by Lorenz Font
Jennifer sighed and filled out the forms.
While she took another minute to review them, Blake closed his eyes and tried to block out the incessant reminders of his past as the murmured hum of the other people swirled around him. Blasts of gunfire echoed in his mind, the crying children grated his nerves, and the coughing old man behind him pushed him toward the edge.
“Here,” Jennifer said and shoved the clipboard in his hand.
Blake almost shot out of the chair to return the forms to the nurse.
The nurse took the clipboard, inspecting each answer as Blake turned to walk away. “Thanks. We will call her as soon as we can.”
Instead of going back to sit with Jennifer, he walked out the ER door. He was better off in the clear air and where he could think. Jennifer had been so close, and the stifling confines of the hospital made him twitchy.
To keep himself occupied, he moved the Jeep to the designated registration parking space and came back to lean against the wall by the entrance.
This turn of events had surprised him.
Lancaster was generally a safe place to live. Reported burglaries were few, but with the influx of new faces moving into the once sleepy town, there could be no guarantee what type of characters were in their midst anymore.
After what seemed like forever, he saw a nurse through the glass door approaching Jennifer with a wheelchair. Debating whether or not to join her, he watched Jennifer wince as she eased into the chair with the nurse’s help. As much as he wanted to leave, a sudden attack of guilt had him stepping on the pad and waiting for the glass doors to open so he could follow the direction he’d seen them wheel Jennifer.
The flimsy cubicle curtain was all that was between him and hearing everything happening on the other side.
He waited outside, trying his best to appear inconspicuous.
An eye patch and a beanie in the middle of this heatwave … fat chance no one will notice me.
Sure enough, several nurses passing by glanced his way and were quick to look away.
Blake stayed glued to his spot during the arduous wait. He heard Jennifer gasp and the doctor chastise her while suturing her instep.
After announcing six stitches were firmly in place, advising Jennifer to stay off her feet for a week—no driving either—the doctor walked out of the small cubicle and was taken aback when he saw Blake standing outside. “Can I help you?”
Blake shook his head. “I’m Ms. Owens’ ride.”
“She’s inside. You can go in.” The doctor pulled the curtain open for him.
Blake hesitated. One look at the miserable expression on Jennifer’s face and he almost stumbled in his haste to get to her. “What’s wrong? How are you feeling? Are you okay? What do you need? Should I call the doctor back?” He felt a cold finger of fear tickle his spine as the words spilled out in a rush, and he brushed the tendrils of hair that fell over her face.
“I won’t be able to move around for a week, and I can’t even drive.” Her voice was low, filled with dread and something else he couldn’t pinpoint.
Without considering what she thought of him, he stepped closer, tilted her chin up and stared into her eyes. “Don’t worry about the things you can’t control. Just follow the doctor’s orders, and stay off that foot.”
It might have been the pain from the cut, the shock of finding her house turned upside down, or the fear of losing control that pushed Jennifer to tears, Blake would never know, but compassion dictated his next move. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her head against his chest. The comfort was meant for her, but he felt a different kind of emotion, something he hadn’t felt before. For the first time in a long time, the ache he felt was not his own. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than the power to ease her pain and all that troubled her.
Jennifer surrendered to the warmth of Blake’s embrace, savoring human contact that she’d been denied since Trent’s demise. She had forgotten how much she enjoyed physical connection. The pain of the past, the loss of loved ones, and the uncertainty of her future all hit her at once, and Blake held her as the worst of her emotions broke out in torrents.
He said nothing. Instead, he continued holding her until the last of her tears had ebbed.
She had no idea how much time had passed while each of them clung to the other, but she was jerked back to the present when she heard someone clear his throat.
Blake let her go and took her hand.
The doctor held up a pair of aluminum crutches and a prescription. “This should help you get around, but as I said before, you’ll need to stay off that foot for at least a week. I’d hate to see you back here again with open sutures. The prescription is for pain. It might knock you out in the beginning, but it’ll do its job. The sutures will have to be checked by either your regular doctor or come back here after seven days. If your wound is healing as expected, then the sutures can be removed at that time.”
Jennifer watched the doctor in a daze.
Blake must have sensed her helplessness and took over. “I’ll make sure she’s off her feet. Anything else, doctor?”
“I believe we’re done here. Remember, no dancing and no strenuous activities until the wound is healed.”
Blake chuckled and Jennifer blinked at the double entendre. “I don’t dance so I’m pretty sure she won’t either.” Blake took the crutches from the doctor and handed them to her. “Here, why don’t you see if you can manage to walk with them?”
She hopped off the examination table and fitted the crutches in her armpits. She took a few steps but felt her balance go as the rubber end slid one way and her body went the other.
Blake grabbed her by the waist to steady her.
