she’d kissed him, he’d threaded his fingers into the silky strands.
“I thought you might be hungry,” he said gruffly. “How do you feel? And don’t tell me fine.”
“My shoulder’s hurting,” she admitted, adjusting the sling.
As she began to rise, he moved toward the sofa. “What do you need?”
Her eyes were troubled when they met his. “An ice pack.”
“The doc gave you something for pain, didn’t he?”
“I won’t put medication in my body if I don’t have to…because of the baby.”
“Stay put,” he ordered. “I’ll get the ice.”
Returning to her with the pack wrapped in a towel, he asked, “Do you want to take the sling off?”
“I guess I have to.”
Before he reconsidered what he was doing, he sat next to her and helped her remove the sling. As she lifted her hair and he slipped the sling over her head, his palm brushed the side of her cheek. His pulse raced, and he decided it was an adrenaline shot because he didn’t want to hurt her. However, when the sling lay in her lap and he pressed the ice pack to her shoulder, the adrenaline didn’t stop and his heart pounded hard against his chest.
Her cornflower-blue eyes shimmered a bit before she closed them.
“Kylie?”
“I’m fine,” she murmured, not opening her eyes.
“Those are two words you’re not going to use around me. Remember?” Ever since he’d known her, she’d never let anyone know she wasn’t fine.
“When did you become such a bully?” she grumbled.
“When I moved to Texas, I found life on my own and getting my own way was a heck of a lot more fun than trying to please anyone here.”
Her eyes opened then and a bit of the shimmer remained. “You always get your own way in Texas?”
He chuckled. “Most of the time.” Then when he considered his life there, he became serious. “There are people in Texas who respect me.” His friends and colleagues didn’t care that he had Apache blood…and didn’t look at him as if he were an outsider.
“There are people here who respect you.”
“I needed to be away from Saddle Ridge to find my life.”
“Have you found it?”
“Yes,” he answered tersely, then changed the subject. “Are you hungry?”
“No. But I have to eat for the baby.”
Although he’d been trying to ignore her rounded tummy, now his gaze dropped to it. “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”
“I want to be surprised.”
“What did Alex want?” he asked, curious.
“I’m sure he wanted a boy. Don’t all men?”
He could tell she was trying too hard to give him a smile. What was going on behind those eyes? “Maybe. Maybe not.”
Their gazes met again and he felt too much. This time he broke eye contact and glanced around the room. Suddenly he realized what was missing. “Where’s your TV?”
“I don’t have time to watch TV.”
“That’s not what I asked you. At Christmas last year, Alex said he bought himself a big-screen plasma TV so he could watch his tapes and improve his rodeo technique.”
Taking the ice pack and moving it to a different part of her shoulder, she asked, “Does it matter?”
“It might. What happened to it?”
“I needed the money from it to pay bills.”
Brock didn’t like the picture that was coming into clearer focus. “I want to look at the books.”
Again her expression was troubled. “I can’t prevent you from doing that.”
“But you’d like to. Why?”
Her cheeks became rosy with color. “On your own admission, you couldn’t wait to leave here. You rarely came back after you went to school. You haven’t come back since your dad died. So why do you want to get involved now?”
The problem was, he couldn’t give her just one reason. The problem was, he wasn’t certain why he was here or what he expected from coming home. It wasn’t his place now, though—it was hers. Unless she decided to sell it. “I came back because Dix admitted he couldn’t handle you and the ranch.”
“I’m going to be—” She stopped.
“It’ll be at least two weeks—maybe longer—until you’re really back on your feet. That’s what the doctor said. By then you’ll be dealing with the last two months of your pregnancy. How much do you think you’ll be able to help Dix? Face reality, Kylie.”
Without any warning she let the ice pack drop to the sofa and stood. “I’ve faced more reality than you can ever imagine. So don’t preach to me, Brock.” She headed out of the living room to a hall at the back of the house.
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
“To the bathroom. Don’t think you’re going to follow me there.”
Brock raked his hand through his hair. Making Kylie’s supper would be the easy part. Sitting together and pretending there weren’t issues and problems to be resolved between them would be the difficult part. With her pregnancy and all, she really should be staying on the first floor. After Jack had had a heart attack a few years before he died, he’d renovated the downstairs, closing the back porch into a bedroom and modernizing and expanding the bath so it included a shower. Kylie should really be spending the latter part of her pregnancy down here. He could help her move her things. But right now wasn’t the time to suggest it. Maybe after he’d cooked them a meal, maybe after they’d talked superficially about something other than Saddle Ridge, she’d relax around him and he’d relax around her.
A little devil in his ear told him he was dreaming if he thought that was going to happen.
The bottom line here was he had to tread carefully. He had to remind himself she was still grieving over Alex, and the loss would be with her for a long time. If he tried to take over, he might trample everything she held dear. Then she’d hate him.
He couldn’t abide the thought of Kylie Armstrong Warner hating him. That realization made him decidedly uneasy.
Leaning back in his kitchen chair, Brock swiped at his mouth with his napkin and tossed it onto the table. His plate was clean. Frustration with Kylie was growing minute by minute. Frustration with himself for caring how she was reacting to him wasn’t much better. The fact that his gut twisted every time she smiled had him totally unsettled.
