Page 15 of Downpour

She ignored my outstretched hand and hit me with a bone-chilling stare. “We aren’t hiring yet.”

“O-oh…” I stammered before I finally got the words out. “No, I was sent here from Caring Hands Home Help.”

“Then you can leave.” The voice came from behind the truck door.

I watched curiously as the cowboy shut the door.

Oh my stars.

The guy in the wheelchair was hot. Like panty-dropping hot. Like, melt my clothes off with one glance h-o-t.

I looked down to make sure my tank top hadn’t spontaneously combusted.

Tattoos covered every inch of his arms, and I caught a glimpse of ink peeking out from the collar of his shirt as the art extended up his neck. His jaw was sharp like an arrowhead and covered in dark scruff. He had cheekbones that models would kill for. Brown eyes pierced through me. His hair was disheveled in a way that screamed, “Hello, sir, she calls me daddy, too.” His nose was adorably crooked as if it had been broken and reset. It gave him an edge that made my heart flutter.

Wait.Hewas the client?

Oh, no, no, no.I assisted elderly people. Really unattractive, one-foot-in-the-grave elderly people. I picked up their prescriptions, cooked their meals, and provided companionship so their loved ones could have a break. Most of them thought I was their granddaughter. I usually played along. It was easier than correcting them.

I didn’t work for hot men who made my heart skip. I couldn’t do this job with a cardiac condition. Heart skipping had to be a dealbreaker, right?

“Be nice,” the cowboy scolded. “Both of you.”

The man in the wheelchair and the woman growled at the same time.

“Well, Brooke from Caring Hands,” the woman said. “You were supposed to be here an hour and a half ago. Ray almost missed his PT appointment because you were late. Is this going to be a regular pattern of behavior for you?”

“I got lost, and then I had to stop for gas.” I looked down at the plant in my hand. “And there was this lady at the gas station selling these plants on a table outside. They all seemed like theywere dying because of the heat, so I bought one to save it. It’s a rescue plant—you know, like a rescue puppy, but a?—”

She lifted her hand. “That’s quite enough.”

The guy in the wheelchair seemed slightly amused, but the threat in his eyes quickly returned.

The cowboy sighed. “For god’s sake. Use your manners, you feral heathens. My children and the animals behave better than you two.”

When he looked at the woman, there was a warmth in his eyes. There was a softer side to their relationship.

“Nice to meet you, Brooke,” the cowboy said. “I’m Christian Griffith. I run the ranch. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Griffith,” I said. Some people only said to reach out as a polite gesture, but I believed him when he said it.

I shifted my weight uneasily in my flip-flops.Should I ask to go inside?The sun was scorching my shoulders.

Christian nudged the man in the wheelchair.

He grumbled something at Christian before huffing at me. “I’m Ray.”

I gasped. “Oh my god! Your name is Ray? Like a ray of sunshine? I love it!”

I held up the plant for him to see. “I brought this for you! I can help you name her if you want. All plants need names, you know? I’m still trying to figure out her personality, but ‘Betty’ seems like a good fit. The lady at the gas station said it’ll bloom when you meet the love of your life. Isn’t that fun?”

Ray’s gaze dropped to my knee. “You’re bleeding.” His stern timber made my head spin and my heart flutter.

Was it normal to feel like you were going to pass out when talking to a man?

“Oh, that?” I laughed neurotically. “I tripped.” I tried to wave it off casually, but accidentally dropped the plant. The terracottapot shattered on the asphalt. The already wilting leaves sizzled on the blacktop.

The woman cackled. “This’ll be fun to watch. I sincerely hope you last longer than the last one. We could use some entertainment around here.”

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