entered the diner where a roomful of customers looked on.
“Dalton,” she hissed, pounding on his muscular back, “the stairs to my apartment are behind the diner.”
“I know that,” he replied. “I’m taking a shortcut.”
Through the restaurant. She wanted to groan. The clinking of silverware against plates ceased and conversation around them stopped.
“Afternoon,” Dalton said as he moved through the eating area and into the back room where the stairs to the upstairs rooms was located.
“Shoot me now,” she muttered, closing her eyes.
“Can’t,” he replied. “Left my gun back at the ranch.”
“Dalton?” a familiar female voice exclaimed.
“Ethel,” he greeted with a polite nod.
Caitlin grabbed onto his belt, still clutching her purse, and pushed up until she could see her employer and good friend scurrying toward them.
“Caitlin?” the older woman gasped. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“You mean other than having every ounce of blood in my body surging to my head?”
“She’s fine,” Dalton assured her. “Just stubborn. Caitlin sprained her ankle pretty bad and is supposed to stay off it as much as possible for the next several days.”
“I could have made it up to my apartment on my own,” she argued.
“See what I mean?” he said to Ethel. “Stubborn.”
Ethel bent, angling her head to see Caitlin better. “Dalton’s right, honey. You shouldn’t be taking on stairs with an injured ankle. You’re lucky to have a big, strong man offering to take you up to your apartment.”
“You mean big, strong ape,” she snipped.
Dalton snorted.
“Take as many days off as you need,” Ethel continued in a motherly tone. “I can handle things around here until you’re feeling better.”
Guilt plagued her. Ethel was the closest thing she had to family. Now, all because of her foolish attempt to get Brandon Barnes to listen to reason, she had not only ruined any chance of that happening, she had just placed additional burden onto her dear friend.
“I’ll be good to go by tomorrow,” she assured her.
“Only in your dreams,” Dalton cut in. “You can’t stay off that ankle if you’re waiting tables.”
Ethel nodded. “He’s right, you know.” She straightened and took a step back. “Now get her up to her place and into bed. I’ll look in on her before I go home tonight.”
If she had any energy left, she’d roll her eyes. The last thing Dalton needed was someone telling him how right he was and feeding that overblown male ego of his.
“Now there’s a sensible woman,” he said with a chuckle as he continued on through the kitchen and out the diner’s back door.
“Blinded by all that male charm,” she muttered as he started up the steps. When they reached the top, he eased her down and held out his hand. “Key?”
“It’s not locked.”
“You don’t lock your door?”
She shook her head. “Never felt the need. Besides, crime is virtually non-existent here in Lone Tree.”
His mouth quirked into a grin. “You mean other than a kidnapping here or there?”
“If my ankle wasn’t injured, I’d kick you in the shin.”
He scooped her up with a chuckle and hauled her inside. “Which way to the bedroom?”
She considered refusing him the information, but it wouldn’t be too hard in an apartment as small as hers to find it anyway. She pointed to the closed door on the other side of the living room.
He carried her into her bedroom and eased her gently onto the bed, as if he hadn’t just hauled her through town like some Neanderthal.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked as he helped her out of her coat.
“A bucket of Tylenol,” she replied with a grimace as she stacked the bed pillows up behind her.
“Hurts pretty bad, huh?”
She nodded. “Clear up my leg.”
“You twisted everything pretty good when you fell.” He bent to remove her boot, setting it
“Dalton,” she hissed, pounding on his muscular back, “the stairs to my apartment are behind the diner.”
“I know that,” he replied. “I’m taking a shortcut.”
Through the restaurant. She wanted to groan. The clinking of silverware against plates ceased and conversation around them stopped.
“Afternoon,” Dalton said as he moved through the eating area and into the back room where the stairs to the upstairs rooms was located.
“Shoot me now,” she muttered, closing her eyes.
“Can’t,” he replied. “Left my gun back at the ranch.”
“Dalton?” a familiar female voice exclaimed.
“Ethel,” he greeted with a polite nod.
Caitlin grabbed onto his belt, still clutching her purse, and pushed up until she could see her employer and good friend scurrying toward them.
“Caitlin?” the older woman gasped. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“You mean other than having every ounce of blood in my body surging to my head?”
“She’s fine,” Dalton assured her. “Just stubborn. Caitlin sprained her ankle pretty bad and is supposed to stay off it as much as possible for the next several days.”
“I could have made it up to my apartment on my own,” she argued.
“See what I mean?” he said to Ethel. “Stubborn.”
Ethel bent, angling her head to see Caitlin better. “Dalton’s right, honey. You shouldn’t be taking on stairs with an injured ankle. You’re lucky to have a big, strong man offering to take you up to your apartment.”
“You mean big, strong ape,” she snipped.
Dalton snorted.
“Take as many days off as you need,” Ethel continued in a motherly tone. “I can handle things around here until you’re feeling better.”
Guilt plagued her. Ethel was the closest thing she had to family. Now, all because of her foolish attempt to get Brandon Barnes to listen to reason, she had not only ruined any chance of that happening, she had just placed additional burden onto her dear friend.
“I’ll be good to go by tomorrow,” she assured her.
“Only in your dreams,” Dalton cut in. “You can’t stay off that ankle if you’re waiting tables.”
Ethel nodded. “He’s right, you know.” She straightened and took a step back. “Now get her up to her place and into bed. I’ll look in on her before I go home tonight.”
If she had any energy left, she’d roll her eyes. The last thing Dalton needed was someone telling him how right he was and feeding that overblown male ego of his.
“Now there’s a sensible woman,” he said with a chuckle as he continued on through the kitchen and out the diner’s back door.
“Blinded by all that male charm,” she muttered as he started up the steps. When they reached the top, he eased her down and held out his hand. “Key?”
“It’s not locked.”
“You don’t lock your door?”
She shook her head. “Never felt the need. Besides, crime is virtually non-existent here in Lone Tree.”
His mouth quirked into a grin. “You mean other than a kidnapping here or there?”
“If my ankle wasn’t injured, I’d kick you in the shin.”
He scooped her up with a chuckle and hauled her inside. “Which way to the bedroom?”
She considered refusing him the information, but it wouldn’t be too hard in an apartment as small as hers to find it anyway. She pointed to the closed door on the other side of the living room.
He carried her into her bedroom and eased her gently onto the bed, as if he hadn’t just hauled her through town like some Neanderthal.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked as he helped her out of her coat.
“A bucket of Tylenol,” she replied with a grimace as she stacked the bed pillows up behind her.
“Hurts pretty bad, huh?”
She nodded. “Clear up my leg.”
“You twisted everything pretty good when you fell.” He bent to remove her boot, setting it
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