Cowboys And Cradles

He snagged her left wrist, pressed her palm on the soft cloth to hold it in place before getting to his feet. “It could be totally harmless, but even if it isn’t, there’s rarely a grave danger when the victim is a healthy adult. I just need to make sure exactly what we’re facing here.”

She fought for control, took a steadying breath and managed to achieve it. “Okay.”

He launched a probing glance. Apparently satisfied that he didn’t have a hysterical woman on his hands, he turned away and headed for the place where she’d landed on her rump.

Left alone and prompted by a gentle breeze gliding over bare skin, she became fully aware of her exposure. Granted, the long front and back tails of her ecru cotton shirt covered more than short shorts would have. Still, enough flesh remained on view to make something inside her clench at the unbidden thought of a certain male mouth sucking venom from a wound that was scant inches from other parts of her.

Back to reality, Eve, she told herself briskly, fairly sure modern medicine frowned on that technique. If it turned out she was in any sort of danger, the head honcho would probably put his take-charge attitude to good use by hauling her off to the nearest hospital. And she’d be grateful, despite the fact that no one had taken charge of her since she’d gone off to college.

At the sound of footsteps Eve raised her gaze and watched Ryder approach, swinging something from one large hand—something that had her shuddering before she realized it was too stiff, too rigid as it cut a path through the air, to be what she’d thought it was. At the same time, it was something she recognized all too well.

He stopped directly in front of her and held up the object. “Is this the snake you saw?” he asked mildly. Too mildly.

She knew she was on very shaky ground. “It looks like a snake,” was all she could come up with to say.

“It’s an old, wind-twisted mesquite branch. A sharp edge must have pierced your skin when you rolled into it.”

“It looks like a snake.”

“It’s a damned hunk of wood.”

“It looks like a damned snake,” she said stubbornly.

With clear disgust, he flung it backward over a broad shoulder. “Heaven save me from greenhorns and their imagination,” he muttered as he turned away. “I’ll get the first-aid kit and patch you up.”

Ryder whistled for Lucky, and the stallion was immediately at his side. He reached into a saddlebag and pulled out a small plastic box, still grumbling. The fact that he half blamed himself for what had happened only added to his dark frame of mind. He should have just flatly refused to let Eve ride a horse she wasn’t ready for, he groused inwardly. And he would have done it…if she wasn’t his boss. Cripes, how was a man supposed to deal with that?

And how was any male supposed to hide what a glimpse of smooth-as-cream thighs did to him? At first, with health issues in question, he’d been too concerned to consider anything else. Then he’d found the twisted piece of wood no seasoned outdoors person would have mistaken for anything threatening, relieving his mind and rousing something else when he got another look at his companion, jeans at her knees. If her attention hadn’t been fixed on the bogus snake, she’d have probably noticed that his zipper was no longer as flat as it had been minutes earlier.

Ryder pried open the kit and knelt next to Eve. He drew a deep breath and instantly regretted it. God, she didn’t even smell simple, he thought, taking in a sophisticated blend of exotic flowers and warm woman. He willed his hands to remain fixed on their objective as he slipped the handkerchief from her grasp, letting it fall to the dusty ground, and began to clean the wound.

“The antiseptic may sting,” he told her with a trace of huskiness he couldn’t hide.

Her leg jerked slightly when he gently touched torn skin, but she didn’t make a sound. He continued his task, trying to ignore a scant inch of pink lace that peeked out from between the slit sides of her shirt, and failing. At that moment, ignoring a rattler primed to strike might have been easier. By the time he applied a flesh-colored Band-Aid, he’d started to sweat. “I’m no expert, but I don’t think it’s serious enough for stitches. It should heal fine on its own. You’ll need a tetanus shot, though,” he tacked on, dropping his gaze and making a bigger production of repacking the kit than necessary.

“I got a shot before I came here.” The soft rustle of clothing, the low rasp of a zipper, accompanied Eve’s reply. “I know it’s important when you live around animals.”

At least she knew that much, he griped to himself, rising. He ventured a glance, discovered she was fully dressed and, after a moment, also noted a tendency on her part to look everywhere except his way. It suddenly occurred to him that he might not have been the only one affected by their enforced intimacy. Somehow that put him in a better mood. He didn’t like what was coming next, yet if it made his boss half as uncomfortable as it was bound to make him, maybe she’d think twice before overriding his judgment.

Ryder checked the time on the plain gold watch Pete had traded hard-earned money for to proudly produce as his college-graduation present, something he wouldn’t have traded for the fanciest Rolex. “It’s late. I’ll take a look around for your hat, then we have to start back.”

