“Were any of them carrying twins?”
“Twins,” Jeri echoed, surprised. “I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who’s had twins.”
“Come to that, I don’t guess I have, either.” He finished tucking the end of the girth and let down the stirrups. A horn tooted outside. Ryder wrapped the ends of the reins around a hook in a recess of the wall and turned to open the stall gate.
Instead of moving, Jeri just stood there, meeting his gaze, her hands clasped around the top rung of the metal. He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to figure out what she was doing. The corner of his mouth quirked before widening into a lopsided smile. After a few moments, the horn sounded again.
“That’ll be Wyatt,” he said, the soft rumble of his deep voice washing over her in waves. “Excuse me.”
Jeri stepped back, perplexed and a little shaken. He was not the irritable, antsy, steroid-fueled maniac she’d expected. In fact, he seemed a quiet sort, gentle despite his obvious strength. And much, much too attractive.
He slid the gate open far enough to move through it, stepped around her and strode toward the front of the barn. She watched until he pushed through the slit in the drape. Only after the heavy plastic of the drape clacked and rustled together behind him did she even think to move. Stepping into the stall, she introduced herself to Pearl, blowing softly into the Perlino’s nostrils and gently rubbing between them. Then she pivoted and quickly followed Smith from the enclosure.
She heard the creaks and groans of the great doors as they opened, accompanied by blustery swirls of cold air and an influx of gray light. The sound of an engine followed. Jeri came around the end of the wall to see Ryder motioning a big bronze-colored dualie toward a flatbed trailer stacked with bales of hay. Wyatt got the truck positioned to mate the hitch and joined his younger brother at the trailer, nudging Ryder out of the way.
“I’ll take care of this if you’ll grab half a dozen salt blocks and put them in the bed of the truck.”
“Will do.”
Ryder disappeared into a room in the third section of the barn. Jeri trotted after him and got there just in time to meet him as he carried a fifty-pound block of salt mixed with other necessary minerals through the door.
“Here, let me take that,” she said.
“It’s heavy.”
“I carry them all the time.”
He didn’t argue. “Okay.”
Out of habit, she pushed back her sleeves and made a cradle of her arms. Stepping close, he carefully shifted the block into her arms. The unexpected warmth of his bare hands against the chilled flesh of her inner wrists shocked her. She dropped the block, which hit his left foot. Yelping, he yanked back, grimacing in pain. She braced herself for an explosion, but his only reaction was to gasp in a steadying breath, place his injured foot flat on the floor as if testing it and then shake his head.
She couldn’t stop her apology. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. My middle toes got the worst of it.”
“I don’t know what happened. I—”
“It’s okay,” he repeated, smiling at her. “I’ll be fine.”
Something fluttered in her chest. Confused, Jeri crouched over the fallen block, dug her hands beneath it, lifted it to her body and stood, pushing up with her legs. She had carried these heavy salt blocks many times. She knew exactly how to handle them without injuring herself. Or anyone else. And she knew that if she had dropped that heavy block on her own foot, she would be angry and shouting words she ought not to say. Wondering why he hadn’t reacted in similar fashion, she carried the heavy block to the truck.
Something didn’t add up. She’d done a lot of reading about the side effects of long-term anabolic steroid use, and nothing she had seen so far, other than the sheer size of the man, indicated what she knew—which was that Ryder Smith was an abuser of the drug. What was going on? He shouldn’t be able to control his reactions like this.
She turned to find Ryder carrying a second block from the storage room. He walked with a decided limp. She wanted to slink away and hide, but she reminded herself that this big, handsome cowboy had killed her baby brother in a fit of rage. Someone had to figure out what was going on here and reveal the truth.
Unfortunately, she was the only someone who could or would.
* * *
Every step hurt, and his two middle toes throbbed incessantly, but Ryder consoled himself with the fact that neither his big toe nor his pinky had been smashed. Either would have made walking far more difficult. He’d soak his foot and tape them, but it would have to wait until they were finished with the southeast section.
Wyatt needed his help before the storm came, and Ryder reasoned that he’d be riding more than walking. Besides, his pride wouldn’t let him limp away to lick his wounds. He’d had worse injuries, much worse. It was probably his own fault, anyway. He’d been distracted by standing so close to her while he handed her that block. Maybe he’d fumbled it, making it harder for her to keep her grip.
While Ryder finished loading the mineral blocks, Jeri went to help Wyatt load the sledges and harnesses in the back of the truck. Then she helped him turn the unsaddled horses out into the corral and walk their saddled mounts to the truck. Jeri held Pearl’s reins while Ryder and Wyatt tied their respective mounts to the end of the trailer.
“Why aren’t we hauling the horses?” she asked.
“Well, we’d normally use Delgado’s truck or Jake’s,” Ryder told her. “But Delgado’s off today, and since Jake opened his mechanic’s shop, his truck is often in use.”
“I have a truck,” Jeri pointed out. “My trailer’s over at the Burns place, but if you have one, I could—”
“We’ll trail ’em,” Wyatt decreed. “It’s not that far. Thanks anyway.”
Trailing the horses meant slow going; not that Ryder would’ve minded if his foot hadn’t ached like a whole mouthful of rotten teeth. Still, he said nothing as Jeri got into the back seat of Wyatt’s truck cab. Wyatt took the driver’s seat and slowly pulled the rig out of the barn, flatbed and horses behind them. Ryder closed the doors and limped over to crawl into the front passenger seat.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Wyatt asked as Ryder wiggled his toes, trying to ease them.
“I’m fine. I don’t think they’re broken.”
“You ought to know,” Wyatt muttered. “You’ve had more than your fair share of broken toes.”
“Comes with the territory,” Ryder said, twisting to smile at Jeri, in case she was feeling bad about dropping that block. She winced slightly and turned her gaze out the side window.
Ryder faced forward and reached for the handle of his door as Wyatt brought the truck to a stop in front of the main gate.
“No, no,” Wyatt said, throwing the transmission into Park. “I’ll get the gate. You stay off that foot while you can.”
An