She gritted her teeth. “This is not going to be easy.”
Blake gathered her purse and walked out of the room. “Shall we?”
With slow, ungainly steps and heavy heart, Jennifer followed him out of the emergency room and into the quiet night. She was out of her element. Several emotions warred inside her, mingling with the pain from the newly sutured wound. The uncertainty of the coming week and the remnants of Blake’s embrace tangled within, making her want to run away for sheer self-preservation.
With nothing but the car radio playing softly in the background, Blake seemed wrapped up in his thoughts and left her to her own devices.
Jennifer had no problem with the companionable silence. It gave her the chance to think.
How in God’s name did I end up here?
Coleen had been successful in planting a seed of doubt at lunch regarding Blake, and Jennifer could stop searching for reasons why had he moved in the same town.
Once they reached his house, Blake parked the Jeep on the driveway.
She noticed that his movement had markedly slowed as soon as he stepped out of the vehicle.
He pulled out Jennifer’s duffel from the backseat and winced.
Jennifer hopped out of the vehicle and tried to keep up with him on the gravel walkway. “What’s wrong?” she asked, trying not to sound worried.
“Nothing.”
In the glow of the moonlight, she saw the hard line on his face. The walls were up once again, and she knew prying further would get her nowhere.
He opened the door and turned the light on. “I’ll set you up in my bedroom, and I’ll take the couch in the extra room.”
Jennifer glanced around the living room and stopped in her tracks. “No, I’ll only be here for one night. There’s no need for you to give up your bed. I’ll sleep in the extra room.”
He whipped around and gave her an agonized stare. “Jennifer, please. I want you to be comfortable. A couch isn’t ideal for someone who’s nursing an injury.”
Her heart ached at the look on his face and sound of his voice, but she couldn’t let it go. “And you’re not? Look at you … you exerted yourself tonight. Don’t bother arguing with me. I can see it in your face.”
His chin lifted in that proud manner she was beginning to recogni
ze. She could see that her words had cut through him, but he didn’t deny them.
“I’m going to my therapy tomorrow. Sam will ease the tightness. Please, do this for me. Use my bedroom for the duration of your stay here. Don’t argue. It’s late, and I’m tired.”
As much as she wanted to pursue the subject, she knew what it had taken for him to admit to being tired.
“Fine … I’ll use your room tonight, but I’m out of here tomorrow.”
A glint of triumph flickered in his eye before he turned and led her to his room. “Let’s take it day by day,” he said.
Everything about his bedroom screamed masculine simplicity—from the heady scent that assaulted her to the muted color of his bedspread and the sparse furniture. No clutter, just the basics. A digital clock sat on a nightstand, a lamp and a desk occupied the opposite end of the room, and mountains of Playboy magazines piled beside the bed.
An unexpected grin eased across his face as Blake realized what she’d spotted, but he simply shrugged and offered no excuses. He placed her duffel bag next to the bed. “I’ll get a towel for you. Remember, you can’t wet your feet yet, so I suggest a sponge bath.” The humorous lilt of his voice was unmistakable.
Jennifer sat on the bed and rested the crutches next to her. She hoped her jaw wasn’t as far on the floor as she thought it might be.
She ignored his jibe. “Thanks.”
“I’ll be in the room across the hallway.”
She let out a sigh and tried to relax. It had been a long day.
Blake came back after a few minutes with a towel and placed it on the bed next to her. He stood close with hands in his pocket. “I’m glad nothing happened to you. It could’ve been worse. Now, try to get some sleep. If you need anything, I’ll leave my door open so I can hear you.” He brushed an errant wisp of hair away from her face.
Jennifer’s breath stilled, reminded of the tender gesture in the hospital. “Thanks,” she said softly.
Sometime before dawn, Jennifer sat upright with heart pounding and unsure why. It took a minute for her to recognize her surroundings. She heard a hoarse cry coming from somewhere in the hallway.
Blake.
She fumbled out of bed. Her foot throbbed the moment she lowered her legs to the floor. She had forgotten where she’d left the crutches and rather than looking for them, she hopped on her good foot into the darkness and toward the sound.
Ignoring the pain radiating up her leg, she limped into the other room, and knelt down beside the couch. Jennifer placed a hand on his arm and gently nudged him.
Blake continued mumbling. His skin was sweaty to the touch.
She moved her hand to his shoulder and gave a vigorous shake. “Blake,” she whispered.
It took several shakes, but his eyes snapped open, and he grabbed her arm and twisted—hard.
“Ow! Blake, it’s me, Jennifer! You’re having a nightmare.”
Chapter 10
It took several seconds for the bright sand hill to fade into the darkened drywall of the familiar spare room, and even longer for Blake to loosen his grip on his M16 rifle and watch Jennifer slump to the floor.
