“Miss Naomi.” A toothless grin lit her face.
Naomi smiled in return. “You lost your front tooth.”
Emma nodded. “Yeah. But the Tooth Fairy came to the hospital.”
Naomi turned her smile on Maura. “I’m sure your Mommy told her where to find you.”
“And she left me an extra quarter, too.”
“Really? Cool!” She automatically reached for the little girl when she squirmed in her mother’s arms, and Maura gave her up easily.
She pressed her nose to Emma’s. “I’m glad you’re home and feeling better. We were all very worried about you, little girl.”
Emma giggled. “Me, too. I missed my Barbies.”
A sudden commotion in the direction of the back room had everyone in the dining room tensing as heads swiveled in that direction. Sharla rushed away and through the swinging doors into the kitchen.
Naomi let Emma slide down her legs to the floor and run toward Scott when he entered the front door. It was hard to miss the intense emotion that passed between Maura and Scott as the little girl all but climbed up his body.
“Help!” Sharla shrieked from the kitchen, immediately charging the air with panic. “Can someone please help! Eli’s burned himself.”
Titters and worried whispers rippled through the crowded dining room, but no one moved.
Burned.
It was as if someone shocked Naomi with a defibrillator. She ran into the kitchen, slamming the door against the wall.
Sharla turned from where she was bent over Eli’s hand. “Oh, Naomi, get me the tub of butter, would you? It looks bad.”
Eli glanced up, his face impassive, but his eyes glinting with unshed tears.
Suddenly, what Sharla had said registered. “No.” Naomi rushed forward and gently took Eli’s left hand in her own. Three of his knuckles and about half the skin on the back of his hand was blooming an angry, shiny pink and a couple of small, watery blisters were already beginning to form.
Tears began to prick her own eyes as the visceral memory of that kind of pain flooded her. She knew the anguish of scalded flesh.
“Come on. Water.” She left no room for argument as she tugged him toward the sink. Shoving her memories back, she let her training take over as she tucked his hand under the stream of cold water.
He hissed at first, but gradually relaxed.
“Sharla, do you have some Tylenol or Motrin?” Naomi glanced back at the woman who had taken up pacing in the back by the stove.
Sharla’s head shot up. “Oh, sure. I think I have some gel caps. How many you want?”
“If it’s Motrin, bring him three. He’ll need ‘em. And some pain reliever spray for the burn if you have it.”
Sharla nodded and rushed off, seeming glad for something to do.
Naomi glanced back at Eli’s hand under the running water, then up into his face. He’d been stoically silent this entire time. “You all right?”
He nodded, drawing his hand back.
She pressed it back under the stream.
“How do you know how to do this?” he asked. “Take care of burns, I mean.”
She couldn’t take her eyes off the running water as her heart hammered her ribs. “I have a nursing license.”
He was silent for a long moment.
She finally glanced up.
“You are a nurse?”
She nodded.
“And you bake?”
A soft laugh escaped her. “Yes.”
“Why?” His other hand trapped hers on his wrist so their three hands were being bathed in the cool flow. “Why do you not heal people instead of make cakes?”
“I . . .” She didn’t know how honest to be. He’d shared some of his life with her—his life in New York, his sheltered upbringing. His kisses. “Making cakes isn’t so bad. Plus Vi needs me.”
“I see.” His thumb brushed along her knuckles. “You are a special woman, Naomi Evans.”
“Oh, I don’t—”
“Very special,” he said, ignoring her sputtering. “You take care of those around you at your own expense.” He paused. She could barely take a breath. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
She dipped her eyes. Swallowed. “You’re welcome.”
“I . . .” he started, but paused.
Just as she felt herself being drawn into him, wanting to lean into the solid strength of his body, Sharla came back rattling a bottle of pills. “Got ‘em.”
Naomi blinked. “Good.” She turned and accepted three of the gel caps and a bottle of water. She took a quick breath before facing him again. “Okay, this should help.”
He used his good hand to grab the pills from her palm and maintained eye contact while he swallowed all the pills at the same time with one swig of water.
“Thank you for the pills and burn spray, Sharla,” Naomi said. “Eli will be fine, I promise,” she reassured her when she saw her concerned frown.
Only when Eli offered a sweet smile did Sharla press a kiss to his cheek and finally excuse herself back to work in the dining room.
Alone, the silence became uncomfortable. Especially every time Naomi glanced at Eli’s lips and remembered tasting them.
She found a clean towel next to the sink then shut off the water. “That should be good.” She reached out to dry off his hand.
He placed his hand in her palms and let her dry him gently. “Thank you,” he said again.
She nodded and sprayed the pain reliever onto the pinked skin.
He hissed through his teeth.
Without a thought, she bent and pressed her lips to the healthy skin on his wrist just above the burn. He sucked in another breath. She lifted her gaze, suddenly aware of what she’d done and hoping she hadn’t caused him more pain. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
She rose and let his hand drop.
“Why do you do that?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“Do what?”
“Kiss me?”
