Page 21 of More Than a Helping Hand

Me:Are you sure you aren’t trying to rope me into a timeshare?

Anderson:I have no clue what you’re talking about. But timeshares are usually vacation getaways, right? If you want me to take you on a vacation, that can be arranged.

Me:That’s not what I meant. Good night.

Anderson:Sweet dreams.

I stare at the phone for a couple of minutes, then shoot off another text.

Me:Are you sore?

Anderson:A bit. But I’m a big boy. I can handle it.

Me:Sorry.

Anderson:For saving me? I’m not sorry.

Me:Good night for real

Anderson:Sweet dreams for real

Anderson:And I hope I’m in them.

He was last night, and I can’t imagine tonight will be any different.

CHAPTER8

ANDERSON

Telling Primrose that I was a bit sore was a complete lie. The woman is strong, and my bruised ribs are proof of that. But she already feels bad, and I’m not going to add to that by letting her know that every breath causes pain.

I’m the first ranch hand into the mess hall. Probably because the pain woke me up extra early this morning. But Ava is here. She walks around the counter and opens her arms as she walks toward me. Unless I catch her when she’s in a rush, I always get a hug from her. Ava is like a mom to all of us. And while no one could ever replace my mom, Ava fills an empty spot in my heart. Maybe one day I’ll use my words to tell her that. For now, I return the hug and try not to hiss in pain.

She pulls back and props her fists on her hips. “What’s wrong? Who hurt you?”

“My date.” I laugh when anger flashes in her eyes. “But it’s all good. I choked on a tomato, and she got me breathing again.”

“A tomato? That’s the problem right there. Yuck.” Parker chuckles as he walks up beside me. “But the Heimlich can hurt.”

Ava narrows her eyes. “Is she nice? Tell me about your date.”

This is quite the pickle.

“She’s cute. We had dinner. She saved my life. Then we went home. Separately.” I gave an honest synopsis.

The other guys show up, and I breathe a painful sigh of relief. Ava won’t have time to ask more questions about the date.

Parker, on the other hand, is still next to me. He gives me a nudge. “Do I know her?”

“I’d rather keep it quiet until I figure out if she likes me.” I pick up a plate, hoping he drops this line of questioning quickly.

He scrunches up his nose and stares a second. “I’m guessing that means I do know her. But I won’t hound you. Everyone is entitled to secrets.”

“Thanks, Parker. If things change, I’ll be more open.” I do want to talk to him, but I promised Primrose. And right now, her wishes drive my choices.

“Whenever. And I hope your ribs heal quickly.” He heaps food onto his plate and adds smaller portions to a second plate. Every morning, he gets food for his wife so that she gets a few extra minutes. Some mornings, he takes the food to her. It’s sappy sweet and gets me right in the feels. “Hey, you planning to be at the Fourth of July party? I’m thinking about inviting Primrose and Bailey to come. But Primrose might be working. I’ll have to see.”

I cannot seem too eager about the idea of Primrose attending the party. It could be seriously awkward if we’re still not-quite-dating on the down low. “I bet Bailey would love it. She got along with Mason. Does she like to swim?”

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