cautious.
"Are you taking her into town?" she asked
her dad.
"No."
"But she probably needs to see a doctor. And
then she can go home."
"Home?"
"She's not a rancher, Dad. You said so, and
today proves it. She should just go back to Boston and let you have
the ranch."
Trace smiled and ruffled her hair. "She
should, pumpkin, but my bet is she won't."
"And you'd win," Kalli called, annoyed that
even his daughter wanted her gone.
Becky looked around her father at Kalli,
anger and frustration in her expression. "If my dad didn't help you
out, you'd be gone in a flash. You don't know nothing about
ranching."
"That’s enough Becky," Trace said sharply.
He set the ice pack on the edge of the bed and looked at Kalli.
"Where do you keep your nightgowns?"
"I sleep in T-shirts," she said, remembering
that morning. "In the second drawer, on the left." Suddenly the
aches and pains fled. She could only watch as Trace opened her
bureau drawer. She imagined his eyes on the frilly underwear lying
beside the practical cotton T-shirts she'd taken from her
brothers.
He withdrew a navy shirt with Boston Red Sox
in big red letters.
"Whose was this?" It was obviously a man's
shirt. Who did she know intimately enough to use his shirt to sleep
in? His gut tightened, and his hand fisted around the shirt.
"That one's my brother Pete's," she
said.
His eyes met hers. And the one this
morning?
As clearly as if he'd said it aloud, she
knew what he was asking. Smiling a little, she whispered, "I also
have some from my brother Mark."
He tossed her the shirt, relief spreading
through him. "Can you manage by yourself, or do you need help?"
"I can manage."
"How about your jeans?"
Her jeans. How would she get them off
without jarring her ankle?
"Becky, go look in the bathroom for some
aspirin. Get her a glass of water, too," Trace ordered.
When she was gone, he reached out to help
Kalli. He unfastened the snap, drew down the zipper. Ignoring the
pale pink panties that scarcely covered her, he lifted her hips and
eased the denim over them. Settling her back on the bed, he gently
peeled the jeans from her, taking care with her injured ankle.
Sweat broke out on his forehead with the effort he made to keep his
eyes from seeking the dark shadow behind the pale pink lace. Her
thighs were slender, shapely, soft. Her foot was small, delicate,
like the rest of her, he noted as he eased the socks off. His
fingers ached to brush across that satiny skin, to trail up to the
apex of her thighs and again fed her deep, fiery heat.
Kalli clutched the navy T-shirt against her,
trying to hide her breasts, feeling disoriented and shaky inside.
She knew he was only helping her out, but the touch of his hands
against her legs was almost more than she could stand.
His gaze met hers, held. The fire that had
been banked began to build again. He leaned forward slowly and
pulled her into a sitting position, his eyes never leaving hers. As
if in slow motion, he reached behind her and released her bra.
Pulling the T-shirt from her lifeless fingers, he opened her shirt,
pulling it and the bra from her. She was so beautiful. Her breasts
were firm and plump, crowned with dusty pink nipples that were
already tight with promise. She was so slender and soft, like the
brush of the sweetest wildflower in spring.
Trace wanted to touch her, fed the silken
texture of her soft skin. Taste the unique flavors of her body.
Lose himself in her and forget everything. But now was not the
time. Kalli was hurting. And he heard the running water in the
bathroom. His daughter would be back in only seconds. Regretfully,
he handed Kalli the T-shirt and rose, taking three difficult steps
away.
Kalli also heard the water, knew Becky would
be back in an instant. She yanked on the T-shirt, wincing only
slightly as her sore shoulder strained against the fabric. Once
safely covered, she drew the side of the coverlet over her bare
legs. It didn't cover her feet and she stared at her swollen
"Are you taking her into town?" she asked
her dad.
"No."
"But she probably needs to see a doctor. And
then she can go home."
"Home?"
"She's not a rancher, Dad. You said so, and
today proves it. She should just go back to Boston and let you have
the ranch."
Trace smiled and ruffled her hair. "She
should, pumpkin, but my bet is she won't."
"And you'd win," Kalli called, annoyed that
even his daughter wanted her gone.
Becky looked around her father at Kalli,
anger and frustration in her expression. "If my dad didn't help you
out, you'd be gone in a flash. You don't know nothing about
ranching."
"That’s enough Becky," Trace said sharply.
He set the ice pack on the edge of the bed and looked at Kalli.
"Where do you keep your nightgowns?"
"I sleep in T-shirts," she said, remembering
that morning. "In the second drawer, on the left." Suddenly the
aches and pains fled. She could only watch as Trace opened her
bureau drawer. She imagined his eyes on the frilly underwear lying
beside the practical cotton T-shirts she'd taken from her
brothers.
He withdrew a navy shirt with Boston Red Sox
in big red letters.
"Whose was this?" It was obviously a man's
shirt. Who did she know intimately enough to use his shirt to sleep
in? His gut tightened, and his hand fisted around the shirt.
"That one's my brother Pete's," she
said.
His eyes met hers. And the one this
morning?
As clearly as if he'd said it aloud, she
knew what he was asking. Smiling a little, she whispered, "I also
have some from my brother Mark."
He tossed her the shirt, relief spreading
through him. "Can you manage by yourself, or do you need help?"
"I can manage."
"How about your jeans?"
Her jeans. How would she get them off
without jarring her ankle?
"Becky, go look in the bathroom for some
aspirin. Get her a glass of water, too," Trace ordered.
When she was gone, he reached out to help
Kalli. He unfastened the snap, drew down the zipper. Ignoring the
pale pink panties that scarcely covered her, he lifted her hips and
eased the denim over them. Settling her back on the bed, he gently
peeled the jeans from her, taking care with her injured ankle.
Sweat broke out on his forehead with the effort he made to keep his
eyes from seeking the dark shadow behind the pale pink lace. Her
thighs were slender, shapely, soft. Her foot was small, delicate,
like the rest of her, he noted as he eased the socks off. His
fingers ached to brush across that satiny skin, to trail up to the
apex of her thighs and again fed her deep, fiery heat.
Kalli clutched the navy T-shirt against her,
trying to hide her breasts, feeling disoriented and shaky inside.
She knew he was only helping her out, but the touch of his hands
against her legs was almost more than she could stand.
His gaze met hers, held. The fire that had
been banked began to build again. He leaned forward slowly and
pulled her into a sitting position, his eyes never leaving hers. As
if in slow motion, he reached behind her and released her bra.
Pulling the T-shirt from her lifeless fingers, he opened her shirt,
pulling it and the bra from her. She was so beautiful. Her breasts
were firm and plump, crowned with dusty pink nipples that were
already tight with promise. She was so slender and soft, like the
brush of the sweetest wildflower in spring.
Trace wanted to touch her, fed the silken
texture of her soft skin. Taste the unique flavors of her body.
Lose himself in her and forget everything. But now was not the
time. Kalli was hurting. And he heard the running water in the
bathroom. His daughter would be back in only seconds. Regretfully,
he handed Kalli the T-shirt and rose, taking three difficult steps
away.
Kalli also heard the water, knew Becky would
be back in an instant. She yanked on the T-shirt, wincing only
slightly as her sore shoulder strained against the fabric. Once
safely covered, she drew the side of the coverlet over her bare
legs. It didn't cover her feet and she stared at her swollen
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