Until it wasn’t.
Brody fought so hard to hide the pain in his back that I had forgotten about it, just enjoying his company, until suddenly he doubled over.
His hands gripped the trunk of the tree tightly enough that his knuckles turned pale. I knew that the stubborn man wouldn’t want to be doted on, so I rubbed his back until I could feel the muscles ease a little.
“We should head out. We can see the clear cut block another time,” I offered, gently.
“I’m—fuck—I’m fine, Rachel. Just get in the truck.” His voice betrayed how much pain he must have been in.
I almost laughed at that. He could barely stand.
Taking the hand that wasn’t holding onto the tree in mine, I wrapped it around my shoulder before I gently transferred his weight from the tree to me, and we moved slowly towards the truck. The ground was uneven, which didn’t help, but, predictably, Brody didn’t complain.
He did scowl though. I couldn’t tell if it was from the pain or my actions. Either way, he let me help him limp to the passenger side of the truck.
That was when we encountered another problem.
“I’m going to have to get your keys from your pocket.”
He grunted in reply.
I took his free hand and placed it on the side mirror so he could bear some of his own weight. I wasn’t exactly a small person, but he had at least fifty pounds on me. I slid my hand down from his waist, over his hip, and into his front pocket. His breathing hitched, and mine did the same. My blood was pumping a little hotter, aware that my hand was sliding along his thigh, far too close to his cock.
His pockets were deep—women really got screwed when it came to pocket size—but that wasn’t what held my attention. It was the heat of his body seeping into my palm. The smell of his skin, so close to mine. The fact that touching him, holding him, helping him, felt like the most natural thing in the world.
I’d never had that kind of casual intimacy with anyone before.
Finally, my hand closed around the key ring, and I pulled it out before I could dwell too hard on why this all felt so easy. The man was in pain, and I needed to get himsomewhere I could help him.
I wrenched the creaky door open. With one hand on his back and one on his hip, I got Brody into the passenger seat. When I reached to buckle him in, apparently that was a step too far.
“I can do it myself,” he grumbled. “Just get in.”
I shut the door, suppressing a small smile, and went around to the driver’s side.
He had managed to get his seat belt on, but he side-eyed me as I got in. “You know how to drive a stick shift? This isn’t some stupid electric, automatic, push-button—”
“I get it, Brody. Just relax.” I put the key in the ignition and started it easily. He cocked an eyebrow at me, and I grinned. “You’re not the only one who’s had a driver’s license since the late nineties.”
I shifted into gear. A grating sound filled the truck, and Brody winced, but I got things straightened out and started crawling over the ruts in the road.
“You can go faster. I’m not that fragile,” he said. The expression on his face said otherwise. His cheeks were red, his brow wrinkled, and he was holding himself perfectly still.
“Where do you live?” I asked, ignoring his comment.
“Blackberry Grove.”
I nodded. “My place is closer. I’ll take you there, get your back sorted out, then you can give me a ride to the library to get my car.”
I expected him to complain, but he drew in a sharp breath as we went over a bump, and that was when I knew he was really hurting.
He was quiet for the rest of the drive, only perking up when the gear squeaked as I put the truck into park.
I helped Brody into the house, and again he was quiet. I bit my bottom lip, starting to worry about how bad his back injurywas. He clearly wasn’t one to complain, but this level of silence was eerie.
“Don’t worry about your shoes,” I murmured as I helped him limp over the threshold. I took him straight down the hall and into my bedroom.
“Rachel, I just need to rest for a second. You don’t need to put me to bed like a child.”
