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“Damn dog... I’m gonna—kill—” Walker choked out as he rolled over onto the hem of Amy’s skirt.
“Toddy! No!” Amy shouted.
Toddy turned and headed for the house, his tail between his legs.
“I’m sorry. He must really like you.” She looked down and saw Walker’s head lying on her skirt in the junction between her thighs. She took in a startled breath, then tried to hide her shock when he glanced up at her.
“Just give me a minute,” he said, as if reading her thoughts.
Unable to speak, she could only nod.
Minutes later Walker was breathing more normally. He made a face as he lifted his head off her skirt and raised himself on one elbow.
“Let me help you,” Amy offered, reaching toward him. She wasn’t sure how much assistance she could give, considering he probably outweighed her by a hundred pounds or more. But she would do what she could.
“No. Leave me be.”
Amy ignored him. “Oh, don’t be silly.” She jumped to her feet, bent down in front of him and was reaching toward him when he swore at her under his breath.
“I said leave me be.” He waved her away, then, amid grunts and groans, rolled to his knees and began easing himself up.
Hands clenched together against her heart, Amy watched his struggle and felt his pain almost as strongly as if it were her own. Why he would refuse her help, she could only guess. Masculine pride, perhaps. Or maybe just bullheadedness. Whatever the reason, it simply wasn’t good enough.
He was halfway between a stoop and a stand and making poor progress when Amy bent down in front of him, wrapped her arms around his bare middle and helped lift him to his feet. Even after they were standing, she continued to hold him close to her, afraid to let him go.
With her cheek pressed against his chest, she could feel the vibration of his voice, hear the rapid beating of his heart. Memories of another day—of him holding her, kissing her—flashed through her mind. She closed her eyes and let the memory envelop her.
“I thought I told you to leave me be,” he said in a tone that effectively ended her daydream.
She pulled back to look up at him. “So you did, but it happens that I don’t respond well to being ordered around.”
“I’ve noticed.”
She smiled, pleased with herself that she’d stood her ground.
Amy released him then and took a step backward. “Can you walk?”
“Yeah. No. I don’t know. My back hurts like a son of a—!”
“Walker Heart! I will not tolerate cursing!”
“For God’s sake, Amy! This is no time—” Whatever he was about to say ended when he took a step forward and faltered.
Amy saw the difficulty he was having and moved around to his side. “Put your arm around my shoulder and lean on me.” When he didn’t make a move to do as she suggested, she did it for him. “Now, then, let’s take it real easy. One step at a time.”
Once they were in the house, Amy steered Walker toward the bedroom. She maneuvered him through the door, then propped him against the door frame.
“Stay here a minute. I have to take the blanket off the bed.”
“Don’t go to any extra trouble for me.” He took a step forward.
“Walker, stay!” she shouted, halting him before he could take another step. Amy didn’t have time to ponder the fact that she’d used a dog command to get him to listen to her, because the second she turned around, she confronted the blue-checkered tablecloth covering her mother’s painting.
She froze, her heart racing, as she tried to think of what to do. Short of ordering him back outside, then telling him to mount up and ride out, there wasn’t anything she could do, except hope for a miracle that he wouldn’t ask what she was hiding.
Taking a deep breath, she took the debris-covered blanket off the bed, then started fluffing the pillow.
Walker made a sound in his throat that was a combination of impatience and pain.
Keep the training lessons short. The journal’s lessons came to her unbidden, but she didn’t shut them out. If ever she needed help on handling a man, it was now. And whether she approved of the method or not, anything was preferable to his seeing the painting and discovering her secrets. If you work with him for too long at one time, he’ll become bored and won’t respond at all.
Amy hurried to finish.
“Ready?” she asked. He growled an indistinguishable answer and pushed off the door frame as she started toward him. “Wait for me,” she said, ducking under his arm. Amy gritted her teeth as she prepared to bear his weight, but instead he dropped his arm from around her shoulders and moved forward on his own.
“Walker Heart!” She brandished his name like a weapon and slipped around in front of him, splaying her hands flat against his chest to prevent him from taking another step. “You’re going to do as I say or else!” she threatened, her voice throbbing with anger and frustration. Too late she remembered her
mother’s cautionary note.
Never lose your temper. Yelling and stamping around in anger will only make things worse, and he’ll be reluctant to respond to your training.
“I—I’m sorry,” she offered, hoping to undo any damage she might have caused. When she realized she was speaking to his chest, she tilted her head back and looked up. His expression was tight with strain. “I really must insist that you let me help you. One wrong move and you could hurt yourself even more.”
Believing that she had appealed to his common sense, Amy tried again and this time found him slightly more cooperative. Still, getting Walker into bed was no easy task. He was not a small man and pain made him inflexible.
Muttering an oath, he sat down on the edge of the bed.
Turning, lifting, pushing and pulling, Amy managed to lay him down.
“There now. That should do it,” she said, adjusting the pillow beneath his head.
“I can’t lie here like this,” he complained. “I feel like a corpse. I need pillows to prop me up.”
She shook her head. “What you need is to lie flat.”
“You a doc?” he snapped.
“No, but I often helped my mother take care of her girls. They were always straining their backs and—” She broke off, the reality of what she’d said hitting her like a slap on the face. She glanced down at Walker and was relieved to see that he wasn’t paying her any attention. He was too busy trying to get himself comfortable.
Admonishing herself for always saying the first thing that came into her head, Amy moved to the end of the bed, grabbed his left boot and started to tug.
“Hey!” he shouted. He shook his foot loose of her hand. “The boots stay on.”
Remember who is in charge. Be confident in your authority.
“Not in my bed they don’t,” she said in a voice that brooked no argument. Before he could respond, she grabbed his boots by the heels and tugged them off. “I’ll just leave them by the door.”
“Thanks,” he replied to her back as she set the boots on the floor.
A moment later she was back, pulling off his socks. She tossed them on the floor next to his boots. Coming around to the side of the bed, she leaned forward and started toward his belt buckle.
He grabbed her hands in midmotion. “If you want to take my pants off it’s fine with me. But I think I should warn you that I’m not wearin’ anything underneath.”
Amy snatched her hands away. What on earth had she been thinking? Obviously, she’d gotten carried away with her nursing duties. His smug expression mocked her, but she refused to let him see her mortification.
“Thank you for the warning. It didn’t occur to me that you wouldn’t be wearing any— I mean— I just wanted you to be comfortable.”
“I’m as comfortable as I’m gonna get, considerin’.” He gave her a disgruntled look, then turned his face toward the wall.
“Good. That’s...good.”
Without another word, Amy fled the room and closed the door behind her.
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