She felt the color burning her cheeks. She had no good answer for him . . . or herself, for that matter. She shrugged and turned away. “Instinct. You had pain and I just wanted it to go away. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”
He didn’t say anything for several seconds as her pulse throbbed in her temples. She finally spun and faced him.
“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable. Just confused.”
“Confused?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Well, because when you kissed me the first time?” His eyes darkened, hooking her. “I was in no pain. And yet, I feel the same.”
She swallowed. “What do you feel?”
“I feel . . .” He shifted his weight and huffed a breath as if frustrated with himself. “All I can seem to think about anymore is you, Naomi. I want to be with you. I want to see you smile. I want to go out with you again, on a real date.” He gazed into her eyes with a dark, unsmiling gaze. “I want to kiss you. And I feel like the biggest sinner for wanting you like I do.”
Chapter 15
Naomi found herself still reeling when she let herself into the house later that evening.
All I can seem to think about anymore is you, Naomi. I want to be with you. I want to see you smile. I want to kiss you. And I feel like the biggest sinner for wanting you like I do.
Eli wanted her?
Yes. He did. There was no denying what his eyes were communicating. But how could desiring her be a “sin?” What was it about her that offended his sensibilities? Wow. Sure did a lot for a girl’s self-esteem.
Maybe she’d be better off taking Delaney’s advice and checking into that online dating site. What was it . . .? Losers-r-us? I-need-a-man.com?
What she didn’t need was a cook who knew more about French pastry than dating etiquette. And kissing.
Naomi nearly had herself convinced as she threw her purse and keys down. “Vi?” she called, wondering why the TV wasn’t on its usual crime drama.
She moved to the living room and found Vi asleep on the couch. It had been a long day at the bakery with several extra orders for the Rotary club and some function at the Ladies’ Auxiliary besides their normal business. She grabbed a blanket to tuck around Vi’s legs, but paused when she noticed the strange gray pallor to her face.
Naomi burst toward Vi, her heart immediately knocking against her ribs painfully as she examined Vi’s chest for the rise and fall of breathing. It was shallow, but present. “Vi?” she called again, hearing the panic in her voice.
No response.
Her stomach did a nosedive as she fought the bile rising in her throat. She used one hand to feel for a pulse—it was weak and thready—and the other to shake Vi’s shoulder. “Vi! Can you wake up?”
That got a groan, the flutter of eyelids.
“Vi? What’s wrong? Can you tell me?” Naomi asked as she reached for the phone on the side table.
She got the nine dialed and had her finger hovering over the one when Vi pulled her hand away. “Naomi?” she asked in a weak whisper.
“Yes. Are you okay?”
Vi’s hand automatically clutched at her chest. “Oh.” She squeezed her eyes shut briefly. “I thought if I took some antacid and lay down for a bit it would be all right. But it feels like a water buffalo is sitting on me, baby.”
Naomi wasted no more time thinking or studying Vi’s ashen face. She finished dialing the emergency number on the phone and waited with the impatience of one whose life was on the line for the operator to answer.
She could only pray it wasn’t too late.
The ride to the hospital in the back of the ambulance, then the flurry of activity in the emergency room was all a blur that seemed to pass in a matter of moments.
A thousand thoughts whirled through Naomi’s mind: How do these people know what to do? Could I learn that? Oh, I want to! Am I a magnet for health crises lately?
God, oh God, I can’t lose her now . . .
Finally, after several blood tests, a battery of scans and exams, the doctor sat next to the bed. “Well, Ms. Stevens, it appears you’ve had a myocardial infarction, or a heart attack. We’re giving you medication now to try and prevent further damage, and we’d like to send you up as soon as possible for a cardiac catheterization to check the blood vessels around your heart for blockages and correct anything further we find, most likely with tiny tubes called stents. Is that okay? What questions do you have?”
Surprisingly, Vi had very few, and Naomi was thankful she understood everything going on. As she watched the nurses hustling around prepping and consenting Vi for the procedure, a deep, aching sadness tugged at her.
And it was purely selfish.
She realized she was grieving the things she had lost in her life by caring for Vi, and yet, all she would lose if Vi were gone. It was the most horrible, self-centered quandary.
And then Sam rushed in.
“Baby. . . ” He gathered Vi into his arms and held her close, careful not to disturb the several lines of IV tubing. “What’s going on? The neighbors frightened me when they told me you’d been carted away in an ambulance.”
Vi patted his hand. “Now, now. Don’t worry. It’s just a silly little heart attack. Doctor says I’ll be good as new soon.”
Naomi wrinkled her brow. He’d said no such thing.
Sam smiled and caressed her cheek with his thumb. “Well, darlin’ . . .”
Vi’s eyes sparkled with love that Naomi hadn’t seen since Paul was alive. And, suddenly, she felt like an intruder. Quietly, she stood and slipped out of the room as the tears began to fall.
What if she’d already lost her?
Chapter 16
Elijah found Naomi crying in the hospital hallway.
