by Rachel Lee
“Hank?”
“Yes?” He looked at her, but her eyes were still closed.
“Are you hurting?”
“A bit.”
“So you won’t be able to sleep?”
He wondered if she was seeking reassurance. “Not likely. There are nights like that sometimes.”
“I’m sorry.”
Then she floored him by rolling onto her side until their bodies nearly touched, and slipping an arm around him. “I wish I could make it go away.”
She almost had. The things that were sizzling across his nerve endings now were more like the lightning from that storm than pain. He tightened his jaw against the unwanted surge of desire, thankful that quilts and clothing hid the obvious evidence of his reaction to her.
“It’s getting better with time,” he said, hoping she couldn’t tell the words were coming from between clenched teeth.
“I’m glad to hear that. Not as bad or not as often?”
“Both.”
“Would a massage help?”
A massage? The mere thought put his hormones into hyperdrive. God, yes, it would probably help, but the consequences were ones he didn’t want to think about. He started counting reasons not to give in to passion: They’d only known each other a few days. She was probably seeking comfort more than anything because she felt so lonely. She was emerging from a bad marriage and probably had a whole knapsack load of stuff to deal with yet. One-night stands weren’t his style and he doubted they were hers.
The one he avoided thinking about was the one that involved coming to care for her. Oh, he already cared for her, but not with the kind of depth that would blow him apart when she moved on.
Because she was going to move on as soon as she felt safe. She was going back to Miami for that divorce, and then she’d have a whole new life that he was sure wouldn’t have anything to do with isolated Conard County and the husk of a cowboy.
Lots of reasons to climb off the bed right now and find a chair to sit in. Hell, he’d be safer on the floor, because right now she looked more like a looming threat of loss than a promise of paradise.
Then she shifted and started rubbing his back. Damn, that felt good. Too good.
“How’s that?” she asked softly.
“Mmm.” He didn’t trust himself to say any more. He wanted to stay rigid, as if that were any defense, but the gentle circles she made on his back caused him to relax. Muscles that rarely seemed to let go anymore, let go, and his body began to feel like warm syrup.
Well, except for a certain member that started aching so hard, and throbbing so tightly, that it drove all thought of pain from his head.
In fact, it tried to drive all thought from his head. All those reasons he’d been counting in order to keep himself on the straight and narrow flitted further and further away with every movement of her hand.
He was losing it.
And then it was gone. All sense, all qualms, all his intelligence had vanished in a yearning that made everything else seem like a mere quibble.
He groaned, and felt her start to jerk back, as if she thought she’d hurt him. Every cell in his body protested the incipient separation, and without another thought he dove in and kissed her with every bit of the hunger he felt for her.
She gasped just as his mouth clamped over hers, and for an instant they shared one breath. But then she softened, her arm tightened around him, trying to pull him closer.
He was lost. And he was loving it. It had been so long, too long, since he’d wanted any woman, and he wanted this one more than most in his life.
He rolled a little, bringing them closer, urging her onto her back, managing to lift his leg over hers. Blankets and clothing still provided a barrier, but not enough of one to interfere with the moment—or the heat.
Her arms closed around his shoulders, welcoming him, as he plundered her mouth. She even tasted good, and the warmth of her tongue stroking his felt like heaven. He wanted to be deep within her, claiming her, taking her, riding her to the stars.
But some little bit of sense remained. Instead of giving in to the pulsing demand of his body, he chose instead to explore her hills and hollows with his hand. Her breast fit into his palm as if it had been made for him, and even through the cotton of her nightclothes he could feel her nipple pebbling, growing hard and big at the brush of his thumb.
Another spear of desired zapped him, causing him to drag his mouth from hers and close it over her breast, sucking both nipple and cotton into his mouth. He sucked gently at first, but when he heard her soft cry and felt her arch up toward him, he sucked even harder, filling his mouth with her, using his tongue to taunt her.
“Hank…” A breathy cry, sending a burst of triumph through him. She was his. He knew it. He sucked again, rhythmically, in time with the throb in his loins, and pressed his staff hard against her, slightly frustrated by the quilt that softened the contact. His hand traced her side, beginning to push away the quilt, seeking more delights along her waist, her hip.
And at that very instant his hip chose to erupt with searing agony.
He yanked away from her, swearing. Hell and damnation…
The last thing he wanted to do was roll away. The last thing he wanted to do was leave her there. But his hip showed no mercy.
The pain grabbed him until he was breathless with it, and he rolled away, needing to straighten out his leg, needing to move somehow to stop that godawful screech from angry nerves.
He pushed out of the bed. As he stood, his leg nearly gave way, but he mastered it, limping out of the room, limping anywhere, seeking any relief, trying to find the right movement, the right position, the right anything.
He hated himself. He hated thinking how he must have just made Kelly feel. Of all the stupid, cussed, idiotic things he could have done at such a moment…
“Hank? Is it your hip?”
He swung around and saw Kelly in the hallway. In another flare of lightning, he could see the wet spot he had made on her pajama top with his mouth.
