Page 109 of Reckless Skye

Despite the horrifically long day and late night, TJ, ever a farmer’s son, woke up with the sun. Habit had him opening his eyes before so much as shifting his neck or his back.

Still groggy from sleep, it took him a full ten seconds to realize that he had complete feeling in his right leg, down to his foot, and that the sciatica was a flowing tingle instead of a steady stream of fire.

He was lying in a sleeping bag on the floor of Skye’s trailer, because the hard surface had felt better on his back when they’d passed out here last night.

Now, he inhaled deeply, and when none of those agonizing tugs and pulls gripped him, he slowly rolled over onto one elbow, before pushing himself. The seated L was still painful, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been yesterday.

TJ ran one hand tiredly through his shaggy hair, overwhelmed by the relief, by the lack of agony.

On the bed, Bandit gave a big yawn and rolled onto his back to stretch all four paws in the air, but despite the dog’s movements, Skye didn’t so much as shift in her sleep.

She was curled on her side, her blankets tucked up under her chin. Her eyes, shadowed with fatigue, were still beneath her eyelids. With the trailer’s lack of heating, her deep, even breaths left little clouds of fog in the frigid Colorado morning.

TJ couldn’t help but watch her for a long minute. There was a part of him that yearned to reach out, maybe brush his fingers over her face as he had once done or give her a casual kiss before he got going with the day.

Instead, he took a deep breath and gently turned onto his knees, so that he was on all fours. Pain sliced through him. But this time, though his spine pulled uncomfortably tight, it was bearable, and when he pushed up onto his feet, he didn’t have to take those few customary seconds to fight the nausea.

Unable to emotionally process that, TJ simply started the day. He shrugged into his winter coat and stepped outside. He fed the horses and, with his promise to Skye on his mind, made numerous trips with smaller bunches of hay and alfalfa rather than haul it all at once. He gave the horses their feed and supplements and, noting that their water was icing over, broke up the ice and refilled the buckets from the trailer’s sink.

When all the animals were watered and fed, he grabbed the shovel and a trash bag out of the trailer. He was just about to collapse the portable fence when Skye’s voice, thick with sleep, said, ‘Don’t you dare.’

TJ sighed. He turned, couldn’t help but scan over her as she stood in the door of the trailer. ‘I feel great.’

‘Unlike you, I read the informational packet Dr Harris gave us.’ She pulled a wad of papers off the nearby counter and waved them in the air. She pointed to a random place on the first page, stated, ‘It specifically says that, just because you start to feel better, that doesn’t mean you should resume regular activities.’

‘Jesus, I’m just going to shovel shit, Skye.’

‘No. You’re not. It’s an uncontrolled movement with bending, twisting, and unevenly distributed weight.’

TJ slammed the shovel-head into the ground and lifted one foot to it, settling in to argue.

Skye, her temper clear, her movements filled with purpose, marched to where he stood, meeting him head-on.

She’d changed into thick sweatpants and a white, long-sleeved shirt the night before – a shirt that was ever so slightly see-through. And although she was too angry to realize it, TJ sure as fuck wasn’t.

He could make out her nipples beneath her shirt, dark pink and peaked in the cold. A sharp claw of need, one he hadn’t felt in so long, sliced through him. His hands burned to slide beneath the hem of her shirt and touch, take.

While Skye geared up to argue, her, ‘We agreed you’d try,’ fell largely on deaf ears.

TJ nodded dumbly. He tried to be a gentleman, tried to look away. But this was Skye and her fucking perfect tits, ones he’d seen and touched and tasted.

She frowned. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

Because he desperately wanted to say Nothing and just keep on looking, he sighed and said, ‘Your shirt’s see-through,’ instead.

On cue, both their gazes dropped to her breasts.

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake,’ she said, resigned. ‘Why is it that the sight of boobs sends otherwise intelligent men into fits of idiocy?’ She looked up at him, ready to keep tearing into him, and although he tried to hide that raging need, it was impossible.

Skye’s eyes widened. Her breath left her in a surprised whoosh. TJ watched as his need slowly spread to her. Her irises darkened. She gnawed on her lower lip. And she didn’t raise her arms to cover her peaked nipples.

‘Grow up, TJ,’ she said. But the command lacked heat, and instead of taking a step back, she leaned slightly closer.

TJ didn’t even care that he had a semi-hard-on that was clearly visible beneath his jeans. He rasped, ‘Yes, ma’am,’ because he couldn’t quite come down from the lust enough to think of anything better.

‘You’re ridiculous,’ she accused.

‘No.’ He had to disagree with that. ‘You’re so fucking sexy.’ He groaned, and the sound of it was pained. ‘And I’m only a man.’