his neck, her hands shaking. “You need stitches in your cheek.” Probably. She wasn’t sure. “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”
“Honey, I don’t need a hospital.” He ripped his T-shirt up and over his head, and the shift of muscle was something to see.
She reached for his damaged wrist, gently patting it with another paper towel. “This looks deep, too. What happened?”
“Spooked cattle and barbed wire,” he muttered, looking long and lean in his muddy jeans.
Her knees bunched, and she had to fight the urge to run. Right now he needed help, so she’d help. “At least tell me where the first aid kit is.” Maybe she could somehow bandage the wound so his skin would knit together. “Though we really should go to the—” A huge, quickly purpling bruise on his left shoulder, right above a healed bullet wound, caught her eye. “What the heck?”
He looked down. “Oh. Got kicked. Darn cow.”
Kicked? He’d been kicked in the chest by one of those huge beasts? “Is anything broken?” she whispered as the room started to tilt.
“No. Honey, sit down. You’re turning white.” He grasped her arm and tugged her into a chair by the nook. “You afraid of blood?”
“No. Just your blood.” She shook her head and stood. “I can help you.”
He pushed her back down. “Just sit.”
The sliding glass door opened, and Ford stomped inside, dropping his slicker onto the floor and slamming his hat onto a hook next to Trent’s. “How bad you hurt?” He opened a cupboard by the door and removed a large first aid kit.
“Not bad. You?” Trent pulled out the chair next to Hallie and dropped into it.
“Just bruises.” Ford’s hair was slicked back, and a new bruise showed along his jawline beneath his existing scars. He leaned in to study Trent’s face, his dark eyes serious. “Not bad. I can get you closed up fast.” He set the kit on the counter and rummaged through it.
Hallie forced herself to stand. “What can I do?” Her voice wavered but not very much.
Ford didn’t look her way. “Two shots of whiskey from the bar in the living room. Bring the bottle.”
She hustled into the living room and the bar on the far side, scrambling for whiskey. There were several bottles of different kinds. Shrugging, she went with Bulleit Bourbon because the bottle looked cool. She snatched two shot glasses and ran back, pouring liquid into them quickly and setting them on the table.
Trent instantly grabbed one and downed the whiskey, holding the glass out for another shot.
She filled it up, and he did the same thing, pained lines fanning out from his mouth.
Ford finished threading a needle and reached for his glass, upending it quickly. He nudged the glass her way.
She frowned, holding tightly to the bottle. “How about I give you more after you stitch up his face and wrist?” She couldn’t have their pseudo-doctor drunk.
Ford grinned and leaned in to pierce the skin on Trent’s face. “Your woman is bossy.”
Her stomach dropped and her knees buckled.
“Whoa.” Trent caught her with his good arm and prodded her into her vacated chair. “I told you to sit. So sit and look the other way.”
She’d argue, but she was trying really hard not to vomit. “Sorry. I’ve never seen, well, that.” The image of that needle sliding so easily through the skin on his face would haunt her forever. “Ranching is too dangerous.”
Trent set his hand on her thigh and squeezed. “It’s no big deal, baby.”
“Stop talking,” Ford growled. “I almost stabbed you in the eye.”
Bile bubbled up from Hallie’s stomach. She swallowed, refilled Trent’s glass, and tipped back the entire contents. Heat exploded in her midsection, spreading out.
“Wrist,” Ford muttered, his voice low and hoarse.
Hallie turned to see a bandage already in place on Trent’s handsome face. She needed to toughen up a little bit so she could cope. “Would you guys like coffee or anything to eat?” She stood. “We have leftover chicken Parmesan in the fridge.”
“I’m good,” Trent said quietly.
She turned to look at Ford as he bent over Trent’s arm and then gently put a bandage over the stitches. “Ford? Are you hungry?”
He looked up and grinned. “No thanks, Hallie. Can I have another shot now?”
She rolled her eyes and poured him another shot.
He drank it quickly. “All right. Austin and Mac should be done bedding the horses down, and we’ll head out. See you tomorrow, Trent.” He patted Trent’s shoulder, leaned over and placed a quick kiss on Hallie’s head, grabbed