Page 29 of Eyes Like a Hurricane

“Nice job. About time someone guessed it,” he says.

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were playing a guessing game. Okay. I’m ready. You’re goin’ down, Noah.” Then in a sing-song voice, I say, “Fire away.”

He chuckles, then starts back up with a new tune. I bob my head to the rhythm of his whistling, and it hits me immediately, “That is definitely ‘Moves Like Jagger’ by Maroon 5. Try again!”

I hear him tap out a beat on his thighs, and he starts his next song. I can see the lights of the barns ahead and know we are minutes away from my feet being back on solid ground. I can’t quite make out what song he is whistling.

A rumble comes from behind me, and Lachlan’s voice rings through the night air. “I know this one. How about you, Hurricane?”

“No, I don’t know the title, but I recognize it. What song is it?” I ask.

“I believe it’s called ‘I Only Want to Dance with You’ by Brett Young,” he says.

Noah chuckles. “Ah, Lachlan, I believe that was a bit of a Freudian slip while talking to the Doc. It’s actually called ‘Dance with You,’ but at least she knows where you stand, man.”

Lachlan grunts. “Damn straight I only want to dance with her. Just wait until karaoke night at Glaciers.”

I let out a boisterous laugh. “Oh, no way in hell are you getting me up on the stage to sing karaoke. I might be able to dance, but I’m very clearly tone-deaf.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you can join me on stage and dance while I sing to you,” Lachlan suggests.

I let out a snort. “Yeah, okay. I’m willing to give it a try, but don’t expect me to sing.”

We arrive at the barn, and both guys dismount their horses and lead them over to get water. I realize that when I dismount, my left leg is going to land first, and my hands hurt too much to grab onto the saddle horn to gently lower myself to the ground. I look around to see if there is a half wall I can use to dismount, but I am at a loss as nothing looks promising.

A throat clears to my right, and I see Lachlan staring at me. He is so tall I feel like I’m not too much taller than him, even up on Hurricane.

“Can I help you down, Aislinn?” Lachlan asks.

I nod and rotate my torso toward him. He places his hands on my hips and gently guides me off Hurricane’s saddle. I land on both feet in front of him, trying to put the majority of my weight on my right leg. I try to hide my wince, but the grimace on my face must be evident because his brows furrow as he looks me in the eye. I flex my hands to try to get the sting to subside but am unsuccessful when my palm accidentally brushes against my denim pant leg. I suck in a sharp breath.

Lachlan’s handsome face turns into a scowl directed at my hands. He removes his hands from my hips and gingerly grabs onto my wrists. Slowly, he rotates my hands, palm side up, and says, “Can I please see your palms?”

I glance away from him as I slowly unclench my fingers. The pads of his thumbs cautiously move toward my palms, and I fight the urge to pull my hands back.

He makes a noise in the back of his throat and growls, “Aislinn, you’re bleeding.”

He abruptly drops my hands and strides toward the other end of the barn. I take the moment to look down at my burning hands and notice a couple of nice gashes full of debris. Luckily, none are deep enough to require stitches, but they will definitely need to be cleaned and bandaged to prevent infection. I see a bale of hay against the wall and limp toward it. A strangled noise comes from the direction I saw Lachlan moving, and I glance up.

“Your limping has gotten worse,” he states while glaring at my ankle.

I sit down and let out a sigh of relief to get off my foot. I think it has swollen a bit in my boot.

“Yeah,” I say, “I, uh, think I twisted it a bit when I was climbing up. It really isn’t bad. Just the pressure from the boot is uncomfortable after that ride back. Think you could help me toyour house so I can take my boots off and ice my ankle for a little while?”

Without responding, he gives me a firm nod and then proceeds to crouch down in front of me. He sets down something heavy I hadn’t realized he had been holding. He clicks it open, and a full medical kit lays out before him. Silently, he begins to pull out what he needs to clean and dress my wounds. It has been a long time since someone cared for my injuries.

My eyes fill with moisture as I think of my mom doing similar tasks when I was a little girl. I miss her desperately.

The sting of the alcohol brings me back to the present, and I blink away the tears forming in my eyes. I clear my throat to dislodge the scratchy feeling at the back of my throat. Lachlan continues to work in silence, occasionally grunting in disapproval if a rock or a clump of dirt doesn’t come out willingly and he needs to use a pair of tweezers. After fifteen minutes, my wounds are bandaged with antibiotic ointment, and I’m glad to see it’s the one with a pain reliever.

“There. All fixed up,” he murmurs.

His thumbs trace small circles against the pulse point of my wrists as he continues to look at my bandaged hands.

“Thank you for helping me,” I say.

His eyes search mine. Nodding, he looks back at the supplies strewn across the ground. While Lachlan puts the medical kit back together and walks it to the office, I look on each side of me, trying to debate whether pushing myself off the haybale will cause my hands too much pain. I rock forward, trying to get some leverage, but quickly land back on the haybale.

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