Page 63 of The Cowboy Takes A Bride

“Yeah, you wanna give it a try?” He reached for her, but she slapped his hand away then stood up in anger.

“You're lying there with stitches holding you together because a bear clawed you.A BEAR!And you're propositioning me? That's the first thing to come to your mind? Sex?” She didn't bother to see his reaction instead she stormed out of the room.The stupid man didn't deserve to hear what she had to say. She slammed the door to the guest room with as much force as she could muster.

26

Jace felt like a million bucks if that million bucks had been crapped all over and then lit on fire, only to be stomped out. Yet, he’d be damned if he was going to spend another full day in bed, much as his body would like. Seven days was his limit. He moved cautiously, stretching in slow motion so not to pull anything or pop stitches. His entire right side still felt like he’d rammed it repeatedly against a steel wall. Forget about taking a deep breath, the bandage around his ribs wasn’t the only restriction. His stitches felt as if stretched to the breaking point even when he exhaled.

Getting out of bed was the hardest. Using his stomach muscles to come to sit, from any position, ached like a son of a bitch. Today, he considered waking Meredith, but she'd waited on him hand and foot for the last week and was exhausted. He looked to his side; Meredith was deep in sleep on the edge of the bed, one arm over her eyes, her breathing slow and steady.

Biting back a groan, he rolled to his non-injured side and pushed up slowly since that was the speed he was resigned to—sloth.

When he checked her again, she hadn’t moved. The large blackish-purple bruise from the shotgun was beginning to fade, and he would be glad when it was gone. Every time he saw it, he was both angry and scared. That day could have gone so many different ways with horrifying outcomes. Because of Meredith, they were both alive.

She’d kicked off the covers. One quick skim down her long legs, her silky boxer shorts riding up her thigh, and he contemplated three different ways he could show her his appreciation. He’d easily come up with more except he was fighting a splitting headache, and last time he'd brought up sex, she'd slept in the guest room. It had taken lots of pleading and confessing he needed help to get her back in his bed.

Aspirin first, love the wife into oblivion second. She’d probably fight him some, concerned it might cause him discomfort, but he'd bring her around. He had to. He needed to be close to her, to feel her in ways that were deeper than holding her hand or kissing her lips. He swung his legs out of bed, then slowly eased to a stand.

Christ, he ached from head to toe. Twenty-six stitches had been required where the bear’s claw had sliced into his shoulder and arm, but they’d been child’s play since he’d passed out on the third stitch they’d put into his side.

“Where are you going?” she mumbled.

“Headache, and I'm hungry.” Jace pulled on jeans, taking pleasure in knowing moving while upright was getting easier, fatiguing still, but easier a little bit every day.

“I’ll get stuff for you. You should rest.” She rolled from bed and stretched, her T-shirt rising slightly.

“You want me to stay in bed, then you'll have to get back in there with me and make it worth my while.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Is there nothing else you think about other than sex?”

“The ranch.” He loved to get her ire up.

She stuck one hand on her hip. “I'll have you know that your ranch is running perfectly well with me stepping in. In fact, Tuck and I have to check some fences today so I need to get moving.”

“Great, but its time I get back to it. Can't stay in bed forever.”

She rolled her eyes. “But you can stay in bed a bit longer to heal.”

“If I stay up in this room another day, I might burn the house down just so I can get out of here.” He was getting real squirrely and feeling caged in.

“Okay, but take it slow. Rest. Please.” She waited for him to promise he would pace himself before disappearing into the bathroom. “Do you need me to help you downstairs?” she called through the door.

Jace tugged on a button down shirt. “I think I can manage.” And even if he couldn't, he'd never tell her that.

Two aspirin and a full breakfast cooked by his sister's skilled hands, and Jace felt like he'd joined the living. Desperate to be of some use, he even did the dishes so that Willow could get to other chores. After he was done, he decided to sit outside and watch Tuck and Meredith with the horses and catch his breath. He snagged his Stetson from the closet, thankful Tuck had brought it home after he'd retrieved the bear and taken it into town to the vet for an autopsy.

Outside, he sucked in the biggest breath of air he could stand––which was pitifully small––and felt better instantly. He's missed the feel of the sun and the taste of fresh air, the smell of livestock caught on the edge of the breeze.

Forgoing the chair, he leaned against the rail instead.

Meredith waved. “You should be resting,” she called across the yard.

“What do you call this?”

“Pure laziness,” Tuck answered. “Real cowboys get back in the saddle.”

“Man, you don't like your job?” Harassing each other was a longtime favorite past time for him and Tuck.

Feeling like he could just as easily lean against the corral as he could the porch railing, Jace decided to make his way to Tuck and Meredith. He was halfway there when the sound of glass shattering came from his parents' cabin.

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