To Seduce a Rogue by Tracy Sumner Page B

yet? I don’t care. What people call me or what they think. All I care about is my work.”
    She capped the ointment and placed it in the tin box. “I’ll say it again: I don’t believe you. You’re a good person, better than you think.”
    “You only think you see it.” He handed her a strip of cloth that had fallen to the ground. “You’re the misunderstood one. This town has a goddamn angel under their noses, and they don’t even know it.”
    She shifted her attention to packing the medical kit.
    “Who’s running now, Charlie?”
    She snapped the kit shut as if he had never spoken. “I’d leave Taber here for the next day or two. I’ll check on him before you move him and periodically until the wound heals. Put this ointment on morning and night. And keep the stitches covered. The swelling should go down in a day or two.”
    He moved in, crowding her. His thigh brushed hers as he captured her chin, tilting her face high. “Are you running?” A smile spread across his face.
    “I’m not running,” she whispered.
    “I didn’t hear you.”
    She licked her lips. “I’m not running.”
    “Yes. You are.”
    “No. I’m. Not.”
    “Temper. Temper.” He was baiting her. He knew it. Anger would trot her sweet, swinging bottom right out of the barn. And some depraved part of him wanted to punish her for knowing him so well. “You don’t want to be called a hypocrite, now do you?”
    She shoved him back and leaped to her feet so quickly he was left holding air. The barn door slammed behind her. 
    Adam brought his hands to his eyes and rubbed until colors collided behind his lids. He opened his saddlebag, grabbed the flask tucked in the side pocket and took a long gulp. The liquor did little to assuage the hollow feeling in his stomach. When he remembered Charlie’s expression as she said he did not look like an Adam.
    His mother had always said the same thing.
    With a curse, he hurled the flask against the wall. His gaze fell to the row of stitches on Taber’s flank.
    He had hurt her.
    When she had done nothing more than help him.

Chapter Twelve
     

     
    Aspiration
    Strong longing, desire or aim.
     

     
    The night was a typical summer night. The heat you’d paid for so dearly had not disappeared, yet it had mellowed. It was leaner. The breeze now had more room to move.
    Charlie guessed this was why she loved winter so much. It was often a pale and brittle time, but a time of open spaces and the crisp sting of life.
    How many months before winter and the end of this night?
    She sighed and glanced at her soiled dress. She would have smiled if it were funny. She was ten years old again.
    Another summer dance, and she was the dirtiest child there.
    She would be the first to admit that she wore conventional behavior like a dress two sizes two small. It fit improperly and was uncomfortable to boot.
    She stepped back as Myra Hawkins danced by in Chester Dole’s awkward embrace. Charlie hid a smile as Myra glared at her mother. Chloris Hawkins sent Myra a tacit reply only a mother could give. The Hawkins were slipping in the proverbial hook.
    Charlie waved as Kath and Miles sailed by. Kath’s full, mint-green skirt billowed about her. Spotless. Charlie shook her head in bewildered awe.
    Jake Marston slammed his foot to the ground as a high note crept through the crowd, signaling the end of the spirited folk song. Breathless couples stopped in place and broke into raucous approval. Charlie joined them.
    Charlie’s father had delighted in dancing with her to Jake’s music. There was some indefinable, rock-solid...security in dancing in your father’s arms.
    Unconditional love and acceptance.
    Was that what Chase had hungered for as child?
    She stole a quick glance at him. He stood across the way, leaning with casual grace against a tree, his feet crossed at the ankle, his arms folded over his chest. She knew him well enough to recognize boredom with the conversation going on around him. Her Uncle