“Then you’re okay. Just a broken wrist?”
“And sprained ankle.” Why bring up the dislocated shoulder and probable concussion? If he did, his friend would crawl through the phone line.
A heavy groan sounded in his ear. “So what you’re telling me is I’m going to be stuck with Regan for the next six weeks until that wrist heals?”
“Sorry.” He really was. The last thing he wanted was to be laid up. “As we speak my foot is elevated higher than my heart and I can feel the swelling shrinking away. I’ll be up and about sooner than you think.”
“Don’t push it, man. Remember Dukowski? Set himself back so often he had to have the very surgery he was hoping to avoid.”
“I know.” And he did. There was a fine line between helpful exercise and overdoing. And for the next seven days, almost everything he wanted qualified as overdoing. From the kitchen window across the cabin he could see the top of Lily’s red hair making its way to the door. “Listen. I’m going to catch forty winks. I’ll check back in a few days.”
“Remember what I said. Don’t overdo it.”
The call disconnected at the same moment the latch on the front door clicked open. Instinct had him pushing up in his seat to relieve her of the bundles she carried. Pain up his arm and across his back reminded him why Lily was here in the first place.
“Good.” She smiled at him. “I was afraid I was going to find you hobbling laps around the place.”
“Hardly.” Not that the thought hadn’t occurred to him. Less than an hour banned to the couch and the sense of entrapment was setting in.
“I’ve got some of the staples that should have been in the cabin for your arrival and a few extras. Thought I’d whip up a treat to say thank you.”
Whatever she had in mind, Cole was willing to bet his career the treat had nothing to do with the first thing that popped into his head. Too bad.
“I’ll fry up some bacon and heat up last night’s croissants. They already have extra butter but nothing melts in your mouth like a warm croissant with fresh butter.”
Cole blinked and almost shook his head in an effort to reset his brain. Why did every word out of this nice, sweet girl’s—and he didn’t have to spend any more time with her to know Lily was definitely what his mom called a nice girl—why did every word out of her mouth send his imagination in the totally wrong direction. Twenty-four hours alone with her could be the death of him. Maybe if he was lucky all that extra butter would hurry up clogging his arteries and take him out of his impending misery.
Chapter Six
“Another minute and your late breakfast will be ready.” Lily flipped the last of the easy-over eggs and then slid them onto a dish. The nice thing about a small cabin was that she could have fun in the kitchen and still keep an eye on Cole reading across the way, or occasionally nodding off. Once or twice she considered going over and tapping him lightly, but before she could muster the nerve to see if he was okay, he’d jerk his eyes open and return to the book. Even in sleep, the man was stubborn. Thank heaven she only had to do battle with him for another day or so.
Cole closed the book and set it aside, rolled his neck left, then right. The next time Lily glanced over, he stared at his right hand, flexing his fingers. From what little she’d seen of this man, she suspected none of this was going to be easy on him. A plate in hand, she painted on a smile and braved her way across the room. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” His gaze warily skimmed the plate from the bacon to the eggs to the casserole, before sharing a slim smile.
What was that all about? Most people she knew would light up at a lumberjack breakfast like that. Though she had skipped the flapjacks for Lucy’s casserole. “I thought it would be okay if you sat upright just long enough to eat.”
He nodded and using his upper body strength more than his good arm, turned to sit in front of the coffee table. For a few awkward moments Lily buzzed around him like a flustered moth to an irresistible flame. She placed pillows on the floor to rest his bad foot on, set up a TV tray in front of him, and arranged the food and drink as if he were a helpless toddler learning to eat.
“It looks… delicious.” Holding the fork in mid-air and staring down at the plate, his declaration didn’t sound terribly convincing.
“The breakfast casserole is Lucy’s favorite. Mostly I consider it baked French toast. That’s why I fried some eggs and bacon for protein.” The timer sounded and she spun around, scurrying back to the kitchen. There was a fine line between warming the croissants and turning them into chew toys.
“Yo,” a deep voice called from the doorway.
Three men, one bigger than the next, marched into the now much smaller space. One man carried a large pizza box, another the size of a linebacker held a six pack in each hand.
“Man, this place smells good.” The third man attached to the voice, carried a large sack from the nearby farmer’s market and sniffed the air, stopping short when he spotted Lily. “Hello.”
The two others spun around to see her standing with the plate of warm croissants.
The tallest of the group, the one with the sack cracked a huge smile and turned to face Cole. “Aren’t you a sly one? Payton here made it sound like you were on death’s doorstep. He didn’t say a word about the angel at the gates.”
Cole’s brows slanted into an irritated V as his buddy made his way past her into the kitchen and began unloading every leafy green vegetable known to man.
“Are those warm?” The one holding the pizza set the box down on the coffee table.
Lily blinked, her hand going to her face seconds before she realized the man meant the croissants not her cheeks. Which, if they weren’t flushed at the sight of three good-looking men suddenly appearing like the genie from Aladdin’s lamp, they certainly were now.
“Yes,” she muttered quickly. The man nodded and smiled politely, kicking her manners into gear. “Would you like one?”
