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He was being overprotective again. “I don’t see why I can’t—”
“Humor me,” he said, sweeping up her hand and tugging her inside with him.
The small shed was in better shape than the stable had been. Juan Carlos remarked on how it was a newer building, perhaps added on later as the farm prospered. The open door allowed a sliver of light inside the windowless and otherwise dark space. Juan Carlos released her hand and the tingles streaming down her arm finally eased.
He got down on his knees and scoured the floorboards, looking for a trap door while she tapped at the walls. She tugged at a splintered hoe leaning against the far wall, moving it out of her way. A deafening hiss broke the silence. She looked down and saw a snake coiling around her boot. Panicking, she gasped quietly.
Juan Carlos jumped up. “Don’t move!”
She froze. Oh, God, no. “What should I do? What should I do?” The thing was moving up her leg.
“Hold still, sweetheart. Trust me.”
Juan Carlos reached into his boot and a glint of silver caught her eye. A knife?
There was a flash of movement as he lunged forward, and she squeezed her eyes shut. He ripped the thing off her in seconds flat. When she opened her eyes, she saw that he’d slashed the snake’s neck all the way through. Juan Carlos tossed the dead reptile, head and all, across the shed. It landed with a smack and her stomach recoiled.
She shook uncontrollably and Juan Carlos took her into his arms. “You’re okay, Portia. You’re okay, sweetheart.”
Tears spilled from her eyes and she nodded.
“Let’s get outside,” he said softly.
“I don’t know if I can move.”
“You can. I’ll help you.”
She nodded. “Okay.” She clung to him as he guided her into the daylight. Fresh air filled her lungs and helped with her shaking.
“I’m sorry,” he said, over and over, kissing her forehead.
She held his neck tight. She’d never been so frightened in her life. It all happened so fast, but the thought of that thing crawling up her body would surely give her nightmares for days to come.
“No, she’ll be fine. I’ve got this,” he was saying to someone, shaking his head. Then he turned his attention back to her. “Sweetheart, we’ll go back to the house now.”
“Who were you talking to?” She glanced past his shoulders and caught Eduardo gazing at her for a second before he lowered his eyes.
“We can walk, unless you want Eduardo to drive us back to the house?”
“No.” She clung to Juan Carlos tighter, still shocked. She wasn’t ready to let go. “No, we have more to do.”
He ran his hand over her ponytail, like a father would a child. “But not today, Portia.” His voice was gentle. “Not if you’re not up to it.”
She glanced to where Eduardo had been standing. He’d disappeared.
“Just hold me a little longer, please.”
“Of course.” One hand ran comforting circles on her back.
“I...I guess you have your answer.” She spoke into his shirt, still too freaked out to back away.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re my knight in shining armor today.”
“Just today?” There was amusement in his voice and Portia couldn’t deny how safe she felt being in his protective arms.
“Hmm.” To say more would be too revealing. She was vulnerable right now and had let her guard down with him. She didn’t want to let go of him. She needed his strength. He bolstered her courage.
“I guess, I’ll settle for that,” he said.
She tipped her chin up and gazed into his eyes. It would be so easy to kiss him now, to thank him for saving her from that creature.
“Portia,” he whispered. His gaze tumbled down to her lips and the longing in his voice tortured her.
Debating with herself, she closed her eyes.
She heard him sigh deeply as one hand gripped her shoulders. He gave a little shove and she stumbled back and then blinked. He’d set her away deliberately. She focused on the blade he still held in his other hand and the image of that snake’s split body flashed again in her mind.
A tick worked at his jaw, beating an erratic rhythm. “You test my honor, Portia. I made you a promise.”
“I...know.”
He put his head down, not meeting her eyes, and then bent to wipe the blade clean on the grass. One, two, three slashes were all that he needed. Then he stood and sheathed the knife, placing it in his waistband. “Come,” he said, reaching for her gloved hand. “We should go.”
