cinch, Dylan thought. But the light weight felt like a ton. By the time he finished five reps, beads of sweat had formed on his face. Even though she told him that was enough, he did five more. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing how hard the exercise was on him, but his leg had other ideas. The muscles fatigued from being sedentary for so long suddenly went into spasm.
Crying out, Dylan grabbed his leg. “Damn, damn…”
“Lie back,” Brenna ordered as her sure hands went to work, kneading and soothing the knotted muscles in his thigh.
Dylan draped his arm over his eyes, hating his weakness but letting her magic fingers take over and ease his pain. Soon the pain turned to pleasure. What had soothed him was now beginning to arouse.
“That’s enough.” He sat up and tried to push her hand away. “My leg feels better.”
“Just let me finish working out the stiffness.”
He groaned and tightened his hold on her hand. “That’s never going to happen if you keep this up,” he said honestly.
She glanced down and suddenly her face flamed red. “Oh… Then we should take a break.” She handed him a bottle of water and walked out of the room.
Dylan fell back on the weight bench and closed his eyes. Somehow, he had to find a way to stop seeing Brenna Farren as a woman. He thought about the long-legged, auburn-haired vixen and realized that was never going to happen.
Four days later, taking a break from his workouts, Dylan sat on the sofa, remote in his hand, flipping through the channels, when his brother peered in the door. “Hey, Dylan,” Wyatt said. “Got a minute?”
“It’s your house.”
His brother frowned. “I told you when I bought the ranch months ago I want you as my partner, just like we’d always talked about.”
“Didn’t plan on me being a cripple.”
“Temporary situation,” Wyatt said assuredly.
“And I told you I want no part of the Randell place. Besides, if I had a choice…”
Wyatt raised his hand. “You wouldn’t be here,” he finished his brother’s sentence. Wyatt sat down on the sofa. “Just so you know, this ranch didn’t start with Jack Randell. Our grandfather, John Sr., started the Rocking R and was well respected in the community. At one time this spread was one of the biggest in the area until Jack ran it into the ground.”
“And you’re putting it back together.” At his brother’s nod, Dylan went on, “And you’re even running a herd.”
Wyatt nodded again. “Hank Barrett suggested I give it a try. The Rocking R’s herd is for the Mustang Valley Guest Ranch’s cattle drives and roundups.” He folded his arms. “You can’t believe the big demand for working cattle ranches.”
Dylan saw his brother’s excitement and envied him.
“Chance, Cade and Travis will be helping out,” Wyatt continued. “I’d like you to meet them.”
“Thanks, I think I’ll pass.”
Dylan had heard more than enough about his three half brothers and Hank Barrett, the man who raised them when Jack Randell was sent off to prison for cattle rustling. Dylan felt the same about Jared Trager, another illegitimate brother who’d showed up last year. Seemed their daddy enjoyed seducing women, then when he got tired of them, he moved on. And no one had seen anything of good old Jack for years.
“Maybe when you get back on your feet you’ll feel differently,” Wyatt suggested. “How is the therapy coming?”
Dylan frowned. “You should know since Ms. Farren has been reporting to you.”
“Brenna and I haven’t spoken since the day I hired her. I thought you should handle this business on your own.”
Dylan gave a sarcastic hoot. “That would be a first.” His brother had always tried to manage his life.
“Look, Dylan. A few months ago, I wasn’t sure you would even survive the accident, let alone ever walk again,” he said, emotion lacing his voice. “You’ve been given a second chance, but it’s up to you what you do with it.” Wyatt gave him a long look, then stood and walked to the door. “Call if you need anything.” He left, closing the door quietly behind him.
Dylan suddenly felt like a heel. Deep down, he knew his brother was only trying to help him.
“Wyatt!” he called as he struggled to get up, one hand gripping the back of the chair as he reached for his crutches. He made it to the door, but when he pulled it open he was surprised when he was forced backward as someone slammed into him. It wasn’t Wyatt, but Brenna. He fought to regain his balance but the attempt was futile. He dropped his crutches, reached out to grab the door frame for support, and in the process managed to sandwich Brenna between himself and the wall.
She gasped and her arms immediately went around his waist. He tried to shift his weight, but the action only seemed to increase the friction between them, shooting heat throughout his body.
“Dammit. Hold still,” he demanded.
She froze. Only the sound of the TV in the background and their ragged breathing filled the room. Then her gaze raised to meet his and the startling color of her whiskey eyes mesmerized him. He couldn’t seem to manage his next breath, but he managed to inhale her arousing scent. Only inches from her tempting mouth, he could easily bend forward and take a taste of her. Suddenly realizing where his thoughts were heading, he gripped the door frame and hopped backward on his good leg.
Now free, Brenna moved swiftly to retrieve his crutches. She helped slip them under his arms but didn’t move away.
“You okay?” she asked.
He managed a nod, wishing she would stop asking him that question.
“Here, let me help you.” Her hands touched his arms.
He jerked away. “I can do it,” he insisted, and planted the base of his crutches on the floor, then turned and headed to the privacy of his bedroom. There he could deal with a different kind of pain.
Dylan didn’t come out of the bedroom for the next hour. He didn’t want to, at least not until he could find a way to fight his reaction to this woman. She was his therapist, she was going to have her hands on him…a lot. He groaned, thinking how much he wanted her touch…how he ached for it.
What the hell was wrong with him? No doubt Brenna was pretty, but she had commitment written all over her. And he definitely wasn’t a forever kind of guy. Maybe in that respect he was like his old man. He had no desire to settle down with a wife and kids. He’d never known anyone who’d set a good example for him to follow.
All his life he and Wyatt had been known as Sally Gentry’s bastard kids. Still, that hadn’t been as bad as when they were ten years old and Earl Keys came into their mother’s life. He’d convinced her that he’d make a good home for her and her boys. The truth was, Keys only wanted free laborers for his rough-stock business. Every summer both he and Wyatt had worked the rodeo circuit. During the school
