Her fingers ran through his hair and gently kneaded his scalp. He had no idea how long she rocked him, but all the tension in his muscles seemed to pour out of his body, leaving him weak, exhausted and slightly chilled.
Slowly the darkness faded, leaving him with a slight headache. He felt a sluggish disconnect between where he was and where he had been, as if stepping between two dimensions.
“Are you okay?”
The genuine concern in Nel’s voice broke open a longing so deep that pain sliced through his heart, sharp and breath stealing.
“Still disoriented?”
Tristan managed a nod.
“Are you prone to nightmares?”
“Not since I was a kid.” And those were traumatic dreams of Jaxen pushing him off the rock.
“This one was pretty intense. Fighting the sheets. Yelling.”
“Did I hurt you?”
“No. The first time I called your name, you sat up and looked around. I called again and you looked at me. Your eyes were open but you weren’t awake, which was weird because you said my name.”
“I couldn’t see anything, but I was looking for you.”
Nel squeezed his hand. “I told you I would be here if you needed anything.”
Tristan appreciated her kindness more than he could express.
She eased from the bed.
He stretched his back and pain flared throughout his right side. Grunting, he tossed aside the tangled sheets and scooted to the edge of the bed.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to use the bathroom.”
“Doctor Habersham said to stay off your leg.” Nel ducked beneath his left shoulder, her arm sliding tentatively around his waist as he stood.
Normally, nudity didn’t faze Tristan, but needing Nel’s help made him feel vulnerable.
They took slow strides across the hall. Once inside the bathroom, he gripped the edge of the sink. “I can handle it from here.”
She looked doubtful.
“Really, Nel. I’d rather do the rest alone.”
Her brows drew together. “Let me know if you need me.” She backed out, pulling the door mostly closed.
Tristan eased to the commode and relieved himself. He eyed the shower, wanting to clean the sweat from his skin, but didn’t have the strength.
After rinsing his hands, Tristan wet the cloth he’d snagged from the linen cabinet above the toilet and lightly washed his body.
“Tristan?” Nel’s soft voice turned his damp skin into goose flesh. “Are you okay?”
He shut off the water, hung the cloth on the side of the sink and opened the door. “I’m hungry.” Having missed supper, famished was more appropriate.
“I figured you would be.” She draped his arm over her shoulders and lightly gripped his bare hip. The return trip to the bedroom was just as slow and laborious. After helping him into bed, she fluffed some pillows behind his back so he could sit up.
He liked how she saw to his comfort, liked the way her hair smelled when she leaned close. He lightly palmed her face, his thumb brushing over the plump apple of her cheek.
Her eyes darkened and soft, halting breaths parted her lips.
If he hadn’t been in pain and half starved, Tristan would’ve hauled her into bed and spent the rest of the night in ecstasy.
“I should get your supper.” She pulled away.
Alone, Tristan painstakingly reached for his phone to retrieve his messages. Rafe had towed Tristan’s truck from the diner to his apartment. Gavin and Cooter both left instructions that Tristan was off sentinel duty until Doc cleared him. Sheriff Locke had left a similar message.
Melly’s mother had called to check on him. So had his neighbor Angeline, Carmen—the director of Youth Outreach where he volunteered, and Shane—also a neighbor and fellow sentinel following closely in Tristan’s footsteps. Even Deidre had called. Nothing from his family.
A small, dull ache gnawed at his heart. At least he wasn’t a child alone in the hospital, frightened and blind.
Nel’s soft footsteps in the hallway ended his dark thoughts. She came into the bedroom, a shy smile on her face and a tray loaded with food in her hands.
His mouth watered and his stomach growled.
“I heard the way to man’s heart was through his stomach.”
“Whoever said that was right.” He patted the mattress.
Pushing the tray toward him, she scooted onto the bed. He left the tray between them, even though he craved her nearness.
She handed him a deluxe sandwich with meat and cheese spilling out of the ends.
“My favorite.” He chomped into it.
“I noticed the Blimpie’s flyer on your coffee table. When I called and said I was ordering for you, they knew exactly what you wanted and delivered it, too.”
He swallowed. “I’m a regular.”
“So they said.” Nel slowly unwrapped her sandwich, stuffed with veggies. “I have a few places in Atlanta on speed dial. I’m not much of a cook.”
“Oh, I love to cook, but it’s a lot of hassle for one.”
“What about when you have a girlfriend?”
“I don’t have girlfriends.”
“I bet there are a lot of disappointed women.”
Tristan snorted. More than likely their disappointment would come from being in an actual relationship with him. His long-ago romance with Deidre had proven that he wasn’t any more successful as a long-term partner than his parents.
He glanced at Nel, so quiet, unassuming. Kind.
If ever he could make a go of a mateship, it would be with someone like Nel.
* * *
“Pen-pe!” With her arms outstretched and slightly wobbly steps, a small child bounded across the lobby.
Though anxious to check on Tristan, who’d been sleeping peacefully when Nel left for work, she turned to look at the darling girl whose dark strawberry blond curls bounced in tandem with her short strides.
“I told you not to let go of her hand.” Cassie frowned at her father-in-law.
