and force his mouth on hers, like some clumsy lout. If he ever got the chance to kiss Sarah, he wanted to do it right—with confidence and finesse, in a way that she’d like and remember—or even love.
And how in the devil was he supposed to figure that out? He’d kissed one girl—Betty Ann Flinders—before going on the cattle drive and then spending two years without a female in sight. As he remembered, Betty Ann had pretty much kissed him, and then she’d taken his hand and put it on her breast. He’d felt the nipple through the clinging fabric of her blouse, wet from the swimming hole.
He’d done his share of dreaming about Betty Ann, too. But something told him that wasn’t the way things happened with a lady like Sarah.
A jolt of pain shattered the thought, and he realized that Sarah had just lifted away the dressing. She frowned as she studied the wound underneath.
“Bad?” He twisted his neck and tried, unsuccessfully, to see it. Maybe that was for the best.
“Bad enough,” she said. “Although it could be worse. I don’t see any sign of infection. But it’s an ugly wound. I had to probe around for the bullet. Healing’s going to take some time. I’ve got a poultice that might help.”
“Well, I don’t plan to spend that time taking up space in your bed.” He tried to joke through the pain as she cleaned around the edges of the wound and applied a fresh dressing.
“For today, at least, you’ll need to stay right here. We’ll see how it looks tomorrow. If you’re healing, you can maybe get up and sit in a chair. But we can’t be too careful.” She stood, gathering up the discarded wrappings and the medical bag. “Now, what would you say to a real breakfast?”
“Sarah, believe me, I didn’t mean to put you out like this,” he said.
“Don’t be silly. You’d have died if no one had taken that bullet out of you. But I still haven’t forgiven you for not letting me know you were alive.”
“I understand, and I don’t blame you,” he said. “And yes, I’ll take some breakfast if it’s not too much bother.”
“It’s no bother at all. Oh—and just so you’ll know, I may have patients come by. I’ll leave your door open for now, but if anybody knocks, I’ll close it for privacy.”
She walked out, leaving the door open. Moments later, he could hear her rummaging in the kitchen. She couldn’t have an easy life here, alone in this old house. A pretty woman like Sarah—why didn’t she have a man around? Somebody to chop the wood, haul the water, and tend any animals she might be keeping out back?
Joe would have given anything to be that man. Instead, here he was, so helpless that he couldn’t even risk getting out of her bed for fear of reopening his wound.
As he lay back into the pillow, cradled in the subtle fragrance of her bedding, new scents and sounds reached him through the open door—the aroma of frying bacon and eggs, and the long-forgotten smell of flapjacks, which he hadn’t eaten since leaving his Texas home.
He was lying there, ravenous with anticipation, when there was an insistent knock at the front door of the house. Breakfast, it seemed, might have to wait.
* * *
As the knocking continued, Sarah moved the iron skillet to the back of the stove, quickly pulled the bedroom door shut, and hurried to answer. The timing was bad, but if someone needed her help, she could hardly leave a patient standing on the porch.
She opened the door. Standing on the threshold, with a brand-new buggy parked at the gate, was Everett.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in, Sarah?” he asked when she hesitated.
“Oh, of course.” She stepped aside for him to enter. “I was . . . just making breakfast.”
“Actually, I came by because I’ve made an offer on a house and land across town, and I want to show it to you. But I don’t mind giving you time to eat first.” He glanced at the skillet on the stove and the pile of flapjacks on a plate in the open warmer. “Goodness, that’s a lot of food for a little lady like you. Were you expecting company?”
Everett’s arrival had created an awkward situation, but there was no reason to lie. “I’m nursing a patient,” she said, “a young cowboy who was shot by cattle rustlers in the night. Most of this breakfast is