“I’m sorry,” he said, then continued his stomping walk as he tried to maneuver into a less painful position.
“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “Are you sure massage won’t help? Maybe some acupressure?”
“Acupressure?” Oh, man, that proved she came from a different world.
“Seriously,” she said. “Sometimes if you press hard enough for a few seconds on a painful nerve, it’ll quiet down. Let me at least try.”
“I can’t stop moving. It might freeze.”
“Then I’ll follow you around. Where is the worst pain?”
Reluctantly, he pointed to a spot on his hip between the pelvic bone and his buttocks. She hurried toward him.
“I’m going to poke. Tell me when I hit the most painful spot.”
He forced himself to hold still, afraid that at any second it would tighten up so much that his leg would give way.
She poked hard at the area he had indicated. He winced. She poked again nearby. “Let me know when it makes you want to scream.”
He already wanted to scream, but then she hit the spot. He knew it. The pain drew a sharp groan from him. “There.”
For an instant the world almost turned black as she dug her thumbs into the spot. If the pain had been bad before… He gritted his teeth, making himself endure, listening to her count the seconds. How long was he supposed to stand here? Dammit!
“Seven,” she said, and pulled her thumbs away.
He almost jerked in surprise. The pain wasn’t entirely gone, but it had diminished from excruciating to tolerable. “That helped.”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I actually learned that from a medical doctor.”
He turned to face her, moving gingerly, afraid the pain would erupt again. “How does it work?”
“I don’t remember the details. I just know it does. Usually when there’s a spasm involved. I couldn’t be sure it would help you, but I had to try.”
“I’m glad
you did.” Extremely glad. “Wow!” He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.
“That was bad, wasn’t it?”
He felt after all that had just happened, he owed her honesty. “On a scale from one to ten, that was a twenty.”
“I’m so, so sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry for our interrupted interlude.”
She looked down, but it was so dark he couldn’t read her expression. If they were going to continue this conversation, he was going to need to turn on a light.
“I’m wide awake now,” she said, lifting her head. “How about some coffee?”
“That won’t help you sleep later.”
“It’s never stopped me before.”
“Then coffee it is.”
“I’ll be right there.” She turned and headed back to the bedroom, probably to change her damp pajama top. He couldn’t blame her. Sometimes it was better to pretend things hadn’t happened. And she had just as many reasons as he did for wanting to pretend right now.
He flipped on the kitchen light and started a pot of coffee brewing. While it brewed, he cussed himself again, because if he’d ever needed anything to remind him that he was the last person on whom Kelly should rely, it was what had just happened.
He’d keep her safe? Sure, as long as a bolt of pain didn’t strike at the wrong moment. As long as his leg didn’t give way just when it was needed. Damn, he hated himself, hated his unreliable body. How could he have been nuts enough to think there was any possibility that he could protect her? Why couldn’t he stop deluding himself? He wasn’t the man he used to be. There were things he simply could no longer do.
The coffee was half done when she reappeared wearing a yellow tank top and white shorts. Eye candy for sure, he thought, then forced his thoughts away from that. He’d just blown it big-time. No woman in her right mind could be interested in sex with a man who might leap out of bed like that without warning, leaving her unsatisfied.
Nope. Out of the question.
But she smiled as she sat at the table, waiting for her coffee. And he realized something else. She hadn’t once suggested that he sit down, or that she should make the coffee. She hadn’t treated him like an invalid. Not in the least little way.
Damn if he didn’t appreciate that. It was a small bandage to his ego, but, right now, even the smallest one mattered.
She said not a word as he hobbled around getting the mugs, carrying them to the table and filling them. Not a word except, “Thank you.”
Taking the risk, he sat beside her. The ache was still there, the ache that might never go away, but he was no longer considering options like a chain saw to amputate himself.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You might want to consider acupuncture,” she offered. “Seriously. It works great for pain.”
“I don’t think we have anyone locally.”
“That could be a problem. Most people need to go once a week or so. Of course, maybe someone here could learn to do it.”
“Are you into a lot of New-Agey stuff?”
“There’s nothing New Age about acupuncture, Hank. It works. It’s an ancient form of medical treatment, and it works. Worth a try if you can get it.”
He supposed it was. “I’ll research it.”
“Good.” She reached out and covered his hand with hers. He liked the easy way she was willing to touch him, even after what had happened. At least he hadn’t totally turned her off.
Although maybe it would have been better if he had.
“Anyway,” she continued, “you’d have nothing to lose if you could find an acupuncturist who isn’t too far away. If it helps, so much the better. But it’s awful to see you hurt like that, and if it’s awful to see, it must be so much worse for you.”
“As I said, most of the time I can handle it. Every so often it just goes through the roof.”
“Maybe all the work we’ve been doing on the house has aggravated things. Especially tearing up those floors.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. You weren’t planning to do so much so fast.”
“Blame Ben. He knew what he was renting to you.”
“I can’t blame Ben.”
“Why not?”
