Fern Michaels - Heartbreak Ranch

“Good heavens!” she whispered, stunned. Her mother’s theory did indeed appear to work, but— How awful! How demeaning! She could never bring herself to use such underhanded tactics to—

Uninvited, a trio of recent and rather demeaning events popped into her head: Walker refusing to move his horse so she could get the deed from her trunk; Walker chastising her for not knowing the difference between green wood and seasoned wood; and Walker inspecting her biscuits, then having the audacity to call them puny.

One corner of her mouth drew taut and her eyes narrowed to slits as she gave in to her devilish thoughts...and the delightful possibilities.

She went back to the first line where Toddy was mentioned and pored over the lessons, laughing even as she committed them to memory.

It was late afternoon when she finished and started back to the house. Approaching the corral, Amy stopped short when she looked up and saw Walker standing on the roof unbuttoning his shirt. She went breathlessly still as she watched him peel it off. His sweat-slick arms were heavy with muscle, and a dark thatch of hair covered his chest, narrowing as it ran down his stomach and disappeared into his pants. He looked hot, tired and entirely too appealing for any man to look, especially after a day of hard physical labor.

“I’m just about finished,” he said, crumpling the shirt into a ball, then tossing it down. “Here. Catch.”

Hypnotized by the wide expanse of Walker’s chest and the rugged breadth of his shoulders, Amy didn’t see the garment until it dropped on top of her head. While fighting to get it off, she heard Walker laughing. She threw the shirt to the ground and glared up at him.

His laughter stopped abruptly when he lost his footing. Amy’s mouth opened to shout a warning but nothing came out. She watched fearfully as he struggled to maintain his balance, his arms windmilling. In the end, he was unable to save himself and gave in to the roof’s slippery slant.

The ground under her feet seemed to vibrate with the force of his landing.

“Walker!” She hiked up her skirts and ran to his side.

Flat on his back, spread-eagle, he lay still as death. In a panic, she knelt beside him. “Walker?” His eyes were wide open but he didn’t seem to see her.

“Walker, oh, no, please.” Amy looked him over for signs of broken bones and blood, but there were no visible injuries. With shaky hands, she carefully turned his head toward her. “Walker, please say you’re all right.”

He lifted his hand and clasped it around her arm, squeezing tight as he gulped air back into his lungs.

“I—I’m all—right,” he managed at last, releasing his hold on her arm. “Just got...the wind... knocked—” He started to cough.

Amy bowed her head and thanked God. For all the anger and mistrust between them, she didn’t wish him harm. When she looked up again, she saw Toddy standing next to Walker’s head. In an uncharacteristic display of affection, he licked Walker’s face.

“Get him...stop—” Walker sputtered between gasps.

“Toddy! Don’t do that,” Amy commanded, but instead of obeying her, he did it again.

“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.