Authors: Heather Rainier
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Western, #Erotica, #General
Spurs and Heels (4 page)
Juliana grimaced in pain as she turned scathing blue eyes on him.
“You should’ve knocked, you overgrown asshole! You knocked me
32
right off the ladder, barreling in the door like that! Why were you in such a hurry?” She cried out in pain when he lifted her wrist.
“I have no idea, none at all,” he said as Ethan handed him the requested towel. He pressed the dish cloth to the bleeding laceration that was soaking the back of her torn shirt.
She arched away from him suddenly. “Ow! Fuck! You’re making it worse. Give me the towel. Ow! My wrist! Get out of my way. I need ice.”
Ash would’ve gotten it for her, but Juliana rose quickly from the chair before he could say anything. She faltered and stumbled then fell backward over the seat of the chair and the boxes stacked right behind it. Whimpering as she went down again, Juliana’s head cracked against the kitchen countertop.
Ash moved first, afraid she was going to lose consciousness, but she shook her head and started griping at him again. Ethan found another dishcloth and filled it with ice from the freezer then handed it to her as Ash helped her back into the chair.
“I’ll call nine-one-one,” Angel said, appearing concerned as he and Joaquin entered the carnage in Teresa’s living room.
Juliana held up her good hand, grimacing when Ash blotted again at the wound on her back with the dishtowel. “No, Angel. Don’t do that. Can someone take me to the emergency room? I would drive myself but my wrist…I’m right handed. Oh, that’s just fucking great!
How am I supposed to work with a broken wrist? Son of a bitch! Ow-ow-ow!
Fuck
,
what are you doing to me!”
she screeched like a white-hot poker had touched her back, not seeing the rather large splinter of glass that Ash had just removed from the laceration. He was thankful it hadn’t been lodged very deeply.
That had to have hurt like a son of a bitch. He looked up at Jack and grimaced, showing it to him. Jack’s and Ethan’s faces blanched when they saw how big it was. He dropped it in the trash can, and after making sure there were no more pieces still stuck in the wound, he pressed the towel carefully to her shoulder again.
33
“I’ll take you to the emergency room.” Ash felt one hundred percent responsible for her current pain.
“No!
Uh-uh
! I think you’ve done enough,
Mister Helper
. Jack can take me, or any of the others. There’s no telling what else will happen to me with the luck I have around you. I’m liable to self-destruct! Ow, shit! Will you stop?”
“No, I will not! It’s my fault you fell. I’ll take you to the ER. Sit still so I can wrap this towel around your shoulder.”
“
Don’t
tell me what to do, you big, overgrown—Urgh! That hurts!
Stop it!”
Adam moved the ladder out of the way so Ash could lift her up and carry her out to the truck.
“Oh, no you don’t! I don’t need to be carried! There’s nothing wrong with my legs! Son of a bitch, that hurt! Ow! My wrist!” she howled as he carried her out to his truck. Angel opened the passenger side door then Ash lifted her into the seat, which was too high for her to climb into, even if she’d been able.
“Shush now. Let me buckle you up,” he muttered as he tried to carefully ease her back in the seat.
“Did you just ‘shush’ me? This is all your damned fault! If you hadn’t come barreling in there like some idiot
motherfucker,
I wouldn’t be in this damned mess! You broke my wrist! You did this to me! I’m not going anywhere with you! Jack! Help me down! I’ll drive my own damned self to the ER.”
Ash retrieved the icepack from Ethan, who stood on the sidewalk with big eyes, listening as the lovely and professional Juliana Meyers cursed a blue streak that brought Ash’s paternal lineage into question, made predictions on where she thought he’d end up after he died, and what he’d do once he got there. Ash rolled his eyes as Ethan handed over the icepack. If she was feeling up to that tirade, her injuries must not be life-threatening.
Jack walked up to the truck to stop her from unbuckling the seat belt and climbing down. “No. Now, sweetheart, listen. You need to sit
34
still and let Ash take you to the hospital. You’re only making it hurt worse by getting so worked up.”
Ash returned with the icepack. “Here you go, darlin’. Put this icepack—”
“Don’t you
darlin’
me, you—” She growled as she leaned out of the truck, getting right in his face.
