“Look Doc, I’m a big boy. I don’t need your help. I can—”
“Do it yourself. I know. You’ve told me. Numerous times.” She blew a lock of hair out of her eyes then smoothed it back with her hand. “But here’s the deal, X. If you injure yourself because you’re just being stubborn, I’m going to be really pissed. There is no reason you can’t recover from this injury.”
The plastic of the shower curtain clung to his hips and legs, and not in a good way. He’d never been into kinky Saran Wrap crap, and this wasn’t the time to start. He shifted stuff around.
He felt like crap. “I need a shower.”
“It’s the middle of the night.”
“And I want a shower.”
A long sigh conveyed her exhaustion and frustration better than any snappy comeback. “You do realize you can’t get your stitches wet, right?”
“A bath then,” he snapped. Damn, he was such an ass. And, check him out, he didn’t give a shit.
She rubbed at her eyes, smoothing her fingers up and over her eyebrows then down her cheeks, followed by a deep, aggravated groan. “Get in bed.”
“I want a bath.”
The muscles in her jaw clenched with the grinding of her teeth. She pursed her lips. Bit into the bottom one. Closed her eyes, blew out a breath. In ten seconds or so, the blue of her eyes appeared again.
“Get in the bed.”
“I’m not a child.”
And just like that, her final nerve snapped.
“Then stop acting like one!” Her cheeks puffed with her carefully controlled exhale. “I’m sorry. Will you please get back into bed and I will see to your bath.”
“And how exactly are you going to accomplish a bubble bath on my pillow top?”
“I plan on giving you a sponge bath.”
He opened his mouth to protest and she held up a hand. “Take it or leave it. You need to face the facts, X. You cannot have a shower. I’m too damned tired to be helping you in and out of the tub. If you wanna get clean tonight, it’s going to have to be my rubbing you with a washcloth.”
It was his turn to close his eyes, but not out of frustration. The idea of Frankie rubbing him in any way, shape, or form caused every part of him to stand up and shout for attention. Dammit. Now he was sticking to the damned shower curtain.
“I’m good.” He shifted the curtain again. “I can wait until morning for the soap and suds.”
She dipped her head in a relieved nod. “Okay. Let’s get you back in bed.”
“I can do it myself.”
“If you say that one more time, I’m going to scream.” A quick head shake. “Humor me, okay? I live to assist you.”
His deep bark of laughter shocked both of them. He wasn’t sure why her obvious sarcasm struck him funny, but it had and as he continued to chuckle, she giggled then burst out laughing.
“You are going to be the death of me, I swear it.”
She stepped further into the bathroom and slipped under his left arm, propping her shoulder under his pit. She wrapped her arm around his waist. He tried to keep his weight off of her, but he swayed and nearly fell down, taking her with him.
“Seriously?” Her arm tightened, tugging him closer into her. “Lean on me. It’ll be a helluva lot easier than trying to pick your stubborn ass up off the floor.”
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d leaned on anyone, physically or figuratively. But as he allowed Frankie to hold him tight and escort him back to the bed.
A few shuffling steps later and the two of them stood next to the bed. She pulled the sheets back, then offered her back.
“Let me know when you’re settled.”
He stared at her, dressed Trapezius to Achilles in blue scrubs, and not the figure-hugging type television docs wore. She rolled her neck on her delicate shoulders then stretched her arms up over her head, bending them back. She moaned and started to turn around.
“Wait.” Good hell, he was an idiot, standing around watching her stretch. He shook his head, totally disgusted with himself.
He dropped the shower curtain and sat on the edge of the bed. He’d have to pull a scooch and slide to get himself positioned in the middle. And wasn’t that going to be a good frickin’ time?
He frowned. Fresh baked bread had nothin’ on his mattress. Xavier was all about the soft and snuggly, but in this moment he’d rather have had a wooden plank. Splinters in his ass would mean he was moving instead of sinking.
