy experiencing his first romantic moment with a lady.

Her thumbs traced the sore muscles beneath his shoulder blade, and he willed his body to settle down. She moved her fingers upward along his spine, then pinched lightly across the crest of his shoulder. The tension in his neck melted by degrees as she worked downward to the muscles in his upper arm. He could hear Iris and Aster talking as they worked together in the greenhouse, and Faith’s soft breathing near his ear as she leaned over him. A hint of flowers and mint and almond teased his nose, and he wondered if the nice smell was the oil or Faith. Her touch was innocent and pleasing, but his aroused body leapt at every sweep of her palms over his skin. A man would have to be dead, or completely in love with another woman, not to be aroused by Faith’s stimulating fingers.

“Lie down, Sheriff.”

“Do what?” he asked, astonished at her boldness and at his eagerness to do whatever she desired.

“I’m going to stretch your muscles.” Her soft hands pressed him toward the table. “I can’t do it with you sitting.”