Not Until You (Hope Springs Book 3)

by Valerie M. Bodden

  She turned her head to examine her arm. Her wrist was bent up and then down at an odd angle, and a huge lump had formed below her elbow.

  The room whirled around her, and she slammed her eyes closed again.

  “Take a deep breath.” Nate was moving next to her, but she didn’t open her eyes.

  She focused on inhaling and exhaling in a slow rhythm.

  “Do you think you can stand?”

  “I―” She licked her lips. “I think so.”

  But the moment she sat up, the room spun, and fireworks exploded behind her lids and through her skull.

  The whole world tilted to the side, and she felt strong hands lowering her to the floor.

  “Did you hit your head?”

  “I’m not―” She swallowed against the nausea. “I might have.”

  “Okay. It’s okay. I’ll, uh―” Nate slid his arm under her shoulder blades and lifted. “I’ll carry you. Is there someone who can drive you to the hospital?”

  Violet tried to think. She was sure there was, but she couldn’t for the life of her come up with anyone’s name right now aside from Cade’s. She wanted him to be here. To take care of her.

  “Okay. Don’t worry. It’s fine. I’ll take you.” Nate sounded on the edge of panic, and she felt like she should reassure him. But her voice seemed to have disappeared.

  “How am I going to take her?” Nate muttered, and Violet wondered vaguely who he was talking to. “I don’t have a car.”

  “My keys.” Why did it take so much effort to say two words? “Upstairs. My door’s unlocked.”

  Nate maneuvered them through the door and into the hallway, then lowered her to the steps. She leaned against the wall. Its coolness felt good.

  “Will you be okay here for a second?”

  She nodded. The dizziness was starting to wane. She opened her eyes in time to see his legs disappear up the staircase.

  A few seconds later he thundered down the steps.

  He squatted next to her, passing her a bag of frozen corn. “I couldn’t find an ice pack.”

  He reached a hand behind her again, but she waved him off. “I think I can walk now.”

  He stood, taking half a step back but not moving too far away, as if afraid she might keel over any second.

  The poor guy’s face was whiter than the paint on the wall.

  He hovered next to her as she walked toward the door, then reached in front of her to push it open. She caught a scent of lemon and mint as she passed in front of him. For some reason, it calmed her.

  Ten seconds later, he was unlocking the passenger door of her car and holding it open for her.

  She sucked in a sharp breath as she lowered herself into the seat. Every tiny movement of her arm felt like someone was taking a hammer directly to her bones.

  “Okay.” Nate was muttering to himself again. “Good. Okay. We’re good.”

  If she weren’t in so much pain, his pep talk to himself might be amusing.

  He jogged around the car and dropped into the driver’s seat, glancing at her as he lifted the key to the ignition. His hands were shaking so much it took him two tries to start the car.

  “You okay?” His brow creased into worry lines as he looked at her.

  “Yeah.” She felt stronger now, and her voice came out sure. “I could use a little help with the seatbelt, though.”

  “Oh.” He looked over her shoulder to where the seatbelt hung untouched next to the door.

  She used her right arm to press her left arm tighter to her body, trying to keep it as still as possible. “I don’t think I can grab―”

  He leaned across her and tugged on the seatbelt.

  There was that lemony-mint scent again. She tried not to notice when his hand accidentally brushed her shoulder as he pulled the seatbelt across her lap. Once it clicked into place, he sat back in his seat, hands clamped on the steering wheel.

  She was overcome by a ridiculous need to comfort him. “Relax. I’m fine. It’s just a broken arm.”

  Jaw hard, he nodded, then reached a stiff arm to shift the car into reverse. “I’ll need directions to the hospital.”

  If Nate gripped the steering wheel any tighter, he’d probably rip it off the console. But he couldn’t make himself relax.

  Not when he hadn’t driven in more than seven years. When he wasn’t supposed to be driving at all. He wouldn’t get his license back for another year.

