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yself.”
“Sweet Jesus, lady, I’m not going to steal it. Hand the damned thing over.”
“Is it possible for you to complete a sentence without using an obscenity?”
“You think those are obscenities? You’ve got a lot to learn. Now, give me the suitcase.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
He cursed again, a string of words that she’d heard in some of the kitchens she’d worked back when she was just starting out. Then he closed his hand around the handle of the suitcase.
Around her hand.
His was big. It all but swallowed hers. And it was hard. Lissa had strong, hard hands for a woman. Years of chopping and slicing and handling oversized skillets had that effect on a woman’s hands, but his grip was far more powerful than hers.
Still, she fought him for control of the suitcase.
“Goddammit,” he said and as he did the crutch slipped and he teetered on the snow-covered ground.
Lissa reacted automatically, let go of the handle, reached out to steady him. He jerked back.
“Did I ask for your damned help?”
“Trust me,” she said coldly. “I wasn’t trying to help, I was trying to shove that crutch out from under your arm so you’d fall on your ass in the snow!”
There was a second of stunned silence. Then he laughed. Or, at least, he made that sound again, the one that resembled a laugh.
It made her even more angry. “You think this is funny?”
He stared at her while the seconds ticked away. Then he grabbed her suitcase and headed for the truck.
Now what?
Did she go with him to who knew where, or did she…
What?
There was no place else to go. Besides, once he dropped her off at the ranch house, the office, the main building that was surely not too far way, she’d never have to set eyes on him again.
Lissa gritted her teeth and marched to the truck, reached it in time to see the cowboy dump her case in the back, limp to the driver’s door and toss his crutch inside the cab.
He climbed in. It wasn’t easy; his leg was stiff as a board and he had to grab it with his hands to get his foot positioned under the dashboard.
“You can drive like that?” she said, before she could censor the words.
He looked at her.
She couldn’t see his eyes, but she felt the cold rage in the look he gave her.
“I can drive just fine,” he said tightly. “Now, are you getting in or am I going to leave you here?”
Head up, back straight, she went to the passenger door. The door wouldn’t open. She pulled at the handle, jiggled it, but nothing happened until Nick Bannister leaned across and shoved the door open.
She climbed inside the cab.
