Cowgirl, Unexpectedly. Vicki Tharp

excuses all ya want, Miss Lottie, but he’s just plain got it in for her.”

      Lottie went to protest, but Hank cut her off. “Time you boys called it a night. You too, Jenna.”

      She tried to give him the “you’re not the boss of me” stink eye, but Hank stared her down. Hank wasn’t the foreman, but age alone gave him seniority.

      When she went to lift Dink, Hank said, “I’ll bring him up in a bit, he’s enjoying the fire.”

      “I can—”

      “Jenna,” Lottie admonished, her voice gentle.

      Jenna’s eyes started to roll before she caught herself. “Thanks,” she said to Hank and her grandmother smiled at her.

      Quinn jumped up, his guitar twanging on a sour note as he laid it on the ground. “I’ll walk ya to the house.”

      Jenna smiled, all teeth and promise. Hank’s lips drew down. Jenna and Quinn walked away, so close together their shoulders bumped with every other step. Then Hank glanced at Santos over the fire and tossed his head in the teens’ direction, “Why don’t you go with them?”

      “You’ll do no such thing,” Lottie said to Santos. To Hank, she said, “Leave the kids be, Hank. Give ’em a little privacy.”

      “They’re kids. They don’t need privacy.” Hank glanced at them over his shoulder as if he expected them to drop on the ground and do the nasty right there in front of God and everybody. I for one was happy to see them take a shine to each other. Even though Quinn was older than Jenna, he was definitely more age-appropriate than Hank.

      I was so confused about Hank’s and Jenna’s relationship. Sometimes Hank seemed jealous when Quinn was around Jenna. Other times, he seemed more protective of her.

      Then I reminded myself it wasn’t any of my business.

      Alby and Santos retreated to their cabin and Lottie said goodnight and headed up to bed herself. That left me, Hank, and Dink. Drained, I was ready for sleep myself.

      Dink thumped his tail at me when I stood to leave. I stepped over to him and patted his soft head. He squinted and his lips slid back in a doggy grin. When I tried to leave, Hank lightly grabbed my wrist and sat me down on the log beside him.

      “Don’t let Link get to you. It’s not personal.”

      “I’m not. Not really.” I chewed on a frustrated sigh. Plenty of people in the world didn’t like me. Usually, it was because I’d given them a reason not to. Only I didn’t think I’d given Link much of a reason.

      “Link and I aren’t very close, even though I’ve known him most of my life. Between you and me, Dale asked me to take this job to take the pressure off Link. Dale would deny that if you asked him directly. He doesn’t want Link thinking he’s lost confidence in him, but Dale has. Link lost his mother to cancer a few months ago. His wife left him soon after. From what Dale says, he hasn’t quite been as focused since then.”

      “Now you’re trying to make me feel sorry for him.”

      Ruffling his fingers through Dink’s scruff, Hank glanced up at me, his eyes soft and a faint smile on his lips. “Naw. Trying to give you a little perspective. Don’t let on I told ya, or Link’ll have me mucking stalls by myself for a week.”

      His eyes held mine, the firelight reflecting back at me. Then his focus slipped down to my lips and desire flashed. He wanted to kiss me. Then he glanced away, shaking his head and shaking me off as easily as a dog shakes water from its coat.

      I told myself it was for the best.

      Chapter 5

      The floor of the cabin vibrated as four exaggerated footsteps landed on the front porch. “Don’t shoot,” Hank called out moments before he opened the door.

      “Very funny,” I replied. “Lucky for you my hands are occupied.”

      I was sitting at the kitchen table, twisting like a pretzel and trying to doctor the scrape on my side and finding two hands were not nearly enough to get the job done right.

      After dumping his coat and hat on his bunk, Hank sat beside me and placed a pink plastic bottle on the table. On the label was a cartoon monkey with his shorts pulled down exposing a painful, red monkey butt. “What’s this?”

      “Jenna wanted me to give this to you. For your saddle rub. She said she can’t watch you walk around like your jeans are made of razor wire anymore.”

      “Thank God” was all I could say as I set the medicated powder back down.

      Hank leaned down for a closer inspection of my side, then whistled softly. “Pretty impressive. More shades of purple than a little girl’s wardrobe.”

      “You should see the knot and bruise from where I landed on that rock.” I realized my mistake as soon as the words left my mouth.

      He tipped his chin up, indicating for me to stand and show him. I rolled my eyes, but stood up anyway and tugged the waistband of my boxer shorts low enough to show the hard knot and purple-black bruising, but not so low I was indecent.

      “Hurt?” he asked in all innocence, knowing full well it did.

      I sat back down and dabbed more hydrogen peroxide onto a couple of cotton balls. “Like a bitch.”

      “Maybe you should sit out a day or so. Dale would understand.”

      “I’ll survive. It’s a long way from my heart. Besides, I don’t see you lying around on your bunk with your bum leg raised while the guys are out working all day.”

      He sat back, ran a hand absently down the leg in question, and regarded me. I wasn’t sure if he was more surprised I’d noticed how much the leg bothered him or that I’d called him on it. Then a smile curved up one side of his lips. “Like you said, it’s a long way from the heart.”

      I couldn’t help but smile back. There was something sexy and admirable about a man who did his work without complaint despite a painful injury. As I twisted my body to apply the disinfectant, Hank snagged my wrist. If he felt my pulse spike and thrum beneath his fingertips, he didn’t let on.

      With his other hand, he removed the cotton balls from my fingers and then lightly cleaned my wound. I grunted at the sting, tapping the table with the heel of my hand, but he didn’t pay me any heed. He let go of my wrist so he could ease down the waistband of my shorts and underwear, exposing my hip, half my butt cheek, and my raw skin. I glanced at his face to see if this affected him in any way. He was focused, but only on the job at hand. I chuckled softly as he released my waistband and tossed the used cotton balls into the nearby garbage can.

      “What’s so funny?”

      “You,” I said. “I know I’m not all that, but with my waistband that low there wasn’t much left to the imagination, and yet you acted like you’d popped the hood on your truck to check for an oil leak.”

      His laugh was hearty and warm, and heat pricked in my chest. He placed his hand behind my neck and stroked the side of my jaw with his thumb. I knew what was coming even before his eyes drifted to my mouth. I watched as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine, gentle, but not tentative. He lingered, then leaned back before I had the chance to kiss him back. “If that”—he dropped his eyes to my side to indicate what that was and raised them back to mine— “was what greeted me every time I popped a hood, I would’ve become a mechanic.”

      He stood then and headed for the bathroom without a backward glance. I smiled to myself at his cheesiness as I used a non-stick pad to cover the part of my scrape beneath the waistband and let the rest of the wound get air. Hopefully by morning, it will scab over enough so that I won’t need to bandage it at all.

      After cleaning up my mess, I turned all the lights off except for the one over the kitchen sink, pulled the curtain, and crawled into bed. Hank emerged from his shower, switching off the light on his way by. His wet