Page 22 of Wrangled Love

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Peachy,” he replies curtly.

I raise a brow, resting my hand on my hip. “Really? Becauseyou’re giving off more of a squeezed-lemon-left-out-in-the-heat vibe.”

“Real cute. Should I expect a full medical report, or are you still working on a diagnosis?” he asks, trying to hide a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite the tension in his jaw.

Julie called me earlier to warn me he might be on edge. He’s spent the past three mornings hovering in her office during camp, convinced Caleb might need him. She told him he has to drop Caleb off tomorrow like every other parent. No exceptions. I’m guessing he’s panicking about it, which is why I’m already thinking of ways to make the transition to me watching Caleb easier, so it’s one less thing he has to stress about. It’s like taming a wild colt—you don’t win by brute force but by showing patience and persistence.

“Where’s Caleb?” I ask.

“In his room, coloring a picture of a Triceratops they gave out at summer camp.”

Someone brought a kid-sized activity table to Charlie’s shop, and she set it aside for Caleb. I picked it up yesterday, stocked it with a bin of craft supplies, and now he has his own mini art station.

Jensen lingers by the front door, watching as I settle onto the bench and tug off my boots. I press into a spot on my right foot, wincing when I hit a tender spot that’s been aching since this morning.

“You’re in pain,” Jensen observes.

I wave it off. “It’s nothing.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I spent my fair share of time wearing boots back in the day. I’ve never forgotten that working in them is its own kind of punishment.”

I’m stunned when he lowers himself in front of me and takes my foot in his large hands. He removes my sock and gently cradles it.

“What are you—” My question is cut off by a low moan slipping out as his thumbs work into the sore spot, kneading the area, easing the tension bit by bit.

“Aren’t you the one who tells everyone they don’t have to do everything on their own?” he replies with a pointed look. “You’ve got a long afternoon with Caleb, so why not let me help lessen your pain before you have to get back on your feet?”

I fully intend to tell him it’s not necessary, but the soothing pressure I’m experiencing has other plans. The pain begins to melt away under his touch, replaced by a calming relief that spreads like liquid warmth. My head falls back against the wall, and I bite my bottom lip to keep from groaning as he lifts my other foot, taking off my other sock and giving it the same attention as the first.

Jensen glances up at me, his green eyes low and heavy-lidded. Every touch lingers a little longer than his last, sending a slow-burning heat straight through me.

“Does that feel good?” he asks, his voice husky.

“Mm-hmm.” I swallow hard as he curls his fingers around the arch of my foot, kneading a knot I hadn’t realized was there until now. “Would it be alright if I took Caleb to the ranch house today? Mama Julie’s got a playroom full of games and crafts, and I figured he would have fun feeding the chickens.” I have to concentrate hard to keep my thoughts focused. “The dining room table has a clear line of vision into the playroom and outside. You’re welcome to work from there this afternoon if you want.”

Jensen is silent as he mulls over my proposal, never stopping his thumb’s slow, deliberate movements.

My suggestion is one way I can soothe his concerns about Caleb and show him that stepping back doesn’t mean letting go. It’s a step toward balance that I hope he’ll accept, but this has to be his choice.

After a minute, he nods. “Yeah, that works. Heath textedearlier to say the truck he’s lending me is ready. He’s bringing it back this afternoon, so I’ll meet him at the ranch house.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Jensen’s hands have stopped moving, but his fingers linger on my foot. His gaze meets mine, and for a moment, neither of us moves.

“Thanks for the massage,” I say, my voice quieter than I intended.

His lips lift into a faint grin. “Anytime.” He brushes his thumb over my ankle one last time before gently setting my foot down. “We should go get Caleb so we can head out.”

I nod, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “Good idea.”

I’m quick to stand and hurry toward the stairs, my pounding pulse revealing my body’s response to his touch. It was just a foot massage. There’s no reason for me to be flustered. He was only being nice, and I’m obviously turning it into something it’s not.

I’m relieved when we get to Caleb’s room, grateful for the shift in focus. He’s hunched over the craft table in the corner, coloring a picture.

He pauses, glancing over to give us a small smile.

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