“What else is he going to say when a woman he doesn’t even know walks in and wants a rental for one or two months—no lease? How many places like that do you suppose are available around here?”
He sighed. “Probably not many.”
“Probably none. He saw a chance to make a little money, and for you to make a little money, and he showed me the place first. It’s not as if I didn’t see it was a shambles.”
“But there was stuff you didn’t know about.”
“And it’s fixed. So maybe you should let up for a couple of days. I’ll help carry all that flooring out to the trash when the bin arrives, and then we should take a break.”
“I still need to do those windows on the porch, though. They’re sitting in my garage just waiting for me to bump into them wrong.”
“That was the next thing you planned to do, right?”
“Originally. It’s not an awful job. With help it’ll be almost easy.”
“Well, I’ll help. And then you should give yourself a day off. I’ll even make you dinner, if you’re willing to risk it.”
“I’d like that.” And he would. But he was rather amazed that he sensed absolutely no pulling away from her, despite the way he had left her in bed, aroused and unfulfilled. Most people would be hopping mad about that, or at least dismayed. Nothing about Kelly even suggested it.
Even so, it was another item to add to his list of reasons for avoiding anything even remotely romantic with Kelly. Her baggage, his baggage. And his was immutable.
Morning dawned bright, the sky so clear after the rain that everything appeared painfully sharp to the eye. Kelly looked out at the well-washed world, admiring it, and wondered if her own life would feel like that once everything to do with Dean lay in the past. Probably.
At least she hoped so. With morning came the nerve-crawling fear again, a feeling she couldn’t shake for long, and less so now that she knew the real estate agent had run a credit check on her. Hank was right: They might as well have given out her address.
But she was safe here, in Hank’s house, surely? At least for a while.
She had slept so well last night, the first good night’s sleep she’d enjoyed since the attack. Hank hadn’t lain down with her again. Even so, she’d been aware from time to time that he wasn’t nearby, but before she really awoke to wonder, she heard his limping tread elsewhere in the house and knew he was there.
She smiled at him now as she walked into the kitchen and found him preparing a breakfast of bacon and eggs. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“I slept like a log.”
He flashed a grin her way. “We aim to please.”
“I haven’t felt this good in forever. But what about you? Did you sleep at all?”
“I’ve become the world’s greatest catnapper. I’m fine. There are some advantages to being a firefighter. One of them is you learn to sleep in snatches anywhere, any time, because you seldom get an uninterrupted night.”
“That’s a useful skill.”
“It can be.” He placed their already-filled plates on the table, poured some orange juice, and they sat to eat.
“I made some decisions,” he announced as he reached for a slice of rye toast.
Kelly felt her stomach tighten. What kind of decisions did he have to make? Was he going to send her on her way? Because after the last couple of days, she was more convinced than ever that she couldn’t stand going on the road again. “What?” she finally asked.
“We’re going to talk to the sheriff about your situation.”
She put her fork down as the tightening in her stomach became painful. “He won’t believe me.”
Hank looked up from his plate. “This isn’t Miami. This is a small town. Around here
the sheriff isn’t too busy to pay attention, and he’s not likely to dismiss anything. Nor is he going to want to take a chance with your life.”
“I don’t know.”
“Trust me on this, Kelly.”
She did trust him, amazingly enough. It was the sheriff she wondered about. But she merely nodded.
“And then,” he said, “we’re going to have some fun. A little fun, anyway.”
“What’s that?”
“One of our local lights is a fantasy novelist. Amanda Tierney. Have you heard of her?”
“I don’t read fantasy.”
“Maybe you should start. I’m a big fan. Anyway, that’s her pen name. Her real name is Amanda Laird, and she and her husband have a sheep ranch. I think you’ll enjoy meeting her and some other folks from around here. And then maybe we can go to Maude’s diner for a meal.”
“You don’t have to entertain me.”
He lifted both eyebrows. “We’ve been working like dogs on the house, and I’m the only one who actually has to. Some welcome to the neighborhood. Hi, I’m your landlord, help me tear up floors and replace rotted joists.”
The way he said it made her laugh and eased her apprehension a little. “But I don’t know if I want so many people to know I’m here.”
His face grew grave. “Kelly, at this point it doesn’t make much difference, does it?”
Her heart sank a little, but she knew he was right. The anxiety didn’t let up, wouldn’t let up, and she was reasonably certain that Dean must have seen that her credit had been checked. Over four days ago. God, she didn’t want to think about how much danger she might be in this very minute. But she told herself it was ridiculous to think she’d be any less safe on a public street in the middle of the day than she would be alone in her house.
“No,” she said finally, “but I offered to make you dinner, remember? And you need a day off.”
“I’m taking that day off after we talk to the sheriff. And after I get the new windows in. Then we can argue about book signings and dinner at Maude’s.”
She could see from the set of his jaw that he wasn’t about to be budged, at least with regard to the sheriff. What’s the worst that could happen? she asked herself. That she wouldn’t be believed? That had already happened. If she could survive it the first time, she could survive it again, if for no other reason than to put Hank’s mind at ease.
