A Cowboy in Manhattan (6 page)

Katrina stumbled on a clump of grass. “Huh?”

“Everything was fine last night.”

“Everything was fine this morning, too.”

Mandy crammed her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. “I know Reed very well. We were like brother and sister for the ten years Caleb was away. He’s mad at you, and I’d like to know why.”

Katrina shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him.”

“He won’t answer.”

“Then I guess we’ll never know.”

Mandy shook her head. “What makes you think you can start lying to me now?”

“Practice.”

“Katrina. Seriously. Sometimes I feel like I don’t even know you.”

Katrina counted to ten inside her head. She knew she should say something innocuous and noncommittal, brushing off the comment and moving on. But some obstinate corner of her brain compelled her to speak up. “Maybe it’s because you don’t.”

Mandy stopped dead. “What?”

Katrina knew it was past time to shut up. Unfortunately, her mouth didn’t seem to get the message. “Travis says you all love me.”

“We do.”

“You don’t even know me. You don’t know I’m afraid of horses. You don’t know I’m afraid of chickens. You don’t know I’m afraid of Dad.”

Mandy drew back in obvious shock. “Dad?”

Katrina’s mouth seemed to be on autopilot. “And you have absolutely no idea that I’m afraid my ankle won’t heal properly and that my dancing career will be over.”

Mandy immediately reached for Katrina’s hands, drawing her close, searching her expression. “Sweetheart, what’s going on? What’s wrong with your ankle?”

“It’s nothing,” said Katrina.

“What is it?” Mandy insisted.

Katrina waved a dismissive hand. “I had one of my pointe shoes give out, and I twisted my ankle.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’d rather you didn’t tell anyone.”

“They’ll want to know you’re hurt,” Mandy insisted. “They’ll want to help.”

“There’s nothing they can do. I just need some rest, to let it heal.”

“It was your shoe? Does this kind of thing happen often?”

“Hardly ever. Thank goodness.” Katrina was having an unlucky streak, and she was going to get past it. Her ankle would heal. She should never have admitted out loud that she was worried. She wasn’t. Not really.

She drew a bracing breath. “Mandy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say anything. I don’t know what I was thinking—”

“I’m not the least bit sorry.” Mandy tugged firmly on her sister’s hands. “I want to know you, Katrina. No matter what’s going on inside that crazy head of yours, we all
do
love you.”

“I’m not crazy.” Just because she didn’t like ranching, didn’t make her insane.

“Bad choice of words.”

Suddenly, Katrina felt dead-tired. She didn’t want to have this debate. It was bad enough that Quentin was out to get her and that her career might be hanging in the balance; she didn’t need to add her childhood baggage to the mix.

“Do you think someone could drive me back to our place?” She’d make an excuse to catch a flight in the morning.

Mandy gave her head a vigorous shake. “Not a chance. Now that we’ve broken the ice, we are going to talk, young lady.” She tucked Katrina’s hand into the crook of her arm and began walking again.

Katrina scoffed out an exclamation of disbelief. “I don’t think so.” It was a momentary lapse, not the breaking of an emotional dam ten years in the making.

“So, what happened with Reed?” Mandy repeated.

“Nothing.”

“I think he likes you.”

“I think he hates me.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re afraid of chickens, so I’m not much for trusting your judgment.”

“I really want to go home.” Katrina sighed.

“If by home, you mean Caleb and Reed’s house for margaritas, then that’s exactly where we’re going.”

“I can’t drink margaritas. I’ll get fat.”

“Oh, yes, you can. We’ll burn off the calories somehow. But you, my darling, are in serious need of a stiff drink and a big sister.”

“Your sister claims I’ve upset you.” Reed’s voice interrupted Katrina in what she guessed was her thirteenth mile on the makeshift stationary bike, burning off the four giant golden margaritas from this afternoon. She and Mandy hadn’t exactly had a full-on heart-to-heart, but they’d definitely broken the ice.

The sun was going down now, but Katrina was still feeling a little tipsy. The barn had grown quiet while she rode, with only the occasional whinny punctuating the steady whirr of her bike wheel.

“I’m not upset.” She reached for the plastic water bottle in the wire holder on the bike frame, popping the top and squirting some of the tepid liquid into her mouth.

“Good to know.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, leaning sideways against a rough wood post.

Katrina snapped the cap back into place and slid the bottle back into its holder. She braced her hands on the handlebars and upped her speed.

A few moments went by in silence. Lights flicked off in the far reaches of the barn, and doors banged shut behind ranch hands packing it in for the night.

“Gone far?” asked Reed.

“Fourteen miles or so, I think.” She swiped the back of her hand across her damp forehead. She was dressed in lightweight black tights and a baggy white tank top, but the air in the barn was still warm and close around her.

He went silent again, gazing dispassionately at her while she rode.

After about five minutes she cracked, straightening on the bike seat to look at him. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting.”

“For what?”

“Mandy says you’re worried about your ankle.”

“Mandy needs to stop discussing my private business with everybody in the valley.”

“I already knew about your ankle.”

“She didn’t know that.”

“She does now.”

Katrina stopped riding and huffed her frustration. “Are you going to get to your point?”

“I already did. Your ankle.”

“What about it?”

He shifted away from the post, moving closer to her. “Will you let me look at it?”

Though she’d stopped riding, she was still growing hotter. “Are you a doctor?”

“No.”

“A physiotherapist?”

“Nope.”

“Guy with an ankle fetish?”