  That was, if he didn’t break the law by driving with it revoked.

  But this was an emergency. What was he supposed to do? Make her drive herself to the hospital when she couldn’t even fasten her own seatbelt? When she could have a concussion?

  He allowed himself a split second to glance at her. She clutched her arm to her torso, and her face was drawn in pain. But she didn’t look like she was about to pass out anymore. So that was something.

  Her eyes slid to his, and he snapped his attention back to the road.

  “What happened anyway?” The question was out before he could remind himself that he was driving her to the hospital, not striking up a friendship.

  “I was trying to move the armoire―”

  “By yourself?” The thing had to weigh at least three times as much as her and was a good two feet taller. What had she been thinking?

  “Well, I had to get it out on the sales floor. My friend Spencer usually helps with that kind of thing. But he’s on his honeymoon, so―”

  “You could have asked me.” He didn’t know where the offer came from. He most definitely didn’t want her asking him for help with anything. But it was better than finding her crushed by some giant piece of furniture.

  She gave him a sideways glance.

  Okay, fine, he hadn’t exactly given off the neighborly vibe. But then again, neither had she.

  “Take a left here.” She groaned, and when he looked over, her forehead was wrinkled in pain.

  That familiar feeling of helplessness rolled over him. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Her features smoothed slightly. “Just tried to point.” She gave a half laugh and Nate’s jaw relaxed.

  Five minutes later, he pulled into the hospital parking lot. His grip on the wheel didn’t loosen until he’d shut down the engine. They’d made it. He checked the rearview mirror just to be sure, then let out a long breath.

  “You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to.” But the look in her eyes said the opposite. She didn’t want to go in there alone.

  “Come on.” He unclicked her seatbelt, then got out and jogged to open her door. He held out a hand to steady her as she stood, careful not to bump her arm. The wrist and elbow had turned a mottled black and green.

  He let his hand hover behind her back as he shepherded her toward the emergency room door, careful not to actually make contact.

  There were only a few other people in the waiting room, and Nate dropped into a seat as she went to the desk to register. He didn’t want to intrude on her privacy.

  But a second later she settled into the chair next to him, passing him a clipboard. “Could you help me with this?”

  He eyed the form. “You hurt your left arm.”

  She shifted so that she was closer to him and peered at the form over his shoulder. “I’m a lefty.”

  “Oh.” He unclipped the pen and picked it up. “Me, too.”

  He turned his focus to the form, arm poised to write. “Okay. Name?”

  She didn’t say anything for a second, and he glanced at her to make sure she was okay.

  “You know my name.”

  He shook his head. He really didn’t. “Nope.”

  Her mouth fell open. “That’s kind of rude. I told you that first day. When you came barging in the door of my antique store.”

  “First of all―” Nate tapped the pen on the clipboard. “I did not barge into your store. And second of all, you never told me your name.”

  She opened her mouth, then clamped it shut as realization dawned in her eyes. “Oh.
I guess I didn’t.” She dropped her gaze. “It’s Violet. Violet Somers.”

  “Violet. That’s a pretty―” He cut himself off. What was he doing? “That’s a good name.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, address?”

  “Well, that you know.”

  Duh. He wrote it down, ignoring the flustered swirling in his gut.

  After they’d worked through the rest of the form, he brought it to the counter for her.

  The few minutes of separation were good. They gave him a chance to push aside the thoughts he’d been having sitting next to her. Thoughts about how pretty her dark eyes were. And how she smelled like a spring day.

  Those weren’t thoughts he had any business thinking.

  When he returned to the seating area, he contemplated taking a seat across from Violet instead of next to her, but fortunately the nurse came out and called Violet’s name.

  She gave him that half smile again as she passed him to follow the nurse. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Nate nodded. “I’ll be here.”

