“Kitty?” Landon’s voice sounded from the front door, letting her know he had indeed finished. “Are you okay?”
“Coming,” she called and made her way to the front room.
He stood in the doorway, holding a first aid kit as large as a toolbox. He’d not only been fast, but he’d also somehow managed to do the job without getting a layer of manure on him in the process. He didn’t even look as though he’d broken a sweat. Missy sat in front of him, tail wagging furiously in a bid for attention. Landon’s attention wasn’t on the dog, though. His gaze ran over Kate, taking her in from top to bottom. Was he checking her out?
The thought wasn’t completely unwelcome. Approval from the mighty Landon Wyle would be an accomplishment. It would be proof he no longer saw her as a foolish fifteen-year-old. Kate was suddenly conscious that she wore no makeup and her hair was dripping all over her T-shirt. Definitely not her best look.
“Where did you find the first aid kit?” she asked.
“In the barn. That’s where he always kept it.”
Oh. A completely illogical place. She smiled at Landon. “Thanks for helping with the manure and for bringing me the bandages.” She held out her hand for the kit. “You’ve gone above and beyond the call of neighbor.”
Instead of giving her the kit, Landon leaned against the doorframe and pulled off one boot, then the other. “Why don’t you let me do the bandaging.”
“I’ve already taken enough of your time.” She didn’t want him to think of her as a charity case, especially when she was supposed to be proving she could run a ranch. “I can do it.”
He took off his hat and hung it on a hook by the door. She’d thought his hair had looked good, sleeked back, when he’d been dressed up at the lawyer’s office. Now she changed her mind. Messy blond waves suited him. “I might believe that,” he said, “if you’d been able to button your own pants. As it is, I think you still need some help.”
She glanced down at her jeans. She’d forgotten that she left them unbuttoned and the zipper had edged down. Face flushing, she tugged it back up. He hadn’t been checking her out earlier, he’d been noticing her fly was down. This was one more embarrassing moment for him to catalog. And now she was having trouble with the button.
“Do you want me to do that?” he asked.
Buttoning her pants seemed far too intimate a task to get help with, especially from Landon Wyle. “I can manage.” The task only required fingers. Or at least she’d always thought so. When had the button hole gotten so small and stiff?
He set the kit on the end table and sauntered over to her. “I forgot how stubborn you are.”
He was nearly to her, perfect biceps and all. “There’s a difference between being self-sufficient and stubborn.”
“Mm-hmm.” He stood so close she felt like they were about to slow dance, or kiss, or… Nope, she couldn’t think of another reason to stand this close, which was probably an indication of how attractive he was. Her brain was stuck on those two possibilities.
“May I?” he asked.
She nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
With his head bent to see her jeans, Landon took hold of the button and tugged it into the hole, then stepped away from her to retrieve the first aid kit. “Sorry that I smell like manure. Hazard of the profession…at least today.”
“What?” she asked, still flustered by his recent nearness. He didn’t smell of anything bad, just the outdoors.
He took the first aid kit to the couch, flipped it open, and sat down. “You held your breath while I was close.”
She hadn’t held her breath. She’d forgotten to breathe. And he’d noticed and taken her response as an insult. “No,” she stammered, “you smell surprisinglynotof manure.” As soon as she said the words—even before he cocked his eyebrows in mock offense—she realized how the statement sounded, like she expected manure to be his everyday scent. “I mean, you smell fine. I just didn’t breathe because…” She waved her hand vaguely. “I was sucking in my stomach so you’d have an easier time with the button.” She forced a laugh and made her way to the couch. “Stress eating. These jeans are getting tight.”
His eyes zeroed in on her waist and his gaze ran over her again. “I doubt that. They look like they fit you just right.” He nodded. “Real good, in fact.”
And suddenly, despite her resolve of aloofness, these became her favorite jeans. She sat next to him, perhaps a little closer than was customary, but after all, she needed to be close so he could bandage her hands.
He sorted through the supplies until he found some gauze. Missy laid down at his feet, watching him with adoration. Landon looked so at home in her house, more at home than she felt.
“Why are you being so helpful?” She’d assumed he would sit back and hope she failed miserably in every ranch task. Instead he was here helping her.
He took a tube of antibiotic ointment out of the kit. “We were friends growing up, and neighbors help neighbors. The will doesn’t change that.”
She wouldn’t have exactly called them friends, but hopefully he was telling the truth. He had, after all, offered to help her family before either of them found out about the will. Whatever the case, she was glad for the assistance now. She offered him her palms.
He opened the tube of ointment, squeezed out a bit, and gently took her right hand in his. His hands were warm and calloused. Working hands. Strong hands. “Sorry if this hurts some.” He brushed his finger against her palm, applying the salve.
It didn’t hurt, not much, and the way he held her hand in his, like she was delicate, was so sweet. His blue eyes had such a look of concentration.