Page 8 of More Than a Helping Hand

As I’m checking for strays, he says, “I meant what I said earlier about going out. I mean, this is embarrassing, but you are seeing my best feature. Well, second best, but the way I’m situated I can’t exactly show you my best feature.”

And now I don’t like the guy. The nerve of saying something like that. I wipe the alcohol swab over this cheek without giving him a warning, and his muscles clench.

I roll backward and yank off my gloves. “Hopefully your buddy gets back here with your things soon.”

He pushes up on his elbows. “I meant my chest. It’s muscular like my arms. Personally, I think it’s my best physical feature. What did you think I was going to say?” He grimaces. “Okay. So I can guess what you thought I meant, but honest, that thought hadn’t occurred to me. Until you reacted like that. I swear. I wouldn’tsay… that would just be… I’m not a creep.”

The sheer desperation in his tone makes me inclined to think he’s telling the truth. “I’m sure your chest is very nice. Let me go find out if the doctor plans to prescribe anything for you.”

“Hey.” There’s a pleading in his voice.

I stop before opening the door. “What?”

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Hand to heaven, I didn’t mean to do that. But I haven’t asked anyone out in a very long time, and clearly, I’m not very good at it.” With the sheet wrapped around his lower half, he stands. “Forgive me?”

I nod. This conversation needs to end now, or I will agree to something I’ll quickly regret. “I forgot to mention. If you have any issues with tiny ones I may have missed, then I’d suggest laying gauze over the area, soaking it with plain old white glue, and letting it dry. Once the glue is completely dry, peel off the gauze, and that will get the tiny ones that are hard to see.”

“That would be like waxing my back side. Doesn’t that hurt?”

I shrug. “I wouldn’t know.”

He chuckles. “I like you. You never answered earlier. Is there any chance you’d go out with me?”

“Not today, cowboy.”

My heart flutters when he grins, and I’m hoping he took my answer literally. Because that was exactly how I meant it. There are a whole lot of reasons for me to turn him down flat. I don’t have time to date. I’ve sworn off relationships. He’s way out of my league. But I can’t make myself do that. So I give him that sliver of hope.

I leave him alone in the exam room while he waits for his buddy, and since I have a moment to myself, I check my messages. Clearly, this man sat on Bailey’s cactus. There has to be a message from Parker.

And there is, but it’s nothing close to what I was expecting.

I stare at the photo he sent. Anderson is holding my daughter, and she’s petting a horse. This does not make sense.

Only one person around here can explain how this is possible. I throw open the door to the exam room, forgetting to knock. Mr. Lane jumps and tightens his grip on the sheet.

I hold out my phone. “This is you.”

His gaze bounces between the phone and me. “It is. And I didn’t see the resemblance until just now. Bailey looks like you. And I didn’t know you were married. I’m so sorry. You didn’t have a ring, and I thought?—”

“I’m not married.” I am struggling to keep my composure, but I don’t want him to know how much this photo affects me. “This surprises me a bit because Bailey doesn’t talk to any men other than relatives.”

He shrugs. “When I saw her in the barn, I called her doodlebug, and she corrected me, telling me that she’s not a doodlebug. She’s a girl.”

“And she’s afraid of horses.”

“Because they’re big and smelly. She told me.” He steps closer and studies my face. “This bothers you. I’m so sorry. Did I do something wrong?”

I shake my head. “No. It’s okay. Listen, I’d prefer that people didn’t know that I… you know.”

“It might be a tad uncomfortable at work if Parker learns you’ve seen my second-best feature. I’m all for keeping it hush-hush.”

“Good. Tell your buddy to leave your stuff at the front desk. I’ll have someone grab it and bring it back here to you.”

“Thanks. And it was very nice to meet you…” He glances at my name badge. “Primrose.”

“You too, Mr. Lane.”

“Please call me Anderson. Call me anything you want. But I’d really like it if you called me.”

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