that, he was out the door. She honestly didn’t know if she was sorry to see him go or relieved.
* * *
AT THE RISK of being overly optimistic, Sierra thought that her first hour of PT with Vicki had gone quite well. The young woman hadn’t made a single bitchy comment. Granted, she was glaring as if she wanted to kick Sierra’s ass, but the good news was, if she ever managed to achieve that, Sierra would know she’d done her job even better than anticipated.
They’d wrapped up a set of exercises, and Vicki was glowering over the top of the water Sierra had handed her.
Sierra slid one of the chairs away from the kitchen table and spun it around, straddling it. “Did your post-surgery therapist talk to you about imagery?”
“No, but my Freshman Lit teacher did. Want to discuss symbolism in ‘The Yellow Wallpaper’?”
“I’m talking about positive thinking and having a mental picture of exactly what you want to accomplish, something specific and concrete.” At Vicki’s disdainful look, Sierra added, “There have been actual medical studies concluding that imagery can help accelerate the healing process.”
“So your clinical approach is for me to close my eyes and chant ‘I think I can, I think I can’?”
Well, it had been too much to hope that Vicki’s sarcasm was cured forever. “Yeah,” Sierra drawled, matching the young woman’s scathing tone, “that’s exactly what I said. To hell with the carefully researched exercises and the grueling muscle stretches. Let’s just hold hands and hope for the best.”
The corner of Vicki’s lips twitched. “I’m not holding your hand.”
“You will if I tell you to,” Sierra said mildly. “You’re missing the big picture—everything I do is for your benefit. My only goal here is to help you make progress.” Her only primary goal, anyway. She had secondary objectives of figuring out her future after Cupid’s Bow and repressing her attraction to Jarrett. “Look, Vicki, try to keep an open mind and trust that I have the experience to do my job well.”
When she didn’t respond, Sierra decided to take the silence as acquiescence.
“All right,” she continued, “we want to come up with a specific image that you can focus on during sessions, something that will help keep you motivated when you want to quit.”
Anger flashed in Vicki’s brown eyes. “I’m not a quitter.”
“Good. Me neither. So let’s harness our collective stubbornness and work together. What is it that you want?”
“To walk again. Without a walker or crutches or anything that makes me feel—” She shook her head fiercely, unwilling to voice her frustration and fear.
“You’ll get there,” Sierra promised. “Not all the way there in the three weeks we have, but eventually. But if you could walk right now, no limitations, what would you most want to be doing? Think in terms of sensory details. Build a clear goal in your mind. Hiking outside and feeling the warmth of the sun on your face? Strolling through your favorite store and looking for great sales items?”
“Dancing with Aaron.” A smile lit her face. “Aaron Dunn is my boyfriend. There’s a dance hall near campus that we love to visit. Aaron’s a great dancer. He was teaching me how to jitterbug before last semester ended.”
“Perfect. So close your eyes and imagine everything—the song you’re listening to, the clothes you’re wearing, the smell of beer—er, Aaron’s cologne,” she amended for her underage client. “Got it?”
Vicki nodded.
“Then let’s get to work.”
Jarrett came in through the mudroom that connected the carport and the kitchen. As he pulled off his boots, he heard the sound of female voices arguing on the other side of the door. Damn. Maybe it had been irresponsible of him to leave Sierra and Vicki alone all afternoon, but there was so much that needed to be done on the ranch.
Plus, exercising the horses being boarded at the Twisted R and preparing soil for fall crops kept him almost busy enough to avoid picturing Sierra Bailey on that massive bed upstairs.
He groaned, wondering if he had time for a cold shower before he helped negotiate a truce between the women in the kitchen. But then Sierra laughed, a rich throaty sound, and he realized that the bickering he’d overheard was good-natured, not spiteful. He couldn’t make out Sierra’s words, but whatever she said made Vicki snicker, too.
He froze, trying to recall the last time he’d heard his sister laugh. Amusement had been in short supply since her accident. He’d been confident Sierra could help facilitate his sister’s physical rehabilitation, but he hadn’t expected that, in one short day, she could help Vicki rediscover joy, too. Gratitude struck him full in the chest. Hearing Vic sound happy, even for an instant, highlighted just how miserable and withdrawn she’d been. He wanted his lighthearted sister back, the one who had a bright future ahead of her and thought her big brother hung the moon.
Then be that guy, her hero, not the jerk who jokes about sexual prowess with the hired help.
Right. No more flirting with Sierra. That moment up in her room had been an anomaly, not proof that he was slipping back into his old habits.
Filled with renewed purpose, he opened the door and entered the kitchen. The door to the walk-in pantry was wide open, and Vicki sat in front of it, craning her head to read some of the cans and boxes on the top shelf from her wheelchair.
Sierra stood at the kitchen counter, writing in a spiral notebook. She spared a quick glance in his direction. “Hey, cowboy. Have a good afternoon milking cows and—”
“They’re beef cows,” Vicki corrected her. “Not dairy.”
“Alrighty.” Sierra tried again. “Have a good afternoon herding dogies and riding the range or whatever it is you do?”
Vicki snorted. “You’ve never spent time on a ranch before, have you?”
“Nah. I’m a fan of civilization—places you can find with GPS, towns with movie theaters that show more than one movie.”
“I think the Cupid’s Bow Cinema is up to three films at a time,” Jarrett defended his hometown. “Although, they might all be from last year. What are you ladies up to?” he asked, crossing the kitchen to get a cup out of the cabinet.
“Grocery list,” Sierra said. “I have an exciting Saturday night ahead of meal-planning. It’s vital that Vicki gets lots of vitamin D and calcium right now. Meat’s important, too, so I’m relieved she’s not a vegetarian.”
Contemplating a bleak, steakless existence, Jarrett made a face of reflexive terror. “We come from a long line of carnivores.”
“Except for softhearted Aunt Pat,” Vicki interjected. “She used to help her dad take care of their cows and got too attached. Now she’s— What do you call those people who don’t eat meat except for seafood?”
“Pescatarian,”
