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lying but when Mac had asked if he needed her help, he’d said he didn’t, when actually he had. But his pride had kept him from telling the truth. Damn. And as a result, it had taken him a full hour to unpack the few things he’d brought with him. And moving around on his leg had irritated his knee somewhat. He needed to chill a bit, he thought, rubbing his thigh. Or else he’d run the risk of causing his body more harm than good and he’d have to kiss the Reno rodeo goodbye. And that was one thing that he refused to do.
    “Just what do you think you’re doing?”
    “Sitting on the bed,” he answered without bothering to look up. He knew who it was. Besides, at the moment there was an intense throb through most of his body and the last thing he needed was to increase that throb somewhere else.
    Mac had taken a shower. He could tell. She had that fresh scent of soap, powder, and woman. The latter was what his mind latched on to and not for the first time. The nickname “Mac” didn’t sound at all feminine and certainly didn’t do justice to the woman it was applied to.
    “And why aren’t you in the bed?” she asked, coming into the room and making a point of standing in front of him, right in his line of vision.
    He couldn’t pretend not to notice her so he looked up and instantly felt sweat bead his forehead and an increased throbbing in his body as his gaze met hers. He took a deepbreath and stared back at her while thinking he’d probably made a grave mistake by asking to stay here while recuperating. She had changed out of her jeans and tank top and was wearing a printed top and matching skirt. Evidently she was staying inside for the rest of the day since he couldn’t see her doing anything significant outside the way she was dressed.
    Her body was what male dreams were made of, and her looks were as drop-dead gorgeous as any looks could get. She had a stunning face, a set of beautiful dark eyes, lips he knew were of the kissable kind—although at the moment they looked pouty and irritated—and silky black hair that hung past her shoulders. Her high cheekbones were evidence of her Native American ancestry and her creamy chocolate skin an attribute of her African American side. He’d heard her mother’s people had joined the Cherokee tribe as free men back in the eighteen hundreds. He also knew her mother had family living in the North and that when her parents and grandfather had died she had been sent to live with an aunt in Boston for a while.
    “Luke?”
    It was then that he realized he hadn’t responded to her question. “The reason I’m sitting on the bed, Mac, is because I just finished putting my things away.”
    “It took you that long?”
    He cocked his head. “Yeah, it took me that long.”
    She placed her hands on her hips and stared back at him, her expression one of annoyance. “Why didn’t you call for me? I could have helped. I did offer my services.”
    “I know,” he said. “And I appreciated it,” he added. “But I preferred doing things myself,” he pointed out.
    “Fine. So look what you have to show for your stubbornness. You’re in pain and don’t try denying it because I can tell. Now I’m going to have to help you after all.”
    He frowned. “No, you don’t.”
    “Yes, I do,” she said, straightening her shoulders. “And if I were you, I wouldn’t try giving me a hard time, especially not now.”
    He lifted a curious brow. “Why especially not now?”
    “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
    “Trust me. I do.”
    A frustrated sigh escaped from Mackenzie’s throat before she said, “Someone wrecked my mailbox.”
    He lifted a brow. “What do you mean someone wrecked it?” He remembered seeing her mailbox earlier when they’d arrived. It was a huge brick roadside structure that had been erected at the gate leading onto her property.
    “Just what I said. From the time I got home until a few minutes ago when one of the ranch hands noticed the