Eve resisted the urge to wince and told herself not to be a wimp. Despite various aches and pains, most of which centered where she’d be sitting, she had to get back on a horse, and there was no sense whining about it. “Don’t bother with the hat. If my memory serves me right, I landed on it when I fell.”

Ryder replaced the kit and turned to her. “Okay, let’s get going. Fortunately, Lucky can carry both of us.”

Eve frowned, puzzled because she knew her horse was uninjured. She’d already been reassured by the sight of the black mare standing several yards away, head dipped to munch on sparse grass. “Sable’s fine. I’ll ride her.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Ryder propped one shoulder against the stallion’s saddle. “I have a feeling that won’t be so easy.”

Eve’s chin rose right along with her renewed sense of pride. “I am perfectly capable of riding her.”

One corner of his mouth tipped up. “First you have to get her over here. Go ahead, call her.”

Recognizing the challenge underscoring those words, Eve called. Sable lifted her head, viewed her owner with gleaming dark eyes and stayed put. She called again. And nothing happened. When she took a determined step forward, the mare took a step backward. When she stopped and coaxed in a soothing tone, the mare went back to munching grass.

After several frustrating minutes of more of the same, Eve placed her fists on her hips. “Get your butt over here right this minute, Sable,” she ordered, stomping a foot to emphasize that statement.

The mare’s only response was to bob her head up and down, snorting all the while.

Eve’s spine stiffened in indignation. “I think she’s laughing at me.”

A sudden cough may have masked Ryder’s own laugh. Eve couldn’t be certain, since a quick spin found nothing to confirm it. “Are you ready to go now?” he asked calmly.

Still bristling, Eve returned to where he stood. “We can’t just leave her here. You try something.”

“I’d have to chase her down, and there’s no time for that if we’re going to make it back before the sun is history. Don’t worry, she’ll follow us. She’s smart enough to know there’s plenty of food and water waiting for her.” He bent over, linked his hands. “Put your foot here, and I’ll give you a leg up.”

She went up and up, and met the saddle with a small groan she couldn’t restrain.

“A bit tender, Miz Eve?” Now he was laughing at her. She was sure of it, even though she couldn’t see his expression as he mounted behind her.

Two people could indeed share a single saddle, she learned a second later—if the two in question were plastered to each other from shoulders to knees, if an unyielding chest melded to a supple backbone, if hard thighs cradled far softer ones, if some very private male anatomy came flat up against some very sore female anatomy.

It gave, she decided, a whole new meaning to the phrase up close and personal.

“Everything okay?” a low voice at her ear asked as Lucky ambled forward.

“Uh-huh.” She could hardly tell him that her nerves were stretched as taut as some of her muscles.

A skillful flick of the reins had the horse turning to retrace its steps. “We’ll take it slow and easy.”

“Uh-huh.” She wanted it fast and done with. A foolish wish, she knew. The stallion couldn’t handle both their weights and run a race at the same time. And, truth be told, her body wasn’t up to being jostled more than necessary.

As though well aware of the shape she was in, Ryder grasped the reins with one hand and slid an arm loosely around her waist. “If you tense up now, you’ll suffer for it later. Why don’t you lean on me and try to relax?”

The offer caught her off guard. Yet it shouldn’t have, she quickly realized. By and large, cowboys seemed to be naturally chivalrous. Fantasy knights in shining armor? No. Gallant in their own way? Absolutely. She recalled how Cody Bodeen had automatically tipped his hat. Ryder’s suggestion probably meant nothing more than that. Knowing she was bone tired, he had reacted accordingly.

What he didn’t know was that she seldom leaned on anyone, physically or emotionally. Her parents, special souls that they were, had raised her to be independent, encouraged her to never be afraid to try her wings. And she blessed them for it every time she met capable people too bound by what others thought they should be doing with their lives to try theirs. In her own way she had soared. Not to great heights but great enough for her. And she’d done it on her own. Still, that didn’t mean she couldn’t lean on someone else just a bit right now, just for a little while.

Eve let out a long breath and reclined slightly against the man behind her.

“That’s better,” he told her. “You won’t even have to put anything extra in my paycheck for the service.”

It made her smile faintly, eased more of her tension. “I’ll stick a gold star on your personnel file instead,” she promised, tongue in cheek.

“Thanks. I was afraid I’d have to do something truly amazing, like stand on my head on the back of a horse, to get one of those.”

The image had her chuckling. “Have you ever actually tried that?”