The Bull Rider's Twin Trouble. Ali OlsonЧитать онлайн книгу.

       Chapter Three

      Cassie showed Brock into the small room off the living room that she hoped to turn into a doctor’s office. Before she could start seeing patients, however, there was a lot to do.

      The room had obviously been used as a library. The empty shelves lining the wall were of dark oak, making the entire space feel shady and somber. She imagined leather chairs and dusty volumes of old books giving it an air of class, but it didn’t fit with the light, friendly tone she wanted to convey.

      “Mr. Wilson was quite a reader,” Brock commented, looking around the room. “I never understood why they lived on this ranch when he would have been much happier being a professor or something. What do you want to do with it?”

      “I want to take out these shelves and make it into a doctor’s office,” she started, ready to turn her dream into a reality.

      “You’re a doctor?” he asked, clearly surprised.

      She nodded, waiting to see how he would react. Her husband, Hank, had always been negative about her choice to continue school instead of staying home with their young children, and even though he’d been gone for over six months, she still heard his disapproving words in her ears.

      Brock gave her a sideways grin that turned her insides to mush. “You’re full of surprises,” he commented, and she couldn’t stop the blush of pleasure that worked its way up to her ears. “Well, the town certainly needs a doctor. People are going to line up at your door. So I guess we should get this place ready.”

      Then he turned back to the room as if nothing had changed. Cassie’s defenses lowered slightly as she accustomed herself to Brock’s presence.

      “Okay, so the shelves need to go,” he said. “What do you need to make the room ready?”

      With that, she was off, describing the room she had imagined. A small desk, some shelves to hold supplies, bright paint, a couple of chairs and an examination table. A happy place where she could help people.

      Brock listened, nodding occasionally. When she finished, he stretched, his arms raised to the ceiling. Cassie tried not to stare at him, but it wasn’t easy. “Let’s get started, then,” he said, moving farther into the room.

      Soon they were grappling with the bookcases—heavy bulky things that, thankfully, took all her attention. With some difficulty, they managed to get the three large shelving units on their sides and slide each one out the door until they were lying in a row on the living room floor.

      With those out, the room seemed much larger and brighter, and Cassie’s heart lifted. She knew she could make it into everything she wanted. Then she realized there was one big problem that prevented her from doing more.

      Brock seemed to sense her sudden change of mood. “You don’t have paint yet, do you?”

      Cassie shook her head, trying not to feel too disappointed.

      “Then we’ll need to get some. We can do that tomorrow morning, if you like. For now, on to the next thing,” Brock announced, sidling out of the room.

      Cassie could tell he wasn’t going to let her sulk, and it made her smile. He was right, anyhow. There was too much to do to sit around just because she didn’t have paint.

      Back in the living room, they both looked at the shelves taking up most of the floor space. “I guess we could put two of these in my room and the other in Zach and Carter’s,” she said at last.

      Brock moved into place to pick up one of the units and waited for her. Cassie couldn’t believe how willing he was to haul them all over her house, without a word of protest. She silently thanked Brock’s mother for having such a helpful son.

      Soon all her thoughts and energy were once again absorbed by the task of lifting the heavy pieces of furniture, which they lugged down the hall.

      Maneuvering the first one into her bedroom was a bit of a challenge, but finally the shelf stood against the wall opposite her bed. If the room wasn’t large, it might have looked hefty, but Cassie felt it fit nicely. She turned to Brock to see if he was ready to move the second one, and found him standing awkwardly near the doorway.

      Then she realized that they were in her bedroom and she felt a flush creep up her neck at the memory of what lay at the bottom of her box of pajamas, only a couple of feet from where she was standing.

      Brock cleared his throat and looked at her, but didn’t quite meet her eyes, for which she was thankful. Now was not the time to get lost in those ocean-colored depths. “Let’s go grab the next one,” he said, leaving for the hallway.

      Cassie followed, hoping the heat in her cheeks would go away before they looked at each other again.

      * * *

      BROCK WAS GLAD to return to the open air of the living room. Even though the master bedroom in the Wilson house was large, the presence of Cassie and her bed made him feel short of breath and a little claustrophobic.

      But that wasn’t the way his thoughts should be turning, he knew.

      They made quick work of the second shelf, and without pausing in Cassie’s room, for which Brock was grateful, moved onto the third. As Brock picked up his end, he could feel the strain in his back, a holdover from an old rodeo injury. If he was tired, he imagined Cassie must be exhausted. He almost set down the shelf again to propose they take a break, but before he could, Cassie had lifted her end and begun moving toward the hallway with dogged determination on her face.

      Brock couldn’t help but be impressed. She didn’t shirk the work it was going to take to get this place running, that was for sure. They carried the thing into the boys’ room, where they set it up against the wall as the two boys watched from where they’d been playing on the floor. When it was in place, Cassie leaned against it to catch her breath. Brock took the chance to stretch his back.

      “Did you boys finish putting all your clothes away before playing?” Cassie asked after a few moments.

      The children nodded, but Brock noticed they seemed a little hesitant. He glanced over at the chest of drawers. From the look of the bursting bottom drawer, Cassie’s earlier prediction seemed to have come true. She noticed, too, and she opened it wider. “I don’t think you’ll be able to find anything in here,” she told them, with an impressive amount of patience. “How about we work on this together?”

      Brock could see this might take a while, so he left Cassie with her kids and went back to the library. This woman just kept getting more and more attractive. A beautiful, hardworking doctor with the patience of a saint. He shook his head in amazement.

      He wanted to ask her out. What harm could a date do? He imagined she could use an evening being pampered.

      There was one big flaw with that idea, though: What if she said no? He didn’t want the next couple of weeks to be awkward as they worked on her house and ranch together. Or worse, she felt so uncomfortable that she insisted on doing it all by herself, even though it was clearly too big a job for just one person.

      So he wouldn’t ask her out yet, then. Not until he was sure she’d say yes, or until enough work was finished that he wouldn’t feel guilty if he got turned down and was asked to never see her again.

      He hoped to God that wouldn’t happen.

      What about her kids? A small voice inside him piped up.

      Well,