Page 54 of Swift and Saddled

Wes smiled. “Loretta is perfect.” He reached out and gave one of Loretta’s ears a good rub. She nuzzled into his other hand.

“Tonight, we feed her. We make sure she stays warm and sleeps.” As if on cue, the calf closed her eyes. “Tomorrow, I’ll have the vet check her out.”

I nodded. That sounded good. “Is she okay for right now?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Waylon will keep an eye on her. He’ll come get us if something’s wrong. I put some feed behind the bed for her, and I’ll give her a bottle later.”

“But she’s good?” I asked again. “All taken care of?”

“Yeah, why?”

I grabbed Wes’s hand and pulled him toward the door. “Because someone needs to take care of you now.”

Chapter 20

Ada

“Take off your shirt,” I demanded. Wes and I were standing in the hallway bathroom because that’s where the first aid kit was. He’d told me about it on my first day here. I wasn’t really a caretaker. I didn’t know how to be one, but I would do my best for Wes.

For the first time ever, Iwantedto take care of someone. In the past, I was mostly concerned with myself, which I needed to be at the time. I had to focus on taking care of me or I would’ve faded away. But right now, I felt like Rebel Blue had helped heal me enough that I could care for someone else.

“Ada, I can clean this up,” he said, gesturing to the bloodstain on his shirt, which looked a lot bigger than it did in the truck. “You have to be freezing. Do you want to take a bath? I bet there’s bath stuff in your bathroom. I can start it for y—”

I didn’t let him finish that sentence, even though a bath sounded lovely. “Weston I-don’t-know-your-middle-name Ryder. Take off your goddamn shirt. Now.”

He let out an annoyed sigh and pulled his wet T-shirt over his head. I took in his form in front of me but tried not tomake it obvious. I didn’t know how long I would’ve stared at him if I hadn’t had other matters to attend to, but it was probably an alarming amount of time. His chest was broad and muscular and bore a smattering of dark hair. The panes of his stomach were defined but not exaggerated.

The cut didn’t look too bad, thank god. I reached out to touch the skin near it and Wes hissed. “Your hands are fucking freezing!” he said between clenched teeth.

“Sorry,” I murmured. “Does it hurt?”

Wes shook his head. “Not really.”

“Good,” I responded. “So, I should probably clean it first, right?”

Wes’s mouth cracked into a smile. “Yeah, you should clean it first, or I can, and you can go take a bath and warm up your icicle hands.”

“No can do,” I said. I found a clean washcloth under the sink and wet it under the hot water. I took a deep breath before I dabbed the cut, which was a couple of inches long. Wes jerked away the first time I dabbed it, but then was able to stay still. I looked in the first aid kit and saw a bottle that saidantiseptic spray, which sounded promising. I figured Wes would tell me if I was doing something wrong, but he stayed quiet after I grabbed it, so I continued, trying not to notice the way the air was thickening around us.

I sprayed the liquid on the cut, and Wes flinched. Next, I went for the familiar-looking yellow antibiotic ointment and used a cotton swab to apply some along the length of the cut.

“Is that good?” I asked.

“It’s good,” Wes breathed. So I found the biggestBand-Aid in the kit. I tore it open and thought about the best way to get it on the cut. I went with the tried-and-true stick-and-peel—starting with the pad on the cut, then slowly pulling the paper off and sticking the adhesive part to the skin at the same time. Once it was in place, I gave it one more firm press.

And then the lights went out.

The darkness charged the air around us with an electric current that I could feel in my bones. I heard Wes swallow before he murmured, “Rhodes.”

“What?” I whispered, not moving my hands from his body.

“My middle name is Rhodes,” he said. Weston Rhodes Ryder.That’s a good name,I thought. It was the last thing I remember thinking before he kissed me.

It was a short kiss. He pulled away after a few seconds, and I immediately missed his mouth on mine. I didn’t have to miss it for long, because he kissed me again, and again, and again. The space between the kisses got shorter, and the kisses themselves got longer, more languid.

This wasn’t like the bar or the kitchen. There was no frenzy. It was just us and these kisses. Slow and deliberate.

I skated my hands up his chest and onto his shoulders. I loved the way his warm skin felt under my hands.

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