They laughed, continuing to eat as if they had been deprived of food for days while both tried to keep the mood light.
“Do you have any plans for tomorrow? I was thinking we could look through a few more of my grandpa’s things.”
“Sorry, I can’t. I’ll be at the studio most of the day. I still have a lot of work to do before the show.”
“When is it?”
“In a few months. But there are several more pieces to design and I still have to make the finishing touches.”
“I’d love to see your work sometime.”
“You would?”
“Of course. I’m not just interested in your body.” He admired his shirt on her, flushing her skin wherever his eyes scorched her. “Even though it’s pretty fantastic.”
She laughed around a bite of French toast. “I can show you some of my sketches if you’d like. I’ve been toying with some designs inspired by the war.”
“Really?” He sounded intrigued.
“Yeah. This whole thing with my grandmother. Our grandparents. It’s really been on my mind.”
“Mine too.”
Sated, Natalie leaned back in her chair, eyeing Grant.
“You finished?” she asked before taking both their plates to the sink. When she felt him press up from behind, kissing softly along her neck, she shivered.
He nuzzled a sensitive spot. “Your clothes should be about done if you’d like to change.”
She sighed, looking up at the ceiling with regrets. “That also means it’s time for me to go.”
Turning her to face him, he quickly took her mouth, hotly, forcefully. She felt the imprint of it to her soul. A brand.
But that wasn’t right. She didn’t belong to anyone. Especially not to Grant. She tried to keep reminding herself of that as he kissed her again.
When Grant broke off their kiss, she swayed, feeling unbalanced. His eyes blazed into hers, searching, questioning, before fully pulling away.
He nodded reluctantly. “It’s probably better that you do.” He didn’t need to tell her why. The why haunted her the entire drive home.
* * *
She hadn’t seen Grant in almost a week. Busy sketching, fabric shopping, and coordinating with her helpers, she hadn’t been able to manage more than a few calls with him. But oh, how she had looked forward to those snippets of conversation.
She hadn’t been able to stop thinking of him. Of what had passed between them after the harvest.
He had been so kind, so gentle. But shared passion aside, he had reached inside her, discovered places within her that had been locked away.
But just because she got close to him didn’t mean that she was dependent on him, she quickly assured herself. That would be ridiculous.
She was an independent woman, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t connect with people. It just meant she couldn’t need him. Which she didn’t.
She enjoyed him.
“I’m heading out soon,” James said, interrupting her thoughts.
Stylus pausing, she glanced up at him from her sketch. “Huh?”
“I said, I’m leaving.” He laughed. “So I take it things are going well with Walker?”
“Very.” She grinned.
“It’s good to see you so happy. When are you seeing him again?”
“Soon. I hope. It’s been a little crazy around here.”
He rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it. You’re a slave driver.”
She slapped his leg playfully. “Be quiet. You know you love working with me.”
“Absolutely. No one cracks the whip like you do.”
“Oh, go on. Make sure you lock up on your way out.”
“You’re not leaving too?”
She shook her head softly. “No, I think I’ll sketch here a little more before heading home.”
His brows lowered in concern. “Do you want me to stay with you?”
“I’ll be fine. Really.”
He looked doubtful, but she didn’t blame him. After she had filled him in on the fire and the threat written on the barn, he had kept an extra eye on her. She could kiss him for it.
“All right. But call me on your way home.”
“Yes, Mom.” He shot her a glare before heading out.
Snorting in amusement, Natalie turned her attention back to the sketch. The pants and blazer were distinctly military but with a feminine flair. It would be meticulously tailored, following the lines of a woman’s body instead of the boxy coat of a soldier.
Pleased, she glanced at the clock, realizing she had been at it an hour since James had left. And as her stomach enjoyed reminding her, way past dinner time.
Gathering her things, she relocked the loft before heading out of the building.
Perhaps she should call Grant when she got home. Things should be slowing down in a week, and she’d be able to go through a few more things in his attic with him.
And while that sounded great in her mind, she knew she wanted to see Grant for so much more than the mystery of the past. She wanted to be with him. Needed to see him.
She paused in the middle of the parking lot.
Need.
No. Needing was not okay. Wanting was okay. Yes, she wanted to see him, she assured herself. That was all.
Pulling out her keys, she was startled to hear the rev of an engine. Before she could blink, a car charged forward, the lights blinding her.
Pain sliced through her as the car struck her, throwing her like a rag doll over the hood as it continued its speed.
Her head slammed into her car. Stars sparked before her eyes as she watched the car blaze away, the brakes not even flickering in hesitation.
Her brain tried to process that thought, struggling, and finally failing when she lost consciousness.
* * *
Rhythmic beeping woke her. Natalie swatted air, trying to turn off her alarm without success.
Eyes squinting against the bright light, Natalie raised a hand to shield them from the glare. The beeping continued along with other sounds that she wasn’t familiar with. The squeaking of a cart, whispered voices, a TV on somewhere down the hall. Where was she?
