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Then I got up.
Duke’s entire body tensed and it totally pissed me off that his eyes flickered to my leg and the slight limp that I started off on. I corrected this quickly, of course. I was used to working through pain. This was pain.
Agony.
He was a man made of stone when I made it to him. The restraint was making him damn near shake.
It infuriated me, because I could see his resolve. I knew that there would be no seducing this man. Not when he saw me as his wounded damsel. His warped sense of morals stopped him from fucking me, but he had no problem treating me like shit the previous night.
“So you think you can just walk around wrapped in a towel, making those statements and pretending you give a fuck about me?” I asked, voice soft, sultry. I didn’t let him speak. Instead I leaned farther into him, never breaking my gaze. “Maybe that alpha macho-asshole works on the other women, but I’m like no one else you’ve ever known. I’m Anastasia fucking Edwards. No one will make me forget that. Not even you, cowboy.”
On that, I stepped back, grasped the towel around his waist, pulled it free. It took everything I had not to look down, instead to drink in the anger, surprise and want in his eyes.
Then, I walked to the bathroom, making sure to close the door behind me.
He had been gone when I’d gotten out of the shower, mostly because I took my time and was very vocal about what I was doing in there. No way was he going to think he was the only one that could satisfy me. So far, the only person truly capable of satisfying me was myself.
And I definitely had some pent-up frustration that needed to be released. The fact it pissed Duke off—the slam of the door about halfway through told me that—was a nice bonus.
I would’ve actively gone against his wishes of resting, but even I wasn’t strong enough to go against both Harriet and Anna, who all but pushed me back into the bedroom after feeding me breakfast and “shooting the shit” as Harriet called it.
Nothing was mentioned about Duke and the photo yesterday. Then again, the drama of the snake bite took over it.
Duke was helping with some cattle and that was something I would’ve loved to see, but my leg really was throbbing. And I didn’t want to be in his presence. I was pissed at him. I was also afraid, terrified, to be precise. I’d been here for two days and everything was changing. Shifting, like tectonic plates getting ready to destroy everything that had been there before.
So I had been up here, reading—pretending to—and thinking all about Duke and interestingly not at all about my life in LA or the trial or the murder I’d witnessed.
Which brought me to Harriet bursting into the room, demanding I pack my bags.
I obviously hadn’t moved fast enough for her, since she’d thrust open the closet before I had time to close my book and get up.
“Okay, even though you knew you were coming to a ranch in Montana, I really dig this dress,” she said, pulling out a custom McQueen.
Unpacking that had made me smile. For the most part, Andre had done pretty well with casual, durable—yet fabulous—things for the trip here. Well, the footwear wasn’t great but it turned out Anna and I wore the same size and she had some kick-ass cowboy boots.
But he wouldn’t be Andre if he didn’t pack at least one jaw-dropping dress. Matching shoes too.
Which Harriet was already slipping her feet into.
“Damn you and your tiny movie-star feet,” she muttered, flipping them off and stomping over to my suitcase. She didn’t seem bothered at the invasion of privacy, and weirdly, neither was I.
I struggled up. My leg was hot and itching but it didn’t seem any more swollen, which I was pretty sure meant I was going to survive and keep my leg. “Are you kicking me out already?” I asked, joking.
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. You’re the most fun I’ve had in…at least a month.” She stopped packing to look at me. “And that is a total compliment, since I usually make it a point to have a roaring good time every day. The well has been dry. Then boom! You. And Duke. And the interesting dynamic that I’m not about to pry into but can’t wait to figure out.” She paused to continue packing.
I waited for an explanation. She gave one. “Are you going to help me or not?”
I did what any sane person would do. I helped her pack.
“What is this?” I asked the second we both got out of the car.
Harriet hadn’t asked about the state of my health or fussed over me, for which I loved her even more. She was obviously from an era and generation of women who didn’t expect females to be weak and ailing. They were strong and took every hit and made themselves stronger.