“She’s quick.” Gavin chuckled. “Just like Brice.”
“Hello, Miss Brenna.”
“Pen-pe.” She lifted her arms, her cherub face rosy and happy, her mouth slightly wet from teething.
“Don’t you look pretty today.” Nel waited for Cassie’s nod of approval before picking up the child for a demonstrative hug and a big kiss on her soft cheek. Brenna squealed in delight and clasped her arms around Nel’s neck. “Are you and your mom having lunch with grandpa?”
“No.” Brenna’s blue eyes sparkled. “Be-bes.”
“My friend Grace is stopping by with her twins,” Cassie said. “Brenna adores them.”
Brenna sniffled, hiding her face against Nel’s shoulder.
“You aren’t pretending to be shy, are you?” Nel lightly tickled her.
Brenna’s laughter echoed around them until she grabbed Nel’s hand and brought it her nose.
“What’s the matter, sweetie? Do I stink?”
Brenna shook her head. “Tiskan!”
“She’s asking about Tristan,” Cassie said. “She must’ve heard Brice telling me about Tristan’s accident and that you took him home.”
“Em see Tiskan.” Brenna clapped her hands.
“I’m sorry, honey,” Nel said to Brenna. “Tristan won’t be here today. He’s still sore from his boo-boo.”
“Tiskan boo-boo?” Brenna’s bottom lip protruded and her dark blue eyes rounded.
“He’s all right, sweetie. I’m sure he’ll come see you as soon as he can.” Nel kissed Brenna’s head and handed her to Cassie.
“Would you like to join us for lunch?” Cassie asked.
“Thanks, b
ut I want to get back to the cabin and check on Tristan.”
“He’s at your cabin?” A slew of warnings, or advice, or maybe encouragements danced in Cassie’s eyes. Nel didn’t really know Cassie well enough to decipher, but there was definitely an intended message in the look she flashed.
“He never would’ve made it up three flights of stairs to his apartment yesterday,” Nel said. “And the doctor said Tristan should stay with someone for a few days.”
“We’ll get lunch another time, then.” Cassie’s smile was warm and genuine. “And please let us know if Tristan needs anything. He wouldn’t tell us himself.”
“I will.”
“Bye-bye.” Brenna waved as she left with her mother.
“Brenna is quite taken with you.” Gavin’s narrowed blue gaze dissected Nel with laser-like precision.
Nel didn’t know why; she had nothing to hide.
“As are the children who’ve attended the workshops this week,” Gavin continued. “You have quite a knack for handling them. Not everyone does.”
“I lost my parents at a young age,” she said. “My guardians believed children were a nuisance. They never provided any encouragement, though they had an endless supply of criticisms. So, for every child I meet, I give them as much love and encouragement as possible because it may be all they get.”
“I don’t think your gift ends with children, Nel. And it is a gift.” Gavin’s smile lightened the intensity of his eyes, but just barely. “Tristan was one of those children, ignored, neglected. He grew into a singular force only a fool would dare to reckon with, and as damn close as any man could possibly come to being an island unto himself.”
“I don’t understand your point.”
“It may have been a simple decision for you to bring Tristan to your cabin to help him recover, but for him to accept your help is monumental.”
Nel’s skin prickled at the notion of what Gavin might be suggesting, but doubted the feasibility of anything developing between her and Tristan, other than friendship.
“Don’t look so pensive, my dear.” Gavin touched her arm. “I simply wanted you to understand that your kindness toward Tristan is appreciated.”
After saying goodbye, Nel hurried to her car and drove the short distance to the cabin. The closer she came, the faster her heart beat.
She practically bounded up the wooden steps to the porch. If Tristan’s meds had worn off, likely he would be prowling around when he should be off his feet.
The television was on, the volume low, but the living room was empty.
“Tristan?” She heard movement. Then his low, deep voice touched her ears.
He sat at the kitchen bar. Cell phone to his ear. When he saw her, a soft smile lifted the corners of his mouth. His eyes, though, lacked their usual vibrancy.
“I’ll be fine in time for the field trip.” He nodded. “Yes. I’m sure. No broken bones.” He paused. “No, I hadn’t heard about Sam’s dad.”
Nel went to the refrigerator and pulled out a container of duck noodle soup and gathered items for a salad.
“I ordered a pizza,” Tristan told her, hand covering the phone. “Half veggie, half meat lovers.”
Nel’s stomach growled. Who wouldn’t want carbs over lettuce? She reshelved the leftovers.
“I don’t believe in omens.” Tristan continued his phone conversation. “Good or bad.”
I’m going to change, she mouthed to Tristan.
“Carmen, hold on a sec.” He caught Nel’s arm as she passed by.
An electric charge skipped up her arm from the sizzle of Tristan’s touch.
“Need something?” Nel’s voice cracked.
He didn’t seem to notice.
“We’re short a volunteer to chaperone a Youth Outreach field trip in a couple of weeks. We’re taking the kids white-water rafting and then into Helen for a picnic. Interested?”
Nel’s heart didn’t know whether to speed up or stop.
