“I can help.”
“Jazzy—”
“We can argue about it or we can change the tire,” she said adamantly, not accepting a macho attitude from him any more than she would from Dean, her brother or her dad.
“Are you going to tell me stubbornness is one of your virtues?” he asked warily.
“Possibly. Apparently we both have the same virtue.”
He shook his head. “Let’s get this done.”
Jazzy was more shaken than she was letting on, and her shoulder did hurt. But she wouldn’t be telling Brooks about it. Testing it, she realized she could move it, and she wasn’t in excruciating pain. Those were both good signs. She could help Brooks and worry about her shoulder later.
Brooks managed to steer the truck around and with the thump-thump-thump of the blown tire, they made it to the right side of the highway over to the paved shoulder. Thank goodness the shoulder was wide enough that they wouldn’t be in any danger as other vehicles passed.
Brooks touched her arm. “Stay here. I’ve got this.”
But she, of course, wouldn’t listen. She hopped out of the truck and met him at the rear of the vehicle.
He shook his head. “You’re crazy. You’re going to get soaked.”
“So we’ll be soaked together. I’ve helped my brother and dad change tires. I’m not inept at this.”
He lowered the rear truck panel. “I didn’t think you were. Let me grab the spare and we’ll get this done quick.”
“Quick” was a relative term, too, when changing a tire in the rain. Jazzy had tied her hood tightly around her face and she felt bad for Brooks when his shirt became plastered to his skin. But he didn’t complain and she didn’t, either, though she was cold and shivery. That was so much the better for her shoulder because it was aching some. The cuffs of her jeans were protected by her boots, but from thighs to below her knees, she was getting soaked.
Twenty minutes later they were back in the truck with rain still sluicing down the front windshield.
Brooks reached in the back and took a duffel from the seat. “I carry a spare set of duds in case a calf or a horse drags me into a muddy field. It has happened. How are you under that jacket?”
Actually, the waterproof fabric had kept her fairly dry. “I’m good. Just my jeans are wet.”
He switched on the ignition and the heater. “How’s your shoulder?”
“Numb right now from the cold and damp.”
He began unbuttoning his shirt.
At first she just stared at the tan skin and brown curly hair he revealed as he unfastened one button and then the next. For some insane reason, she suddenly had the urge to move closer...and touch him.
When his gaze met hers, her breath almost stopped. She quickly looked away.
She could hear the rustle of fabric...hear him reach into the duffel bag.
“Jazzy, take this.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see he was offering her a hand towel.
“You need it more than I do,” she managed to say, her eyes skittering over his bare chest.
“Wipe your face,” he suggested. “Then I’ll use it.”
She took the towel and dabbed at her rain-splattered cheeks, the ends of her hair that had slipped out from under the hood. After she handed it back to him, her gaze went again to his completely bare chest, broad shoulders, muscled arms. Wow!
“Do you work out?” she asked inanely, knowing he’d noticed she’d noticed, and there was nothing she could do about that.
“No need to work out when I wrestle with calves, chop wood for my stove and repair fencing on my dad’s property when he lets me.”
“Do you have a house in Kalispell?”
“No. Because I fully intended to move back to Rust Creek Falls someday. I’m in one of those double condos on one floor. It’s got everything I need.”
She handed him the towel and watched as he dried his hair with it. It was sticking up all over. She wanted to run her fingers through it and brush it down, but he quickly did that and swiped the towel over his torso.
“Getting warmer?” he asked, with the heater running full blast.
“Yes. I’m fine. I can’t believe you’re not shivering.”
“Hot-blooded,” he said with a grin that urged her once again to touch him, test the texture of his skin, and see if there really was heat there.
Before she had the chance to act foolishly, he pulled a T-shirt from the duffel, slipped it over his head, maneuvered his arms inside and pulled it down over his chest. She could see denim protruding from the duffel.
“Is that another pair of jeans?”
“Yes, it is.”
“You should change.”
“I’m fine. Let’s get you back to Strickland’s and look at that shoulder.”
“You’re a veterinarian,” she protested.
“I had some EMT training, too. Out here, you never know what you’re going to run into. If you’d rather I take you back into Kalispell to the hospital—”
“No! I don’t need a hospital or a doctor.”
“Great. Then I’m perfect for the job.”
After that, every time Jazzy glanced at Brooks, she envisioned his bare chest, his triceps and biceps and deltoids and whatever else she’d seen. He had tan lines from shirtsleeves on his upper arms. He had dark brown hair arrowing down to his belt buckle. He had a flat stomach and a slim waist and—
Okay, heating up her body wasn’t helping her shoulder. In fact, it was starting to hurt a little more.
They didn’t talk as he concentrated on driving and she tried not to concentrate on him. She thought about her sisters and brother and parents, and considered phoning them. She hadn’t checked in for a while and they’d want to know what she was doing. However, should she tell them about her job with Brooks? She almost had to, because Dean probably would. Besides that, the news would soon get around to the other volunteers and some of them would be going back to Thunder Canyon. It was difficult to hide anything in a small town.
When Brooks pulled up in front of Strickland’s, Jazzy said, “You don’t have to see me in.”
“I don’t have to, but I’m going to. I told you, I want to check your shoulder.”