Page 7 of More Than a Helping Hand

He’s quiet, so I glance at him.

His smile grows into a wide grin. “I think it is imperative that you know I donothave a girlfriend. I’mnotdating anyone or seeing anyone casually. I am currently one hundred percentsingle.”

He shifts, and I pat his back. “Stay still, please.”

“Yes, ma’am. But as far as dating, I’m open to changing that if you’re free sometime.”

While I’m replaying his words in my head, sure that I must’ve misunderstood him, he lifts his brows. This man and his expressive eyebrows are causing me heart palpitations.

“You pick the place, and I’ll buy you dinner.” He clarifies his offer.

This is a first. I’ve never been asked out on the job before. And these days, I don’t get asked out at all. Probably because I’m a single mom and wear a perpetual scowl in social situations.

I choose to ignore the invitation. “There are quite a few of these spines. I’m sorry if it hurts.”

“If I cry just pretend you don’t notice, okay? Because a little girl I met today said it was fine for me to cry. She also said these things are barbed, so I’m assuming this’ll hurt.”

Now my mind is racing. Little girl? My personal phone is not on me, or I’d check my messages right now. “A little girl? On the ranch?”

“One of the other guys had his niece with him. Cute kid. Smart too. She called me a giant.” He laughs, but my thoughts are spiraling.

“She talked to you?”

He pushes up on his elbows. “I’m a big guy, but I’m nice. Not scary. Yes, she talked to me. Why is that weird?”

“No reason.” In trying to find an explanation for what he’s saying, one thought pops into my head. He’s probably been drinking even though it’s early in the day. “Did you have a little something to ease the pain?”

“If that’s a polite way of asking if I’m drunk, the answer is no.” He winces as I tug on a spine that does not want to come out. “Stone cold sober and forever afraid of anything named Fred.”

Fred. The name leaves no room for doubt about how Anderson ended up this way.

“Sorry about that.”

He thinks I’m apologizing about the pain I’m inflicting by pulling out spines, but really, it’s because I set the cactus on a bench, and he sat on it. It’s almost like I stabbed the man myself.

“Listen, the doc mentioned that I shouldn’t put my jeans and underwear back on, which makes sense, but I’d prefer not to get a ticket for indecency on the way home. Could you grab the phone out of my pocket so I can text my buddy? I’m hoping he’ll be kind enough to drive out to the ranch and grab some stuff.”

“Sure.” I get the phone and hand it to him. “Wearing only gym shorts or sweats would probably be the most comfortable.”

“So commando is best, huh?” There goes that eyebrow again.

“You’d probably dislike having fabric rub against your wounds.” I yank out another spine.

“I would’ve just handled this myself—pulling them out, I mean—but I can’t really reach back there all that easily.” He smiles through gritted teeth.

All the visible spines are gone on this side, and this is where this situation jumps from slightly uncomfortable to majorly awkward. “Okay, I think this side is clear, but I’m going to rub the glove over your skin to be sure there aren’t any thin ones or tiny spines I missed.”

“Thanks for the warning.” Instead of turning away, he continues to look at me.

Trying to ignore his gaze, I trail my fingers over his glutes. He inhales, but I persevere in doing my job.

Nothing snags my glove, so I assume I’ve removed all the prickly things. “Okay, this next part might sting a bit.”

He buries his face in his crossed arms. “Ready.”

I wipe the area with alcohol, and he hisses, which makes me feel bad. “Sorry. Now I’ll do the other side.”

He turns his head when I roll the stool around the exam table. But he’s quiet while I remove spines from the other cheek.

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