Karen Rose - Marrying Dr Maverick

She must have sounded a little vehement because he cut her another glance. “I don’t want you to be overwhelmed. There’s a lot to think about. We can farm out the website design.”

“I can do it. I know I can, Brooks. I’ve taken night courses that I thought might be useful at the resort, and I’ve never gotten a chance to use a lot of what I learned, including web design and graphics. I even took a course in setting up a small business in case I ever get the chance to start up my rescue ranch. I’ve put my life on hold for too long. By helping you, I finally feel as if I’m moving forward.”

He was silent for a few moments, then asked, “Did you have other things on hold, other than your job?”

Was he fishing about her personal life? She could tell him about Griff—

And maybe she would have. But the water was moving fast along both shoulders of the road. As she thought about Brooks’s broken engagement, how she’d told Griff she couldn’t see a future for them, the truck suddenly dipped into a hole hidden under a puddle. The jarring jolt would have been bad enough, but a loud pop like a gun going off accompanied it.

Brooks swore and muttered, “I know that sound.”

Their blow-out caused the truck to spin on the back tire until they faced the wrong direction. The vehicle hydroplaned on another puddle and they ended up near the guard rail on the opposite side of the road.

It had all happened so fast, Jazzy almost felt stunned, like she’d been on some amusement-park ride that had gone amuck. Her brain was scrambled for a few seconds until she got her bearings and realized they were half on and half off the highway.

Brooks unsnapped his seat belt and moved closer to her. “Are you okay?”

“I think so.” Without conscious thought, she rubbed her shoulder. “We blew a tire?”

He nodded. “I’m going to have to change it.”

“Oh, Brooks. In this rain? I can call Cecelia or Dean.”

“There’s no need for that. I’ve changed tires before. I’ve gotten wet before. It won’t take long, Jazzy, once I get us set up right. Trust me.”

Trust him. Could she? She didn’t know if she could or not...yet. She’d be foolish if she trusted him on this short acquaintance. Yet she had seen enough to trust in his abilities, to trust that he’d do what he said he was going to do.

His gaze ran over her again. “Let me get us over to the shoulder on the right side of the road so I can take care of the tire.”

“I can help.”

“Jazzy—”

“We can argue about it or we can change the tire,” she said adamantly, not accepting a macho attitude from him any more than she would from Dean, her brother or her dad.

“Are you going to tell me stubbornness is one of your virtues?” he asked warily.

“Possibly. Apparently we both have the same virtue.”

He shook his head. “Let’s get this done.”

Jazzy was more shaken than she was letting on, and her shoulder did hurt. But she wouldn’t be telling Brooks about it. Testing it, she realized she could move it, and she wasn’t in excruciating pain. Those were both good signs. She could help Brooks and worry about her shoulder later.

Brooks managed to steer the truck around and with the thump-thump-thump of the blown tire, they made it to the right side of the highway over to the paved shoulder. Thank goodness the shoulder was wide enough that they wouldn’t be in any danger as other vehicles passed.

Brooks touched her arm. “Stay here. I’ve got this.”

But she, of course, wouldn’t listen. She hopped out of the truck and met him at the rear of the vehicle.

He shook his head. “You’re crazy. You’re going to get soaked.”

“So we’ll be soaked together. I’ve helped my brother and dad change tires. I’m not inept at this.”

He lowered the rear truck panel. “I didn’t think you were. Let me grab the spare and we’ll get this done quick.”

“Quick” was a relative term, too, when changing a tire in the rain. Jazzy had tied her hood tightly around her face and she felt bad for Brooks when his shirt became plastered to his skin. But he didn’t complain and she didn’t, either, though she was cold and shivery. That was so much the better for her shoulder because it was aching some. The cuffs of her jeans were protected by her boots, but from thighs to below her knees, she was getting soaked.

Twenty minutes later they were back in the truck with rain still sluicing down the front windshield.

Brooks reached in the back and took a duffel from the seat. “I carry a spare set of duds in case a calf or a horse drags me into a muddy field. It has happened. How are you under that jacket?”

Actually, the waterproof fabric had kept her fairly dry. “I’m good. Just my jeans are wet.”

He switched on the ignition and the heater. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Numb right now from the cold and damp.”

He began unbuttoning his shirt.

At first she just stared at the tan skin and brown curly hair he revealed as he unfastened one button and then the next. For some insane reason, she suddenly had the urge to move closer...and touch him.

When his gaze met hers, her breath almost stopped. She quickly looked away.

She could hear the rustle of fabric...hear him reach into the duffel bag.

“Jazzy, take this.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see he was offering her a hand towel.

“You need it more than I do,” she managed to say, her eyes skittering over his bare chest.

“Wipe your face,” he suggested. “Then I’ll use it.”

She took the towel and dabbed at her rain-splattered cheeks, the ends of her hair that had slipped out from under the hood. After she handed it back to him, her gaze went again to his completely bare chest, broad shoulders, muscled arms. Wow!

“Do you work out?” she asked inanely, knowing he’d noticed she’d noticed, and there was nothing she could do about that.

“No need to work out when I wrestle with calves, chop wood for my stove and repair fencing on my dad’s property when he lets me.”

“Do you have a house in Kalispell?”

“No. Because I fully intended to move back to Rust Creek Falls someday. I’m in one of those double condos on one floor. It’s got everything I need.”

She handed him the towel and watched as he dried his hair with it. It was sticking up all over. She wanted to run her fingers through it and brush it down, but he quickly did that and swiped the towel over his torso.

“Getting warmer?” he asked, with the heater running full blast.

“Yes. I’m fine. I can’t believe you’re not shivering.”

“Hot-blooded,” he said with a grin that urged her once again to touch him, test the texture of his skin, and see if there really was heat there.

Before she had the chance to act foolishly, he pulled a T-shirt from the duffel, slipped it over his head, maneuvered his arms inside and pulled it down over his chest. She could see denim protruding from the duffel.

“Is that another pair of jeans?”

“Yes, it is.”

“You should change.”

“I’m fine. Let’s get you back to Strickland’s and look at that shoulder.”

“You’re a veterinarian,” she protested.

“I had some EMT training, too. Out here, you never know what you’re going to run into. If you’d rather I take you back into Kalispell to the hospital—”

“No! I don’t need a hospital or a doctor.”

“Great. Then I’m perfect for the job.”

After that, every time Jazzy glanced at Brooks, she envisioned his bare chest, his triceps and biceps and deltoids and whatever else she’d seen. He had tan lines from shirtsleeves on his upper arms. He had dark brown hair arrowing down to his belt buckle. He had a flat stomach and a slim waist and—