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was two
inches shorter than David.
    David
looked different than normal. More relaxed. Less protected. Just as sexy.
    It
gave her a painful twist in her stomach.
    He
sat down at the end of the couch and put her feet in his lap. When she gave him
a questioning look, he just said, “You should keep the ankle elevated.”
    This
sounded reasonable enough, and she could hardly banish him to one of the two
wing chairs—which weren’t comfortable to sit in for very long—or the window
seat, which was much farther from the fireplace.
    He’d
found a book too, so they both read for a while by the light of the fire and
the lantern. David would occasionally get up to return the icepack to the
freezer, tend the fire, or get another icepack for her ankle.
    After
a couple of hours, Rachel had to put down her book, since she was too sleepy to
concentrate on the words.
    She
was getting chilly, despite the fire. The temperature must be dropping even
more in the house.
    She
got up to go to the bathroom and find flannel sheets and a heavy blanket. She
was on her way back when she stepped on her ankle wrong. She went down, wrenching
her ankle even more in the process.
    She
cursed and bit her lip and tried to stifle involuntary whimpers at the pain.
    It
took her a minute to get her breath back and then another minute to get herself
back to her feet. She was in the middle of the hall, and there was nothing
except the wall to pull herself up by.
    She
was finally up and shuffling back to the living room with her arms full of sheets
and blanket, her teeth chattering from cold and her ankle throbbing brutally,
when David appeared in front of her.
    He
was the last person she wanted to see.
    With
an impatient look, he moved quickly to put an arm around her to support some of
her weight. He also took the blankets out of her hands. “What happened?”
    “Nothing.”
She was cold, hurt, and frustrated—and now she was embarrassed. “I just fell
down. I’m fine.”
    “Why
the hell didn’t you call out for help?” he demanded, sounding as bad-tempered
as he’d been that afternoon.
    “Because
I didn’t need help.” She gritted out the words through a clenched jaw
and eyed him resentfully. She should have known he couldn’t stay un-obnoxious
for long.
    “You
did need my help. You can barely walk now and you’re freezing.”
    She
tried desperately to keep her teeth from chattering but she couldn’t seem to do
it.
    “I’ve
never seen anyone as stubborn as you.”
    “Have
you looked in a mirror?” she snapped, with what she thought was impressive
acuity.
    “If
I had a sprained ankle, I would damned well let someone help me.”
    “You
would not. You would hide away until it got better. You have no right to
reproach me for being stubborn. Remember when you were fifteen? You wouldn’t
let the church help your mom when her basement was flooded. You insisted on
doing the whole thing yourself. You built your whole damned house by yourself,
even though Brad tried to help almost every weekend. You haven’t accepted any
gift or gesture of charity for the last fifteen years. How dare you try to tell
me that I’m too stubborn?”
    He
was stewing and glowering as she lashed out, but at least he was also being
proactive. He’d gotten her back to the couch, helped her spread the flannel
sheet on the couch, and covered her up with a blanket when she’d sat down and
then stretched out.
    Now
he just walked out of the room, leaving her so surprised she couldn’t even be
outraged.
    She’d
never known him to walk out so rudely on an argument.
    He
returned almost immediately with a fresh icepack. He tried to put it on her
ankle, but she jerked away as soon as she felt it.
    “It’s
too cold.” She huddled under the blanket, trying to suppress her helpless
shivering. The fire helped, but not fast enough.
    “You
need it,” he said mildly, “Or your ankle will swell up even more.”
    She
knew he was right, so she didn’t argue any further, but the