“No.” He puffed out his chest. “I’ll not have you waiting on me, Miss Scott. Fixing up a room is more than generous. I’ll meet you at the stables.”
She shot him a frown. “If you insist.”
Clomp. Clomp. Charlie’s footsteps thudded overhead.
Ben snagged the bags from Miss Scott’s hands. His breath caught as his thumb brushed against her callused palm. Was itthe sudden weight of the bags combined with his fevered state…or her unexpected touch that almost buckled his knees?
CHAPTER 5
Thump, thump, thump.The door rattled, sounding more like gunfire in Ben’s head than a knock. “Hold on.” His parched tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He blinked at the unfamiliar rafters overhead. A loft, not the boardinghouse. Gathering his bearings, he rolled out of the bunk with its straw-stuffed mattress, his ankle bumping against the chamber pot. “Just a minute.”
Sunlight filtered in through the boards of the steepled roof and the wide-open window. The brightness assaulted his eyes as he opened the door. His head spun, and he braced himself against the doorjamb. Surely, his body would return to normal sooner or later without the laudanum.
Miss Scott stood there, a covered plate in her hands. Her eyes widened, and the small crease between her eyebrows deepened as her gaze perused him from head to toe.
He glanced down at his untucked shirt. Didn’t he have any sense at all? He shoved his shirt into the waist of his trousers and ran a hand over his tousled hair. A chill shivered through him. Fever or the results of his sweat-dampened clothes? “Morning, Miss Scott.” Didn’t feel like morning.
She pressed her lips together, stood upon tiptoes, and peered over his shoulder into the room.
He frowned. “Can I help you?”
“I came to see how you’re feeling and if you’re ready for breakfast.” The breeze, coming in through the open windows, tugged a few wisps of her chestnut hair loose and dallied them across the bridge of her nose.
The sweet scent of hay heaped on the other side of the loft mixed with the aroma of bacon and fried potatoes. Fancier fare than she could likely afford to be handing out to a guest or anyone else. His health had to improve. He had to turn this place into a real ranch. For her.
She shifted the plate closer.
“Thank you.” His stomach rumbled, but would he be able to keep it down if he ate? Whether or not he could make it down the stairs to the well and outhouse was debatable. “Perhaps you could set a little aside for me for later.”
“This is all yours.” She pushed the plate with its checkered cloth covering farther toward him. “On second thought”—she clutched it back against her apron—“I’ll set it on the table inside your room. I’ve got linens down below. I’ll fix the place up while you go to the well and get cleaned up for the morning.”
He straightened. “I don’t want you to have to look after me. I’d be obliged if you could place the plate on the table, and the linens on the chair, and then don’t worry about the rest and go about your day.”
She blew out a breath. “Isn’t that exactly what I said to you yesterday, Mr. McKenzie, that I didn’t need looking after?” She waved a finger his direction. “You’d better expect I’m going to listen as well as you did.”
He blinked at her, his cracked lips fighting their way into a slight smile despite the discomfort.
She peeked over his shoulder once more. “The only question is whether you need any help carrying your chamber pot down to the necessary.”
His cheeks flamed. “I’d have to be half dead before I need help with my pot, Miss Scott.”
She flinched. “Well, you make sure that doesn’t happen, then.” She flipped a strand of hair from her eyes. “And I’ve had another thought, too, Mr. McKenzie.”
“That you’re going to call the sheriff on me if I don’t clear out by sundown?” He attempted humor beyond the misery of his head and stomach.
“No.” She rolled her eyes. “I apologize for my less-than-welcoming behavior yesterday.”
“No apology required.” He shifted his weight. He needed to get down the stairs to the well and beyond.
She fidgeted. “Seeing as you’re going to be here a while, and since you’re a partial owner?—”
“I’m not an own?—”
“At the very least, whether or not you put your name on the deed, you’ve got a place to stay until we can start making payments to you.” She pressed her lips together. “And that being the case, and since you’re here in Jeb’s stead, I deem it only proper that I consider you…as a brother.”
He gaped at her. A brother? What a change from yesterday. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. She was welcoming him into her family. She would accept his help. He would have a chance to repay Jeb…as much as he possibly could. Warmth seeped into his chest.
She blushed. “Well, you are here in Jeb’s place, and otherwise, it wouldn’t be quite proper you staying on the ranch.” She rushed through the words as if she might change her mind if she took the time to think better of it.