Her eyes slitted open. Taking in the white walls and linoleum flooring, she was filled with anxiety. She hated hospitals. Even more so since Grandma had passed away. It seemed as if everyone she had ever cared about was brought here right before they died.
“Natalie?”
Recognizing the voice, her shoulders relaxed. “James.” The relief at seeing him brought tears of gratitude to her eyes. “What happened? Why am I here?” She tried to sit up, cursing the corresponding pains with the movement. “What happened to me?”
His brow puckered. “You mean you don’t remember?” He hurried into the room, sitting on the bed with her.
“Remember what?” She tried to rub her aching head, but the IVs in her hands made the movement awkward. With a flash, she remembered headlights racing toward her, the car driving away after she had flipped over the top of their car. “Someone tried to kill me!”
He nodded, taking her hand. “The doctor said you were lucky. You could have died.”
“What’s wrong with my leg?” She squirmed in bed, but something was bracing her left leg.
“I’m not sure. They wouldn’t tell me much, but now that you’re awake, we can find out.” He pressed a button, speaking into an intercom before coming back to her. “The doctor will be here shortly. Just try to relax.”
Natalie shook her head, trying to jostle her memory. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe someone would do that.”
“You’ll need to talk to the police when you’re up to it. They’ve been popping in occasionally to see if you’d woken up.”
“How long have I been out?” she asked hesitantly, not sure if she wanted the answer.
“About twenty-four hours.”
“Holy crap!”
“I know.” He scooted closer, wrapping an arm around her. “But you’re fine now. Ev
erything is going to be all right.”
She took a deep breath, reassured from his support.
There was a light rap on the door before a young-looking doctor strode in. “Ms. Cohen, I’m Dr. Haven. How are you feeling? Any pain?”
She sat up away from James. “A little when I move. But I’m mostly just sore.”
“That’s good, then.” He nodded before sitting in front of a computer. Tilting the screen so she could see, he opened up several x-rays. “Most of your bruising is superficial. They should start to fade within the week but they’ll be tender for a few days.”
“Your leg,” he said, opening another x-ray on the monitor, “is a bit more serious. You have a Grade II sprain. That means that you have a rupture in one of your ligaments, or two in your case, and that you have some loss of function. It should heal up on its own without surgery, but you’ll need to stay completely off it for the next few days, keeping it iced and elevated. You can’t put any weight on it. No standing in the shower, no hopping around. Nothing for three days.”
“Can I use crutches?”
He shook his head. “Not for a few days. When you come back in, the swelling should be down and we’ll be able to put a hard brace on. At that point, you can use crutches. Until then, you’ll need someone to take care of you, to help you around. Do you have anyone that can look after you?”
James interrupted then. “Yes. She’ll have the care she needs.”
Natalie was grateful. He was all that she had, but she felt awful imposing on him like that. “How long does it take for ligaments to heal?”
“You’ll have the brace on for two to three months depending on how quickly it heals.”
“Oh, no.” Her head whipped toward James. “What about the show?”
“I don’t want you to worry about that. All you need to think about is getting better.”
“But how can I not think about it? It’s my show, for heaven’s sake.”
The doctor discreetly left, allowing them to plan. “I will handle it. You know I can take care of it. Focus on resting. Healing. At least until you get the brace.”
She moaned, pushing her face into her hands. “I can’t do this to you. I hate being such a burden. And you know we both can’t be away from the studio right now. Someone has to direct the minions.”
“Listen,” he took her hands in his, hesitating before she continued. “You know I want to be there. I would be the one taking care of you. But you’re right. One of us needs to be at the studio, or all your hard work will be lost, and I’m not willing to let that happen.”
She frowned. “But then who—”
“I called Grant,” he said quickly as if ripping off a band-aid.
“Grant. Grant Walker?” Her mouth opened and closed. “You didn’t.”
“I did,” he said grimly. “You need help, Natalie. And I can’t be in two places at once. He should be here soon to take you back to the orchard.”
“Does he know why you called him? Did you tell him that I’d need to stay with him?” she demanded.
“Yes.”
“James… what were you thinking? I can’t do that to him. We barely know each other!”
“Is there another option?” he asked, quieting when she became louder. “Who else can take care of you?”
Natalie floundered for a name, but everyone she came up with couldn’t be spared. “There has to be someone.” She was desperate.
“There is. And he’s coming to get you. He’s the only one not involved with your show.”
Natalie’s shoulders lowered as if deflating. James was right. There were no other options. But she didn’t like it. To be dependent on Grant for everything? For three days? It was unbearable.
Grant felt guilty about listening in on James and Natalie, but he didn’t regret it. He knew that this was hard for her. To have to depend on someone for her most basic needs. It would be hard on anyone.
