He raised an eyebrow at her. “Feelin’ a mite bossy this mornin’?”
“Don’t pretend this has anything to do with me. I want to see you get off your horse.”
“Caro—”
“I mean it. Then as soon as you dismount I want you to mount me.” She paused and challenged, “But that seems to be a problem for you too, lately, doesn’t it?”
“What are you—?”
“You haven’t touched me for two months. Two months. The last time we went that long was after one of my pregnancies. So start explaining why you’re suddenly acting like making love to me is repulsive.”
That’s what she thought?
Of course she would think that.
“Sugar, that ain’t even close to the truth.”
Her gaze narrowed further. “Are you gonna try and pass this problem off as you need Viagra because you can’t get it up and that’s why we haven’t had sex, let alone even been sleeping close together at night?”
Dammit. He knew she wouldn’t buy that either. The woman saw too much for her own good and she never made a move until she was sure. So he had no idea how long she’d been lying in wait to jump him about this so he glared at her.
“Huh-uh, cowboy. That squinty eyed stare won’t work on me.”
Carson snorted. “When has it ever worked on you?”
“Sweetheart. You don’t have to glare at me to scare me. Why you’re trying to hide the pain from me makes my fears ten times worse. Please. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Fine. You wanna see?” Embarrassed, because yeah, maybe he’d rather she thought he needed chemicals to get his dick hard rather than the truth; that he wasn’t the agile man who could out-rope and out-ride everyone that he used to be.
Holding onto the saddle horn, he shifted his weight forward. Then he threw his right leg over the back of the horse, trying like hell to balance on his left side, knowing the instant his right foot touched the dirt would be the moment of agony and there was no way he could hide it from her.
His right boot heel hit the ground. Even with his left foot in the stirrup, he almost fell on his ass. The shooting pain was instantaneous. His vision went wonky even after he’d placed both feet on the dirt. He rested his forehead in the curve of his saddle.
Sheridan stayed still as Carson regained his balance. Sometimes the grinding fire in his joint forced him to double over and spew out every curse word he’d ever heard—if the torture hadn’t caused him to stop breathing entirely.
The gate clanged behind him. Then Carolyn wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed. “It’s okay. I’m here. Please let me help you.”
He breathed through the pain and held onto the reins when Sheridan tried to shift sideways. “Steady, girl.”
“I’m sorry. But I’ve been worried and you won’t tell me what’s going on—”
“Sugar, I was talkin’ to my horse.”
“Oh.” She laughed. “Of course you were.”
“I’m better now.”
“No, you’re not. We can just stay like this until you settle.”
Carson turned his head and nuzzled the side of her face. Feeling calmed by the words she’d so rarely had to say to him.
After a bit she murmured, “Better?”