“He’s okay,” Iris said, her tone so gentle it made Rose want to cry again.
“You know how it is,” Rose said, looking down. “You know. Because... Sometimes you think everything will be okay, but...”
“People die,” Iris said.
“Yes,” she whispered. “People die. When you don’t expect them to.”
“He’s not going to die,” Iris said.
She nodded. Then she looked up and caught her reflection in the glass on the microwave, and could see that her eyes were puffy. So no wonder her sister had looked at her like she had grown another head. “Allergies,” she said.
Iris nodded. “Sure.”
“I’m going to... I’m going to take him his dinner.”
“Good,” she said. “I’ll tell Ryder and Sammy where you are.”
“Thanks.” Rose collected rolls, and filled a plate with meat and sides. Then she headed back out of the house, not really thinking. Not really thinking about anything. What she would say when she got there. How she would explain her reaction to the whole thing. None of it.
All she was thinking was that he wasn’t going to die. She repeated that. Over and over.
“Not dead,” she said out loud as she knocked ferociously on his cabin door. He jerked it open, and she froze.
His shirt was halfway unbuttoned, and he looked tired, grumpy and slightly disoriented.
“I brought chicken,” she said.
And then she found herself being dragged into the cabin.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HIS BODY HURT like the devil. His head hurt like the devil. Everything hurt.
And then, Rose had appeared at his door looking wholesome and carrying a home-cooked meal, and all he could think was decidedly non-wholesome thoughts. About a thousand of them. All flashing through his mind in bright, brilliant Technicolor in the split second between when he opened the door and when he dragged her inside.
He grabbed hold of the plate of food and set it down on his coffee table. She stared up at him, her eyes glittering.
“Why are you here?”
“Dinner,” she said.
“Bullshit.”
“You got hurt,” she said. And then, something happened that he didn’t expect. Ever. In fact, he would have been less shocked had the sky opened up inside of his cabin and a thunderstorm had begun in the living room.
Her face crumpled. Her lower lip quivered. And then Rose, his tough, strong Rose, began to cry.
He bundled her up into his arms without even thinking.
“You rolled a tractor on yourself,” she said.
“I’m okay,” he responded.
“But you might not have been.”
“I know. I thought that. As it tipped over on its side. I thought... You hear about this stuff. This is how people get themselves killed. Doing what they’ve done hundreds of times, and not paying attention, or being careless at just the wrong time.”
“Was it because of me?”
“Rosie, I think you’re pretty damn sexy, but I did not roll a tractor over on myself because I was distraught that you said you wouldn’t sleep with me again.”
“That’s not what I mean,” she said, angry now. “Did I distract you?”
In all honesty, probably. He wasn’t exactly sure what he had been thinking about before the tractor had tipped over. But he knew what had flashed through his mind as he’d gone down to the ground. Her. Her face. The way it had felt to have her hands on his body. And a shocking bolt of grief that he might not ever feel them again.
“Are you here because you feel guilty?”
“No,” she said. “I’m... I’m upset. I needed to see that you were okay.”
“I’m fine,” he said. “Sore as hell. Then it’s going to hurt even worse tomorrow. But I’m fine.”
“Eat dinner,” she said.
“I don’t want to eat dinner, Rose.”
“Eat dinner. Have a beer. I’m going to run you a bath.”
He froze. Heat filtered through his veins. His gaze sharpened, and he looked at her. “A bath?”
“A bath,” she returned.
And she treated him to a stern glare that sent a bolt of desire right down to his cock. But she didn’t stick around to allow him to question her. And he decided to just let her go. If Rose was here to take care of him... Well, damn him to hell, he was going to let her. Whatever shape that took.
He’d taken control the night they slept together. He didn’t regret it.
But he was curious what she might do if given the chance to take the lead.
He sat down on the couch and picked up the plate of food that she’d brought. It was quite a pile of food. Chicken and mashed potatoes. He dug into it, and realized then that he actually was starving. Who knew that near-death experiences whipped up an appetite? He went to the fridge and grabbed a beer, opened it up and settled back down on the couch. He rested the bottle on his thigh and grimaced. Yeah. He might not have taken the full brunt of the tractor, but the way he had braced himself for impact had knotted his muscles up tighter than he’d ever felt them.
And he’d definitely been hit by parts of the machine, even if it hadn’t been the full weight of it. His hip bone hurt like a son of a bitch, all down his leg. His shoulder ached—he wasn’t quite sure why. He had the vague impression that he might have landed shoulder first before the tractor had come down on top of his lower half.
He grunted, then took another bite of food. What a day.
He heard soft footsteps, and he looked up. And damn near just about dropped his plate. Because there, standing in the doorway, was a large-eyed-looking Rose, wrapped in a white towel. She had it rucked up underneath her arms so there wasn’t much to see of her breasts. But it just barely skimmed her hips and thighs, revealing a very healthy length of beautiful, shapely legs.
She was a thing of beauty. Athletic and sculpted from all the hard labor she did. And he remembered well what those legs felt like around him. The girl knew how to hang on. All
