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So a smart woman wouldn’t be so damn happy to see his socks on her bed.
“You okay?” he asked, putting aside a small notebook computer. “Your head—”
“Hurts like hell,” she muttered. “Along with the rest of my body.”
“You remember what happened?”
She nodded. Blue had thrown her as soon as he heard the rattle from a snake in the underbrush. Or, rather, Blue had leaped, and she’d been so wrapped up in her head, she’d been caught with her pants down.
“I must have been out awhile,” she said, trying to sit up. Lightning strikes of pain exploded through her body and she sucked in a breath.
Jack jumped out of the chair to help, taking her weight and carefully pulling her up until her back was leaning on the pillows propped against her headboard.
But still he fussed, too close.
It was salt in her wounds. She was still so dismissible to him. Her feelings were an experiment. No, not even that. His feelings were the experiment…she was…nothing.
“What are you doing?” she asked, wishing she could be just a little snappier. A little more forceful. But forceful had been concussed right out of her. Now she was just hurting. Head, heart and body.
“Helping,” he said. “Can I get you something to drink?” He reached back over the edge of the bed. “I have water.” He lifted up a glass. “Or tea.” He lifted up a thermos. “Two sugars, loads of milk.”
That was the way she liked her tea.
She blinked at him, surprised he knew.
Oh no, she told herself, it’s tea. And you’ve been drinking it around him for years. Don’t get too excited.
“Tea,” she said, because her throat was dry and her brain felt like wadded-up tissue.
He unscrewed the stainless steel lid and poured the caramel-colored liquid into it. Steam wreathed his face and the smell made her stomach growl.
“You’re hungry,” he said with a smile.
And it was too much, him sitting there like they hadn’t argued. Like she hadn’t told him to leave.
“When are you going?” she asked, and his hand paused as he passed her the cup. She took it from him, careful not to touch him. She didn’t even look at him.
“I can’t leave you now,” he said.
Her fingers flinched and tea spilled over the quilt. She used the wrist of her long-sleeved tee-shirt to clean it up.
“You need to rest,” Jack said. “Really rest. Like in bed.”
“And you’re sticking around to make sure I do it?”
“Someone has to,” he said.
“I don’t need a nurse,” she said. “Or a keeper. Or…” she looked right at him “…a husband. Not anymore.”
His face was dark and she knew she’d hurt him somehow, and part of her was glad. A little reciprocated pain for all she’d felt over the years.
“Well, you need another guy out in the fields, if you’re moving the cattle to the north pasture.”
She bit her tongue, wishing it wasn’t true.
“Sure,” she finally said, sounding ungrateful even to her own ears. “I could use another hand.”
He gave her a long look, demanding she try again. But nicely this time. She stuck out her tongue.
“We’ve called your mother,” he said, laughing a little.
“What?” she cried, jerking upright, and the pain ricocheted from her toes to the ends of her hair.
She groaned and Jack went back to fluffing her pillows.
“She and Lucy will be here in two days.”
“No,” she moaned. “Tell me you’re kidding.”
Jack looked confused, the poor idiot, so unaware of the shit storm he’d just unleashed on his own head. “The ranch could use her,” Jack said. “I really don’t understand what the problem is.”
“The problem is, Jack, my mother, my very Catholic mother, doesn’t understand why our marriage isn’t real. Why I’m not giving her grandchildren as we speak.”
She put a hand to her forehead; her head felt like it was going to pop under the pressure.
“And Lucy.” Mia sighed. She loved her family. Adored them. Missed them terribly since they’d left. But she didn’t need them to come here to take care of her. Not while Jack was here. It was all difficult and confusing enough without adding her mother’s hope and her sister’s cynicism to the mix. “She wants to kill you, Jack. She’s said so herself. In fact, I bet they’re not even coming up here for me. They’re coming up here to get their hands on you.”
Jack rubbed his neck, looking all too handsome and close and concerned. “It’ll be fine,” he said.
She managed to laugh. This could be fun, actually, watching her sister and Mom putting the screws to Jack. “I hope so,” she said, taking a sip of tea. “For your sake.”
The next night, Mia crept out of bed, holding herself very still so that no part of her body screamed out in pain and brought Jack running like Florence Nightingale.
It had only been a day since she’d been tossed off Blue, and she was going out of her mind. There was only so much television a woman could watch. Only so many books she could start and then get bored with.