“You ready?”
Frankie didn’t wait for an answer, just turned on her heel.
Xavier whipped the sheets over his lap. He wasn’t sure if she’d gotten another glimpse of his goods or not, but as exhaustion seeped into him, he decided it didn’t really matter. His eyelids drooped and he wondered when his lashes had been dipped in lead.
“Come on, big man. Let’s get you settled then you can get some sleep.”
He felt his legs going up, up, up and the rest of him tilting back. Gentle hands caught his right side, easing him against the mattress.
“How is your pain?”
“None.”
A snort. “Liar.”
Soft. Oh, her hands were soft. They cupped his cheeks and tipped his head until his wayward vision caught hers.
“Stay with me, X. Scale of one to ten, how is your pain?”
He attempted a shrug. “Five. Totally bearable.”
She smiled, and his heart thumped a little. “Is that your macho side talking? Or are you really okay?”
“I’m okay. Just tired.”
She tucked the sheets around him. “Rest. Tomorrow will be worse.”
Wasn’t that just peachy?
5
Claustrophobia hadn’t been an ailment Xavier suffered from in the past, yet right now, with his arm stuck to his side by the brace and his sluggish body condemned to the bed, panic rose. He breathed in through his nose, and out through his mouth. Pinching his eyes closed, he thought of wide open spaces; hiking the Rocky Mountains, sitting in a boat in the middle of Lake Mead, standing in left field at Rockets stadium.
Great. Now he was depressed and anxious. Tears stung his eyes, making them burn and that pissed him off. Seriously, crying wasn’t going to fix his arm or get him back on the diamond or even drain the urine from his bladder. The way he saw it, he could lie there and blubber like a child or he could go to the bathroom and relieve himself—by himself.
He struggled to get his body upright. He scooched one butt cheek then the other, shuffling himself over until he planted his feet on the floor.
The room spun and his stomach pitched. He puffed out his cheeks and swallowed a breath passed the bile building in his throat.
Everything hurt. Dammit, even his eyelashes throbbed. His bladder screamed for him to get up and take care of business, but he was too damned tired to even move. He’d just have to hold it. Or tie himself in a frickin’ knot!
Would that even work? He laughed at his own absurdity and the contraction of his abdomen intensified his need to pee. Xavier groaned. He seriously needed to get his butt out of the bed right now. Otherwise, he would have to replace the mattress. And he liked this mattress.
If he didn’t hurry, he’d have company. And he didn’t need Frankie holding him while he pissed. Good hell, she’d already done too much for him, making him damn uncomfortable.
He’d just finished and was making his way back to the bed when she appeared in the doorway.
“I heard the toilet flush. Are you okay?”
“Of course I’m okay.” Damn, he sounded pissy. And the roll of her blue eyes didn’t improve his mood.
“How’s your pain?”
“Fine.” Another roll of the eyes sent his temper into furious. “I don’t need the attitude, Doc.”
“Right back atcha, X.” She popped her hands on her hips and glared at him. It didn’t seem to matter how belligerent he got, she matched his aggression with patient, pigheaded determination. Her resolve deepened his respect for her, an
d caused lust to kick his ass. She took a step toward him. “Are you hungry?”
He opened his mouth to bite her head off, tell her to go to hell and draw the freakin’ map on how to get there, but his stomach growled and he thought better of it. He was hungry. Grouchy as he was, his growling gut wouldn’t improve his mood.
“Yeah. I am.”
She smiled and reached a hand out to him. “Let’s get you back in bed and I’ll bring you something to eat. How’s your stomach? Can you handle something significant or—”
“I’m starving!”
Her soft laugh melted his frosty exterior. “You like pancakes?”
“You shouldn’t have to cook me breakfast, Doc. A bowl of cereal will be just fine. And I can get it myself.”
His attempt at self-sufficiency encountered an adamant shake of her head. “No way, X. I’m here to take care of all your needs.”
