Debbi Rawlins - No One Needs to Know

“Thanks.”

He watched her go, feeling huge and clumsy in this small room, although he normally wasn’t. But as he investigated, finding mugs along with plates and glasses and utensils, he realized how organized Annie had to be to make things work.

What was the use of running away with the money if this is how she had to live? There weren’t two mugs that matched, or two plates. Everything looked secondhand. The fridge had very little to say for itself—the milk, a couple of bags of greens, some condiments, two beers way in the back. A tiny freezer section held a couple of frozen burritos and ice trays.

It wasn’t surprising that the most abundant food in the cabin were packages of ramen noodles. This was worse than a dorm room.

She came out of the bathroom with her T-shirt untucked. She’d lost the pink on her cheeks, but she wasn’t back to meeting his gaze. “Please sit,” she said, kicking out one of the chairs.

“Can we have coffee while we do this?”

“Yes.” Her demeanor changed with that one word, her face somehow expressing real pleasure without having to smile. “Of course.”

So, without the smudges on her smooth cheeks, her eyes were still that incredible blue. He liked her mouth, as well. Full lips, well-defined and naturally pink. She wore no makeup, and she sure didn’t need any.

He tensed when he realized what he was doing. Twenty minutes since he’d met her and he was already getting distracted by her looks. Christ.

She blinked, then lowered her lashes. “Go ahead,” she said, with a jerky tilt of her head that had him cursing himself for staring too long. “I’ll get the supplies sorted, then fix myself a cup.”

Together, they made it through the dance of moving with only one open path. She almost avoided his chest, but that one brush of her shoulder made them both freeze as if they’d done something illegal. Annie cleared her throat, and he managed to ignore the contact.

He sat down with his coffee and tore open a package of gauze while he waited for her to fill her mug. The situation was perfect for his purposes. Sudden intimacy with a relative stranger was something no one could plan for. He would find out more about Annie in the next ten minutes than he would being shown around the sanctuary. But only if he stopped allowing himself to be distracted. She was a stunner, no argument there. Knowing how she’d used her looks to dupe his brother made him more the fool if he fell victim.

Along with her coffee, she brought a wet cloth and clean towel to the table with her. A pair of scissors, antiseptic and other first-aid needs had already been laid out. He watched her eye his arm, her top teeth toying with her bottom lip. She winced a second before she swabbed him with alcohol, and so did Tucker.

Far from the cool distance of someone used to causing pain, her expression was the picture of concern. A sharp inhale through clenched teeth, a soft, “Sorry,” as she used a second swab. Once she covered the cut with gauze, her shoulders relaxed, and she was again the confident woman in charge. What he couldn’t tell yet was if her empathetic response was completely false.

“Thanks,” he said. “Now you.”

“Oh. No. I can handle it.”

“I doubt it,” he said, watching her reluctance turn into another blush. “I was there.”

When she finally responded it was with a weary sigh. “Okay, but I know it’s nothing.” She slowly got to her feet, looking as if she’d rather be walking barefoot on hot coals. “It’s my back. I got caught on a wire.”

He turned in his seat as she stood directly in front of him, his eyes level with her leather belt. Now that he was looking for it, he could see spots of blood on her shirt. She lifted it carefully, exposing a long stretch of what would have been perfectly pale skin. Instead, there were two sizable bruises that were coloring in darkly.

“I don’t know,” he said, in no way faking his own concern, which made him uncomfortable. “Maybe you should get these checked out. It looks bad.” He touched the worst of it with careful fingers.

Annie inhaled sharply. “If you’d stop poking at it.”

“I’m trying to make sure there’s no internal hemorrhaging.”

“I’m fine. I’ve had worse.”

“This one’s over your kidney. It could be dangerous.”

“I know there’s no real damage,” she said, lifting the shirt higher, but now with evident tension running through her. “I know because I was kicked by a horse years ago. So, the cut?”

“Right,” he murmured, the word coming out low and slow as her bra strap came into view. It was the least fancy bra imaginable. White, no frills. A sensible bra that had no business looking like that against her pale flesh. Just as he had no business noticing.

The bruises hurt him to see, and the cut was no picnic, but it was impossible not to notice the rest of her body. The sleek elegance of her lines, the curve of her waist, the indention of her delicate spine. This close, her scent came through. Yeah, she was no rose petal, not from a foot or so away, but from inches, she smelled like a ripe peach. Damn his senses for the traitors they were. He murmured another curse.

“What? Is it that bad?”

He cleared his throat and moved his gaze to where she’d been bleeding. Now that he had some focus, he saw it wasn’t a bad cut, on par with his own, but there was no way she could have taken care of it herself.

Tucker got a swab at the same time he pulled himself together. “No. It’s fine. But it’s gonna sting like hell.”

“Go for it.”

He did, and this time, their roles were neatly reversed. He winced—especially with the feeling so present in his memory—although he didn’t apologize or make any noise at all. His job was to be efficient. Observant. He had a rare opportunity in front of him, and he was so busy thinking with his dick it was slipping away.

“This was some introduction, huh?” Her laugh was high and nervous. “I’m really sorry—”

“Do not apologize. I completely understand.” Good. Back to business. “I saw a quarter horse that looked ready to foal. How many mares are pregnant?”

She seemed to relax even though he was taking the second swab to her cut. “We’ve had two births so far, both healthy. Besides Glory, one more is close enough to get her own birthing stall, and another one is showing. That’s it, because we’re keeping the mares separate, but they’re the last of a large herd that was kind of dumped on us. Most of them were taken to a horse sanctuary in Wyoming, but we’ve got the rest.

“Thankfully, they’re pretty healthy now. Some—” She stopped when his fingers touched her skin as he worked to adjust the gauze before taping it. “Some of them were undernourished,” she continued. “And the vet was here a lot in the beginning. We’ve got a line on new homes for a couple of the stallions, which is amazing. It’s going to be hard to place them.”

“I’ll take a look at them, if you like. I can’t promise anything, but I know some people who might be interested, and they’re not too far away.”

“Yeah, distance is a problem for us. I’d appreciate any help you can give.”

“Okay,” he said. “You’re all set. Are you sure there’s nowhere else you might need help? I can get Melody in here, if that’s more comfortable.”

“Melanie.” Annie dropped her shirt. “And no, but thank you. If you’re up for it, we can take a real tour. You can bring your coffee with you, or we could finish it here if you’d rather.” She gave him a quick smile, then handed him his shirt.

He stood, slipped it on and angled away to tuck it in. When he faced her again, she was drinking her coffee, her gaze focused on something other than him.