Dylan's Last Dare. Patricia Thayer
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I don’t need the sheets changed or any fresh towels.”
She figured the towels didn’t need to be changed, because he looked as if he hadn’t bathed in days. She glanced around the mess in the cozy room. “The place could stand to be tidied up, but not right now. I’m here to help you get back on your feet. I’m your physical therapist.”
He couldn’t hide his surprise. “The hell you are.”
“That’s correct, I’ve been recommended by Dr. Morris, the orthopedic surgeon who took over your case when you moved here. Your brother hired me.”
“Well, you can just tell Wyatt to unhire you because I don’t need you.”
“You need me more than you think, Mr. Gentry.” Her gaze moved over him. Dressed as he was in a T-shirt, she could see his upper-body muscle tone was incredible. Her attention went to his cutoff sweatpants that allowed her to see the long scar running down his left calf. She tried to remain expressionless, but she knew that this man had had his share of pain, since his cast had been removed only three weeks ago. She also noticed that his inactivity from being in a wheelchair showed in his flaccid lower limbs.
“Not a pretty sight, is it?” he hissed.
He was a beautiful sight, just his leg was scarred. “I’ve seen worse,” she admitted. “Besides, the scars will fade more as time passes.”
“I don’t give a damn.”
“Well, I’m here to help change your mind about that.”
“I don’t need anyone,” he snapped at her. “I’m doing just fine.” He tried to move away, but the wheel caught on the end of the coffee table. Brenna watched as a frustrated Dylan fought to turn. Finally he broke free and rolled his chair across the room.
“First thing tomorrow I’ll have some of this furniture removed to make it easier for you to move around,” she called to him.
Dylan Gentry stopped at the wide bedroom door. “Don’t waste your time, Ms. Farren. You won’t be here tomorrow.” His large hands worked with the wheels and he rolled himself inside the room and slammed the door.
Brenna released a long breath. “That went well.”
She walked though the living area. There was another door that led to the second bedroom. That was to be hers. She peeked inside. Although small, there was plenty of room for the double bed with a multicolored quilt and a tall pine dresser. The bathroom was roomy, and the doorway had been widened to accommodate a wheelchair. On the side of the tub was an attached whirlpool. Great.
She returned to the living room, then to the small dining area. At the table there was an empty spot for a wheelchair. Everything had been newly renovated to accommodate a handicapped person. Past the breakfast bar, she went to the refrigerator and opened the door, finding it fully stocked with food. More than likely Maura Gentry had brought meals in for her brother-in-law, but by the looks of it, he hadn’t been eating much. She would have to change that since Dylan couldn’t keep up any kind of strenuous exercise without some nutrition.
If he would cooperate with her. That meant somehow she had to get him to agree to do therapy. Her job depended on it. Even though her family was close by, she needed this job…and a place to live. As a recent graduate and with her present…circumstances, she didn’t have the time to wait around for other offers.
Her mentor, Dr. Morris, had sent her to the Rocking R Ranch to talk with Wyatt Gentry about his twin brother who’d been seriously hurt during a bull-riding accident. Even after hearing that Dylan Gentry had driven off a half-dozen therapists in the past weeks, she hadn’t been scared off. She couldn’t afford to be.
Still, she knew this had to be rough on the two-time world-champion bull rider. She should add the best-looking man she’d ever seen. Those grainy black-and-white pictures in the paper hadn’t done him justice. No doubt his reputation with the ladies wasn’t an exaggeration. Now he was confined to a wheelchair.
It was Brenna’s job to help change that.
Even when Wyatt had been reluctant to hire a woman, she had convinced him that she could handle the man and his therapy, promising she could get his brother back on his feet.
And Wyatt was giving her two weeks to get Dylan started on his exercise program.
Brenna was a West Texas native, had grown up on a ranch with brothers who’d ridden in a few rodeos. She could never figure out what drove some men to danger. The thrill of an eight-second ride, a ride that could be the last. Memories of Jason came rushing back as she recalled his fatal hang-gliding accident, and their argument that had been the last words spoken between them. Tears flooded her eyes, knowing he’d chosen the thrill of danger over her…and their unborn child. Now she was alone, pregnant and trying to survive the best she could.
Several loud thuds from somewhere in the cottage had Dylan burying his head under the pillow. He hadn’t slept much last night, not when a picture of Brenna Farren appeared every time he closed his eyes. Hell, what did he expect? He hadn’t been with a woman in months. So the first good-looking one to come along was bound to arouse him. The noise grew louder. He raised his head and glanced at the clock: 7:00 a.m. What was going on?
He grabbed a pair of sweats off the floor and dragged them on. Scooting to the edge of the bed, and with one arm on his wheelchair and bracing his weight on his good leg, he made it into the seat. He lifted his damaged leg onto the footrest, released the chair’s brake, then headed to find the ruckus. He opened the door to discover that the red-haired vixen had returned.
Kneeling in the corner, Brenna Farren was attempting to pull out some shelves. The business suit she had on yesterday had been replaced with a pair of faded jeans that hugged her shapely bottom and two long…lovely legs. A pale pink blouse didn’t hide her other generous curves, either. Her long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, showing off a slender neck and creamy skin. He shook off a sharp tingling that suddenly added a different kind of pain to his lower body. Dammit, she wasn’t supposed to be back.
“I told you yesterday I didn’t need your services, Ms. Farren.”
She swung around, the look of surprise widening her huge whiskey-brown eyes. “Oh, good morning, Mr. Gentry.”
“There’s nothing good at this hour.”
“Oh, really.” She sat down on the floor. “I love the early morning. It’s so quiet…peaceful.” Her voice was soft and throaty, reminding him of dim morning light and whispered demands of lovers… He shook off the thought.
“That’s because everyone is asleep,” he argued. “That’s what I want to be.”
“You can sleep in later after we get you on a routine.”
“When hell freezes over,” he said and nodded toward the door. “Now, would you mind leaving?”
She stood up and placed her hands on her hips. “As a matter of fact, I would mind. I promised your brother that I’d give this job a chance—that I wouldn’t let your rude attitude run me off. So you’ll have to do better than shout at me. I grew up with three brothers. I’ve been yelled at by the best.”
Dylan’s fists clenched. He loved Wyatt but he was getting pretty tired of his interference. “Then I’ll pay you for the month and fire you.”
She shook her head. “You can’t do that. I took this job and I made a promise. Now, you’ve already spent too much time in that chair without working your muscles. It’s going to be even harder to get you up and walking—but not impossible.”
“You don’t seem to understand, Ms. Farren.”
“Brenna,” she corrected.
He sighed. “Brenna. I can’t get back on my feet. I’m going to be in this chair for the rest of my life.”
Brenna could see the fear in his eyes and heard it in his voice. She had a strange impulse to reach out and touch