He refused to let his thoughts consider that little tidbit. He swallowed hard, cleared his throat. “There are some Eggo’s in the freezer.”
“I can cook.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to.”
“Your lack of faith in me is offensive.” Her eyes twinkled as she teased. “Climb into bed and I’ll—”
“I’m not sitting in bed while you’re playing maid. It’s bad enough you’re pulling the whole Florence Nightingale act.”
“I am a doctor.” She frowned. “It’s not much of a stretch.”
Well, hell, now he’d offended her. “I’m sorry. I just hate this.”
“I know.”
“Will you help me down to the kitchen, so I can at least sit at the table like an adult?”
A smile slowly crept onto her face. She bit her lip, trying to hide it from him. He laughed low, refused to acknowledge the twinge in his shoulder, and shook his head. She was pretty damned adorable for being so blasted annoying.
“Come on, big guy.”
He hated leaning on her, hated needing her, but she was right—not that he’d ever tell her.
He couldn’t do it without her. And of all the people in his life, she’d very quickly become the one he didn’t want seeing him so weak and vulnerable. Yet, she’d also become the only person on earth he trusted to protect him.
Talk about irony.
***
Frankie got Xavier settled at the kitchen table and turned. And stopped. The bank of hickory cupboards greeted her with their beautiful smiling variations of browns. As she stared, unsure of where to start, Xavier chuckled.
“Eggos are in the freezer. Toaster is in the cabinet next to the dishwasher.”
She opened and closed the heavy wooden doors, finding dishes, pans, cups. “I’m not making Eggos. Point me to your baking supplies. Flour, sugar—”
His laugh cut her off. She turned to see him standing in the doorway next to the refrigerator. His wide grin contained humor, and was damn sexy.
“I think you’ll find everything you’re looking for in here.” He flipped the light on and a halo appeared around him, silhouetting him, making him look like a heavenly being.
And for a split second she wanted to drop to her knees and worship every smoldering inch of him, from his sexy smile and his twinkling hazel eyes to his perfect straight toes. She licked her lips and blinked.
His smile shifted into a smirk. “You admirin’ me or my pantry?”
She stomped down the embarrassment screaming through her and prayed the heat she felt in her cheeks wasn’t a flame of red betraying her. Adding an exaggerated eyeroll and a huffed scoff to her façade, she insisted her feet take her toward him. It was a dangerous move, bringing herself closer to him, but she liked danger. Rawr! Bring it!
He stood like a sentry guarding the palace gate, his legs spread, his arms folded over his chest—well, the one he could move. His face, though, detracted from the don’t-even-try-it look. Damn him, he grinned like a court jester.
She tried to get past him, but he was too damned big. She’d have to touch him, and she wasn’t sure getting up-close-and-personal was such a brilliant idea. Especially after the place her imagination had just taken her. And she did not want to go there with Xavier. Ever. That would only accomplish one thing: heart break. She needed to keep things professional.
“You go sit.” She tapped his rock hard chest with her fingertip then pointed at the table. “All I want from you is direction.”
“You like to take direction?” The deep rumble in his voice held potential and promise nearly causing her to melt into a puddle.
“You need to stop that,” she snapped. “The only one taking direction here is you. And I’m directing you to sit yourself down at the table while I make us something to eat.”
Damn, that smile of his should be registered as a deadly weapon. “But you just said—”
“Sit.”
“I like to give direction.”
“Sit.”
“I give great direction.”
“Dammit, X! Sit your ass in the chair and lemme do my thing.”
With an arrogant, smug grin in place, he strolled by her. The soft scrape of chair legs against tile made her jump. Christian hadn’t liked the idea of her being in close confines with Xavier. Crap! She hated when he was right. This situation had catastrophe written all over it.
She ducked into the pantry and breathed deep. The enormous square room sported floor-to-ceiling shelving. She could have stood in the middle, opened her arms wide and spun without touching a shelf. Absolutely magnificent. When the day came that her mother agreed to move, Frankie would remember this pantry and add one in their new home.
