“You need to come up to the house. Get some ice on that,” he said, and stepped over, touching her arm. She pulled away and glared at him. “I’b fine,” she gurgled, wadding the cloth and sticking it back under her nose.
The man who had raced out with her gave her a look that was part amusement, part exasperation. “Listen to this guy. Go get ice on it. I’ll finish up.”
“Jake West,” Jake said, and extended his hand. Might as well meet the staff while he could. From what he could remember from the books, this was likely Trevor.
“Trevor Hanes. Nice to meet you. Damned unconventional, but glad you’re able to help them clear it all up,” Trevor said as he switched the lead out of his right hand and shook Jake’s hand.
Jake wondered how much of the story he knew, but let it pass. People who worked together often became close, like family, and this place would have that kind of loyalty. Hell, Gordon and several of the kitchen staff had known as much about his divorce as he had. They’d been his sounding board, often gathering for stiff drinks after a long shift to kvetch about life in general.
“Thanks. Yeah. I’ll take Liz up and pass her off to her mother. Peony can fuss over her, make her really mad.”
A sound came from Liz that indicated she’d heard him, and he turned to her. What she had said to him in the diner still twisted in his gut, and he’d been royally pissed off at her for assuming the worst of him.
But the more he’d thought about it, the more he’d realized it wasn’t exactly untrue. In the dark moments that first night when he couldn’t sleep for crickets and quiet, he’d thought about the what-ifs, the permanence of inheriting an entire ranch—a huge, cumbersome life change eliciting more questions about what he would do if he said fuck it and did what the damn will wanted him to do. Stay, then sell, and with his portion fund his next restaurant.
He’d dismissed it the next day, stupidity and lack of sleep making him think about things he would never willingly do to this family unless they wanted him to. But when Liz had blurted that out, it had rankled him, and he—once again—had let his temper get the better of taking the high road.
“Don’t argue with me. Just come up to the house,” he said, and she growled through the cloth again.
“No. I’b fine.”
“No, you’re not. Sweetheart, that cloth is turning more red than white. Now march,” he barked, his patience wearing thin.
With one more angry glare, likely because he’d just called her sweetheart, she started off for the path to the house, and Jake waved at a laughing Trevor as he fell into step behind her. Watching her walk, one arm swinging angrily, the other held up, indignant elbow twisted, he wondered if now would be the best time to apologize for how he’d reacted to her in the diner. He paused that thought when she jerked and tripped on a tree root, swore, then immediately tripped again.
“Slow down,” he said as he caught up to her, and got rewarded with another glare. “Let me see.”
She took the cloth away from her face, and he lifted her chin to look at her nose a little more carefully.
“He got you good and square,” he murmured, eyes flicking to hers. He wondered how much of the anger drilling out of them was at him or at the horse that had clocked her.
“Yeb,” she mumbled. “Fuggink horth.”
Jake couldn’t help but laugh as she let out a whistling, nasally sigh. She gave him another equally killer glare as she pushed past him. As she did, she stumbled, dropping her cloth, and Jake caught her so she wouldn’t fall.
“Careful,” he breathed, his arms around her, her hands rising to his chest to balance herself. Surprised, she looked into his eyes, went white as a sheet, and fainted, right then and there.
He swung her legs into his arms and carried her the rest of the way to the house in a hurry. He kicked open the back screen door, which was thankfully on a pressure latch. He lurched through the kitchen to the back TV den, and carefully deposited her on the leather couch near the back of the room.
“Peony!” he bellowed out the door. “You here?”
He tucked up Liz’s hands and legs as best he could. Her nose was still bleeding, and he propped her head up so she wouldn’t choke. Her hair had come out of her hair tie and was everywhere, some of it caked with blood, and he smoothed it back, squatting beside her. Looking at her like this, he didn’t like the way he’d felt when she’d fallen into his arms. The strength that had surged through him when he’d swung her up rattled him as well. That, he realized as he rubbed the back of his neck, was not an impartial feeling he’d had. He stuffed it away; there were more important things to think about, like whether she needed a hospital or not.
“What happened?” Peony said as she rushed into the room. “Should I call an ambulance?”
“She got whacked in the face by a horse, that’s all I know,” he said. “She fainted walking up here to get some ice for her nose. We should take her into emergency.”
Peony made an irritated noise and swished out of the room, appearing a moment later with a tea towel, a blue ice pack, and a first-aid kit.
“She needs to get seen. If she has a concussion—” she said and stopped. “Fool girl. I bet it was that high-strung gray she regrets taking on.”
Liz’s eyes fluttered and she groaned, and Jake crouched down to her, holding her head still and looking into her face. “Hey,” he murmured softly, pushing the hair back from her face. “Don’t you dare get up.”
She looked confused, saw her mom, and struggled to get up, but Jake gently pushed her down. “What did I say, hmm?”
She huffed and lay back, fingers gently probing her nose and wincing. “Shid,” she muttered.
Rosy appeared with a bowl of water and set it down beside Jake. He looked at her and nodded, and she thinned her lips. “That looks like it needs seeing,” Rosy said.
