Page 78 of The Guy Who Stole My Ranch

“Hose you off?” I walked to her, ignoring the smell, and followed her around the garage. A slab of concrete lay alongside the wall, and a spigot with a green hose attached protruded about halfway to the back of the house.

Brooke pointed at the hose, which had a control nozzle on the end. “With that.”

I blinked. “You want me to…what?” All I could picture was those television shows that had people going to prison who had to strip and get washed down with a powerful stream of water.

Several things about the image were terribly wrong, and I was grateful when Brooke spoke.

“Actually, go inside and grab me a big towel from the bathroom.” She pointed around the corner to the back door.

I did as she said, jogging up the wood stairs and opening the unlocked door. I’d only been in her house once, when I’d first arrived, and I again got caught up in wondering if all of the country decorations were really her or not. I didn’t have time to ponder it, because I was certain she’d try to do something she shouldn’t if I left her alone for too long, so I quickly made my way through a television room, into the kitchen, and then to the bathroom I’d used to change before.

The towels were in a cupboard above the toilet, and by the weight, I could tell that the red one I’d grabbed was big, as requested. I quickly made my way back outside and around the corner.

Where I skidded to a halt.

Brooke’s boots and socks had been tossed onto the lawn, and she had one side of her overalls unlatched. She was struggling with the other.

This could go one of several ways.

I could stand by and appreciate the tighter than I’d imagined shirt under her overalls, I could ask her if she wanted assistance, or I could simply go help.

In an attempt to make up for my earlier behavior of thinking of myself first, I decided to go with the last option. I put the towel around the front of my neck so the tails of it hung behind me and moved to Brooke.

She was trying to undo the second clasp with one hand. Both it and the strap were covered in excrement, which was causing problems. Her other arm lay pressed against her stomach.

Even though I could muck out a stall without getting anything on my pants or shoes, I’d dealt with enough horses that I’d had my fair share of manure experiences. Touching it with my bare fingers wasn’t my first choice, but there was a hose nearby, which I planned to utilize.

Brooke didn’t see me coming until I was close. Her glare didn’t stop me, and neither did her clipped words. “What are you doing?”

“Let me get that for you.” I didn’t give her the chance to protest as I gently pushed her fingers aside and released the clasp.

Half of her face was covered in brown, but the other half turned red. It could have been a blush but was more likely anger. “Thanks,” she grumbled as she tried to wiggle out of the overalls.

Was I about to see Brooke in nothing but her underwear? I moved to turn away, but she let out a gasp and pulled her arm to her chest again.

We were adults. She needed help. I wouldn’t want to track anything she had on her inside my house, so I figured she probably wanted to strip. I could do this. I could help her and not think of how pretty she was and how much I enjoyed her curves.

“Do you want those off?” I pointed.

Brooke glared at me again, but I could see the pain in her expression.

I stepped to her, leaving a mere foot between us. Her brown eyes were steely. Time to use my business tactics. “I assume you don’t want any of that inside.” I waved up and down at her. “Which means you’re going to have to get your clothes off.” My eyes moved to her wrist. “You’re injured. It will be much easier if you let me help you.” I gave her a smile. “I promise to be a perfect gentleman.”

Her glare didn’t weaken, but she bit her lip.

When she didn’t object, I said, “Hold your arms up.”

She hesitated but finally did as I asked.

The bib of the overalls had flopped down in the front and the back, exposing clean bits of denim. The sides were caked with mud and worse, so I moved to Brooke’s hip and gently took hold of the unspoiled fabric. I ignored the tingle in my fingers from touching her stomach and back through her shirt.

Brooke’s eyes met mine, and I smiled again. “Ready?”

She nodded.

I eased the overalls down.

They always looked baggy on her, so her hips were obstacles I didn’t think I was going to have to deal with.

---