The Renegade (The Moorehouse Legacy #3)(29)

“I’m glad you c-came. I was calling your n-name.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he took a deep breath. “Okay, honey. Here we go.”

He called upon all the brute strength of his upper body, marshaling the heavy muscles of his shoulders and biceps to lift her weight. Her breath caught and she let out a groan. But she moved.

“How you doing?” he said through clenched teeth. His bad leg was screaming in pain, but he wasn’t about to stop.

“F-fine. Thank you.”

Alex eased back and she came with him until she was free. With a twist, he laid her out on the floor and stuffed her arms in her parka, zipping her inside. There was a brief silence between them as he leaned over her, breathing deeply, and she stared up at him, lying perfectly still.

He brushed a tendril of hair back from her face.

You are not going to kiss her, Moorehouse. Don’t you dare.

His head dipped down. As she shivered, he pulled himself up short, appalled. He needed to get her the hell out of this house and warmed up. He did not need to waste time doing something he shouldn’t do even when she was perfectly well.

“I want to check your leg before you try and stand on it, okay?”

She nodded, burrowing into her coat.

Keeping his hands impersonal, he ran them over her ankle and calf, bending the bones a little. She winced when he got to her thigh.

“How bad’s the pain?”

“Just a bruise kind of thing. And, no, I don’t need a doctor.”

He tried to ignore the fact that his hand was way up on the inside of her leg, but the intimacy was too loud for him to drown it out. God, he was a bastard. The poor woman was freezing cold; he could feel her trembling. And he was thinking about sex?

Men truly are pigs, he thought.

“I don’t feel anything,” he said. Now, there was a lie. His body was on fire. “Let’s get you out of here. Light-headed?”

She shook her head and sat up, pushing him away when he would have helped her. She awkwardly got to her feet and reached for the wall. As she swayed, he wondered how he was going to keep her upright when he had so little balance himself.

Except before he even got off the floor, Cassandra turned away and started for the stairs.

Alex palmed his cane, wondering why she’d rather go it on her own when it was clear she was so unsteady.

“I want to take you to Gray’s,” he called out while struggling to get up off the floor. “Cassandra! Wait!”

He caught her on the stairs only because she was taking them slowly.

“I’m taking you to Gray’s,” he said to her back.

“That’s okay.” She stumbled and caught herself on the banister. “It’s not far.”

The hell he was going to let her get behind the wheel. “I’ll drive you.”

“Not with that c-cast you won’t. The Range Rover is a stick shift. Reese liked to t-trailer boats behind it.”

“Why are you racing out of here? Will you—damn it, Cassandra! Stop.”

They came into the kitchen. While she went for the clipboard and her cell phone, he headed to the door, blocking the exit.

As she came up to him, she looked right through him. “Pl-please get out of the w-way, Alex.”

She was so cold her lips were blue.

He widened his stance. If she wanted out, she was going to have to break through him. “You’re coming up to the shop. You’re getting under the hot water. Then maybe I’ll let you drive home. Otherwise, I’m calling Spike to come pick you up.”

“Three words,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Not. Your. Problem.”

He cursed with a nasty, dark word. “There’s no fricking way I’m letting you drive in this condition.”

Her shoulders sagged. “I d-don’t want to argue with you.”

He took her arm. “Good. Let’s go.”

“Alex—”

“Now.”

When she followed him past her car and up to the shop, he was relieved.

Once they were inside, he led her right over to his bed, forcing her down gently, getting her as close to the potbellied stove as he could. Moving quickly, he put some more wood on the fire and went into the bathroom. After the shower was running strong, he picked up the wet towel he’d used after his workout and shut the door so the room would warm up.

“Water should be ready in a minute.” He tossed the towel into the laundry duffel and went over to the desk. He dialed Gray’s.

“Libby?” he said when the woman answered. “I have her. She’s fine. Just warming up. No, she’s okay. She’ll be home in a while.”

He hung up and looked across the room.

Cassandra was shivering more now that she was out of the cold.

“Let’s get your boots off,” he said, going over to her. He leaned on his cane and lowered himself to her feet.

“I can do it.” But when she reached down, her fingers skipped over the laces.

He removed her Timberlands, being careful with the one on the right. Then he stripped off her socks.

She had very pretty feet.

He curled his hand around her ankle and he felt the bones again, sliding his palm under her pant leg and up her calf. Her long johns prevented him from knowing how smooth her skin was. Which was just as well.