Falling For The Rancher. Tanya Michaels

of Vicki’s forearm. “Are you regularly seeing a therapist about your wrist?”

      Vicki grunted a sound that was more or less agreement.

      “How much have you been working at home?” Sierra asked, switching to a question that required a more specific answer.

      “When I can. It hurts.”

      “The more you build your strength—within medically approved parameters, of course—the faster you’ll heal. What exercises have you been doing?”

      “You’re the one who needs this job,” Vicki snapped. “Shouldn’t I be doing the interrogating?”

      Folding his arms across his chest, Jarrett waited to see how Sierra dealt with his sister’s uncooperative attitude. He knew from their exchange back in his dad’s study that the redhead had a temper.

      Yet Sierra’s tone was only one of mild reproach when she said, “I didn’t realize you had any questions for me. According to your brother, you willingly forfeited any say in the decision-making process.” She paused. “But if there’s something you’d like to ask, fire away.”

      “Have you even been a therapist long enough to know what you’re doing?” Vicki raked her over with an expression that made it clear she wasn’t impressed with what she saw. “You barely look old enough to buy beer.”

      Despite the younger woman’s sneering, Sierra smiled broadly. “Twenty-seven in November. But if you keep up the flattery, I might make it the whole time I’m here without trying to smother you.”

      Jarrett bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Technically speaking, it was poor bedside manner to threaten one’s patients. But Vicki’s outraged expression was downright encouraging. It reminded him of fights they’d had in years past, when she’d been whole and spirited. He’d take her anger any day of the week over the hollow-eyed stare she’d developed.

      Although he’d wanted to gauge how the two females interacted without his interference, now he spoke up on Sierra’s behalf, defending his hiring decision. “Ms. Bailey’s well qualified for her job—educated and experienced. According to Daniel Baron, she’s one of the best in the state of Texas.”

      Sierra glanced back, looking surprised by the endorsement. The smile she flashed him decimated his vow not to notice how attractive she was.

      “Thank you. But it’s silly to call me Ms. Bailey. We should be on a first-name basis since we’ll be living together. Who knows—by this time next month, we’ll probably all have nicknames for each other.”

      “I have a few ideas,” Vicki muttered.

      “So do I. As for my qualifications, I graduated college early and finished my med school program at the top of the class. Before that, I logged hundreds of volunteer hours in clinics and my high school athletic department, learning from the trainers. I’ve been learning everything I can about physical therapy since a PT helped me after I fractured my spine. You’re not the only one held together with screws and plates,” she added softly.

      Jarrett was caught off guard by this revelation. During their conversations on the phone and in the study, she’d never volunteered why she’d chosen the field. He hadn’t thought to ask. With the knowledge that they’d faced similar obstacles, maybe Vicki would—

      “We’re not gonna be besties just because we’ve both had surgery,” his sister said.

      “Definitely not,” Sierra agreed. “I don’t do ‘bonding.’”

      Oddly, the disdainful words seemed to mollify his sister.

      Vicki was quiet for a long moment. “You’ve only asked me about my wrist. Why not the big thing?”

      “You mean the fact that you’re in a wheelchair? Don’t let that loom large in your mind as The Big Thing. In principle, the broken pelvis is just like the broken wrist. Both are physical challenges you can overcome with time to heal and lots of hard work. The question is, are you willing to do the work?”

      When Vicki slowly nodded, something like hope shining in her dark eyes, Jarrett knew he owed Daniel Baron a debt of gratitude. Sierra Bailey was definitely the right woman for the job.

      * * *

      DINNER THAT NIGHT was quiet, and as he washed off the plates, Jarrett found himself anxiously awaiting Sierra’s return in two days. He’d always loved the spacious ranch house, but with just him and his sullen sister, the empty space around them magnified the silence. That wouldn’t be the case when Sierra moved in. Despite being a petite woman, she somehow filled an entire room with her energy.

      Jarrett had invited her to stay for supper after her conversation with Vicki, but she’d insisted she needed to get going as soon as possible.

      “The sun’s setting earlier every day,” she’d pointed out, “and I need to get at least somewhere close to civilization before it’s completely dark. If I never return, it’s because I got lost on one of your meandering, quaintly unmarked roads. Seriously, is there like a town ordinance against signs?”

      In the short time she’d been at the ranch, she’d made several comments suggesting Cupid’s Bow was not her ideal location. Thank God she’d agreed to take the position anyway. He glanced to where Vicki sat at the table, trying to touch her thumb to her finger. It was one of the exercises Sierra had insisted Vicki do.

      “You follow this regimen exactly until I get back,” Sierra had said, handing over a sheet of paper. “Or incur my wrath.”

      Vicki had rolled her eyes. “You really scare me, shorty.”

      Was it wishful thinking on Jarrett’s part or had there almost been a smile in her voice? Even though parts of his sister’s encounter with Sierra had been contentious, it was still the most animated he’d seen her in weeks—not counting the infrequent times her doofus boyfriend bothered to phone.

      Jarrett had no real reason to dislike Aaron, but seeing how much those short conversations meant to his sister, he resented that the guy couldn’t make time in his busy college schedule to call more often. Or maybe Aaron’s inattention makes you feel guilty because you know damn well there are women who probably expected a call from you that never came.

      He balled up the dish towel and threw it on the counter. “You ready to try that rice thing?” Sierra had left instructions for Jarrett to fill a bucket with dry rice and for Vicki to place her hand inside and try to rotate it. The rice would provide resistance.

      The physical therapist had arched an eyebrow at Vicki. “Resistance is right up your alley, yeah?”

      Jarrett went into the walk-in pantry for a bag of rice without waiting for his sister’s answer—these days, he couldn’t always count on her to give him one. When he joined her at the table, she was still doing the first set of exercises, wincing in visible pain. He desperately wanted to say something helpful, but what? The closest he could come to empathizing with what she was going through were the many bruises and sore muscles that came with riding rodeo. He’d voluntarily endured those because he liked to win. There was nothing voluntary about her suffering.

      As she slid her left hand into the bucket, he tried to sound encouraging. “Sierra is highly recommended. Follow her advice, and I’m sure all of this will get easier.” Eventually.

      Beads of sweat dotted Vicki’s forehead as she attempted to turn her wrist. “She’s pretty, too. Like, obnoxiously pretty.” She pinned him with her gaze. “Don’t you think so?”

      The question felt like a trap. Saying he hadn’t noticed Sierra’s appearance would be a ridiculous lie and an insult to his sister’s intelligence. But survival instincts warned that admitting Sierra was beautiful would only increase the household tension. “I’m not sure what ‘obnoxiously pretty’ means.”

      “Well, she’s way more fun for a guy to look at than old Lucy Aldridge.”

      The realization of what she