He jerked the steering wheel and raced back to her, panic flooding his chest. He’d barely gotten his ATV stopped before he skidded on his knees beside her on the frozen ground.
She was sprawled flat on her back. She wasn’t f**king moving. Mouth dry, heart racing, fear ripping at his insides, Bran tried to remember what to do.
Check her pulse. Check her breathing. Check for injuries.
After tearing off his gloves with his teeth, he unzipped her jacket to the middle of her chest. He placed his shaking fingers on the pulse point of her neck.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Beating heart. Thank God.
Harper’s neck wasn’t twisted at a weird, broken angle. But she’d been knocked out cold. Probably had the wind knocked out of her too. He lightly laid his head on her chest to hear her breathing.
Her chest lifted beneath his ear. Her lungs appeared to be working fine. He mapped the planes of her cold face and loosened her hood, running his hands over her scalp to see if she’d sustained a head injury.
No blood. No bumps.
“Harper? Sweetheart, can you hear me?”
Was it his imagination or did her nose wrinkle?
When he leaned near enough to feel her exhalations on his upper lip, her eyes opened.
Being a hairsbreadth away from Harper sent a shot of adrenaline straight to his groin. Holy hell, the woman was even more beautiful up close. He found his voice, although it didn’t sound like his voice. “You okay?”
“I think so. What happened?”
“I don’t know. I heard a noise and then saw you hit the ground. What’s the last thing you remember?”
She stared at him. A look of comprehension entered her eyes. “The ATV got stuck in a lower gear. I glanced down at the RPMs and tried to shift, but it wouldn’t budge. When I looked back up . . . I . . . umm . . .”
“What?”
“A bunny jumped in front of me and I swerved to miss it. Then I went sailing through the air. Guess I must’ve smacked into the ground pretty hard, huh?”
Bran rested on his haunches. “A bunny. You took a chance with your own life and your own safety to save . . . a f**king bunny?”
“Yes. You don’t have to be such a jerk about it.”
“I had visions of you . . .” Hurt and it being my fault for pushing you. He got to his feet angrily. “Never mind.” He offered a hand to help her up and she batted it away.
“Where are my sunglasses?”
This woman was an absolute piece of work. She almost killed herself for a goddamn rabbit and now the only thing she gave a shit about was her sunglasses?
He spun around away from her, knowing if he stayed there another second, he’d chew her ass.
Crunch.
Looked like he’d found her stupid sunglasses. He closed his eyes and counted to twenty.
As he bent over to pick up the crushed plastic, he heard her gasp behind him. He whirled around and saw Harper crawling to her ATV.
Crawling. She’d rather crawl than accept help from him?
Can you blame her? You’re being an ass and she probably is injured. She just has too much pride to admit it to you.
Screw that.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doin’?” Real compassionate, Bran.
“I’m basting a turkey,” she snapped. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
Jesus. Sweet Harper was snapping at him? Maybe she had smacked her head on a rock. Bran stepped in front of her, wrapped his fingers around her biceps, and hauled her to her feet.
Shit. Her eyes held that vacant look. “Harper? Sweetheart?”
“I’m not your sweetheart, but I am dizzy. Really dizzy.” Her head fell forward into his chest. “I’m tired. Just let me sleep, you big meanie.”
She called him a big meanie?
He could deal with being called an ass**le, a douche bag, or a dumb f**k. But her calling him a big meanie . . . that made him feel ten times worse. No way in hell was she driving back to the ranch.
Resigning himself to having her tempting curves pressed against him, Bran lifted her into his arms. She was solid, but he managed to deposit her on the jump seat of his ATV with little trouble. He scooted in front of her, shoving her hands in his jacket pockets. He knew she was somewhat aware of what was going on when her arms tightened around him and she nestled her head into the middle of his back.
After what’d happened with Les, Bran didn’t relish carting Harper to town to get her checked out, but he didn’t want to take chances with an undiagnosed injury becoming serious either. It’d be better if he could get a medical opinion out here. Quickly.
An idea occurred to him. He dug out his cell phone and dialed Fletch, giving Fletch a vague rundown of her injuries and his location. Luckily Fletch was in his truck not far away and promised to swing by the ranch immediately.
Bran dug a thermal blanket out of the rear compartment, tucking it around Harper as best as he could, and waited.
Finally Fletch’s big rig bumped into the pasture. Then Fletch hopped out, carrying a plastic-coated sheet and a duffel bag. The man was still built like the linebacker he’d been in college, so his gentle nature shocked most people.
But Fletch wasn’t wearing his usual easy grin. He stopped in front of Bran’s ATV and scowled. “Where is she?”
“Now, don’t be getting mad, Fletch, but I didn’t know who else to call.”
Fletch nudged his cowboy hat up, training his gaze on Harper’s form slumped behind Bran. “Jesus Christ, Turner, please tell me she isn’t the injured heifer you were referring to when you called?”