Dylan's Last Dare

“Then why the hell aren’t I walking?”

“Because the damage was severe. Besides a rod put in to repair your tibia, pins were added to the talus bone.”

“Speak English.”

“All right. Your left calf and ankle were crushed by a two-thousand-pound bull. Not only the bones, but there was some muscle and nerve damage. It’s important you do therapy to help with circulation and to strengthen the muscles. I also know the bull’s horn punctured your abdomen and you sustained rib damage, but you healed nicely. So that pain shouldn’t stop you.”

“Well, I’m stopping you,” he argued. “I’ve heard it all before by several specialists. Bottom line is they couldn’t guarantee that I could go back to riding, or even that I’ll walk again. Okay, okay, I should consider myself lucky to be alive. But lady, I don’t call this living. And I’m not going to bust my butt for nothing—not if I can’t be like before.” He turned his chair around and returned to his bedroom.

Brenna wanted to call him back, but Dylan clearly wasn’t ready to hear anything she had to say. Not now. It was her job to get him to want to give therapy a chance. How was she going to challenge this man? Somehow she had to make him want to fight to walk again.

There was a quiet knock on the door and Wyatt Gentry peeked his head in. He smiled and, although the two men weren’t identical twins, she could see the close resemblance.

Wyatt walked in. “Should I ask how things are going?”

“Not bad,” she lied. “Your brother hasn’t thrown anything at me.”

“Give him time.” Wyatt grew serious. “Brenna, if you’ve changed your mind and think this job is too much, I’ll understand.”

Oh no, she couldn’t lose it before she got a chance. She shook her head. “Trust me, I can handle anything that Dylan dishes out. I just have to figure out a way to make him want to try therapy.”

“Well, I hope you make it. Oh, by the way, the parallel bars are being delivered within the hour. Just tell me what you want removed from the room.”

“We can do without the bookshelves, the recliner chair and coffee table. If it’s not too much trouble. That will give us room for the weight bench and bars.”

“This is the easy part,” he assured her. “Dealing with Dylan’s temper is the difficult task. Maybe I should be here when he sees what’s going on.”

“No. That’s why you hired me. I have to be the one he communicates with. Your brother is used to getting what he wants. He has to learn that if he wants to walk again, he has to work at it.”

Wyatt grinned. “I’m beginning to believe you can do it. It’s been a long time since Dylan hasn’t been able to sweet-talk a woman into getting his way.”

Brenna tensed. The man was hard to resist, but not for her. Right. She knew if Dylan Gentry wanted to, he could make her forget her own name. She just had to keep that fact from him. “You don’t have to worry about me being charmed by your brother. I’m his therapist…that’s all.” It would be a long time before she would allow herself to be interested in any man, much less a danger-loving man like Dylan Gentry.

By 11:00 a.m. the furniture had been removed and the parallel bars and weight bench had been set up in the living area, leaving just enough space for the TV and sofa. Brenna decided that her patient wasn’t going to have enough energy left after therapy to do anything else but watch TV.

Speaking of her patient, she hadn’t seen Dylan since earlier in the morning. Well, it was time he came out of hiding. She went to his bedroom door and knocked.

There was only silence and she knocked again. “Dylan,” she called.

No answer.

“Dylan? I’m fixing some lunch. Is there anything special you want?” Her job description also included making meals and some light housework. She didn’t mind, since she was living here, too.

No answer.

“Dylan?” She knew he had to be hungry, because he hadn’t had breakfast. “Are you all right?” She turned the knob and pushed open the door to find a large bed with Dylan Gentry sprawled across the center. A colorful quilt covered part of his body, but his glorious chest was bare. No red-blooded woman would deny that the man was beautifully built.

Surprised at the sudden rush of feelings, she refocused her thoughts and moved to the bed. He was her patient. That was all. She called his name again. When that didn’t wake him, she touched his foot. “Dylan, you need to get up.”

The man opened his eyes, revealing mesmerizing silver-blue pools that immediately locked on her. A hint of a smile creased his sensual mouth.

“Well, hello, darlin’.” He stretched his arms over his head, lazily. “I was just having this great dream, but you’re so much better.”

The husky tone of his voice sent a warm shiver though Brenna as she saw the true side of the charming bull rider that all the ladies drooled over. Well, she didn’t have the time or the desire.

Brenna pushed away from the doorjamb and moved to the bed. “Well, you’re not dreaming now,” she said. “It’s reality time.”

His smile only grew as he rolled to his side and reached out to touch her arm. “The real thing is so much better.” His voice turned husky. “Why don’t you climb into bed and let me show you.”

If his sexual advances were supposed to scare her off, he was wrong. She had heard similar words so many times before. Jason used to sweet-talk her every time he wanted his way. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you get up and eat something, then do a short therapy session.”

“The only place I’m headed is the bathroom, then back to bed.” He sat up and the covers dropped to his waist as he reached for the wheelchair. Brenna was quicker and pulled it back, away from his reach.

“What the—?” His dark eyebrows drew together as he frowned at her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You’ve been spending far too much time in this chair. You need to get ambulatory. You’re weakening your good leg by not using it.”

“So what if I am?” he said. “That’s my business.”

“And you’re my business.”

“You’re fired. Now get out.”

She folded her arms. “Make me,” she challenged.

Pain flashed across Dylan’s face and Brenna wondered if she’d gone too far. She went into the living room, grabbed the walker and returned to the bedroom. “Here. From now on you’ll use this to get around.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” he said, disgust in his tone.

“If you can balance on the back of a bull, Mr. Dylan ‘The Devil’ Gentry, surely you can manage a walker.”

He dropped backward on the bed. “I’m not using any damn walker…I’ll crawl first, so you might as well give me back the chair.”

“Physical therapists are a stubborn bunch. And since you’re the one who has to use the bathroom, I think I can wait you out.”

He pulled the quilt over his head and let out a string of colorful curses.

Brenna knew if she was going to work with Dylan, she couldn’t let him get away with sleeping all day. She also knew that if he complained enough, Wyatt would fire her.

“You’re behaving childishly, Mr. Gentry,” she said as she took hold of the edge of the covers and yanked them away. She bit back a gasp, discovering the man was naked underneath. Quickly she diverted her eyes to his face, only to catch a satisfied grin from Dylan.

The man had absolutely no problem with his nudity. “Since we’re getting so familiar with each other, don’t you think you could call me Dylan? Bren.”

She dropped the blanket on him. “I’ll call you whatever you like as long as you get up and attempt to cooperate.”

He looked thoughtful. “All right, I’ll get up, but only if I can use crutches.”

“But your balance…”