Crutches and barnyards went together like toothpaste and coffee. Sprinkle in a handful of mostly healed, yet still tender, cracked ribs and molasses probably moved faster than he could right now. His muscles burned and he struggled not to hack up a lung. Fucking smoke. A couple hundred feet had never seemed so far. Still, he hadn’t busted his ass on the hike over from the main house. He’d take that. “Oh, crap!” A cute blonde in a flirty sundress did a double take when she spotted him hobbling along the aisle between the stalls. Someone had converted one of the old tack rooms into an office for her. His savior hustled from the tiny room with a beat-up folding chair before he could object. “Sit.” “I’m not a dog.” Silas grumbled but accepted her surprisingly steady shoulder to lean on while he lowered himself to the rickety seat. “Worse, you’re a man. A mutt would have more sense.” She shook her head then jogged to the open doors facing the pasture.
What do You think about Northern Exposure: Compass Brothers, Book 1 (2011)?