Ash laid his hand carefully between her collarbones, pressing her back into the seat, afraid to touch her anywhere for fear of causing more pain. He looked her dead in the eyes, and she glared right back with her icy-blues.
“Listen up,
darlin’
. I’ve had just about enough. Either you shut the fuck up now, or I’m going to duct tape that pretty little potty mouth of yours closed.” He slammed the door in her face, walked around the front of the truck, and pulled open the driver’s side door.
“Do you kiss your mama and daddy with that mouth? Shame on you,”
he muttered then turned to the guys. “We’ll be in the ER for a while, I’m sure. You go on to supper with the girls. I’ll make sure she gets fed and cared for.”
The guys nodded and waved. Actually, Adam and Jack saluted as he started the truck and pulled out. Ash was sure they could hear her yelling, even after the door was closed with the diesel engine running.
“If you think I’m going to let you talk to me like that and tell me what to do, you’ve got another think coming, mister!” The fiery redhead went on and on.
Holy shit, she’s got a mouth on her.
Ash suppressed a grin because he was sincerely worried about her injuries and didn’t want her to be in pain. But by damn, he loved a feisty woman.
* * * *
Halfway through town, she finally ran down and became quiet, a little too quiet, he thought. Damn, but she could get going once she’d worked up a good head of steam. He glanced over at her to gauge her
35
condition. She was sitting forward, away from the seat, and it looked like the towel was soaked clean through. He reached out and held the cloth to the wound, which was bleeding again. Her hand was in her lap, and her fingers looked a little swollen. He happened to catch the glimmer of sunlight in a tear as it splashed onto her other hand. Her face was down, and her cheeks were red. More tears splashed, but she didn’t make a sound.
He turned into the ER patient parking lot. She sat there quietly, cradling her wrist in the ice pack, while he came around to her door and opened it. He finally got a clear view of her face, which was red and blotchy, her cheeks bathed in tears and running mascara. She looked so injured and vulnerable. Broken. Then she made eye contact with him, and his heart lurched when he saw the shame in her eyes.
“Aww, darlin’. It’ll be all right.”
In a shaky voice, she whispered, “Ash, I’m—”
One of the guys must have called ahead because an orderly and a nurse came running to their parking space. The moment to say anything further was lost as she was helped into a wheelchair. Never arguing or insisting that she could walk, Juliana allowed them to help her, but she held onto his hand as they wheeled her in, looking back at him as if she were afraid he might leave.
They brought her into the trauma room and ordered Ash out to the waiting room to register her. He gave what information he could, deferring most of it to her to fill in the blanks. When they asked what his relationship was to the patient, he lied and told the receptionist that he was her boyfriend.
* * * *
Ash pushed Juliana’s wheelchair out to the truck later that evening and lifted her onto the passenger seat. She was still quiet, and it was beginning to worry him.
36
The doctor had given her something for the pain and had told her to follow up with Dr. Guthrie about her wrist and the bump on her head. He’d cautioned her to not be left alone overnight because of the blow to her head. The medication she’d been given made her groggy, and Ash hadn’t minded sitting with her while she’d dozed.
Grace must’ve called Evelyn and given her the rundown and Ash’s phone number because Evelyn called him directly. She asked him to let Juliana know that she should rest and not worry about the store, that she and Leah would see to it for her the following day.
Juliana had accepted the message with a mute nod.
Ash followed her directions to her house in one of the older, stately neighborhoods in town. Crape myrtles lined the sidewalk in front of her home, and his dually pickup dominated her narrow, concrete driveway as he pulled in and turned off the diesel engine.
She noticed her Camaro parked in front of the garage door and realized someone must’ve brought it home for her.
Juliana handed him her house key, and he unlocked the door then returned and lifted her out of the truck, holding her carefully. She felt tense and frail in his arms, not at all like the lively spitfire he’d handled earlier. Truth be told, he preferred the spitfire.
Resting her head against his shoulder, Juliana allowed him to carry her into the house. He headed toward the back of the house down the hallway that led to her bedroom. A lamp on one side of the king-size bed dimly illuminated the room. She tensed up as he lowered her to the bed.
“Are you hungry?” he asked as he squatted down. Her eyes were downcast, and she looked completely wiped out. He wondered how many hours of sleep she got on a regular basis.