  Chapter 7

  Violet turned off the TV. She was trying to follow the doctor’s orders to take it easy, but if she had to watch one more game show, she might go crazy. Fortunately, the store was always closed on Mondays, so she wasn’t losing any money right now. But Mondays were usually her days to catch up on paperwork and projects. Which was going to be a lot harder now.

  Thankfully, the doctor had been able to set her arm relatively quickly last night. And he was pretty sure she wouldn’t need surgery.

  For the hundredth time, Violet wondered what would have happened if Nate hadn’t heard the crash last night. Would she still be lying on the floor of her workshop right now?

  She offered a silent prayer of thanksgiving to God for sending her help right at the moment she needed it.

  Even after she’d been so unfriendly and unneighborly with Nate all week. It wasn’t like her. She’d been voted friendliest senior in her high school class, for goodness’ sake. But that was a long time ago. Back when life was easy and everything was going according to her plans.

  So you can only be kind when your life is going well?

  Violet shook her head at herself. Hadn’t Dan’s sermon yesterday been about loving your neighbor? Not that he’d been referring to literal neighbors.

  But still . . .

  Violet got up. “Fine, Lord, you win. I’ll be a good neighbor.”

  She moved to the kitchen and surveyed her pantry. Cookies seemed like the right way to welcome a new neighbor. But how was she supposed to make them one-handed?

  She lifted her left arm the little she could to study the cast. It wrapped from between her thumb and forefinger all the way to the middle of her upper arm.

  Well, if she couldn’t make him cookies, she could do the next best thing: buy them. Actually, he’d probably appreciate that more anyway. Peyton’s chocolate chip cookies were a taste of heaven.

  She slipped her sandals on and made the short walk to the bakery at the other end of Hope Street. If possible, it was more humid out here than it had been yesterday. A few people strolled listlessly from shop to shop, but not many people were out today. Mondays were always slow in the tourist town.

  By the time she reached the bakery, sweat trickled from her hairline down her forehead. She stepped gratefully into the air-conditioned shop, savoring the mixture of bread dough and fresh-baked cookies that hung in the air.

  “Be with you in a second.” Peyton’s voice carried from the back.

  “It’s just me. Take your time.” Violet moved through the small bistro-style seating area to the display case, her mouth watering at all the treats spread out inside.

  “Hey, Violet. What brings― Oh, my goodness, what happened to you?” Peyton rushed out from behind the counter. She wrapped Violet into a one-armed hug on her good side.

  “Lost a fight with an armoire last night. It’s broken in three spots. My arm, I mean. Not the armoire.” At least she prayed the armoire wasn’t broken. She hadn’t had the courage to check yet. It was one of the most expensive pieces she’d ever purchased. And if she’d busted it . . .

  “Jared was on call last night. But he didn’t say anything about―”

  “It’s just a broken arm. I didn’t call an ambulance.”

  “You drove with a broken arm?” Peyton looked ready to scold her, but Violet jumped in.

  “My new neighbor drove me. He heard the crash and came to see what happened.” A fresh wave of gratitude washed over her.

  “Oh, thank goodness.” Peyton pressed a hand to her heart. “How long do you have to wear the cast?”

  Violet wrinkled her nose. That was the worst part. “Six weeks.”

  Peyton slipped behind the displays and grabbed one of the red and white striped bags she packed cookies in. “So, this new neighbor. When did he move in?”

  Violet shrugged. “Last Tuesday, I think. Maybe it was Wednesday. Anyway, I thought maybe I should get him some cookies. As a thank you.”

  “Ah.” Peyton busied herself selecting cookies and dropping them into the bag. “How old is he?” She kept her voice casual, but Violet heard the suggestion in it. Peyton was thinking what all their friends would think. Maybe this guy would help her finally move on from Cade. They didn’t understand that she didn’t want to move on. The only man she wanted was Cade. And since she couldn’t have him, she was content being alone. Or at least as content as she could be.

  “Around our age, I’d guess.” Though she’d never been good at figuring out that sort of thing.

