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ranch this afternoon. Your ankle is really swollen. Sure you aren’t in pain?” He knew she was and saw her lips flex at his needling her about it.
    “I’ll take some ibuprofen to get you off my back, Lockwood.”
    Chuckling, he said, “I’m such a pest to you, Ms. Culver.” The corners of her lips lifted and she opened her eyes.
    “You are a royal pain in the ass sometimes, on that we agree.”
    “But,” Wyatt said lightly, moving his fingers down from below her knee to her ankle and then beginning to massage her foot, “there are other times, Ms. Culver, you really enjoy having me around.”
    “That is very true, cowboy. Good thing those times outweigh the pain-in-the-ass times, huh?”
    Seeing the sparkle of teasing in her green eyes, Wyatt moved his hand over the red flannel robe she wore on top of her white flannel pajamas. “Indeed.” He felt her begin to relax as he pushed the fluid out of her ankle area. “Feelin’ a little better?”
    “Oh,” she sighed, “much . . . I don’t know what I’d do without you, Wyatt. You spoil me rotten.”
    “I’m better than any meds you aren’t taking.”
    “I don’t like drugs, Wyatt, so don’t climb on that bandwagon tonight, okay?”
    “Miss Grumpy, are we?”
    She couldn’t stay irritable long with Wyatt around. He had that Texas good-ol’-boy attitude, was a terrible tease in a nice way, and inevitably lifted her out of her low mood. “Hey, getting serious for a moment?”
    “I’m always serious where you’re concerned,” Wyatt drawled, giving her a warm look.
    She snorted. “Yes, you’ve been acting like a mother hen with me all day today. Shadowing me, keeping a hand on my elbow or against the small of my back in case I might stumble and fall.”
    “Ah, the truth comes out now.” His lips quirked.
    “I’m not going to use a cane while I’m here, Wyatt. That’s all there is to it. And you need to let me walk on my own and stop hovering around me as if I’m going to fall on my ass any second.”
    He moved his fingers to her arch, hearing her groan with pleasure. “Okay, I’ll stop being a mother hen with you. Fair enough?”
    “Yes . . . thank you.”
    “My family does not see you as a weak woman, darlin’. They know you’re one tough Marine.”
    “I just hate showing up like this,” she muttered.
    “We all have our prideful moments,” Wyatt said amiably, working each of her toes, hearing her groan with more pleasure. Tal loved to have her feet massaged.
    “I thought that story about you telling Cathy that Santa Claus didn’t really exist was interesting,” Tal said. “You never told me about it.”
    “Well, I probably would have, sooner or later.”
    “Talk about pride!” Tal laughed a little, holding his amused gaze.
    “Yeah, guilty as charged. It wasn’t one of my best moments growing up, that’s for sure. My dad had a right to paddle my britches. What the family didn’t tell you was that after I nagged on Cat about Santa not existing, she burst into tears and cried off and on the rest of the day.”
    “Oh, dear,” Tal murmured.
    “Yeah, I felt bad about that. I was just being my cocky ten-year-old self. And Dad was right: I was pretty full of myself at that age. Our parents brought us up to be sensitive and aware of other people. I was out of line.”
    “Yeah, but you’ve always been a big-time teaser, Wyatt.”
    “True, but there’s an art to teasing, and my dad told me mean teasing was something he never wanted to see me do again to anyone. I knew I had the paddling coming, and I agreed with him on that. In fact, what did happen?” His mouth curved as he looked into Tal’s half-closed eyes. “My dad asked me what punishment I’d think I deserved if I were in his place. I was feelin’ bad that Cat was crying like the world had ended. That had not been my objective. My dad had never lifted a hand to any of us growing up. Mom either. So when he took me out to the shed, I knew what I’d done was