Roscoe.” He gingerly pressed a hand to his lower chest and closed his eyes briefly. “Think my ribs might be broken.”
“Dammit, Ty,” Sam said, his jaw noticeably tight. “Why don’t you let someone else handle that ornery bull once in a while? You know he has it in for you.”
Ty pulled his brows together and shot his dad a searing look. “You know I always handle Roscoe. Don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”
Jenny stared at Ty, an eerie sense of déjà vu running through her, chilling her from the inside out, creating a dull ache in her chest. How many times had she heard Jack say that very same thing?
With an under-the-breath snort, she cut off her thoughts. What was wrong with her? She was a medical professional. This wasn’t the time to get all clogged up and sentimental thinking about Jack. She needed to be strong and efficient and take care of Ty. With a lift of her chin, she climbed up into the back of the truck and knelt down next to him.
“Where are the girls?” he asked in a low, raspy voice.
“Napping,” she replied with a forced smile. “No need to worry about them.”
He nodded, then sank back onto the bed of the truck. “Good.”
“Let me have a look,” she said, donning her trusty professional veneer.
Ty made noises of argument under his breath, but she ignored him. “Don’t even try to argue. I’ll have to unbutton your shirt to examine you,” she said, briefly meeting his intense blue gaze. She stared him down, telling him, without words, that he better not mess with Nurse Jenny.
He inclined his head. “Bossy all the time, aren’t you?”
She nodded. “You bet.” Without asking for any more permission, she reached out and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his firm, well-muscled, lightly haired chest.
His scent—man, earth and sweat—wafted across the air, raising her feminine awareness to a level that surprised her. She tried desperately to stay in impersonal-nurse mode and think of him as just a patient, as a man who’d been injured and needed her help.
But kneeling next to Ty, unbuttoning his shirt, sent tendrils of heat into her blood that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. And that absolutely terrified her. It was all she could do not to snatch her hands away and bolt.
She glanced at his face, noting the pain in his eyes. She looked back down, steeling herself to go on. He needed her—no, he needed her nursing skills. She had no excuse right now for giddy blushes, a racing heart and unprofessional behavior. So she stoically continued, determined to ignore that Ty McCall was very well put together and that he affected her in a way she’d never thought she’d experience again.
She bit her lip. Too bad ignoring those things was an almost impossible task.
Hell, Ty thought, tightening his jaw. He’d seen the concern shining in Jenny’s eyes and the way she was chewing on her lower lip. Damn that ornery bull, anyway, and damn himself for putting her through this right out of the chute.
Another thought occurred to him. Would she take off at the first sign of trouble? For Morgan’s sake, he hoped to hell not. Right now, Jenny seemed plenty up to the task of dealing with an injury, and was a bossy little thing to boot. He kind of liked that.
She bent closer and continued to unbutton his shirt. He looked away, determined not to ogle her creamy skin, long, feathery eyelashes and kissable lips. It was bad enough he’d been all over noticing her when she’d tended to his cut face last week.
She was a nurse and his daughter’s nanny, for pity’s sake, not some woman he was supposed to be so damn fascinated with. Besides, his ribs felt half-caved in and hurt like nobody’s business. Noticing a woman should be—had to be—lower than low on his list.
He gave a mental snort. Revise that thought, McCall. Being so aware of Jenny shouldn’t even be on his list at all.
Noted and acknowledged.
Intent on her job, her bottom lip still clamped between her teeth, she moved his unbuttoned shirt aside, looking at the swollen area where Roscoe had nailed him. Ty swore he could see her hands shaking.
Without looking up, she said, “It looks pretty bruised.” She glanced at him, her green eyes soft. “I’m going to have to touch the injured area. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
She hesitated a moment, then put one hand on him, touching an uninjured area. Then she moved her hands to a tender spot and gently pressed. Pain knifed through him, sharp and deep.
He grunted under his breath but didn’t pull away as she palpated his ribs, gently testing for injury. Her touch was cool and tender on his skin, despite the hand-curling ache her examination caused. He gritted his way through the fiery pain, eager to have this examination over and done with.
Finally, she dropped her hands and sat back on her heels. “I’m pretty sure at least one rib is broken, more if I’m not mistaken.” She swiveled her head to look at his dad. “He’s definitely going to have to go to the hospital and have them x-rayed and also to have them check for a punctured lung.”
His dad nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s what I figured.”
Jenny stood and moved away, taking her sweet scent with her. Ignoring the throb in his side, Ty fidgeted, intending to pull himself to a sitting position so he could stand. He got halfway up and knife blades of fire shot through his torso, almost overwhelming him. A grunt of pain escaped from his mouth.
Instantly, Jenny was at his side, her arms going around him to ease him back down into the truck. “Hey, now, you ought to stay lying down.”
He grimaced, then shook his head, now more aware of the pain than her closeness. “There’s no damn way I’m gonna ride into Baker City in the back of the rig like a dog.”
She sat back on her heels and glared at him. “Are you always this stubborn and difficult?” she asked, raising a brow.
His dad chimed in. “Oh, yeah. Ty’s as stubborn as the cussed bull who rammed him.”
Ty glared at his dad. “Okay, so I’m stubborn. I admit it. There’s still no way I’m riding to the hospital in the back of this truck.” He gave Jenny a steady look. “Help me into the passenger seat.”
“It’s going to hurt,” she said, her lips thin. “A lot.”
He raised a hand. “I don’t care. Just get me out of the back of this truck. Dad, I could probably use your help, too.”
She nodded. “All right. I can see arguing is useless.”
Moving was agony, but Ty bit the bullet and did it anyway, keeping his instinctive groans of pain glued to the back of his throat. Getting out of the bed of the truck was tricky, since it required bending slightly, but he bore the twisting pain and lowered himself to the ground. A few steps later, he made it to the door of the truck.
Jenny put a hand on his arm. “Sitting is going to hurt more,” she said softly. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
He nodded, feeling sweat bead on his forehead. “I’m sure,” he said, his mouth pulled tight.
When he slid awkwardly into the passenger seat, it felt as if someone was jabbing him in the ribs with a white-hot branding iron. Holding back a grunt, he rode through the pain as best he could, clamping down on his thigh with one hand.
Jenny leaned in, her eyes full of concern, and touched the rigid hand on his thigh. “Relax,” she whispered in a low, soothing voice, rubbing his hand. “Pain is worse when you tense up.”
He met her greenish-gold gaze, liking the feel of her hand on his too much. She stared at him, and despite the fiery ache in his torso, he found himself caught up in her, unable to look away, unable to move. Her touch scorched through him.
She broke the spell and moved back, her eyes wide, then slammed