“I think Cole here needs fuel more than me.”
“Oh, I have more in the kitchen. I made a fresh batch last night.”
“Made?” The bruiser’s eyes rounded. “Like, from scratch?”
Lily couldn’t help the grin that tugged at the corners of her mouth. She loved it when people appreciated her food. “Yes. From scratch.”
Hurrying, she set the plate down in front of Cole and went back to the kitchen. It only took a moment to pile the remaining warm croissants on another dish and present them to the three men hovering in the middle of the room. One by one they reached for the flaky French breads.
“Oh, man.”
“These are great.”
“If this is the reward for getting hit by a car, line me up.”
Lily had no idea whether to puff up at the compliment or whither at the reminder she could have killed Cole.
“That’s enough, guys.” Cole sounded like a big brother reminding the younger family members to mind their manners.
“Why? Because we like real food instead of salads?” The tall one spun around to face her. Holding the half-eaten croissant in one hand, he got down on bended knee and reached for her hand with the other. “Will you marry me?”
Lily giggled. She actually giggled.
“Maybe,” Cole’s tone dripped with irritation, “I should introduce you first.”
His buddy stood. “Good idea. I’m Gabe. I work with this guy at the department.”
“Lily Nelson. Nice to meet you.”
“Same here. Now that you know my name and that I’m gainfully employed, Lily, will you marry me?”
“If you don’t want him,” the Bruiser interrupted, flashing a blinding smile, “I’m Payton and available.”
The pizza man stuck his hand out. “I’m Regan.”
“What?” Gingerly, Cole leaned back against the sofa and skewered Pizza Man with a sharp glare. “Aren’t you going to propose too?”
Regan leaned over and grabbing Cole’s fork, stabbed at the casserole, then took a big b
ite, moaned, and turned to her. “Did you bake this too?”
“No.” Lily shook her head. “Lucy made that.”
“It will be a hard choice,” Regan teased, “but I may have to save myself for Lucy.”
Cole snatched the fork away from his buddy seconds before an attractive blonde came through the front door, a small carryon in hand. Her gaze darted from man to man, finally settling on Lily. “I, uh, came by the house to check on another stray Grams has been feeding and Lucy asked me to bring you this. Said you needed a few things for over…night.” Her voice faltered on the last words as she considered the situation.
“Oh, you have been holding out on us.” Teasing, Gabe turned to Cole.
Lily bit back a smile. “This is my sister Hyacinth, better known to all as Cindy.”
Immediately, the three men extended a hand and introduced themselves.
Regan’s smile lit up his face, and most likely left a trail of broken hearts in its wake. “I don’t suppose you cook too?”
Another charmer. Lily had to wonder if a heart-stopping smile was part of the job description for the county fire department.
Still stunned at all the testosterone in the room, Cindy shook her head. While Lily was at home in the kitchen, Cindy had always had a gift with animals. Big ones, little ones, males, females, and from the flutter of activity in the small cabin, clearly males of the human variety, too.
“Didn’t you just get engaged?” Cole snapped at his friend.
“She hasn’t said yes,” Gabe shot back, before facing Lily. “Have you?”
Lily couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled loudly to the surface. This entire scenario was absolutely absurd and totally delightful. “Sorry, but I think we should get to know each other more. I mean, you might really hate my crème brulee and then where would we be?”
“Oh, man. She’s killing me.” Gabe rolled his eyes. “I love crème brulee.”
Shaking her head and almost smiling, Cindy looked from Lily to the man on the sofa, to the three guys settling down around the room. “So what you’re all saying is the way to a man’s heart truly is through his stomach?”
Lily noticed the delighted nods from at least three of the guys in the room and for the first time, really believed maybe loving to bake hadn’t been such a bad career choice after all.
***
Cole loved the guys he worked with. All of them. Even the ones who annoyed the crap out him. They were brothers in a way most people wouldn’t understand. But watching them shovel down food as though they hadn’t been fed in a month and listening to them tease and flirt with Lily and her sister had gotten on his last nerve.
“Wow.” The door clicked shut and leaning against it much the way she had earlier in the day after her grandfather’s visit, Lily blew a burst of air at a wisp of hair hanging in front of her face. “Are they like that all the time?”
“Like what?”
“For one thing—hungry. Payton downed breakfast and half the pizza.”
He shrugged. All of them could pack away the fuel. A serious fire could take hours to put out and there was no room for fatigue. “Sometimes.”
“So the energy level goes with it?” She collapsed on the seat across from him.
Energy? He hadn’t noticed that. All he’d noticed was that each of them had been in Casanova mode. “Maybe.”
Head resting on the chair back, eyes closed, all the tension of the morning had slid away from her features. Angel at the gates. Gabe had gotten that much right. Any artist would love to have Lily for a model. It struck him as oddly amusing to realize that in baggy pants, a high collared button-down shirt, and less than fashionable work shoes, she still looked beautiful. When he thought about all the hours his ex spent in front of a mirror and the money squandered on trendy clothes, for the first time he felt sorry for his ex. She could have primped and preened from now till the second coming and she would never have looked as captivating as Lily did sleeping on a chair in her work clothes. He also couldn’t imagine his ex putting her personal life aside for even ten minutes to take care of a stranger, regardless of if she’d run him over half a dozen times.
