Page 52 of At the Rancher's Pleasure

Sarabeth moved to stand between his legs, her eyes clinging to his face. She couldn’t stop touching him, a hand drifting over his shoulder, up to his neck, down his arm. “Your girth broke,” Sarabeth explained.

Brett frowned and then wished he hadn’t as his pain level spiked. Yeah, he might need to lie back down soon, but first he had to know what happened. “My girth? That doesn’t make sense.”

Worry clouded her eyes. “Jules is going back to the ranch to find the saddle and the girth. He wants to check that it wasn’t...”

“Wasn’t what?” Brett asked when she hesitated.

“...tampered with,” Sarabeth reluctantly admitted.

Brett tried to push away the clouds of fog, struggling to make sense of her words. It was difficult. “I don’t understand. He thinks someone tried to hurt me?”

“He wants to check,” Sarabeth said, hurrying to reassure him. “You’ve had some threats against you.”

Brett stared at her, thinking back. The only person who’d threatened him was Rusty. “That’s nuts, Sarabeth. Your ex is a jerk but he wouldn’t do that.”

Sarabeth lifted her slim shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t think he would either but Jules wants to check, to make sure. Ross agrees. Rusty has a hell of a temper and he doesn’t like being embarrassed, and you and I have both bested him lately.” She stroked his chest with the tips of gentle fingers. “Besides, have you ever stopped Jules from doing what he wants to do?”

“Never,” Brett admitted. “Okay, well, it’s his time to waste.”

“I think you should lie down,” Sarabeth suggested softly. “Have you been given something for pain?”

“They gave me something but it did jackshit,” Brett grumbled.

Sarabeth dropped a light kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I heard something about you insisting on going home—”

“I am going home and you’re coming with me,” Brett told her. He was done beating around the bush. “And you’re damn well going to stay with me.”

Sarabeth smiled. “I’ll come home with you tomorrow and only after the doctors have given you the all clear. And I’ll stay. And when you are feeling much, much better, we’ll have that talk we were supposed to have...”

Brett started to argue but saw the determination in her eyes. He wouldn’t sway her and, dammit, he didn’t think he could walk out of here on his own two feet. Every inch of him ached, he felt like a six-foot bruise. His ribs hurt, and his butt. And his back. Honestly, he felt like he’d gone five rounds with a steamroller.

And now that he knew Sarabeth was okay, he could relax. Just a little.

But he still had no intention of spending the night in the hospital. “I’ll rest for a little while and leave later.”

“We’ll see.” Sarabeth’s lips twitched, and he didn’t trust the amusement in her eyes. He narrowed his gaze at her, suspected he was being manipulated but was simply too damn sore to care.

“Want some help getting back into bed?” she asked, stepping away from him. He wanted to haul her back into his arms but couldn’t get his arms to obey his brain’s command.

“No, I’m good.” Brett shifted back, gritted his teeth against the pain and swung his legs onto the bed. He couldn’t keep a low groan from slipping past his lips. His arms held all the strength of two-day-old noodles.

Sarabeth placed her hand on his chest and looked down at him, her lovely eyes full of worry and, dare he hope, love? “You scared me, Brett,” she whispered. “Don’t do that again, okay?”

He lifted his hand to stroke his thumb across her cheek. “Don’t go. Stay. With me.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” Sarabeth promised him.

Brett closed his eyes, needing to tell her that wasn’t what he meant, that she needed to know that he didn’t mean just for now but for forever.

But before he could speak again, he slipped into sleep, clutching her hand resting on his heart.

Two days later, Brett woke up in his own bed feeling, mostly, like himself. He still had a headache but the pain was now manageable. Stretching, he winced at his still sore muscles but they were also on the mend, thanks to some concoction Sarabeth whipped up in his kitchen. He remembered her saying that the cream contained arnica and lavender oil and some other natural herbs.

Whatever it was, her cream worked a lot better than the conventional medicines he’d tried.

Brett turned his head and saw his phone on the bedside table, picked it up and noticed he had a bunch of messages. He skimmed through the messages wishing him well, pausing when he came to one Jules sent late last night.

I examined the girth under a microscope but I can’t tell whether it tore naturally or was cut. For a definitive answer, we’d have to send it to a forensic lab.

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