One, she wasn’t a huge fan of being in water. She could swim—well, dog-paddle—to keep from drowning, but after surviving a deadly hurricane, recreational water activities weren’t high on her list of things to do.
Two, Gavin’s words haunted her. From his speech, it wasn’t too hard to figure out that Tristan had never asked anyone for help. Without waiting to be asked, she’d just stepped in because he needed help and it was the right thing to do. Now he was actually asking for her assistance.
Sorta.
He might’ve meant it as an invitation, but she sensed that if another chaperone wasn’t found, the outing might be canceled.
Tristan held her gaze. He offered no pleading puppy-dog look. Instead, his eyes seemed to say he expected her to say no.
The sliver of irritation it caused was enough to break the tie on her indecision.
“Sounds like fun. Count me in.”
Tristan didn’t smile, at first. His eyes widened in a flash of disbelief. “Are you sure?”
“You do want me to go, don’t you?”
“Absolutely.” Now he smiled.
His entire face smiled. Relaxed, radiant and way too much for her to handle.
“I’ll teach you everything you need to know. We’re going to have so much fun!”
Oh, yes, she would.
Right up until the moment her heart smashed against the rocks they would soon be rafting. It would happen; some things were inevitable.
Chapter 18
Tristan startled awake on the couch. Gripped around the remote, his hand rested on his stomach. Women on a midmorning talk show yammered about some vague topic he couldn’t quite register. He must’ve fallen asleep once Nel had left for work. After having her to himself all weekend, he sorely missed her company.
He shoved himself into a sitting position. His muscles stretched and protested with an achy pain. At least the sharp stabbing had lessened over the last couple of days.
Maybe tonight he’d feel well enough to test the waters with Nel again. After all, they were sharing a bed.
He’d refused to let her sleep on the couch, telling her he would go home if she did. Nel was too kindhearted to let him leave.
With her warmth and intoxicating scent to soothe him, he’d had the best night’s sleep in recent memory, despite the pain every time he moved.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
So it hadn’t been the television that had awakened him, after all.
He swung his feet off the couch and slowly stood. The soreness in his muscles made him feel old. He hobbled a few steps, then, as his muscles warmed, his gait became more fluid.
Another knock landed as he gripped the doorknob.
A tall blonde woman in a cream-colored Oscar de la Renta pantsuit stood on the porch.
“Mom?”
Suzannah Durrance delicately removed her ridiculously big designer sunglasses. “You look like shit. Go clean up.” She waltzed past him.
Tristan closed the door, scratching his nearly three-day-old beard. Nel liked the scruffy look. Her eyes had warmed and a soft breath had parted her lips when she told him.
“Why are you here?”
“I should ask you the same.” Suzannah glanced around the living room, the downward curl of her mouth deepening. She hated rustic decor and it annoyed her that the Walkers hadn’t gone with her posher recommendations when they remodeled the resort and the cabins. “Really, Tristan. If you needed a place to recuperate, you should’ve called me.”
“I can manage.” He would’ve camped out in his truck before he went back to the home his parents shared in Walker’s Run. And her Atlanta condo was too far to drive while taking pain pills.
“Why didn’t you call me? I didn’t know you were hurt until I spoke with Cooter this morning because I couldn’t reach
you. Running out in front of a car? I taught you better than that, Tristan.”
Actually, his parents had taught him very little, except to never, ever claim a mate. They only had two modes whenever they were in the same room, fighting or fucking. Those two activities had consumed them during his childhood; they’d had no time to handle him.
“I saved a little girl’s life.”
“My son being a hero wouldn’t have been a comfort to me if you were dead.”
Tristan doubted he was much comfort to her alive. The only thing she loved was her interior design business in Atlanta. And maybe her artsy friends.
Suzannah thrived on being included in the inner circle of Atlanta’s art scene. She never missed a gala or a showing, especially at the Michaud Galleria d’Art.
“Coffee.” He headed into the kitchen. He needed a lot of caffeine, and maybe a shot of whiskey, to deal with his mother.
She strolled into the nook where Nel stored her artwork.
He poured a large cup of coffee and downed a giant swallow without offering his mother a cup. She only drank specialty-shop coffee.
“Whose are these?” She picked up the canvas of the MacGregor homestead. Nel’s artistry made the decaying house appear warm and inviting. To him, all of her work was timelessly charming and enchanting.
“Nel painted them.”
“Haven’t heard of her.” Suzannah leaned over to study another canvas. “Not really my taste, but stunning nevertheless. Reminiscent of Kincaid and Roberson.” His mother turned to him. “Is she on contract? Showing anywhere?”
Tristan shook his head.
“What’s her name again?” Suzannah’s voice sounded distant.
“Nel.” Her name formed a smile on his lips.
Come to think of it, her smile could stop his heart, her scent drove him crazy and her touch was both comfort and torture. He’d never wanted a woman the way he wanted Nel.
Suzannah snapped her fingers in front of Tristan’s face. “Sometimes you act just like your father, not listening to a word I say.”
Tristan’s blood chilled. Some traits couldn’t be escaped. A sharp pain sliced his heart. He would never put any woman through the misery his mother endured. Especially Nel.
Charmed by the Wolf Page 12
