he-
“Try me,” he warned, cutting off her mental protest. Then he walked out.
The apartment door creaked open and then clicked shut. Dalton was gone. She sank back into the welcoming softness of her pillows with a long sigh. A girl could get used to being treated so good by a man. Especially by a man like Dalton Barnes.
Wait a minute. What was she thinking? Dalton was way out of her league. And she was realistic enough to know that men like him were not the stick-around type. She had no intention of putting herself in a position where she could be walked out on again. Once was enough.
* * *
If she had to spend one more day in this apartment she was going to go crazy! Caitlin dropped down onto the sofa, having managed to hobble out to the living room on her crutches. Despite turning in shortly after eight, she had given up on trying to sleep. Maybe it was the chicken with mash potatoes and gravy dinner Ethel had brought up and forced her to eat every bite of that was keeping her awake. But, chances were, it had more to do with the thoughts of Dalton Barnes that were churning through her mind.
She released a pent-up groan. The man had her so flustered she couldn’t even think straight. It was no wonder she’d put the gown on backwards at the doctor’s office the day before. Oh, and the look on Dalton’s face when he’d brought it to her attention. The memory of it had her cheeks warming. Or maybe she was simply fevered.
She placed a hand to her forehead. Cool. Which was probably a good thing. If she developed a fever, Dalton would probably insist on taking care of her. Again. His reaction when she’d twisted her ankle still surprised her. He’d been so worried. So attentive. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had shown her that much concern. And he wasn’t just anyone. He was Dalton Barnes, hot, hunky, ex-rodeo star.
Dalton was also a man who, by his own admittance, let no grass grow under his boots. A man she definitely needed to push from her thoughts. Otherwise, she’d never be able to think clearly enough to come up with another plan to get Brandon Barnes to change his mind.
Despite her resolve, her thoughts went right back to Dalton. The way he’d looked at her when he carried her into the bedroom and lowered her onto the bed. The way he’d leaned into her before he took his leave. Thank goodness she hadn’t given in to the urge that had come over her to pull him down onto the bed with her.
“Count to ten,” she told herself. A therapeutic way to redirect her thoughts to something other than Dalton .
“One, two, three, four, five, sex...ooh!” This was bad. She was a therapist in desperate need of therapy. Redirecting her thoughts, she tried counting the tiles on the ceiling. When that didn’t work, she tried tracing the floral pattern on the sofa with her finger. Nothing she tried eased her restlessness.
A tap sounded at the door, making her jump. Who in the world would be showing up at that time of the night? There was only one person who came to mind. Had Dalton seen her light on? Was he there to lecture her on the need for sleep? Grabbing for her crutches, she pushed to her feet and hobbled to the door to answer it.
“Dalton, I...” Her voice trailed off as she looked up to find one of the teens she had taken under her wing at Stoney Brook several years before standing in the hallway outside.
“Jeffrey? Jeffrey Randolph?”
“I hope this isn’t a bad time,” he said with a worried frown as he eyed the crutches. “The woman working at the diner downstairs told me where to find you.”
“No, not at all. I just twisted my ankle in the snow and have to take it easy.” She hopped aside. “Come in.”
He moved past her into the living room. “Nice place.”
“Thanks.” She smiled. It was so good to see
“Try me,” he warned, cutting off her mental protest. Then he walked out.
The apartment door creaked open and then clicked shut. Dalton was gone. She sank back into the welcoming softness of her pillows with a long sigh. A girl could get used to being treated so good by a man. Especially by a man like Dalton Barnes.
Wait a minute. What was she thinking? Dalton was way out of her league. And she was realistic enough to know that men like him were not the stick-around type. She had no intention of putting herself in a position where she could be walked out on again. Once was enough.
* * *
If she had to spend one more day in this apartment she was going to go crazy! Caitlin dropped down onto the sofa, having managed to hobble out to the living room on her crutches. Despite turning in shortly after eight, she had given up on trying to sleep. Maybe it was the chicken with mash potatoes and gravy dinner Ethel had brought up and forced her to eat every bite of that was keeping her awake. But, chances were, it had more to do with the thoughts of Dalton Barnes that were churning through her mind.
She released a pent-up groan. The man had her so flustered she couldn’t even think straight. It was no wonder she’d put the gown on backwards at the doctor’s office the day before. Oh, and the look on Dalton’s face when he’d brought it to her attention. The memory of it had her cheeks warming. Or maybe she was simply fevered.
She placed a hand to her forehead. Cool. Which was probably a good thing. If she developed a fever, Dalton would probably insist on taking care of her. Again. His reaction when she’d twisted her ankle still surprised her. He’d been so worried. So attentive. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had shown her that much concern. And he wasn’t just anyone. He was Dalton Barnes, hot, hunky, ex-rodeo star.
Dalton was also a man who, by his own admittance, let no grass grow under his boots. A man she definitely needed to push from her thoughts. Otherwise, she’d never be able to think clearly enough to come up with another plan to get Brandon Barnes to change his mind.
Despite her resolve, her thoughts went right back to Dalton. The way he’d looked at her when he carried her into the bedroom and lowered her onto the bed. The way he’d leaned into her before he took his leave. Thank goodness she hadn’t given in to the urge that had come over her to pull him down onto the bed with her.
“Count to ten,” she told herself. A therapeutic way to redirect her thoughts to something other than Dalton .
“One, two, three, four, five, sex...ooh!” This was bad. She was a therapist in desperate need of therapy. Redirecting her thoughts, she tried counting the tiles on the ceiling. When that didn’t work, she tried tracing the floral pattern on the sofa with her finger. Nothing she tried eased her restlessness.
A tap sounded at the door, making her jump. Who in the world would be showing up at that time of the night? There was only one person who came to mind. Had Dalton seen her light on? Was he there to lecture her on the need for sleep? Grabbing for her crutches, she pushed to her feet and hobbled to the door to answer it.
“Dalton, I...” Her voice trailed off as she looked up to find one of the teens she had taken under her wing at Stoney Brook several years before standing in the hallway outside.
“Jeffrey? Jeffrey Randolph?”
“I hope this isn’t a bad time,” he said with a worried frown as he eyed the crutches. “The woman working at the diner downstairs told me where to find you.”
“No, not at all. I just twisted my ankle in the snow and have to take it easy.” She hopped aside. “Come in.”
He moved past her into the living room. “Nice place.”
“Thanks.” She smiled. It was so good to see
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