hand, and knocked.
“Yeah?” She sounded more cautious than annoyed.
I opened the door. “Hungry?” She was perched on the edge of the bed, but the bed was made. “Didn’t you sleep under the covers?”
“I, uh . . . it’s your bed.” She lifted her hands like she’d have to decontaminate herself.
“I wash the sheets after every three women.” When a flush added some much-needed color to her cheeks, I pushed it even further. “And I jack off in the shower to keep the cleanup to a minimum.”
“Dawson,” she snapped, but her lips twitched. When was the last time I’d seen her smile? When we used to play together as kids, she was always grinning. There was last night in the pickup, after she’d made the highly accurate joke about Buck. Her smile had chased away the pain in her eyes and her face had glowed in the dash lights. With her hat smashed on her head, she looked like one of the guys, joked around like them, but her smile didn’t make me feel like I was with just one of the guys.
“Look, not that I have to explain myself, but I don’t bring women here unless it’s serious, and I haven’t had a serious relationship in a long time.” The last time was in college, and McKenzie hadn’t wanted a thing to do with ranching. Thus, the reason I was single. Women might want a cowboy, but they didn’t want the cowboy life. “I shower before I go to bed, so the sheets should be minimally disgusting, but I’ll change them later today.”
She pushed a bright lock of hair behind her ear. “My leg was throbbing, so I had to prop it. It was easier to do on top of the comforter.” Her tone hinted at an apology but that was the closest she’d come. She didn’t owe me an apology either. I should’ve taken the time to change the sheets.
“Weren’t you cold?”
She shrugged.
I’d get her more blankets. I lifted my chin. “Get back in. I brought breakfast.”
“I thought I smelled . . .” She stared at the food, then at me. “Did you cook?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because I like to. Come on, get comfortable.”
She grabbed all the extra pillows and sat back. I set the tray over her and she stared at the food but didn’t touch it. “That’s a lot of food.”
“I like to eat.”
Her gaze stroked up and down my body, as hot as a brand. Her hair was finger combed at best and she never wore a lick of makeup, but she’d always been sexy as hell. Being in my bed made that observation a lot more uncomfortable.
I spun away before I did something stupid like check out the creamy flesh of her legs. “Yell if you need anything. After you eat, I can change the bedding and find some clothes for you.”
“You don’t have to do all this.”
I stopped at the door and looked over my shoulder. Her stark features were stricken and she hadn’t taken her eyes off the food.
The woman didn’t like to accept help, that was clear. Only this time I wasn’t offended. “You’re doing me a favor. If I didn’t have a ranch to run, I would’ve gone to culinary school. I like to cook, but cooking for a party of one isn’t always feasible.”
She nodded, but didn’t relax. Her gaze went to the window. The blinds were drawn. She couldn’t see the blowing snow. “My chores . . .”
“What needs to be done?”
“No, you can’t—”
“I think we’ve established that I’m helping you and I don’t expect you to suck me off or whatever Buck thought you should do. Tell me what you need done and I’ll get it done, it’s as simple as that.”
She dropped her gaze back to the tray of food that was cooling off. “I can’t repay you,” she said in a ragged whisper.
I let out a long breath. For a person who’d never accepted help in her life, this had to be uncomfortable. I thought of ways she could repay me—all nonsexual. She didn’t have money. I didn’t have to peek into her bank account to know that. She had her own ranch to run, so that left out working for me when she was healed. I didn’t need money or help, but there was something that had rubbed me raw for years.
“How about you just answer one question.”
She lifted her guarded gaze. “All right. What?”
“Why didn’t you come to the funeral?”
I’d looked for her. She’d been my closest