Reed cracked a grin. “No. But I’ve worked on a lot of horses with strained tendons.”

She coughed out a laugh. “Good for you.”

He braced a hand between hers on the handlebars. “I know how to make a herbal wrap that will increase circulation.”

She crooked her head to look up at him. “Is this a joke? Did Mandy put you up to this?”

“I’m completely serious.”

“I’m not a horse.”

His gaze flicked down for a split second. “In fact, you are not. But the principle’s the same.” He motioned for her to lift her foot.

She ignored the gesture. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“I am.”

“So, why do you want to help?”

“Because you need it.”

“And because Mandy asked you?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Katrina considered his expression seriously. “Were you ever in love with my sister?”

“No.” He reached down and lifted her ankle, crouching and resting her leg across his denim-covered knee.

She didn’t fight him. “Are you lying to me?”

“No.”

“So, there’s nothing between you and Mandy?”

“She’s marrying my brother. That’s what’s between us.” He tugged at the bow and loosened the laces of Katrina’s sneaker.

“I don’t even know how to interpret that.” Did he mean Caleb had come between him and Mandy?

Reed gently removed Katrina’s shoe and set it on the worn, dusty floor. “There’s nothing to interpret.”

“You’re being deliberately oblique.”

Reed shook his head, slipping off her sock. “What makes you think I had a thing for Mandy?”

“Because you’re doing her a favor. By helping me. What other reason would there—”

His large warm hands wrapped around her ankle, and she jumped at the electric sensation.

“It’s not Mandy.” He rotated her ankle. “Does this hurt?”

Katrina sucked in a breath and tried to tug her foot out of his grasp.

“Hold still.”

“It hurts.”

“Sorry.” His thumb pressed on the inside of her foot below her ankle bone. “This?”

“Yes,” she hissed.

He tried the opposite side of her foot and glanced up.

She shook her head in an answer.

“Point your toe?”

She did.

“Other way.”

She flexed. “Ouch.”

“Yeah,” he commiserated, moving back toward the sorest spot. He made small circles with the pad of his thumb, massaging in a way that hurt, but the pain wasn’t too sharp.

She steeled herself to keep still.

“Relax,” he instructed. His attention moved farther up her calf.

Okay, that didn’t hurt at all. In fact, it felt very nice. Very, very nice. She closed her eyes.

His deep voice was low and soothing as it rumbled in the cavernous space. “I’m going to move you.”

“Hmm?”

“You lean over any farther and you’re going to fall off the bike seat.” His hands left her leg, and suddenly he was scooping her from the bicycle, lifting her, carrying her.

“What—”

“Over here.” He nodded to a small stack of hay bales against a half wall.

He set her down, and the stalks of hay prickled through her tights.

She shifted. “Ouch.”

“Ouch?”

“It prickles.”

Reed shook his head in disgust, coming to his feet, striding away, his boot heels clomping on the floor.

Katrina straightened. But just as she was debating whether to hop her way back to her discarded sock and sneaker or get her bare foot dirty, Reed returned with a dark green horse blanket over one arm.

He spread it across the hay bales, then unceremoniously lifted her to place her on the thick blanket.

“Better?” he asked, tone flat.

“I only have thin tights on,” she protested, gesturing to the contrast of his sturdy jeans. “The hay pokes right through them.”

“Did I say anything?”

“You think I’m a princess,” she huffed.

“You are a princess.” He crouched down in front of her, lifting her foot to his knee again.

“I have delicate skin and thin clothing.”

His strong thumb began to massage again, working its way in circles up the tight muscles of her calf. “Am I hurting you now?”

“No.”

“Good. Lean back. Try to relax. We’ll talk about your clothes later.”

She leaned back against the hay. “They’re nice clothes.”

“For Manhattan.”

“For anywhere.”

“Shut up,” he said gently.

She did. Not because he’d told her to, but because his hands were doing incredible things to her calf. She found herself marveling that such an intense, powerful, no-nonsense man could have such a sensitive touch.

He took his time, releasing the tension from her muscles, gently working his way toward the injured tendon. By the time he got there, the surrounding muscles were so relaxed that it felt merely sore, not the burning pain she’d been experiencing for the past two weeks.

He moved away from her ankle, back up her calf, leaving bliss in his wake. Then, to her surprise, he started on the sole of her foot. She wanted to protest, but it felt too good as his fingers dug into the ball of her foot and the base of her heel. And when he switched to the other foot, she was beyond speech. Her sympathetic nervous system fully engaged, and her brain went to autopilot.

“Katrina?” Reed’s deep voice was suddenly next to her ear.

She blinked against the fuzziness inside her brain, realizing that he’d leaned down on the hay bales beside her. Her eyelids felt heavy, and her mouth couldn’t seem to form any words.

“Do I have to kiss the princess to wake her up?” he joked.

“Am I sleeping?”

“I hope so. You were snoring.”

“I was not.” She brought him into focus and saw that he was grinning. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep during a foot massage. “Do you have magic hands?”

“I do,” he intoned.

The barn was quiet, the light dim all around them. They were alone and his eyes were pewter-dark, molten, watchful. His face was hard-wrought, all planes and angles, beard-shadowed, with that little bump on his nose that seemed to telegraph danger.

She had a sudden urge to smooth away that imperfection, to run her fingertips across his whisker-roughened chin and feel the heat of his skin. He’d said something about kissing her. Was he thinking about it now? Would he do it?