License to Love (6 page)

“Uhh!” His yell was cut short as he hit the ground. Pain shattered
through his ribs, blocking out the pain of impact with the ground. Damn horse
kicked him!

He looked up at clouds, cursing his hormones, Missy, the
horse, and his damn wandering eyes.

He saw Dale and Ivan lean over him. “That’s one quick
horse.”

“Ivan, get the horse back!” Dale ordered and knelt down.
“Brent?”

He held a hand out so Dale wouldn’t touch him. He didn’t
need fussing over, no matter how many ribs he’d broken. His side throbbed, but
he couldn’t get a breath in to say so.

“Brent?”

At her voice, Dale laughed. Brent tried for an evil glare
directed at Dale as Missy came close enough to see Brent on the ground.

She looked so genuinely worried Brent wanted to smile, if he
didn’t hurt so darn bad.

“Holy crap! What happened?”

“Not crap, ma’am. The horse kicked him.” Dale held eye
contact with Brent and rubbed his chin, a nervous habit. “He wasn’t ready.”

“Yeah,” Ivan joined in. “His mind must have been elsewhere.”

Brent made a mental list of everything he’d say to them as
soon as he could talk.

“Aren’t you going to help him up?” She knelt beside him.

“Maybe we shouldn’t move him just yet.” Dale, at last,
sounded worried.

Brent didn’t want all of them to worry over him, so he
forced himself up onto his elbows. This time he couldn’t hide the pain.

“It’s your side, isn’t it?” Dale didn’t wait for the answer,
but braced Brent against him, pulled him to his feet, and started for the
truck. He called back to Missy, “I’m taking him in to the doc, but don’t worry.
He’s tough as nails.”

“Do you want me to come along?” Missy offered. Brent wanted
to reassure her, but he sure as heck didn’t want her at the hospital with him.

He waited until Dale got him in the truck before he looked
back. Ivan was putting Dancer away. Missy hadn’t moved and still watched as
they drove away.

“Gets you fast, doesn’t it?” Dale asked as he steered around
a corner.

Brent thought he meant the horse at first, until he looked
over. Dale met his gaze with knowing eyes.

“Yup, took three days for Alice to get me.”

Damn his side. He wanted to argue the point, but instead he
leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Maybe the pain was good. He could
think about it instead of Missy.

* * * *

She paced a while and then cleaned her cabin for something
to do, since they’d taken care of the horses for the day. After a huge sigh,
she started dinner. The least she could do was have something ready for him to
eat. They’d been gone four hours when she walked to his house to leave dinner
in his fridge.

She was glad that he didn’t lock his front door. Of course,
the horses didn’t need to break in and steal anything.

She put his dinner away and couldn’t help but think of the
first time she’d stood in his kitchen. How had so much changed so fast?

Slowly, she walked into the other room and noticed how bare
the house looked. It needed a few small paintings, decorative rugs, something.
She shook her head at herself and left.

Back in her house, she tried to finish a book but couldn’t.
At eight, she went outside, thinking she’d missed the truck.

The cold knocked her back inside, so she got her coat and
stepped out again.

A clear night. That didn’t happen too often. The stars were
suspended in layers, some close and some distant. She stared up for a minute
and listened to the night. A dove cooed several times as it settled in.

She headed to the stables, noting that Brent’s house was
still dark when she walked by. The horses were in their stalls, but they didn’t
have blankets on them.

She went stall to stall, securing the blankets on each
horse. She thought of them more as coats with Velcro in the front to secure it,
but Brent had called it a blanket. She didn’t worry about getting in the stall
with Jeffrey, Speckle, or the other horses, but Dancer watched her with knowing
eyes.

“Hey, there.” She could feel each beat of her heart. “Don’t
kick me, too, okay?”

She didn’t get behind him. From the railing, she leaned and
draped the blanket around him.

His noises sounded sad. She stepped back and reached out
with one hand. What had happened today?

When he nuzzled her hand, she got the impression he knew who
she was. Her heart grew heavy, the same way it had when she’d first slept in
Ben’s old house.