Taking a breath, he calmed his instincts to race into the room and gather her in his arms. She wouldn’t want that. It would only drive her away. Perhaps push her to refuse to go with him. He needed to appeal to her logically. Act nonchalant about the whole thing. That was the only way he was going to get her to go with him.
And she would be going with him. There was no way he was going to let another person care for her when she was so vulnerable. He would be the only one tending to her.
“Natalie.” Both Natalie and James turned toward the door when Grant spoke.
James rose. “I’ll leave you two to talk.” Shaking Grant’s hand he said, “Thank you for coming.”
“No problem,” Grant said as James left.
Grant’s eyes roamed over Natalie, silently cataloging each and every injury.
“I’m so sorry James called you.” She looked pitiful in her bed, like an animal trapped in a corner, looking for a means of escape.
“I’m not.” He pushed away from the door frame, walking further into her room.
“I can’t let you do this.”
“Why not?”
Her arms flailed as her panic increased. “Because. You’re so busy. You have the orchard and stuff. The harvest. Everything.”
“Everything is fine. I can take a few days away. The orchard isn’t going to fall apart. Carlos can easily oversee the harvest for a few days. I don’t mind.” The look she sent him clearly said that she minded. He tried not to grin.
“You do realize that I’ll need help with everything, right? Getting dressed? Showering?”
He’d already thought of that, was braced for it. To soothe her, and perhaps himself, he smiled. “I think I can handle it.”
“Yes, but…” she squirmed. “I’m not used to people helping me that much.”
The smile left his face and he waited for her to look up at him. “I understand. I’m only going to be helping you for a few days. Nothing more. This isn’t anything serious. Just a friend helping out a friend.”
“Just friends?” she looked at him skeptically.
His grin was lightning fast. “Maybe friends with benefits.”
It was the right thing to say. She could handle the physical aspect of their relationship. She just couldn’t handle anything deeper.
Well, she was out of luck, he thought, watching her relax. He already cared for her. More than she would like.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked, but he could tell that she had accepted it.
“You’re coming home with me, Natalie. And I’m going to take care of you until you get the brace on. You’re stuck with me.”
Her glance was wary, but she nodded. They both knew she didn’t have another choice.
With instructions for her care in hand, they were discharged quickly. James walked next to Natalie as a nurse wheeled her out of the hospital, waiting with her until Grant pulled his truck up to the doors.
“I’ll keep you updated about our patient,” Grant said, lifting Natalie into his arms with ease before carefully placing her in the truck like the world’s rarest china.
“I’d appreciate it.” James said before eyeing Natalie. “Try to be a good patient. Do what Grant tells you.”
James snickered at the glare Natalie shot him. “I’m glad you both find this so amusing.”
“You make it too easy.” James kissed the top of her head before shutting her door. “Be a good girl.”
She was grateful that Grant spoke so little on the drive back to the orchard. She had no idea what to say to him.
“I thought it might be better for you to stay in one of the upstairs bedrooms. There’s a connected bathroom with a stall shower that will be easier for you to get into. Plus, it’s much quieter during the day. You’ll be able to sleep more.”
“What about all the stairs?”
“They won’t be a problem. I can easily carry you up and down them.”
“All right,” she agreed, but Grant didn’t think she believed him.
Grant lifted her out of the car, carrying her up and into the ho
use with a steadiness that eased her.
“Listen, Grant. I want you to know how grateful I am. I know I must have seemed… reluctant at the hospital.”
He carried her up the stairs, turning into the first bedroom before gently lowering her onto the covers. “I understand this is hard. But I really am happy to help you. It’s not an imposition at all.” She arched a brow, teasing a chuckle from him. “Well, maybe only a small imposition. But I really don’t mind. Let me go get your meds out of the car, and then you can rest. I don’t want you to worry about anything.”
He came back quickly, handing her the prescriptions and a glass of water. She took them in one swallow before collapsing back onto a pillow. She hadn’t realized how exhausted she was from the drive.
Grant tucked her in. “Rest now,” he said before walking to the door and turning out the lights.
“Grant?”
He paused, his hand gripping the knob. “Yeah?”
“Thank you,” she said softly before sleep overtook her, missing the way his eyes softened.
* * *
Grant closed the door to Natalie’s room, leaning his head against the smooth wood, trying to calm his emotions.
Natalie was here. In his house, in his care.
The feelings of possession, affection, and, he admitted after a deep breath, love, swirling within him made him unsteady.
He weaved down the hall, unable to secure his balance.
He loved her.
He loved her so much that it ached deep-down in the pit of his stomach.
He had never cared for anyone this strongly, never wanted to do everything he could to ease their suffering. He wanted her, every part of her. He wanted her happy.
And someone had tried to kill her.
He ran a shaky hand through his hair. He had almost lost her right when he had found her.
When her friend, James, had called him, the blood drained from his face, his heart raced in panic. All he remembered was the overwhelming need to get to her.
He should have been there to protect her. He should have been the one hurt. He would take this all upon himself if he could.
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