Reese forced himself to clean up the kitchen, trying to remain as quiet as he could, not wanting the noise to drift down the hall toward Shay’s room.
He finished loading the dishwasher, cleaned off the table and counter. His mind was spinning with the added information the vets had supplied. In hindsight, he should have gone to them and asked what they knew about the ranch and its financial standing. It was a mistake he’d made and he wasn’t happy about it.
Reese realized it was the PTSD overcoming the meds he’d been taking, warping his normal vision, flooding his brain with cortisol, screwing up his thinking, and he hated it. The frustration curdled in his throat as he cleaned off the stove. Now, he could go back and take another look at the declining lease money coming into the ranch. And since Garret had been at the ranch the longest, he was the man to talk with. Garret wasn’t black ops for nothing, and he’d obviously snooped around, figured things out, probably talked to Charlie Becker or others. It would be a good idea to talk to Charlie himself. Right now, with Shay unable to communicate, Reese had to reach out to her friends to take the temperature of not only the ranch, but her as well.
“Reese?”
He turned, hearing Shay’s husky, sleepy voice. His heart turned in his chest. She stood uncertainly in her voluminous ankle-length granny gown, white flannel sprinkled with a pattern of pink roses. Her hair was mussed and he saw puffiness around her eyes. She reminded Reese of a lost waif, the haunted look in her expression tearing at every cell in his body. He put a hold on himself. That kiss lingered between them and Reese didn’t know what Shay had made of it all. Oh, she had initiated it, no question, but he wasn’t laying the bulk of the responsibility on her shoulders. After all, he’d responded. He’d kissed the hell out of her.
“Hey,” he murmured, “how are you feeling?”
Wrinkling her nose, she said, “I don’t even want to look at myself in the mirror. I’m afraid of what I’ll see.” She managed a halfhearted smile. “I slept hard and just woke up. The guys must have come and gone. Did dinner go okay?”
“Slow down,” Reese murmured, slipping his hand beneath her elbow. The endearing red slippers stood out on her feet and he wanted to do more than cup her elbow as he led her to her seat at the table. Pulling out the chair, he guided her into it. “Are you hungry?”
“My stomach’s growling, so I must be,” she admitted, wiping her eyes.
Keeping his hands to himself, Reese wanted to smooth her mussed hair around her face. He didn’t dare. Right now, Shay was utterly fragile. He had no wish to startle her, make her feel defensive or otherwise. “How about we start with some chamomile tea?”
She looked up. “That sounds good. Thanks . . .”
He turned and walked to the counter, busying himself. Reese swore he could feel her warm gaze lingering on his back, but he didn’t turn around. “The guys left about an hour ago,” he told her over his shoulder. “Went back to ride a few hours on the fence line before it turns dark.”
“They’re good men,” she whispered. “Honorable.”
Reese brought the teapot, teabags on the side, and the mug she used, placing them before her. “They are good men,” he agreed. “How about something to eat?” He searched her features. His body tightened as he watched her hands gracefully move around the porcelain teapot that was painted with bright, colorful flowers, placing the bags inside it. Hands that he wanted skimming his body. Hands that could love him. And now, Reese knew, unequivocally, that Shay would be a wonderful lover, thoughtful and sensitive. The vision rose in front of him and he struggled to gently turn it away. Right now, Shay needed some TLC.
“Garret was making lasagna.”
“Yes. Want some?”
She shook her head. “No . . . my stomach’s been on the fritz. Let me start with the tea.”
“Sure.”
“Garret’s been after me the last two months,” she muttered, pulling over the mug. “Said I’m losing a lot of weight.”
Reese walked to the cupboard and pulled down a mug. “Are you?”
“A little, I suppose.”
He heard the mild defensiveness in her smoky voice as he came and sat down by her elbow. She poured him and herself tea, setting the teapot aside. Reese knew why now. There was no way he was approaching Shay about her weight loss tonight. “How can we help you, then?” He held her soft blue gaze that was exhausted-looking.
She managed a sound in her throat. “I don’t know, Reese. Maybe a different life? No,” she said, holding up her hand, “nix that. I didn’t really mean that.”
“On bad days, we all wish for a different life, Shay.”