Give Me A Texan. Jodi Thomas
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her bare feet run across the main room floor. He should have told her to grab socks as well.
A few minutes later, she stepped back into the room, buttoning the last button of his favorite shirt.
The flannel clung to her body and stopped at her knees. Though the shirt covered almost all of her, the sight of it on her warmed Hank more than the cotton warmed her.
Without a word, he lifted the corner of the quilt and she slipped in beside him, careful not to touch him.
When she shivered, he raised his arm and pulled her close. Her feet brushed his uninjured leg with the shock of an icicle sliding across his skin, but he forced himself not to flinch.
Her hand pushed against his bare chest. “I’m too close. I’ll hurt your leg.”
Hank couldn’t help but laugh. “Believe me, Aggie, your nearness isn’t affecting my injury at all.”
When she wiggled, cuddling, Hank fought down a groan. His left leg was about the only part of his body not reacting to her.
“Go to sleep,” he said more harshly than he meant to.
“Yes, dear,” she answered as she settled beside him.
Hank lay awake and listened to her breathing slow. If he’d known all it took was a few blows from a two-by-four to get the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his bed, he might have taken the hits earlier. She felt so good next to him. As her body relaxed in sleep, her softness melted against him, alive and comforting like he’d never known.
Moving his face against her hair, he took a long breath, pulling the scent of her deep into his lungs. Blue had said she’d refused to leave him last night when he’d been out. Hank curled a strand of her hair around his finger, wondering how he could matter so much to her. One look at her and anyone could love her, but how could it be possible that she cared even a little about him? He was nothing special to look at and he sure couldn’t offer her much. Even his own mother hadn’t stayed around.
But Aggie had. She’d stayed by his side.
He knew he had been little more than her way out of a bad situation. For a shy woman traveling around, being put on the marriage block for first one group and then another to offer for, must have been torture. Why had he been the one she went with? The one she wasn’t afraid of?
He watched the storm play itself out, then finally drifted to sleep with his hand resting at her waist.
Around sunset, he awoke to find her gone. He took her absence like a blow even before reality fully registered on his aching brain. Glancing at the side of the bed, he noticed the mutt had also vanished. Wherever Aggie was, Hank would bet his saddle the dog would be with her.
He didn’t have long to wait. Five minutes later, she backed her way into the room carrying a tray of food. Seeing her fully dressed made him frown. He’d give up food altogether if she’d crawl back in bed with him.
“I brought you some of Lizzy’s soup and bread. They headed home, wanting to be settled in before it got dark.” She didn’t meet his gaze. Her shyness had returned. “Do you want me to feed you?”
Hank pulled himself up until his back rested against the headboard. “I can feed myself, Aggie,” he grumbled. “My leg is broke, not my arms.”
She nodded without looking up as she carefully sat the tray beside him. “The doc said I’m to check the bandage on your head at sunset. If there is no new blood, I can leave the dressing off.”
Hank lifted the bowl of soup and drank it down without taking his eyes off her. He couldn’t believe, after how they’d slept together all day, she could go back to being so shy again. She busied herself getting everything ready while he ate, but not once did she look at him.
Finally, he could stand it no longer. “What is it, Aggie? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said as she removed the tray and began tugging the bandage on his head away. “How do you feel?”
“Fine.” He returned a lie for a lie.
“The stitches are holding. I don’t think you need a bandage again.” She brushed his hair away from his forehead and moved to the wound on his arm. “The cut looks good. You heal fast.”
Hank didn’t want to talk about his injuries. He wanted to know what had changed between when she’d cuddled next to him this morning and now. Until this moment he’d thought he missed little by not having a mother around. Now he realized how much he had to learn about reading women. No. Not women, he corrected. Aggie.
When she tucked the blanket around him, his fingers gently closed over her hand. “What’s wrong?” he asked again, his tone more demanding.
When she tried to tug her hand away, he held fast. He’d never learn if he didn’t start right now.
Finally, she looked up at him, her eyes filling with unshed tears. “We’ve only been married two days and you’ve been injured two times. At this rate you’ll never last a week.” Her chin rose slightly as if she were forcing herself to face facts. “My sisters were right. I’m nothing but trouble. Dolly said once that having me around is no different than having the plague circling. All my sisters were glad to help my poppa get rid of me.”
Hank laughed then realized she didn’t see the humor. “Aggie, it wasn’t you who had a knife at the train station, or who wielded the board in the darkness of the barn.” He tugged until she sat beside him. “But it was you who took care of me. And the reason your sisters wanted to marry you off had nothing to do with you being bad luck, trust me on that.”
She nodded once, obviously not believing him. She pulled her hand away.
He fought the urge to reach for it and hold on tightly, but she had to come to him on her own time if there was ever to be anything more between them.
The rain tapped on the windows again, drawing their attention. Aggie turned up the lamp by the bed, then watched gray streaks run down the long windows. “Tell me about the beauty of this land again, dear. I’m having trouble remembering.”
Hank laughed, realizing this time of year it would be hard to see any beauty, but she seemed to need calming. Worry wrinkled her forehead, so if she needed to talk of something besides what had happened, he’d give it a try.
He told her of the first day he’d ridden over his land. How spring turns the world green and the colors in the rock walls of the canyons seem to wave and billow like the skirts of Spanish dancers. He described a summer shower that came up all of a sudden like a phantom riding the wind, dumping a bucket of water that sparkled like diamonds over the wet grass. He told how a dust devil seemed to chase him over the open range, following behind no matter which way he turned his horse.
He caught her glancing out the window from time to time as if she didn’t quite believe his tale. The tapping grew louder as the rain turned to hail. The tiny balls of ice hit the ground and bounced almost like popcorn jumping in a skillet. Within seconds the ground was white as snow.
Hugging herself, Aggie asked, “Should I light the fire in the main room?”
“No.” Hank chose his words carefully, knowing there might be a long way between what he wanted and what was about to happen. “We’ll be warm enough under the covers.” He kept every word level, without emotion, as if he’d said the same words many times before.
She nodded, and to his surprise picked up the flannel shirt. “I’ll wash up in the kitchen and change.”
As soon as she left, Hank grabbed the stick that Blue had left to serve as a cane. Slowly, he moved off the bed. Without putting any of his weight on the broken leg, he crossed the few feet to the washstand and chamber pot.
Aggie might be his wife, but there were some things Hank had no intention of asking her to help with. By the time he was washed up and back to the bed, sweat covered his forehead. He sat down with his back resting against all the pillows and pulled the covers up