I pulled my mouth down in thought like I was considering it. "Hm. No."
She flailed in irritation. "Justgo away. I don't have time for this."
"Good thing it's my ranch," I replied with a flare of my eyes. I sauntered around the back of the couch and across the hardwood space to the island in the long kitchen. After I placed the bag on the counter next to the rest of her medicine and my medical supplies, I took out the box of albuterol and the nebulizer. "You think your ranch hand knows where the ratchet straps are? I'm pretty sure that would keep you on the couch."
"You wouldn't dare," she scratched out angrily, her voice muffled by the layers she'd succumbed to.
I smiled to myself. The idea had its merits. I returned to her and found her hat over her eyes and only her nose poking out of the thick, red scarf. "Bee, did you seriously think I'd let you drag water to the goats or whatever like this?"
She coughed so hard, her body jerked up, and then she rolled to her side, groaning. "I don't know. I'm on autopilot."
"I know. You can'tnotdo the thing. I get it." I crouched down next to her and wiggled the hat off her messy pink hair. She blinked at me blearily. "The kid and I can handle it."
She whiffed out a laugh. "You?"
"Hey, the muscles aren't just pretty," I winked.
She groaned again, squeezing her eyes shut. "Stop."
"I bet you I can get the ranch shit done faster than you," I challenged. "Just give me a list. But first, let's get you out of the coat and boots, get you situated here on the couch, and then I'll head out."
"Too long," she rasped. "They'll be thirsty."
"Okay, so Farmer Bob out there can handle it. Relax." I unwrapped the scarf from her neck, revealing her pink cheeks and feverish skin. "Come on. Sit up."
Grumbling, she obeyed, and I unzipped her coat, shimmied her out of it, and then eased her back against the couch cushions. The couch looked pretty old, and it was barely long enough to accommodate her height, but it looked comfortable, at least. As I worked her worn boots off her thick stockinged feet, I grunted, "How did you get into all this without passing out?" She didn’t respond. I looked up and caught her guilty expression. "You didn't."
She pinched her first finger and thumb together. "Un poco."
"Christ, Bee." I wrenched her boot off and unlaced the other one. These shoes had seen better days. Was thatsuper gluearound the soles? One had a burned hole through the top like she'd dropped a hot poker on it. "Tell me honestly. Are you a masochist? Trying to prove something?"
She seemed to think about it. "Yes?"
The other boot came loose, and I tossed them behind me. "Well, masochism has its place," I glanced at her with a hint of a smile, "but you don't have to prove anything to anyone. You're a stubborn goat. We all admire you for it." Arabella sniffed, looking away. Praise made her uncomfortable, but she wasn't going to avoid it with me around.
Once I had her snow pants peeled off, and she curled up on her side wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, I went to her room to grab the blankets off her bed. At the very least,this house had plenty of quilts and wool blankets stocked in closets, so I was able to bundle them around her shivering form. I pressed a hand against her forehead and clicked my tongue in annoyance. "Your feverwasdown this morning."
She burrowed into the blankets, closing her eyes. "I know. I'm an idiot. I get it."
"Believe it or not, I do relate. I wore myself down to almost nothing during COVID, but that's exactly the reason I can tell you it's dumb. It took me way longer to recover from neglect than fatigue."
She lifted her gaze to me, long lashes framing her wintry eyes. "I didn't know."
I shrugged. "You were in school here in Utah. You wouldn't have."
"I'm not trying to be a pain," she managed to grate out. "But if I don't do these things every day… I don't know." She rubbed her chest. "It freaks me out."
She had anxiety, but I didn't bother to point that out. At the moment, she needed to rest and recover from her physical illness. I wasn't sure it was my place to help her with anxiety, but at the same time, who would? Knox? No one? I went back to the counter. and grabbed the nebulizer and albuterol along with the rest of her meds. "How long does it take you to do your chores, usually? I want to make sure I beat you. Soundly."
I returned to her, and she gave me a smug, knowing eye squint. "I seem to remember you havingfeelingsabout horses."
Thefeelingswere that I was terrified of them. I knew it was irrational, but there was something about them—bigger, stronger, and completely wild—that gave me the heebie-jeebies. "Don't mock me or I'll put you on oxygen," I warned.
"Are you even going to be able to feed them?" she taunted mercilessly. "They might eat you."
I whipped the nebulizer cord straight, making her jump. Glaring and fighting a smile, I said, "I mean it, Bee. Don't push me. I'm put out with you as it is."
She soundlessly mimicked my speech, but her eyes shimmered with mirth. I had a very bad feeling about Arabella Rook having many horses at her disposal. Thankfully, she wasn't actively plotting my death-by-horse nightmare, and she watched me calmly from under her mountain of blankets as I deposited albuterol into the chamber of the nebulizer and then handed her the mask. "Keep that on until there's no medicine coming out of it."
