Texas Hunt

“How’d you sleep?” Ryan’s voice surprised her.

“Good,” she said quickly, trying to slow her racing pulse. She’d slept better than good actually, even with the nightmares. She didn’t want to tell him how comfortable she felt in his bed. The sheets were soft against her skin. The mattress was like sleeping on a soft cushion. And his clean, masculine scent was all over the pillow.

The pain was messing with her mind. This bed was no nicer than the one at the hospital, she tried to tell herself.

He stood and fastened his jeans, and she forced her gaze away from the small patch of hair on his chest leading down toward the band of his jeans.

Walking toward her, he yawned and stretched, and she noticed just how powerful his arms were. There was enough muscle there to hold off a bear, let alone a man who liked to hurt women. She told herself that was the only reason she noticed—to see if he could protect her—and not because of the awareness she felt every time he was in the room.

The mattress dipped under his weight as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“I think I can eat.”

“What sounds good?”

“Don’t put yourself out. Anything is fine. A piece of fruit or yogurt would do.” She hated feeling so helpless.

“I can make an omelet,” he offered.

“No. That’s too much work, seriously.”

“Would you stop worrying about being a pain already? I don’t mind. I can scramble some eggs and heat sausage. But first, how does a cup of coffee sound?”

“Like heaven on earth.” She waited for him to leave the room before she tried to sit up. Pain shot through her with every movement. She fought through it. No way was she asking him to help her to the bathroom.

Carefully, she inched her legs toward the side of the bed until her feet hung off.

How long did the nurse say it would take before Lisa felt better?

At this rate, it was going to take a long time to make it to the bathroom let alone go for a run again. She shook it off and forced her legs over the side of the bed.

Pushing up on her arms, she winced. A good look at the bruises there only made things worse. At least she could use her anger to fuel her determination to get up. She focused all her energy on standing.

The first few steps were like walking on stilts for the first time. A few more and she started getting the hang of how to lean in order to reduce the pain that came with movement. By the time she returned to the bed, she was energized. Being able to do something for herself so soon was a huge win.

“Hold on there. Let me help you.” Ryan stood in the doorway two-fisting cups of coffee.

“No problem. I got this,” she said, in too much pain to outwardly express her excitement.

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