Cowboy For Keeps. Debra Clopton

seemed ill at ease as she tucked a strand of fine brown hair behind her ear and looked his way. Being ill at ease didn’t give him any more confidence in her than her young age.

      Wyatt’s eyes narrowed as she walked up the path. Surely this wasn’t the woman he was supposed to put his confidence in? If he was going to have someone living on the premises for the next two or three months, invading his privacy and telling him what to do, he expected someone who looked as if they could do the job they were hired to do. His ire escalated with each step she took toward him.

      She was medium height with a slight build—no way could she help him get in and out of the wheelchair. She came to a halt at the foot of the steps. Up close it was worse. She had the fresh face of a kid, made more so by the splash of freckles and large doe eyes that looked up at him with what he could only call fear. Seth and Cole were dead meat!

      “Who are you?” he demanded before she had time to say anything.

      “I—well, I’m Amanda. Amanda Hathaway.”

      This was a joke. It had to be. He was notorious for pulling jokes on his brothers. This would be just like the two of them to get him back for stunts he’d pulled. But he knew it wasn’t true. Even they wouldn’t pull a stunt like this now.

      Nope. This was the woman he was supposed to give control over to—the woman he was supposed to trust with his future.

      He didn’t think so.

      Despite what his little brothers thought, he could still make decisions on his own and that started with telling Amanda Hathaway she wasn’t staying.

      Chapter Two

      Wyatt Turner didn’t look right in the wheelchair.

      It was the first thought that had hit Amanda when she’d spotted him sitting on the porch. Her confidence had faltered as she’d driven the three hours to Mule Hollow—not surprising since she hadn’t been feeling like herself. Seeing Mr. Turner did nothing to help matters.

      He was an extremely physically fit man with a broad chest and the lean build of someone used to working out. A man who took care of himself—though she’d already assumed that about him. Joyce had said he was a high achiever, driven to be the best. If that was true, keeping physically fit would fit the profile.

      He was handsome—or would be if he didn’t look so angry. He had black, wavy hair and bold features including a strong jaw, which at the moment was dark with a five o’clock shadow. It wasn’t, however, his look and build that had her smoothing her hand across her flyaway brown hair in a display of nerves. No, it was his eyes. Hard, intense cobalt-blue, they narrowed and grew cold as they studied her. These were the all-seeing eyes of a man who read people for a living.

      He probably hid his thoughts well. He looked as if he only let a person, or a jury, see what he chose to let them see.

      Amanda stilled her nerves. She didn’t have to look close to see he was not happy to be in a wheelchair. He was probably not used to needing someone else.

      Despite her resolve that she could handle this job, Amanda’s heart fluttered with worry and she wondered if she’d made a mistake in coming.

      No mistake.

      This man’s intensity might serve to be her saving grace. If he was as demanding as she assumed he would be, that meant all her time would be consumed.

      And all-consuming was exactly what she needed right now.

      “I’m sorry I’m running a bit late. I’d hoped to be here before lunch but traffic on I-35 was killer.”

      “How old are you?”

      His question caught her off guard, halting her rambling. “I’m twenty-four.”

      “How long have you been a physical therapist?”

      Okay, so he had a right to know these things. But still, he hadn’t even said hello. “Two years. I graduated high school early and started college two years early. I have experience, Mr. Turner, if that’s what you’re worried about.” The realization that he might not have wanted her here hit her.

      “You graduated two years early?”

      She heard the astonishment in his voice.

      “How did that happen?”

      “I had an accident and almost died when I was fourteen. I wasn’t able to attend class.” It shouldn’t have been any big deal, but the fact that he had yet to be cordial at all set everything on end. She assumed he was going to make her stand in the sun until he was satisfied with her answers. She lifted her chin, shifted her weight to her good leg and smiled. “I was hit by a drunk driver. I was training to be a cross-country runner on the freshman cross-country team and was out running near our house. I… Like I said, I nearly died. My parents homeschooled me after that. It was work-at-my-own-pace. I decided I liked to move quickly.”

      She saw the flicker of surprise in his dark eyes—good, she’d meant to get a reaction out of him. He knew about nearly dying and surely would relate to that. It was easy to see he was spoiling for a fight. Anger wasn’t uncommon in his situation. She suspected he was probably stunned to find out that he wasn’t invincible. Overachievers often thought they were untouchable. That they had everything under control and nothing could go wrong. She had news for him—it happened to the best of them. Including herself.

      Life was not controllable. At least not completely.

      “Look, I’m sorry, but this isn’t going to work.”

      “What do you mean this isn’t going to work?” Surely he didn’t mean what she thought he meant.

      His face hardened more—if that were even possible—and his jaw jutted. “Just what I said, Ms. Hathaway. My brothers and your employers all knew I expected a fully capable, highly trained physical therapist for this job. I’m sorry you’ve been brought all the way out here, but I don’t have the luxury of time and can’t waste what I do have.”

      “Mr. Turner, I might be young, but I’m capable of doing this job. I wouldn’t have come if I hadn’t been. You’ve read my résumé, I’m sure.”

      “Actually, no. My brothers handled these arrangements.”

      “Well, then, you also should know that the majority of my work has been done with children and teens. But that doesn’t discredit me from being qualified to handle your case.” Nor did her lack of a leg, but obviously his brothers had chosen not to tell him that, and they must have had their reasons, so she didn’t say anything.

      “That doesn’t change anything.” His expression was blank. “I’ll make sure you’re paid for your time coming out here. This is not going to work.”

      Amanda watched in shock as he pressed the forward button on his wheelchair with the fingers of the arm not in a sling and guided it toward the open doorway.

      “The agency I work for doesn’t have another therapist open for this job.” She hoped something would change his mind; obviously it wouldn’t be anything about herself that would do it. “Being all the way out here is going to cause a big problem when it comes to finding a good therapist. I’m good. Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?” She hadn’t expected that she’d get turned away.

      He halted at the door and shot her a glare—that look took her faltering thoughts from stunned disbelief to complete peevishness! The man is really being unreasonable. Of course she had no clue what was going on in his head, she reminded herself. For all she knew, he might be like this all the time. Boy, would that be an unpleasant way to go through life. However, looking at him, something told her he wasn’t. Something told her he was struggling. And she saw pain in his eyes right then, even as she watched him. He winced slightly, favoring his left side where she knew his hip and lower back injury needed her attention.

      “I’m sure,” he said, his words almost a grunt, but he held on and almost covered