  Peyton raised her eyebrows but didn’t say anything more. She rolled the top of the bag down and grabbed a sticker to close it. “So is he good looking?” Peyton kept her head down, concentrating harder than necessary on ringing up the sale.

  But still, Violet’s face warmed. “I don’t know. I guess he’s okay.” Unbidden, Nate’s blue eyes popped into her head. They were nearly the same shade as Cade’s. And yet where Cade’s had been open and inviting, like the lake on a summer day, Nate’s were steely and guarded, all churned up like the water during a storm.

  “He keeps to himself mostly,” she added, as if that had anything to do with his appearance.

  “Well, I’m glad he was there when you needed help. And who knows . . .” Peyton passed her the bag of cookies.

  Violet started to tell Peyton it wasn’t like that. But acknowledging she understood Peyton’s insinuation would only add fuel to the fire. So she simply thanked her friend and stepped out into the sticky air.

  As she walked home, she worked to direct her thoughts anywhere but to her conversation with Peyton. But she couldn’t help rolling Peyton’s question about Nate’s appearance over in her mind.

  Fine, she could admit it. Nate was attractive, with his slightly shaggy brown hair, square jaw, and strong build. But just because he was good looking didn’t mean she was interested in a relationship with him. There were plenty of attractive men around Hope Springs, and she’d never felt any desire to date a single one of them.

  But your stomach doesn’t turn upside down when you see any of them.

  Violet silenced the voice in her head. That was neither here nor there.

  By the time she got home, she had almost changed her mind about giving Nate the cookies. She didn’t want to risk giving him the impression that she was interested in him as anything more than a neighbor.

  But then she pictured the concern on his face when he’d found her on the floor, the way he’d carried her, the relief he’d shown when she’d walked out of the ER with only a broken arm and no concussion. The least she could do was give him a few cookies and a heartfelt thank you.

  Nate’s heart lightened as he reached the back door to the apartment building. He had to admit, he wouldn’t mind running into Violet. Just to check how her arm was doing. But the lights in the antique store were off, and her apartment door was closed. He considered knocking, but what would he say?

  Throwing her door one last glance, he
stepped into his own apartment and immediately fell onto the couch. The springs stabbed into his back as he rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t made much more progress on the mess in the office today. At this rate, it’d be next year before he got through everything. Of course, it didn’t help that his thoughts had kept drifting to Violet all day.

  Where they did not belong.

  But he couldn’t stop himself from picturing the deep brown of her eyes, a shade darker than black coffee. Or the gratitude in them when he’d brought her home from the hospital last night. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked at him with anything approaching gratitude.

  He sat abruptly. He had to stop this. He had no business thinking about her―or anyone for that matter―that way. Anyway, the case manager for his extended supervision would be here in twenty minutes. He should probably clean up.

  Not that there was much to clean. His eyes swept over his sparse furnishings. The dishes from the microwave dinner he’d had last night and his cold cereal this morning sat on the counter next to the sink.

  He dragged himself toward the kitchen. His life felt so small right now. So insignificant compared to the big plans he’d had for his future.

  Halfway to the sink, he paused. He thought he’d heard a knock on the door, but it was so quiet he could almost convince himself he’d imagined it.

  But as he turned on the water, it sounded again, louder.

  His eyes flicked to the clock on the microwave. His supervisor was early.

  Well, she’d have to deal with the mess in his sink then.

  He smoothed the bottom of his rumpled dress shirt and strode to the door. Might as well get this over with.

  The moment he opened the door, he beheld the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

  A plate of chocolate chip cookies.

  He lifted his eyes to Violet’s face.

  A shy smile played with her lips. “Um. Hi.” Her voice had a musical quality to it.

  “Hi.” Nate’s eyes went to her unwieldy cast. “How’s the arm?”

  She held it at a slight angle away from her body, and Nate wondered how uncomfortable the big cast was. Especially in this heat.