Free Silk and Spurs by Cheyenne McCray

the curse word with emphasis.
    She looked up and saw his face away from her as he held her to the barn’s hay-strewn dirt floor.
    “What—?” she started.
    He cut his gaze to her. “Are you all right?”
    “I can’t breathe,” she said and he eased off of her.
    “Sorry, honey.” He helped her to a sitting position, his expression grim.
    She grimaced and held her hand to her chest. She was going to be sore and she didn’t know what kind of damage her camera might have sustained. “Why did you just flatten me?”
    He looked away from her and she followed his gaze. Where she’d been standing, just moments before, was a large bale of hay.
    Chills rolled over her. “I could have been killed.”
    “Yes.” He brushed dust and straw from her hair, all the while searching her with his gaze to see if she was hurt in any way. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
    “I’m fine.” She brought her hand to her camera but didn’t look at it. Right now it didn’t matter if it was damaged. She could have died. “Thanks to you.”
    “Are you all right, ma’am?” A young man’s face appeared over the edge of the loft. He looked horrified.
    “What in the hell happened, Chad?” Zane all but growled the words.
    “I’m sorry, boss.” Chad’s throat worked as he swallowed. “That bale was too close to the edge and I was about to grab it to pull it back.”
    Zane studied Chad for a moment. “Get back to work and you’d better be a hell of a lot more careful.”
    “Yes, sir.” Chad’s face was still bright red. “Sorry, ma’am,” he said before he disappeared back into the recesses of the loft.
    “He’s young but he’s always been competent.” Zane glanced at the hay bale. “It’s not like him to leave anything in a position where someone could get injured.” He looked at her again. “Let’s head back to the house.”
    “Your camera,” he said as they walked together. “It’s damaged.”
    “I always carry a backup.” She pushed her hair out of her face. “Better the camera getting squashed.” She looked at him. “What about you? Are you all right?”
    “Fine.” They reached the porch and he opened the door. She imagined he was probably sore, too, as hard as that camera must have dug into his chest as they went down.
    When they were in the cool house, he maneuvered her into the kitchen. “I’ll get the water,” he said.
    As he went to the fridge and poured two glasses, she raised her camera and looked at it. It didn’t look too bad, considering. It might need attention, though. She’d be better off using her other camera and taking this one into the shop when she got back to Tucson.
     
    When Zane returned with a glass of water, he watched Jessie as she swallowed and took a long drink.
    She set the glass down and met his gaze. “Thank you.”
    “That scared the hell out of me…” He searched her gaze as he tried to sort out how much the accident had affected him and why. “I— damn. ” He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.  
    “Are you up for lunch?” she asked. He had the feeling she was trying to get their minds on something else. “I’ll put something together.”
    “I can do it.” He released her hand and gestured to the kitchen table. “You sit.”
    “Okay,” she said, “I’ll get my laptop out and look at some of these shots. The memory card is inside the camera and wouldn’t have been damaged.”
    He took out the leftover spaghetti and meatballs that she’d fixed last night and began to warm it up.  He put a large plate of the spaghetti in the microwave then came up behind her and rubbed her shoulders while looking at her pictures as she went through them.
    “I love these,” he said. “They belong in a magazine.”
    “Why thank you.” She smiled up at him. “It helps when you have such amazing subject matter.”
    “There’s Phoebe’s place.” He pointed to the screen. “That’s a great shot.”
    Jessie suddenly shut the laptop.
    “What are