“I’m Missy,” she said, surprised that she didn’t feel
strange for talking to a horse. “You miss him a lot, don’t you? I wish I knew
him more.”

Dancer snorted. The truck rumbled softly down the road and
grew louder. She patted him goodbye and went to the entrance to watch Dale pull
up and help Brent out. She waited until Dale left before walking over.

She pulled her coat closer and rubbed her nose. If she
wanted to stay, she’d have to get used to the weather at some point.

At Brent’s door, she knocked and went in. He couldn’t get up
and come to the door, after all. Dale had left the hallway light on, and it
shone into Brent’s room.

She sucked in a breath when she saw him with his eyes closed
in sleep. He’d rolled his head a little to one side, and the light fell on his
face. She hadn’t noticed his thick eyelashes before, or how full and pouty his
mouth looked. Add that to his movie-star cleft chin, and he had one handsome
face.

What would it feel like to cradle his face in her hand? He
didn’t seem to have five o’clock shadow, but the light wasn’t bright enough to
tell.

His blanket was pulled up to mid chest, leaving his bare
shoulders exposed. They were as nice as she’d suspected. She’d like to run her
hand down his neck to his shoulder and feel his muscles. His hands lay on his
stomach as it rose and fell.

She knew she shouldn’t, but she started toward his bed. He
looked unguarded, defenseless. Sweet and sexy.

Was she high on fresh country air? Something had taken a
hold of her since she came here. It couldn’t be this man.

The floor creaked when she reached his bed. His eyes opened
and blinked at her. “Missy?”

She blinked back for a second. “Thought I’d check on you.”
Blushing, she hoped he wouldn’t ask why she’d snuck into his bedroom. “How bad
is it?”

His injury didn’t hurt his appeal. She put her hands in her
pockets, shifted her weight.
Hmm, interesting floor, isn’t it?

“I’m on bed rest for a month.” His voice was quiet and low.
“I think you’re going to be busy.”

At that comment, she looked back to his face. There wasn’t
the normal lift in his voice or gleam in his eyes to belie his seriousness.

She looked him over for a long minute. “A month? I don’t
believe a horse could put you in bed that long.”

He gave it up and smiled. “A week maybe. Just some bruised
ribs.”

“That’s a relief.” She sat down on the edge, thought about
jumping up, but tried to act like she didn’t feel awkward sitting there.

“Is it?” he asked, his hand sliding down and brushing hers.

“You brute!” She considered the best way to get her hands
around his neck, but she settled for a soft nudge to his chest. She just
couldn’t punch a man while he was down. “You’ve thought the worst of me since I
arrived.”

“And you of me, haven’t you?”

She crossed her arms, glancing off to the side in a big
show. A guitar case leaned against the wall in the shadows.

“You play guitar?” That seemed fitting for a cowboy but the
case was too small for a guitar. “What is it, a banjo?”

“A violin, you snob.” He wrapped an arm across himself when
he laughed. Knowing he was in pain ruined her show of indignation.

“You know, you’re beautiful when you laugh . . . or get shy
. . . or try to ride a horse and find yourself out of control.” His fingers
grazed the back of her hand again. Suddenly she had no trouble calming down.

“Brent, don’t . . .” She suspected he was teasing again, but
she didn’t want him to tease her along those lines. “Listen, if you’re after
someone to take care of you, I’ll help. You don’t have to flatter me with
whatever that was.”

He pulled his hand away, with a smile on his face that
baffled her. He looked both sad and intrigued, like she’d just given him a
difficult problem to solve. Well, she wasn’t his algebra homework.

“Can you eat with that injury?” she asked. “I made you
soup.”

“Maybe a little.” He watched her too closely and she needed
to get out of there. So she left for the soup she’d brought him.

When she brought it back, he asked, “Are you going to feed
me?”

That sincere voice and innocent eyes almost had her. “I
don’t think so.”

She did help him up and adjusted his pillows for him. He
still watched her, and those intense eyes of his were getting to her. The mood
struck her then: the dim lighting, his shirtless body, his bedroom.

“I should let you rest.” She stepped back.

“I’ll be getting plenty of rest this week. Stay.”

