Found In Lost Valley. Laurie Paige
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that matter.”
He waved the bag at her. “Sure, that’s what makes us official.” He glanced hopefully toward the empty buffet table. “I was promised lunch if I stopped by. Got any of those baked apples left?”
Seth came out of the kitchen. “I saved you one, but it was a struggle. I had to arm wrestle two paying guests for it.”
“I’ll remember you in my will,” Beau promised. He came to Amelia and lifted the chenille throw. “Let’s see what the problem is with this ankle.” He whistled appreciatively when he saw the bruising.
“Bad, huh?” Seth asked, squatting beside his cousin.
Amelia waited anxiously for Beau’s diagnosis. He probed gently, moved her toes, tickled her instep by running his nails lightly across it, then studied the bruising again. Opening the bag, he removed a stretchy bandage and proceeded to wrap her ankle securely, making her whole foot nearly immobile. And impossible to fit into a shoe.
“Not bad at all, considering,” the doctor announced when he finished. “Keep the ice on it today and tomorrow. That’s held the swelling down nicely and will speed the recovery better than anything. As a nurse, I’ll give you a recommendation anytime, bro,” he told Seth. “In fact, I could use someone in the office.”
“Huh.” Seth only grunted in response to this amused suggestion.
“As for you,” Beau said, turning back to Amelia. “Stay off the ankle for at least a week, then take it easy about getting back to work. If it isn’t better by Monday, stop by for an X ray. Listen to your body,” he advised. “In a few days, we’ll start you on some physical therapy exercises so the joint doesn’t permanently tighten up on you. Six months and you’ll be as good as new.”
“Six months!” She was aghast. “I can’t lie around for six months. I have a ton of work to do. Honey and I are going to remodel the carriage house this winter.”
Honey was married to another Dalton cousin and rented the carriage house for a dance and exercise studio.
“No way,” Beau said quite cheerfully. “You can’t lift drywall or anything heavier than a mop bucket for the next several weeks. You’ve pulled some ligaments and it’ll take time for them to heal. If you’re careful and do the exercises, you’ll be fine. If not…”
Amelia felt her spirits sink as Beau shrugged, indicating it was up to her. Money was an issue. She’d managed to break even after three years and had made a profit during the four years since then, but it wasn’t a big profit. Other than part-time help, she did everything herself, which was how she’d been able to survive.
“She’ll do exactly as you tell her,” Seth said in his no-nonsense manner. “It was my fault she fell. I left my shoes beside the bed, and she tripped on them.”
A beat of silence followed this statement. It wasn’t until Beau glanced from his cousin to her, humor and speculation rife in his gorgeous blue eyes, that Seth’s words—and their implication—dawned on her.
“No,” she quickly corrected, “he didn’t mean… It wasn’t like that.”
“Right,” Seth chimed in. “I meant the sofa, not Amelia’s bed. I left my shoes by the sofa in her sitting room, not her bedroom.”
“I understand.” Beau bent forward and closed the black bag, but Amelia knew he was hiding a smile.
“All the rooms were full, so Seth slept on the sofa bed in my sitting room,” she explained.
“It was late when I arrived,” Seth added, “so I thought I would stay here rather than go out to the ranch in the storm.”
“I tried to sneak out without disturbing him this morning,” Amelia continued, “but without a light on, I didn’t notice his shoes. I tripped and fell right on top of him.”
“Scared me out of a sound sleep. I thought I was being attacked and grabbed her, pinning her to the mattress. I didn’t realize she was hurt.”
Beau grinned openly. “Not a bad way to wake up—having a beautiful woman fall into your bed and your arms. I’ll mention it to Shelby.”
The doctor had recently gotten engaged to his nurse. With two Daltons married and a third engaged, Amelia knew their uncle Nick was pleased. He planned on getting them all settled before he kicked the bucket, as he so delicately put it. At the thought, her eyes went to Seth.
He was looking at her, too. As clearly as if she could read his mind, she knew he was recalling those moments when, surprised out of sleep, he’d rolled her under him, his strong masculine body covering hers like a living shield, holding her there while his consciousness caught up with his instinctive self-protective reaction.
A tremor assailed her as she also relived those breath-stealing moments. The intimacy of the early morning hour. The mussed bed. The sleepy warmth of his body. The hardness that pressed into her abdomen. The excitement that had drummed through her. And through him.
“Where’s that lunch?” Beau demanded.
“I’ll get it.” Seth went into the kitchen and returned with a loaded tray. He served soup, made by Marta before she left, and tuna salad sandwiches. He gave Amelia a big glass of milk and told her to “drink up” when she asked for tea, as if she were a child who needed the extra nourishment.
“You’re in for it now,” Beau warned her. “When Seth takes you under his wing, there’s no escape. He’ll boss you around and drive you nuts until you realize he’s relentless. It’s best to just give in from the first.”
“Yeah?” Seth challenged. “The way you guys do when I suggest ways to maximize your savings and minimize your taxes?”
Beau rolled his eyes heavenward. “A dollar a week isn’t a reasonable amount for spending money.”
Amelia listened to the affectionate give and take between the men while they finished the meal. She’d once wished desperately for a family like that. She’d been twelve before she’d accepted that it was never going to happen. She was always going to be the only child of parents who argued over every decision, every turn in their marriage.
“Enough of this frivolity,” Beau declared shortly, glancing at his watch. “Time for me to be back at work.”
After he left, Seth cleaned up their dishes, then disappeared for a few minutes. When he came back, he hoisted Amelia into his arms. She instinctively flung her own arms around his neck and held on.
“Where are you taking me?” she demanded. Her voice came out husky instead of stern.
“To bed.” He grinned and raised one thick black eyebrow in challenge. His eyes, so close now, met hers briefly, then returned to the hallway. “Time for your nap.”
She found that the sitting room had been put to rights and the gas logs blazed merrily. He placed her on the restored sofa with a pillow under her head, then fluffed the blanket he’d used during the night over her supine form.
“Sleep,” he suggested, his voice also husky.
She hesitated, then said, “Thanks for your help this morning. I never would have made it.”
“No problem. Yell if you need me.”
He left her alone in the sitting room, which had been her grandparents’ bedroom during their fifty-six years of marriage.
The African violets on the windowsills were a personal legacy from her grandmother. Gran had loved the flowers, and Amelia did, too. They were the one thing she prized and took infinite care in growing. They rewarded her efforts with profuse blooms.
Like children, she thought, they thrived under loving care. That part of her life was empty, and she wondered if she missed it. She’d planned on having two or three or even four kids so they wouldn’t be lonely.
As she’d been lonely?
The