Page 65 of Hearts at War

“I grew up around here,” she admitted, “but I never spent time on the ranch.”

“Hmm.” I moved my arm to help her drop the last of the bloody gauze.

“Are you sure it wasn’t barbed wire?” she asked as she scooted her chair closer. I kept my legs wide apart so she could stand, and now sit, between them. It ensured a position so she could be close enough to tend to my injuries, but I struggled not to get hard.

Something about her caring, something about her not being combative for once got to me. She’d only been here over a month now, and that wasn’t long enough to see all the sides of her. What I saw now was good. I liked this softer, mellowed version of her, not just because I could reap the benefits of her compassion, but also because I wanted to think she was in a more level mental state and not so stressed.

“Eh, it’s not that bad.” I craned my neck, twisting to see the unstitched portion of the small gash.

“Maybe not,” she said, “but it sure is bleeding.”

She got up to fill a bowl with water and put a roll of paper towels under her arm. Both of them were set on the table before she began to compress the site and dab away the blood.

“What made you go into ranch work?” she asked.

Again. A question about me. I sighed. “I’m not sure. I always liked animals and farms. I went to college for one semester for ag, but it wasn’t my thing. When a buddy took me to a rodeo out near Houston, it made me miss being near horses. I rode a fair amount when I was a scout.”

“You were a boy scout?” she asked, surprised.

“For a while. And I always liked being around horses. Then one thing led to another and here I am.”

“You like working outside like that?”

I nodded. “I’m not a fan of getting cut up or anything. But yeah. I like being outdoors. I like working hard and using my hands.”

I wished I could have my hand on her again, like that morning I would never forget.

She went quiet again, dutifully concentrating on cleaning up my cut. To avoid the quiet, I kept talking, explaining how I’d started at the Gedding ranch, went through more training, ended up with a degree in animal husbandry, and my decision to come here and work at Grand River.

She didn’t seem bored, but she didn’t seem eager to give me a reciprocal answer either.

As she finished up, pressing new bandages to my wound, I sighed and figured I’d try. “Why’d you want to go into your line of work?”

For a long moment, she didn’t reply.

“Banking?” I prompted.

“I didn’t, actually.” She wouldn’t look up at me, tidying the things on the table. “I went to college for PR.”

Once she had the first-aid kit organized again, I flexed my arm and tested out how well those big bandages would hold up. “Maybe you should’ve gone into nursing. This looks better than what they did at urgent care.”

She shrugged, still not wanting to make eye contact.

That’s enough. I was trying to be patient and careful with her, but dammit, something had to give.

Being blunt usually worked.

“Heather? Why are you acting like you’re still...scared?”

She jerked her face up to frown at me.

“Are you scared of me?”

Chapter 23

Heather

Scared of him? This gruff man who I suspected could be a softie at heart?