She shook her head. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.
Goodnight.” She managed not to run on her way out.

* * * *

She’d show him! That was her first thought when her eyes
opened in the morning. Before the sun rose, she showered, ate breakfast, and
bundled up in a sweater and raincoat.

Outside, a soft, soaking rain fell. Brent would classify it
as a drizzle, but nothing would stop her from taking care of things today and
the next few days while he recovered.

She hurried to meet Dale and Ivan by the stables. “So what’s
on for today?” She didn’t react to their unbelieving looks.

They spent the morning feeding and caring for horses and
moving some out to different pastures. She had enough time to ride Speckle
again before noon, when she wanted to take lunch to Brent. On the walk back to
her house, her body let her know she’d need some time to get used to the hard
work and the saddle. But it was worth it, wasn’t it? The gait of the horse, the
breeze blowing in her hair, and the sense of freedom pulled her in.

She’d stolen Brent’s crock pot the day before, laughing all
the way home that he had one. Now it sat with a hot lunch simmering in it.

It didn’t smell too bad, she decided on the walk to his
house. She raised her hand to knock when she saw him through the window in his
recliner. He was kicked back in front of the TV with a blanket lying on his
legs. His ribs were wrapped, she guessed for support.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get her eyes off
his chest, covered in light hair. Nice pecs. Well toned arms, too.

She glanced at his face and noted, happily, he was eyeing his
crock-pot and not her. Maybe he hadn’t noticed how she appreciated his body.

Once inside, she said, “Yeah, I took it so I could cook you
lunch.”

“Smells great, is it poisoned?” He was joking this time, and
she was glad to see the twinkle back in his eye. Then there was another type of
gleam as he took her in. His eyes met hers and she couldn’t ignore the change
in them.

She turned away from his gaze and went in the kitchen to get
a bowl. “Do you like chicken and rice?” She spoke just to fill the silence and
break the mood.

“Sounds terrific, and I don’t know a man who turns down
food.” His words weren’t laced with double meaning, but his tone sounded too
heavy for the conversation.

Medication. Of course, he was taking something for the pain.
Or maybe he’d gotten the idea he could scare her off this way. No matter what
he was thinking, he’d changed from dislike to flirtatious so quickly that it
couldn’t be anything but show.

“Here you go.” She brought him a tray, but managed to avoid
eye contact as she placed everything for him. When she stood, she glanced at
him, and he didn’t look happy about the emotions he saw on her face.

“You won’t join me?” he asked, but he sounded like he
already knew the answer.

“There’s still a lot of work to do.” The excuse slipped
right out. “I mean, there always is, even when you can help. You know that.”

He watched her go, his eyes labeling her a wimp. She had
work to do, she told herself again.

Chapter Four

Two days later, Missy stood on Brent’s porch, a bag full of
sandwiches in hand, preparing herself to see him. They’d all listened to him
grumble about his restrictions. Today wouldn’t be any different.

The door opened, ending any buffer she’d hoped for. “Hey
there.” He’d pulled on a light blue shirt, but it wasn’t buttoned.

She finally understood the pull of a man in an open shirt.
He leaned into the doorframe while she stood there, trying to remember why
she’d come. When she looked back at his face, he was grinning at her.

“I brought you sandwiches.” She held up the bag.

“I can make my own food now, you know. I think you just like
to see me . . . half naked.”

“No.” She shrugged. “Just being neighborly.” Since coming to
the ranch, she hadn’t been able to resist all the little phrases they used.
Nodding toward the inside, he swung open the door and led the way into the
kitchen.

“So stay and eat with me. To be neighborly.” He pulled out
two chairs instead of waiting for an answer.

She pulled sandwiches out and said, “I took back the rental
this morning.”

“About time.”

“I would have kept it, but you keep thinking I’m going to
run off.”

“Women tend to.” He took a hefty bite of his lunch and
raised an eyebrow at her.

Women tend to?
Not all women, she wanted to argue,
but apparently some woman had run off on him.

She didn’t want to fight with him today, plus she had a
mouth full of food. A radio on the counter played country music. He tapped his
foot while staring out the window, lost in the music.