the teasing she’d given him last night. It was her turn to blush. “Ah, I think I can manage.”
“The doctor said you can leave the sling off during the day. You just have to be careful.”
Good thing, she thought. There was no way to get out of the nightshirt trussed up the way she was.
He turned and headed out her bedroom door. “I’ll wait for you downstairs. Give me a yell if you need help.”
Julie sipped on the coffee and pondered her options. She could drive back to L.A. or stay here until she healed. Then she remembered her apartment had been sublet for the summer and her car had a stick shift. No way could she make the twelve-hour drive home even if she did have a place to live.
Okay, she would stay here in Ferndale. She scooted to the side of the mattress and wiggled around until she got her feet on the floor.
There had to be things she could do to the house one-handed, so the next few weeks wouldn’t be a total loss. Julie finished the coffee, feeling better now that she had the start of a plan in her mind.
She struggled out of the sling and awkwardly managed to get into a pair of panties and sweats. A bra was out of the question, and so apparently, was brushing her hair and putting on socks. She could ask Tony’s help with the socks, and even her hair, but she would have to go braless. There was no way she’d ask him for help with that.
Remembering the way she had acted last night brought a blush to her face. She must have been out of her mind to tease him like that. She barely knew him. Maybe she could blame her behavior on the pain medication she’d taken on the way home.
She made her way downstairs and found Tony sitting in the kitchen, slicing into a coffee cake.
She inhaled the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg, her mouth watering. “Tell me you did not bake that this morning.”
He laughed. “No. Mrs. Smithy dropped it off.”
Julie didn’t recognize the name. “Why?” Why would someone bring Tony a freshly baked coffee cake at her house?
He slipped a wedge of cake onto a plate and pushed it across the table towards her. “Because she heard you had been hurt in an accident.
Julie searched her memory. “I don’t even know who she is.”
“I think she knew your grandmother. Besides, this is a small town. Folks do nice things for each other in small towns.”
He’d made it very clear yesterday that he thought small towns were highly preferable to large cities. He saw this gift of food as a good thing.
Julie frowned, looking down at the plate. She viewed it as an intrusion into her privacy. By now everyone in town probably knew that she had been clumsy enough to fall off a chair.
The coffee cake smelled so good she decided not to let the reason it was in the middle of the kitchen table get in her way of enjoying it. She set her socks, brush and a rubber band down on the chair beside her and settled in to savor some home baking. Awkwardly she forked up a mouthful.
Tony watched her uncoordinated movements and nodded in approval. “The more you use that arm the less stiff you’ll be.”
She smiled at him. “Thank you, Dr. Tony.”
He cut a huge piece of cake for himself and sat across the table from her. After he had demolished half his piece of cake he paused and cleared his throat.
Julie glanced up, waiting. Obviously he was working his way up to saying something.
Finally he said, “Julie, I know you wanted to do all the work on this house yourself, but you aren’t going to be able to manage for a while. Why don’t you hire me? I could use the money.”
She was tempted. By hiring him she could get done even sooner that she had first planned and get back to L.A. Even if she hadn’t broken her collarbone she had no illusions that she could do the work as well or as fast as someone with experience and skill.
Hiring him would solve part of her problem, but there was a hitch. She hated to admit it, but her plan to do over the house herself was based on a lack of cash.
He had made a nice offer and he deserved an explanation, even though she didn’t want to give him so much personal information.
“I can’t afford to pay you and buy materials and supplies. I get paid ten months a year. I’m really strapped for cash.”
Tony shrugged one muscular shoulder. “No problem. Pay me when you close escrow. I’m saving money for stock.”
“Stock? You play the market?” She couldn’t picture him buying and selling, gambling on the stock market. He was too…steady.
He looked puzzled for a minute, then he laughed. “No. Stock as in horses.”
“Oh.” She felt silly. Hadn’t she nicknamed him cowboy? Of course he meant horses.
“When I get my house built, I’ll start on the barn and corrals. I’m going to raise and train horses.”
Julie studied him for a moment. Horse rancher. It fit. “Let me think about it, okay?”
“Sure.” He stood up and scooped up her plate and his, carrying them to the sink. She watched him walk across the kitchen, admiring the fit of his worn jeans. The man did have one fine body.
He finished rinsing the plates and she quickly looked down at her folded hands as he turned toward her.
Tony stopped beside her chair. “I have to go check on Mrs. Trimball’s place, then I’ll be back.”
Betty Trimball, the minister’s widow and the only person in Ferndale she could call a friend, lived three blocks away.
She scooted her chair back across the worn linoleum. “When does Betty get back?” Julie wanted to see her again. There were very few people she felt that way about.
“A couple more weeks.” Tony squatted down beside her chair, took hold of her ankle and propped it on his thigh. He drew her sock onto her foot, and repeated the motion as he put on her other sock. The feel of his big square competent hands on her skin sent shivers up her legs.
In one fluid motion he stood up and picked up her brush. He drew the bristles through her hair in steady, firm strokes. Between the warmth of him at her back and the feel of the brush against her scalp, she had to brace herself to keep from sliding out of the chair.
She noticed he was very careful to be gentle over the lump on the side of her head where she had smacked her skull against the floor.
Where had he learned to deal with long hair? she wondered. An unexpected stab of jealousy spiked through her. Why did she even care?
“Ponytail?”
“What?” She tried to get her thoughts back to what he had asked.
“Do you want your hair in a ponytail, or down?”
She almost asked him how he wanted it. Stupid. Why should she care what he preferred?
