Page 12 of Giddy Up, Daddy

Um.

He seemed really mad. About her hands? Why would he be angry about her hands?

Still, she put them behind her back for good measure since she didn’t like the way he was staring at them.

“You lied to me,” he growled.

She had?

“I, uh, I . . . thanks for my sweater. You can just leave it there.” She reached for the door to shut it, but he held out his hand to stop her.

“Wait!”

She sucked in a breath, staring up at him. What was he doing? Should she be worried?

“Look, I don’t want to frighten you, but I would like to know what’s wrong with your hands. Have you hurt them?”

“I, um, they’re fine.”

“They’re not fine,” he replied firmly. “I saw you wince several times at the ranch. And when I asked you what was wrong, you lied to me.”

Why did she feel the need to squirm and apologize?

He sounded so stern. Like he was about to tip her over his lap and . . . whoa.

Stop.

“I burned them. They’re fine, though.”

“They’re obviously not fine if you’re in pain. Is that why you were wearing gloves?”

“I . . . well, I didn’t think it was a good look to turn up for an interview with bandages on my hands.”

“But it’s okay to hurt yourself by picking up a hot, heavy kettle?” he queried.

“I managed the kettle okay! But it was like the teacup was a step too far or something. My hands just gave way. I’m so sorry! I’ll pay you for it.”

He rubbed a hand over his stubbled chin. He looked tired. She should ask him in. Maybe make him a drink.

Wait. Nope. She didn’t owe him anything.

But she did feel really bad about breaking the cup.

“You don’t need to pay for it. It was just an accident. Have you had someone check your hands?”

“Like who?”

For some reason, his jaw tightened. “Like a doctor?”

“Oh no, the burns aren’t that serious. I don’t need a doctor.” Not to mention she couldn’t afford one.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“Let me check them.” It was an order not a request.

Blakely sighed. “Are you going to leave without seeing them?”

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