She could barely hear him through the oxygen mask, but it sounded like he said, "Gawd awmighty, I musta died. For sure this is an angel bendin' over me."
Feeling her face burn with the blush, she drew herself upright. "Don't try to talk," she ordered, striving for a stern tone. "You need to lie still and stay quiet."
"Aw hell, a bossy angel. Come on, sugar. You're too purty to act like a mean, old school teacher."
Tracey huffed out a short sigh of exasperation. "It's for your own good, cowboy. We don't know how badly you're hurt. You just had two horses romp all over you and probably got kicked on the way down, too. Just relax. We'll have you to the hospital in a few more minutes."
"Honey, I purely hate hospitals. Can't you just kiss it and make everything better?"
"I'm not your mommy." Although Tracey heard the acerbic bite in her words, she didn't repent. Sometimes these damn randy cowboys were just too much. This one could be half dead, but he was flirting up a storm. "Anyway, I'd have to go from the top of your hard head to the bottom of your feet. You're probably busted in a thousand pieces."
The darn cuff seemed to be caught on something. She tugged, but it wouldn't come free. She had to lean over again to see what was wrong.
How an injured man could move so fast she didn't know. Somehow he had the oxygen mask down and a hand twining into her hair, tugging her down to him, before she realized what was happening. Then, heaven help her, for a second or two she was not aware of anything in the world except the feel and taste of his mouth against hers. Even as her lips began to respond, she jerked away.
"Damn it! What in the blazes do you think you're doing?"
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