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And now this. He’d thought of this, arranged it, made it happen.
For her.
And she didn’t know what she was supposed to think about that. Or feel about it.
Right now she wasn’t certain of anything when it came to Cody Rafferty. And that was a place she had never thought she’d be.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Britt stared at the screen on her laptop, at the image divided into four squares. She couldn’t overstate the comfort it gave her, to be able to see her horses when she couldn’t get to them, even if she did have to credit that comfort to Cody. At least this way if anything happened she’d know, and could send help, even if she couldn’t go herself. Which grated on her even more than the pain that occasionally radiated out either from her ankle or her wrist when she forgot and moved wrong. Like she’d done a moment ago, when she’d tried to shift in the bed to get the screen closer.
The painkiller the doctor had prescribed for her was part of the problem, and she’d told him she’d rather tolerate a little pain than be so groggy she couldn’t think. But he’d insisted it was to fight the inflammation as well, and if she wanted that down enough to get that new cast, she’d do what he said.
But when she could think, she kept going back to everything Cody had done. Rescued her, set up her doctor with the company in Fort Worth, and these observation cameras.
One showed the corridor inside the barn, one showed the runs outside each stall, one showed Nugget’s stall, and the last one showed Ghost’s stall, where the gray was dozing as if she hadn’t a care—or a scare—in the world.
She’s behaving remarkably well for him, Brittany.
Her mother’s words hadn’t been meant to sting, she knew, but they still did. She didn’t like the idea that Ghost would behave better for someone else. Especially a man.
Especially that man.
But worse had been her father’s observation this morning, when he’d brought her in her breakfast, a service that she hated had to be done for her. It had been grating enough to be relegated to a wheelchair, even temporarily, but then to move back into her childhood bedroom because she had to be taken care of? But if this new wonder cast thing was going to work, she had to stay off the foot.
“If I’d known all it would take was a man who’s pissed at her to make that horse behave, I would have taken care of that long ago,” her father had said very dryly, but there had been a touch of either appreciation or admiration in his tone.
“So he thinks he’s a cowboy now?” she’d snapped.
She’d gotten one of those looks she hated from him, because it made her feel like she’d disappointed him, this man she so adored. “I think,” he’d said after a moment, “that he’s like all the Raffertys. A cowboy at the core. He just spends more time on other, more profitable things because he’s got the brain for it.”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” she’d apologized. “I’m just…cranky.”
“With good reason, being laid up like this,” he’d said, such sympathy in his voice she knew she was forgiven. “But hopefully things will improve once you get that newfangled plastic cast thing on Friday. But you’re still not going to be walking around on it,” he’d warned.
“I know, I know.” What she didn’t know was if she could deal with six weeks of this. The aches, the limitations, the fussing.
“Even the most independent and stubborn of us need to accept help now and then,” her father had said. “And I know that from personal experience.”
They’d ended the conversation reminiscing about the times he’d been in a similar boat, and ended up laughing at it all, something she’d sorely needed.
But she still didn’t like the idea that Ghost was behaving better for Cody.
*
The gray horse danced sideways, away from her stall. Cody took one long stride at the same time, staying right where he’d been relative to the horse.
“I’m on you like glue, lady,” he muttered. “So you can keep trying but I’m not going anywhere. And you’re going in there.”
The horse snorted and head-butted him. With Trey that would be a sign of affection. With this beast, he was fairly sure it was an attempt to knock him on his ass.
“You ever hear of the law of diminishing returns, horse? One of these days even your brilliance on the barrels might not be enough to put up with your attitude.”
The horse snorted, loudly, but was looking past him. He realized that in the same moment he heard a voice from behind him.
“And that day may be coming sooner than she thinks.”
He spun around to see Britt approaching, in the wheelchair they’d sent her home from the hospital in, with her mother behind it, pushing.
