Annie's Rainbow - Fern Michaels [109]
“I need some scissors!”
Jake bounded off the bed and barreled to the bathroom.
“What for?” Clay shouted.
“My knee is too swollen to pull the jeans down. I can’t get all the mud off. I could use some help here.”
Help. She wanted him to help her take off her clothes. A decade ago he would have shouted, “I’m your man.” That was before Ann Marie and her death. Now he was nervous and jittery at the thought of seeing a naked woman in his bathroom.
“I don’t have any scissors. At least I don’t think I do. Will a pocketknife do?”
“I guess so. Listen, I’ve been trying, but I can’t get my clothes off. You have to help me.”
“Listen, I think if you just . . .”
“Are you telling me you won’t help me?”
“I’m not saying that. Look, if you don’t care, then I don’t care. Most women who drop in like you do wouldn’t want someone seeing their naked body.”
“Right now, mister . . . what is your name anyway? I don’t give a damn if you see my naked body or not. I don’t care if your dog sees my naked body. Can we get this show on the road? My knee is killing me.”
“I’m Clay Mitchell. Okay, let’s do it.”
Annie clenched her teeth as Clay’s knife ripped through the wet denim. She squealed her relief when the denim broke free of her swollen knee. “Okay, help me with my shirt,” she said, standing up and hobbling about on one foot. “My name is Annie Clark. I like your dog.”
“Just because he saved your life don’t go getting any ideas. He’s mine.” Everything else in his life had been ripped away from him. Nobody was taking his dog.
“All I said was I liked your dog. Does this gun scare you? What’s your problem?”
“I don’t have a problem and, no, your gun doesn’t scare me.” Perfectly proportioned. Just like Ann Marie. Blond hair. Ann Marie had dark hair. This woman had blue eyes like the bluebells Ann Marie had planted. Ann Marie had green eyes. He wanted to say something smart, something totally outrageous about her lacy underwear. Years ago, before Ann Marie, he wouldn’t have had a problem coming up with the right words. He would have been able to make this young woman laugh with his remark. These days he was a stick-in-the-mud, a recluse, a man without a life. She was staring at him, waiting. “That underwear doesn’t leave much to the imagination,” he blurted.
That’s just what the girls at Victoria’s Secret had said. “I think I can handle the rest. Do you have a robe or something I can borrow?”
“I’ll hang it on the door. In the meantime I’ll get you an ice pack for your knee.” As an afterthought he said, “Do you want something to eat?”
“I think I’m too tired to chew, Mr. Mitchell. I would like something to drink, though. Do you have an extra toothbrush, and I’m going to need a phone.”
“I think I can handle all that. At the Mitchell farm we aim to please.” He wondered if the bedraggled woman would pick up on his sarcasm. It occurred to him, as he walked down the steps, to wonder why his heart was beating so fast. And why he was sweating. And why his dog was still upstairs when he was always at his side. Trust a woman to foul things up and knock everything out of sync.
When Clay marched up the steps forty minutes later with a tray holding a new toothbrush, his portable phone, a tray of double Oreo cookies, and an ice pack, he saw Annie curled up on the bed, nuzzling Jake, who was loving every minute of it.
She sure wasn’t beautiful. He wasn’t even sure if she was pretty. Her skin was shiny and looked like she’d taken at least two layers of it off when she scrubbed up. The gun was on the pillow next to her. The gun made everything different.
Annie slapped the ice bag on her knee and yelped. “How close is the nearest doctor?