“Does it hurt?” she asked and motioned her head to his hand.
“Not as much as that asshole’s face,” he joked with a grin.
Clarissa couldn’t hold in the laugh. She hesitantly reached for Red’s hand and he didn’t protest as she took hold to press the cool of the wet handkerchief on it. The touch was enough to make her tremble, but she ignored it to tend the bruises. She looked up and smiled when she finished.
“There’s a bottle of whiskey in the saddlebags,” Red told her. “I could do with a drink.”
Clarissa’s mouth went dry while their gazes remained locked together and the anticipation that something might be about to happen played on her mind. She got up to move to the shelter and found the bottle. When she returned to Red, she opened it for him and held it out, but he motioned for her t
