Free Her Cowboy's Christmas Wish (Harlequin American Romance) by Cathy McDavid Page A

the moment. And she did…until sanity returned, giving her a big, solid kick. The hoots and hollers of Ethan’s cowboy friends might have had something to do with it, too.
    Just how many people were watching them?
    Caitlin broke off the kiss and pressed a hand to her flaming cheek. Ethan didn’t appear the least bit embarrassed. Of course not.
    “That shouldn’t have happened,” she stammered, and backed away.
    Ethan started after her. “But it did happen,” he said in a low voice. “And for a minute there, you were liking it every bit as much as I did.”
    Had they really kissed for more than a minute?
    Wilting beneath stares from dozens of eyes, she executed a hasty retreat.
    “Caitlin.” Ethan appeared beside her.
    “I don’t want to talk.” She couldn’t. Her thoughts were in a jumble. She’d wind up saying something she’d regret. “Not now.” She brushed past him.
    “I need— Wait up, Caitlin!”
    Through the haze of fog surrounding her, she heard the note of urgency in Ethan’s voice. Still fuming, she almost didn’t stop.
    Almost.
    She spun around just in time to see him crumple, a look of pure agony on his face.
    “Ethan! Are you all right?” Instinct took over, and she ran to him. Dropping to her knees, she touched his head and back with gentle fingers. “What happened?”
    He pushed himself to a sitting position. “I thought you were mad at me.” Labored breathing punctuated each word.
    “I am mad at you.”
    His grimace turned into a lopsided smile. “Then how come you didn’t keep walking?”
    “I’m a nurse.”
    “That’s not why.”
    She made a sound of frustration. “Are you hurt or not?”
    “It’s my leg.”
    “Did you sprain it?”
    “No.” He groaned and shifted his weight.
    Between their heated kiss and Ethan’s fall, they’d drawn a sizable audience. Some of Ethan’s friends expressed their concern and offered assistance.
    “I’ll be all right,” he insisted. “My leg came loose in the fall.”
    His prosthesis. Thank goodness that was all.
    Two of his buddies hauled Ethan upright. Still grinning, he slung an arm around their shoulders.
    “Where to?” the taller of the pair asked.
    “The first-aid station.”
    Caitlin hurried ahead of them to open the door and flip on the light. The men brought Ethan inside and deposited him in the same metal folding chair he’d sat in that first night.
    “You need anything?” one friend asked.
    “Naw, I’m fine.” He nodded at them both. “Appreciate the lift.”
    The taller man tipped his hat at Caitlin and followed his buddy outside.
    “What can I do?” she asked.
    “I’ve got it.” Ethan didn’t exactly push her away, but he made it more than clear with his gesture and tone that he didn’t want her hovering. Bracing his hands on the chair seat, he managed to stand, though unsteadily. His loose prosthesis hung at an odd angle in front of him.
    She rushed forward, stopping short when he snapped, “I’ve got it!”
    “Okay.”
    Patients often refused help. She had learned to navigate the fine line between respecting their wishes and providing the care they needed. She watched him intently from beside the table, ready to jump in if necessary.
    With his free hand, he reached for his belt buckle and unfastened it with a flick of his wrist.
    Her breath caught. “What are you doing?”
    “Putting my leg back on.”
    Naturally. How silly of her.
    In order to get at his prosthesis, he had to remove his pants. There was no other way.
    What had she been thinking?
    Once he had his jeans unzipped, he slid them down his hips and sat back in the chair. His shirttails covered him. Only the lower part of his blue—blue?—boxer shorts was visible. Caitlin averted her gaze, concentrating on his feet.
    The prosthesis, caught in the pant leg, didn’t cooperate. Without thinking, she knelt in front of him and grabbed it by the boot.
    “You don’t have to.” Ethan’s hands grappled with hers.
    “Let me,” she said