Battling the weight of his own exhaustion, Cole blinked a time or two before finally giving in and letting his eyes drift shut for a moment of rest. He’d gladly sleep a week if his pretty hostess would let him. Most likely, if he dared catch forty winks, Lily would probably spring up at his first snore. Prying his heavy lids open, he reminded himself he only wanted to rest a minute. Or two. Or more.
The next time he forced his eyes open, he knew he’d been asleep for longer than intended. Not only did the large clock on his cell phone screen keep him abreast of the almost hour that had passed, but the persistent tingle along his right forearm was teetering on a full-blown irritation.
Not till he’d rubbed the casted arm for a few minutes with his good hand did he realize the irritation was an outright itch. And not a simple accessible itch. No, he had to have an inch starting at the edge of his wrist and working its way up and away from the cast. Cast being the operative word. Because of the swelling, the snug fit didn’t allow enough space to slip a finger down, even if his were a slim six inches long. Which they weren’t.
Scratching at the exposed flesh was doing nothing to relieve the growing discomfort. Scanning the coffee tabletop, he looked for something within reach that would do the trick. A letter opener would be great. A knife would do. Hell, he’d settle for a nail file or ice pick.
“Stop that.” The sound came from across the room.
Her eyes still closed, and her body in the same relaxed position she’d been in for nearly an hour, he almost believed he’d imagined the words.
“I said, stop that.” Lily pulled herself up in the chair, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, then ran her hands loosely through her hair. “I can hear you scratching all the way over here.”
“It’s itchy.” Though obvious, it was a safer response than stuttering, even with your hair sticking out in every direction, you look amazing.
She pushed to her feet. “Ignore it.”
“Easier said than done.”
“I have faith in you.” Flashing a sleepy smile, she stretched her back and took a step forward. “Since I’m not going to the Inn today, I’m going to change into something more comfortable.”
Once again, his mind meandered down a path it had no business taking. Maybe it was the meds. That was it. For today at least, he’d blame his unruly imagination on the meds.
“And don’t scratch,” she shouted to him from halfway down the hall.
Another quick perusal of the tabletop and he spotted a ballpoint pen. The kind with the pull off cap. It wouldn’t reach all the way to his wrist, but the straight part might offer at least some relief. Twisting and turning his arm every which way possible, he failed miserably at finding any relief.
The slapping sound of bare feet against the old wooden floors grew closer before coming to a stop. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” He dropped the pen cap onto the sofa.
“Right. Nothing.” In loose fit sweats and a t-shirt, she headed into the kitchen shaking her head. Opening drawer after drawer, then banging cabinet doors open and shut, she stood, hands on hips, surveying the kitchen from one short end to the other.
“What are you looking for?”
“Something easier and safer than a steak knife.”
That made him smile. Since they’d barely finished breakfast, and Lucy had promised soup for lunch, he doubted the knife was for cooking.
“Got it.” She snapped her fingers and spun around, opening the pantry door. For a few seconds, she disappeared into the small space. He could hear her rummaging before she came out holding a plastic case. “This should work.”
“This?”
“Bamboo skewers.”
Great. She’d already driven into him, almost tripped into his lap, and now she wanted to stab him. “I don’t know.”
“It’s perfect. Narrow,
flexible, and the nub end is rounded and won’t do accidental damage.”
“Hm.” He wasn’t sure about this one.
“Trust me.” She hurried back and Cole held his breath waiting to see if she would trip and go flying.
To his relief—or was it disappointment—she didn’t fall into his lap. Seated on the coffee table, she leaned forward. As soon as she pulled the cap off the canister an odd smell smacked him in the face.
“Is that… gum?”
“Spearmint, actually. Someone must have spilled some essential oil in the drawer they were stored in.”
“Or in the canister,” he mumbled. He felt like he’d transported to the interior of a chewing gum factory. A stick or two was fine, but the cloying scent of this much mint was a bit much.
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”
She had a point. The itch inside his cast was reaching torturous proportions
“Let me have your arm.”
He must have hesitated a moment too long.
“I can’t hurt you. The edge is perfectly round.”
Hesitantly, he stretched the wrist forward. The second she slid the flexible shoot of wood into the crevice, scraping against his skin, he could have leaned over and kissed her. Not a good idea.
Chapter Seven
The mumbled sounds of conversation drifted through the thin walls. Poppy Nelson turned the corner of the small cabin that the fireman and her sister were staying in. She had just enough time left on her lunch hour to drop off the soup Lucy had made and make sure her sister really was okay. Poppy couldn’t begin to imagine how she’d feel if she’d hit a pedestrian with her car. Just the thought made her heart do a back flip and her mouth go dry. A muffled groan slowed her steps. A second guttural sound drifted through the cabin walls and Poppy picked up speed, hurrying to the front door.
“Oh, that feels so good,” a male voice practically moaned. “Faster. Oh yeah, now you’ve got it.”
Lily Page 5