“Flour’s to the right in the large container,” Xavier’s voice called from the other room. “Sugar should be pretty close to it. You might have to open a new bag.”
Xavier continued to surprise her. His pantry held all the staples. The room had it all. Completely stocked with everything a person would need to survive for months. She wasn’t sure why the state of his pantry shocked her. The guy had to eat. She’d just never taken him for the Betty Crocker type.
She quickly gathered everything she needed and, with arms full, hurried toward the counter. She leaned over and let all the ingredients fall softly onto the granite. The bottle of oil fell and she fumbled to get it upright.
“Okay.” She brushed a strand of hair back away from her face and caught the look on Xavier’s face. “What?”
He blinked, ran a hand over his face, and cleared his throat. “Um, nothing. It’s just that I’ve never … um, you’re—”
Shit, did she have something on her face? She rubbed at her cheek.
He laughed softly. “No, you’re fine. You’re just the first woman to stand in my kitchen. It’s a little unnerving.”
Her heart did a little dance at the knowledge of being the first feminine feet to stand in this particular spot, but it skittered to know that the fact unnerved him.
Her smile felt shaky. “Don’t worry, it won’t be long before you’ll have your domain back to yourself.”
His face fell. “It’s not—”
“Milk in the fridge?” Without waiting for an answer, she headed toward the silver appliance, unwilling to think too much on his reaction.
The next half hour consisted of a lot of silence sprinkled with short verbal directives. She made a plate full of pancakes, contemplating exactly how bad this situation could be. She liked Xavier. A lot. Too much. And every second she spent with him, she liked him even more. If she wasn’t careful she might just fall for him. Which would be really painful when he wasn’t there to catch her.
She needed some time alone. Now. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to grab a quick shower, then I’ll come back and clean up the kitchen once you’re finished.”
***
Xavier watched her leave. Something had changed her from playful to distant in a snap, turning her into an abandoned building, all boarded up windows, barred doors, complete with a ‘no trespassing’ sign. He wasn’t sure w
hat had caused the change. And he didn’t like it. He preferred her teasing and defiant.
He finished his breakfast, and listened to the quiet rush of water through the pipes servicing her shower. He wiped his mouth then stood to slip his plate in the sink. Slowly he put all the ingredients away. It didn’t take long, even with the hindrance of using only his left hand. After a couple of swipes across the table and the counter, he tossed the rag back into the sink and headed upstairs.
Every part of him felt grungy. It’d been a couple days since he’d gotten clean and the need to spend a little time with a bit of soap and water became a craving he couldn’t shake. He sat down on the edge of the bed and dropped his head into his hand.
“Are you okay?”
His head jerked up and the rest of him swayed.
Frankie rushed to his side and dropped down to peer up into his face. Her soft hands grabbed hold of his head, cradling his cheeks. Her worried eyes searched his.
“Xavier, are you okay?”
He shook his face out of her hold. “Yeah.”
“You swayed.”
“So did you.” As did the rest of his world. He closed his eyes and breathed deep. “I’m fine, Doc. You scared me. That’s all.” He tried to stand, but she pushed him back onto the mattress.
“No way. You stay put.”
“I need a shower.”
She shook her head, a deep frown pulling her lips into a scowl. “Xavier.” Her tone was meant to soothe, he was sure, but instead, it patronized. And pissed him off.
“Listen, Doc, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I can handle it from here. I’m sure you have better things to do anyway.”
Her scowl tightened. “I assure you, I have nothing better to do. I am here until I say you can handle things on your own. And right now, I don’t.”
He ground his teeth and glared up at her. “Get out.”
“No.” She leaned forward, bending at the waist, getting in right his face, until her nose nearly met his. Her breath scalded his skin. His temperature rose.
Out of Left Field Page 4
