Page 85 of The Guy Who Stole My Ranch

“I’m worried that you hit your head. You shouldn’t be alone.”

“I didn’t hit my head,” she grumbled as she scratched her neck.

“Lay down.” I pointed.

“I need a pillow,” she pouted.

Now I knew she was teasing me, just a little, so I grabbed a small pillow and sat. I put the pillow on my lap and patted it. “Here you go.”

“Are you serious?”

“Why not?” I snagged a blanket from the back of the couch and motioned again. “If you lay on your side, you can keep your arm above your heart, which will make it hurt less.”

“Does my head need to be on your lap for that?”

“I can move.” I started to stand, but her good hand reached out and touched me on the arm. “No, it’s okay.”

Her brown eyes met mine, and for a minute, I saw vulnerability there. Something was still bothering her. It could be the snake, the fall from the horse, or she could be in shock. I gently put my fingers around her far shoulder and tugged her down. She didn’t resist, and a moment later, her head lay on the pillow in my lap.

My fingers twitched, and I resisted the urge to run them through her hair. Instead, I tossed the blanket over her and started tucking it in. She was still shivering. “Are you cold?”

Brooke shook her head. “I think I’m experiencing adrenaline withdrawal.”

I rubbed her shoulder and arm down to where the bandage started. The ice had made her forearm cool, so I pulled her sleeve up and put my hand there to warm it.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said.

“Do what?” I rubbed my thumb on her skin.

“Take care of me.”

That felt like a loaded statement. I knew she could take care of herself, and that she, in fact, preferred to do just that. However, I couldn’t imagine walking out of this house right now. Not with her possibly in shock. Not when she needed someone. Not when that someone could be me.

Would she accept that? Could she accept me? I took a breath before I spoke in a low voice. “What if I want to take care of you?”

“You’re crazy,” she said, but the usual bite of her words was missing.

“Maybe.” I gave in to the urge to stroke her hair. It was softer than I’d been expecting. My fingers moved it away from her eyes and looped it behind her ear.

Brooke froze. She might have stopped breathing for a few seconds.

I kept rubbing her shaking arm and slowly running my fingers through her hair.

Getting physical with women wasn’t something I did lightly. I could count the number of women that I’d held hands with on six fingers and those I’d kissed on two. It had been quite a while since I’d wanted to be this close to a woman, and even longer since I’d longed to brush my lips to hers.

Did Brooke feel the same? I couldn’t tell. I wasn’t even sure if she wanted me as close as I was now. This seemingly innocent touching had me second guessing everything. Was I pushing her? Did I need to stop? Was I missing some sign of disapproval from her? Would she tell me if she wanted me to go away? Could I be a good enough man for her?

“I’ve been so mean to you,” she said.

In her defense, I had asked her to show me the ropes. “Have you?”

Brooke turned her head to look up at me. “You know I have.”

I chuckled, but not before almost losing myself in her gaze. “Maybe a little.”

She didn’t break eye contact. “I’m sorry.”

I pushed another lock of hair away from her eyes. “I forgive you.”

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