A Family For The Rancher. Allison B. Collins

put my arm around you, and you lean on me however much you need to.”

      God, he hated this. Having to depend on someone to help him grated on every last nerve. And to rely on a woman, any woman, made it worse.

      Her hand slid across his back and around his side as she tried to support him, leaving a trail of fire over his slick skin. Oh geez. Think of something else. Anything else besides her hand on me. He pictured the pile of horse manure he’d had to shovel as punishment one hot summer as a teenager just to get him the few yards till he could grab his towel.

      He tried not to pant as they hobbled together out of the water. Hated showing weakness, even if she was a therapist. As soon as they were close enough, he leaned forward and grabbed his towel off the rock, wrapped it around his waist. “Thanks.”

      “You’re welcome.” Her voice sounded breathless, and he glanced up to see her hurrying away. She stopped suddenly. “You okay from here?” she asked without turning around.

      “Yeah.”

      Leaves crunched as she hurried away, leaving him alone with the crickets. He dried off, then leaned against the rock, looked around the serene setting. This place had always been his sanctuary, a place to be completely alone.

      And now it would always remind him of limitations.

      And desperate need.