Bunny and the Beast(Divine Creek Ranch 22)(20)

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Heart racing, Joseph threw open the French door. The remaining length of rope was tied off well, and it took him precious moments with shaking hands to get it loose and then throw the rope over the roof’s edge, praying it was long enough. “Got it?”

“Got it! Okay!”

“I’m going to spank her ass as soon as she’s safe on this balcony. I’m gonna spank it until it’s beet red.” His heart lurched with adrenaline as he hoisted her up.

“Uh, I can hear you! A little help here, and then we’ll fucking see if you can hold me down long enough to spank my ass!”

Despite the near calamity, he had to grin. If she could spout off, she knew she was safe.

“That language is unbecoming a lady,” he muttered before his heart nearly gave out a second time at the abrupt pull on the line. She must’ve slipped. It was lucky for him that he had her line securely anchored. “You can yell at me when I get you up here. For now, just focus on your footing.” Over the pounding of his heart, he registered a crash on the ground below. Only the fact that her precious, solid weight was still on the line kept him from panicking. “Bunny?”

“Uh-huh?” Her reply had a strained quality to it.

“What happened?”

“The dish…I was using it as a handhold while I was getting my footing. Umm…” He heard the way her voice was shaking. “When I get back up there, we need to talk about where else we can put that dish…after we replace it, because that one is toast.”

“Whatever you want, Bunny,” he murmured as her brilliant red hair came into sight. Thank you, God. He pictured the dish in pieces on the pavement below and shook his head. He needed to stay focused. “Just hold on.”

Her normally peachy complexion was white as a sheet as he pulled, and she grappled up and over the gutter and onto the roof ledge several feet below his balcony, but she rallied as they made eye contact. She scrabbled on the tiles and reached up a hand to the balcony.

Once over the balcony ledge, her knees gave way, and she collapsed. She trembled so hard it was almost alarming, and he carried her into the suite to the leather sofa in the living room.

Fighting to control the tremble in his own hands, he poured her a shot of whiskey. Her hands trembled so badly he held the glass to her lips. Caring for her helped him to find his center. Now that she was safe, he could deal with the aftereffects.

As he contemplated putting her across his knee, he asked, “Your rope frayed on the sharp tiles and snapped.”

“I’ve never worked on a slate roof before. I chose the wrong rope.” Her paleness was alarming. “If you hadn’t been there…”

Putting the shot glass in her hand, he quickly said, “You would’ve taken the rope from your harness and tied off to the chimney.” He saw the self-doubt in her eyes, and her complexion was ashen. “You said yourself you’re a safe climber.”

She directed her gaze to his balcony and then nodded. “Maybe. Yeah, that’s what I’d do. Then wait for help.”

Joseph chuckled softly. “Or for the storm. Take another sip.”

She looked at it blankly and then shook her head. “Not while I’m on the clock. I need to go downstairs and find my wrench and clean up the remains of that dish.” A shudder rippled through her. Most likely she was imagining how easily it could’ve been her on the ground below, and she tried to stand.

“No, stay put. You’ve had a bad scare.”

“I’m not a delicate fucking flower, Joseph.” He lifted his eyebrow at her.

Scoffing, she rolled her eyes. “Okay, I’m not a delicate fucking flower, Sir!”

“And, there she is,” he said with a chuckle. “The brat is back. You’re lucky I’m not keeping a tally of swats for your language yet.”

“You keep count?”

He smirked. “Every time you curse, every time you”—he pointed a finger at her face—”roll your eyes just like that, I’ll start keeping track of it and take it out on your poor defenseless little ass.”

She rolled her eyes one more time for effect, and his palm twitched, but then she grinned at him as she sat up and then stood up, with a little help from him.

“I have to get back to work, Joseph.”

“I think you should lie down.” On my bed.

“I can’t. I have work to do.”

“Bullshit.”

She turned to him, and something about the emotions in her turquoise eyes gave him pause.

“I have to get back on the horse that threw me, Sir. If I cowered in the corner every time something rough or scary happened…I’d never accomplish anything. You don’t have to take care of me. I’m on the clock, and I need to keep going.”