He’d seldom dealt with a woman’s tears and hers stopped him cold. While everything in him yearned to console her, he wasn’t sure how to go about it. He was also fairly sure she wouldn’t be receptive, given how he’d gushed and told her his feelings last time they’d been together.
But as he recalled how she’d gently tended his burn, he resolved that he must do something. He took a tentative step in her direction just as a fresh wave of tears washed down her face.
Suddenly, she peered up at him, her green eyes alive and sparkling with moisture. “Eli?”
He offered her a small, reassuring smile. “How’s Vi?” With all of her tears, he feared the worst.
“She seems to be doing okay right now.” She sagged back against the wall, her cries slowing. “How did you know?”
He fisted his hands to stop from reaching out to hold her. “I heard at the diner that she’d been taken to the hospital. I came as soon as I could.”
She glanced down at her scuffed tennis shoes. “Boy, news travels fast around this one-horse town,” she mumbled to herself. She peered back up at him, her heartbreakingly sad eyes piercing him. “Why did you come?”
“I . . .” He sensed there was more to her question than the literal words and he couldn’t figure out what she wanted. What she needed. Yet again, he hated his new humanity. He decided to go with his commandment and rely on the truth. “I was worried about her. About you. I can’t really explain it, but I needed to make sure you were all right.”
She didn’t say a word. Just blinked up at him. Once. Twice.
“So,” he prompted. “Are you? All right?”
She nodded, but fresh tears filled her eyes calling her a liar. A nurse strode by and smiled at Elijah with what he’d come to understand was female appreciation for his human body. He nodded and returned his attention to Naomi. She was eyeing the nurse’s back with a strange expression as she swiped angrily at the tracks running down her cheeks.
“Naomi . . .”
“Eli?”
They spoke at the same time.
“Yes?” he answered.
She shot a glare at the nurse, who was at the nurses’ station trying to appear busy, but not doing a good job of being subtle. He glanced over, confused.
“Did you mean all that stuff you said? About . . . you know . . . thinking about me? Wanting me?”
He swallowed, his gaze immediately glued back to her. Of course he’d meant it. “Every word.”
She flicked another glance to the nurse, though he didn’t understand why . . . and why did she seem irritated? She took a step in his direction and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “Me, too.”
He didn’t have a chance to respond before she tugged him to her and sealed her lips over his.
And this was nothing like their movie theater kiss. She offered no sweetness or delicate caresses. No. She delved in like he was a final meal, opening her mouth and suckling him, tangling her tongue with his in a way that had his blood buzzing in an automatic high. He wrapped his arms around her and reciprocated, Michael’s words thundering through his brain:
For goodness sake, man, if you get the chance to kiss her again—kiss her back! And kiss her like you mean it. Like she’s the only woman in the world.
When he’d questioned Michael exactly how he was supposed to kiss her like he “meant” it, much less like she was the only woman in the world, Michael had simply scoffed, saying he’d figure it out.
Well, as he delved his fingers through Naomi’s satiny golden hair, he realized Michael had been right. Her lips were a natural fit, and it was perfect.
Gasping, she took a step back, her hands now gripping his biceps, and stared up at him breathless. “Oh, shit.”
His brows thundered down. Not the reaction he’d expec
ted. “Oh, shit?”
She pressed her forehead into his chest. After a moment, she rolled her head to the side, eyeing the nurse at the station, who’d moved on to typing on the computer, her face scrunched in a scowl. Naomi huffed out a laugh, which was muffled by his shirt. “Well, at least we gave your admirer an eyeful. But I’m afraid I was better off throwing chocolate batter at your head.”
He was left puzzling that one out when a doctor approached them. Naomi’s head popped up when he cleared his throat. “Miss Evans? I have the results of the latest tests. You might want to come inside.”
Oh, shit was right.
And not the test results. The doctor had come to tell Vi and Naomi, and Sam, that the stent placement had been successful and the damage from her heart attack had been fairly minimal, thank God. With a better diet, more exercise, and some new meds, Vi should be fit to leave the hospital and move to a rehab facility in a couple of days.
Naomi glanced to the chair across from hers. No, the ‘oh, shit’ was about six foot plus of I-don’t-know-I’m-sexy-in-my-faded-jeans-and-puppy-eyes. Why wouldn’t Eli just go? She’d known instantly that kissing him again was a mistake, but he’d caught her in a weak moment and little nursey had pushed her buttons ogling him like he was a hot fudge sundae. Her hot fudge sundae. With whipped cream and sprinkles.
But it was over and done with. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the hint and he’d followed her into the room without asking permission. And, adding insult to injury, Vi had lit up like a lightning bug’s butt on steroids as soon as she saw him.
Once the doctor had finished his spiel and walked out, Vi grinned at Eli. “What a nice surprise. What brings you by?”
Eli glanced at Naomi before answering. “I’d heard that you were brought to the hospital and I was worried about you. I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help.”
Vi tilted her head and got that maternal look she gave Naomi whenever she did something particularly special. “Well, aren’t you just an angel?”
Wounded Wings (Cupid Chronicles) Page 12
