Mitch blinked at him, looked him up and down, and then grinned a real grin. “Campbell Halley, that was you.”
“Shut up.” He dared to reach across and flick Mitch’s fingers. “You’re an asshole.”
“Possibly. I’ve been called worse. Recently.” Jesus, Mitch looked tired, like bone-deep exhausted.
He sighed, then asked, going for serious. “Is there anything practical I can do? For real, is there something I can fix? I mean, a dripping faucet, or can I go feed, or do you have horses that need looking at?”
Mitch stared at him for a second, and he knew, he knew without a shadow of a doubt Mitch was going to tell him no, get the fuck out, go away.
Instead he said, “Yeah, can you get rid of that dog Sarah’s been trying to make friends with? I don’t like the looks of him; he seems like he could be mean, and I don’t need anybody killing chickens.”
Cam swallowed hard, because there was no fucking way no way he was getting rid of some dog this little girl liked.
But he had no idea what to do.
Shit shit shit.
He settled for nodding and smiling. “I tell you what; I’ll go out, give it a look. Check out your barns and stuff since I know you can’t get out there. Just kind of check out everything, and I’ll give the dog a once-over. Fair enough?”
“Shit.” Mitch shook his head. “You are as big a softy as she is. Yeah, if you would please? I can’t afford for anybody to get bit, okay?”
“You got it. You have anything I can give him as an incentive to let me look at him? I bet you anything he’s injured.” The dog hadn’t growled at him. Just stared. He would wager on that poor thing having a wound or a mass or something somewhere.
“I have some hot dogs in the fridge that are about to go off.”
“Now, that is a high-value treat, my friend.”
Oh, that was another smile. “You know it.”
“Let’s get you into a better chair. This is hard on me, so you’ve got to be dying.”
Mitch winced, but he didn’t argue. “I’ll get up here in a sec.”
“I can help, man. Trust me. I may not have ridden roughstock since I first started, but I’ve broken a dozen bones and helped more than one friend with their backs and necks.”
“Yeah. This is harsh. I hate being broke-dick. Hate it.”
“I bet.” Maybe he could help with the bills. He had plenty of cash on hand, but he had a feeling Mitch would toss that in his face, and right now, he could help with the damn dog, at least. So he kept the offer to himself.
“Well, I’ll go out and deal with the animals. You just keep yourself together.” That was fair enough, wasn’t it?
“Okay. I will take your help moving, if you don’t mind.”
“Not one bit.” He was ready to do something helpful. He waited for Mitch to turn his body just so in the kitchen chair. And then he took Mitch under the elbows when he held his arms up to help lift him gently. He knew better than to get close to thatdelicate spine area. Mitch moaned and stumbled a little after he got to his feet, landing against Cam’s chest.
Grunting, Mitch stood up straight, not pushing away from him so much as easing. “Sorry, sorry about that. Sometimes I lose my balance.”
“Of course you do. You’re not using your muscles right now. That brace is doing everything for you, so everything is all uncoordinated.” Cam got that, because hell, he’d been in a leg brace once because he tore his knee up and he hadn’t been able to sleep or walk or ride a horse or do anything for six weeks. It had been maddening. “Let’s get you sitting with the girls and watching the show they want to watch. Then I’ll bring you your coffee and I’ll run out to check on everything outside.”
Mitch grimaced. “I really oughta probably go to the office and pay some bills or do something useful.”
“Buddy, you’ve been doing something useful, I bet, ever since you got out of the hospital. Why don’t you just sit for a minute? Really, I’ll help. Momma’s gonna kick my ass if I don’t do something, right?” He offered an arm, grabbing Mitch’s cane with the other hand. He knew it was sometimes easier to be able to stay upright rather than lean on a cane. And he could provide some stability.
Cam didn’t argue anymore because he had a feeling the man was sore as fuck. Once he’d eased him down on the couch, the girls crowding around him, Cam turned on his heel and left so Mitch wouldn’t see what was going on with his face.
Jesus, what a mess. Mitch looked like hell. He was pale, his hair was a bit lank, and he was skinny as fuck. He just needed time to heal, and he wasn’t getting it. And while that still wasn’t Cam’s problem, there was something he could do about it in the short-term. He could help, and Mitch seemed to be letting him, which was probably indicative of how tired he was. Once he started healing up, he would most likely try to kick Cam’s ass.
He chuckled as he wandered back out to the porch looking for that dog. Shit, he should have gotten those hot dogs. He was losing his mind. He headed back inside, grabbing a packet of kind of terribly gray-looking hot dogs, and he smelled them. They didn’t smell like they’d gone off. They just didn’t look too appetizing.
