Bang the Blower (Country Roads 3)

“I’m sure,” she said, reaching for her cane.

Duke grabbed the wooden crutch before her hand landed on the curve hook shaping the top. “You don’t need that.”

“Yes I do.”

“Not today,” he said, tossing the stick away. He held out his arm. “I’ll help you.”

“I don’t want your help.”

“You may not, but you have my assistance anyway.”

She teetered around, grabbing for the nightstand in an effort to keep from falling. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m here for Frank. I’m trying this because if I didn’t, Frank would somehow feel like he let me down. He carried a lot of guilt and blame after the accident. I’m not here for you or your brother. I’m here because Frank is like a father to me and he asked me to come, expected it really.”

“Frank isn’t to blame. Hank and I accept that responsibility.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. I chose to leave here.” A beat later, she added, “And even though you tossed me over your back and acted like Rambo, I still made the choice to come home with you. I can leave whenever I want. I’ll walk out of here in the middle of the night if I have to.”

“Don’t you mean hobble?”

“Fuck you, Duke.”

“You might,” he said, his eyes flickering with a hint of lust. “On second thought, that’s probably a given.”

She grated back bad words then and thought of all sorts of nasty names she wanted to call him. Duke sat on the chair next to the bed, shifting his hips back and forth until he was obviously comfortable. He kicked up his dusty boots and studied them as he crossed his ankles, observing his spurs as if they were the most interesting accessory he’d ever purchased.

“You can’t just come in my room and make yourself right at home.”

“I am at home so yeah, I can pretty much do anything I want whenever I take the notion.?

?? After a good stare down, he added, “And about leaving here in the middle of the night? I’ll talk with Hank and see if we can’t do something about these sleeping arrangements as soon as possible. I’d hate for you to get it in your blasted head that you want out of here.”

“I’m not sleeping with either of you.”

He shrugged. “It’s a precautionary measure really.” He looked at his fingernails and picked at the cuticles. “It’s a dangerous world out there.” He studied the pill bottles on her nightstand and finally added, “Besides, what if you have a reaction to your medication and find yourself wandering around outside without any direction? We can’t have that. I couldn’t live with myself if you got lost in the middle of the night. What if you couldn’t find your way home?”

“I can live without the sarcasm.”

“It’s true. Hank and I went out of our way to get you back. We’ll have to do our best to protect you while you’re here.”

“From myself?”

“If need be,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips.

She sat again. “Duke, why are you doing this?”

He shifted and his boots rocked, a clump of mud falling to the floor. She grunted when she saw the mess he’d left on a new pale pink rug. “I’m not able to clean up after you anymore.”

“I’d never ask you. Besides, in case you haven’t heard, we’re rich enough for housekeeping services now. We’ve got a maid who’ll be at your beck and call, twenty-four-seven, while you’re staying with us.”

“That’s fine,” she said. “Real fine.” A beat later she looked closer at the glob of mud and decided it was manure. She wrinkled her nose. “I’d still appreciate it if you didn’t track up my room.”

He shrugged. “I’ll work on my bad habits if you’ll try to overcome yours.”

“I don’t have any.”

“Oh yes you do,” he said, a singsong quality to his voice. “You’ve become the grumpiest woman this side of the Mississippi, and I don’t like it.”

“Well damn,” she drawled. “Imagine how disappointed I am to find out you’re displeased with me.”