“No, my stomach feels queasy from the medication the doctor gave me. I think it wouldn’t be a good idea to eat and then lay down,”
she murmured, holding her hand to her stomach. “Um, Ash?” She started to speak and then hesitated. She put her good hand to her forehead, as though she felt overwhelmed.
37
“What, darlin’?” he asked quietly, stroking the backs of her calves as he knelt there.
“I think I’m going to need some help tonight.”
“Sure, that’s why I came in. Whatever you need, I’ll help you with.”
“I—um. I mean I need…shoot. I need help changing…into my nightgown. I can’t believe this is happening. I should’ve asked Grace or Teresa to come help me so I wouldn’t have to embarrass you like this. The cast is on my right hand, and I have stitches on my left middle finger from cutting it on the metal door. I can’t get my boots off, or unbutton my jeans, or even take off my bra. I need help, but…I’m sorry.” She burst into tears, sobbing like her heart was breaking, her head bowing on her shoulders. He reached for her but wound up putting his hands on her knees, feeling like it was the only safe place he could touch her and not chance hurting her.
He leaned toward her on one knee, and she laid her cheek on his shoulder and wept as her body grew more and more tense. Ash became worried she’d tear her stitches, her sobs broke forth from her with such force.
“Darlin’, you’re going to hurt yourself crying so hard. Please, it’s breaking my heart that you’re hurting so much. If you need my help changing, I don’t mind that. I’ll be a perfect gentleman, I promise.
Tell me what you need.”
“I need you to forgive me, Ash, for being such a bitch earlier. I should have my mouth washed out with soap. I feel so ashamed. I completely lost it with you, yelling at you like that in front of the other men,
again
. I can’t believe I talked to you like that. I promise it’ll never happen again.”
“All cussed out?”
He saw her attempt to smile. “Yeah, I’m all cussed out. My mother would be appalled at my mouth.”
“You were in pain and a little pissed off. We were both upset. Can you forgive me for causing the accident? It was my fault.”
38
“Of course. It was an accident. I should’ve locked the door.”
“Then I can forgive you, too. Was that what you were crying about? That was one hell of a dam bursting inside you over just a little cussing.”
Juliana shrugged, wincing slightly at the movement. “I—I don’t know. It—I think it was everything, and it
wasn’t
a little cussing.”
She wiped her eyes with her good hand. “I think it was the breakup with Lawrence and the Christmas rush and the
after
-Christmas rush and work and…us…and everything.” She laid her cheek against his shoulder again as she huffed and snuffled.
“Us? Really?” That brightened his day a little bit, right there.
“Well, I mean, I like—I’m interested in you, but…we seem to have the worst luck. I’ve picked a fight with you every time we’ve shared a conversation. I’m not an argumentative, brawling type of person. It sets me on edge to be around people who are like that.
But…”
“You’re attracted to me?” He stroked her back, careful to avoid the dressing between her shoulder blades.
Sitting up, she nodded and reached for the box of tissue on the nightstand. He handed it to her, and she began blotting her eyes.
“Okay,” he said and then was quiet for a few seconds. “Listen, let’s get you changed into something more comfortable. I’ll help you lie down, and then we can talk about it.”
He kept her talking while he helped her undress, to distract them both. The diversion didn’t work so well as more and more of her fragrant, satiny flesh was revealed. He was used to undressing a woman for only one purpose, and lusting after her, when she was still in pain, felt wrong.
She groaned when she lifted her arms slightly to slip her shirt off.
Studiously ignoring the lush cleavage cupped in her sexy bra, he slipped her boots and socks off. He had her stand as his fingers slid into the waistband of her jeans to unbutton and unzip the fly. He slid the jeans down her hips and groaned quietly when he realized she was
39
wearing a pink lace thong. One of his fingers had accidentally hung in the waistband at her hip and drew it down with the jeans. His overeager, obnoxious cock roared to life, and he hesitated, in agony.
“On or off?” he asked simply, not able to be more specific, without diving in, injured or not.
“I need to…um, off, please. I need to use the restroom. It will pull my stitches if I bend right now.”
Off.
Fuck.
The thong was coming off then. He slid it down her long, silky legs, along with her blue jeans, as she leaned against him and slipped her feet from them, one at a time. She was inches from his lips and completely off-limits. He kept his eyes on her feet and her dainty, red toenails.
Shit, shit, shit.
40