She was gasping and looking plain scared.
“Jennifer, what are you doing here?” He shot off the couch in such a hurry that his skin burned at the sudden movement. He bellowed and contracted into a ball.
Spasticity was often taken for granted, and he kept forgetting that abrupt movements tended to stretch his skin beyond its limits. It was a sharp reminder that he had to stop foregoing his occupational therapy sessions.
Jennifer scrambled to her feet, using the couch as her crutch. “You were having a nightmare. I heard you from the bedroom.”
He saw her wide eyes and pale skin reflecting the faint glow of the nightlight. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, you just scared the hell out of me when you pulled that Steven Segal move.” She sat down on the edge of the sofa and slowed her breathing. “What’s going on, Blake? Is there anything I can do for you?”
Blake shook his head and crossed the room to turn on the lights. “Go back to your room, Jennifer.”
Jennifer squinted and, ignoring his order, asked, “What’s wrong? I’m sure it’s not all about counting sheep that caused the nightmare. Care to talk about it?”
Her concern caused his defensive wall to slam firmly into place. He’d rather not deal with compassion and tenderness. He despised being weak and helpless, and Jennifer’s voice was packed with healthy doses of the unwanted sympathy.
“I didn’t know you were a shrink. Not that I ever needed one.”
“C’mon, Blake, even big boys like you need to unload.”
He settled on the opposite end of the couch, wincing as he spread his legs in front of him. “You want me to talk about the horrors of war? You want to hear the gory details of staring into my dead comrades’ eyes seconds after I pulled them to safety?”
Her eyes widened. “Is that what happened to Trent?”
“I wasn’t talking about Trent.” He rammed his fingers through his hair in disgust. “You have no idea what I’ve seen out there.”
“You can talk about what you’ve seen out there with me, Blake. If that’s what it’d take to get the load off your chest.” Her tone was low and calm. She scooted closer on the couch.
Too damn close.
With unfathomable weariness, he shook his head. “I’m not going to burden you with the horrors of combat. Those are the details I take to my grave.”
She reached out her hand, and he jerked away. “If talking won’t help, maybe I can ease some of the pain in your arms.” She reached for his hand again.
It took a tremendous amount of self-control not to pull his hand away. The softness of her skin against his made him tingle. Her touch alone elicited a sleeping urge within him, and he tried to curb the unwanted response.
“That feels so good.” He moaned, unable to resist and too exhausted to try any longer.
His words seemed to embolden her, and Jennifer moved her hand past his wrist and up his arm, pushing up the sleeve of his cotton shirt. The sensation eased the prickling in his contracted skin.
Blake closed his eyes, savoring every second of her touch. Encountering his rough, scarred limb didn’t seem to deter Jennifer as she skimmed her deft fingers over his hand.
“What else can I do for you?”
Her hands massaged the raised scars and eased the tension in his rigid muscles while her question took him beyond the physical and reached deep into his soul. Blake opened his good eye, reached out, and tilted her chin up. “You’ve done more than you’ll ever know.” He focused on her mouth.
When her tongue darted between her lips as if anticipating him, he gave in to the irresistible urge, lowering his mouth over hers. Tentative at first, but when she offered no resistance, he increased the pressure and let the softness of her kiss guide him. He felt a spark zip though his body, reaching his toes and they separated as though reaching for more of it. His heart seemed to stop and jump-start at the same time. The world stopped and his mind raced, and nothing else seemed to matter as he slipped his tongue into the warmth of her parted lips.
Jennifer shuddered, and he pressed his body even closer.
Heaven.
She was everything Blake had expected her to be and more. Her feminine scent wafted through his nostrils, inviting him to take more of her.
She responded by deepening the kiss, and the electric pulses doubled throughout his body, transforming into a throbbing delight that he’d almost forgotten he could feel. It was impossible to think straight.
Jennifer wound her hands around his neck, and he applied pressure on her back by pulling her close until her breasts rubbed his chest.
He wound his fingers through the silky strands of her hair and loved the way her body molded into his.
Endless moments seemed to have passed before he found the strength to ease away from her. He tilted his head away and pressed his mouth into the side
of his arm until he knew he could take looking at her again. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
Jennifer searched his face as if she would find the reason for this madness written there.
Without giving her a chance to respond, he moved to the door. “Go back to your bedroom and lock the door,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading as he stepped into the darkness without ever looking back.
Jennifer remained unmoving. She stared at the door wondering what had happened. Things happened so fast, and she had simply reacted.
Did I want that, too?
She felt heat flush across her face.
Damn right, you did.
She would’ve continued kissing him if he hadn’t stopped. There was no lying about it, at least not to herself.
Shame and guilt settled as the truth seeped in.
What have I done?
She traced a finger along her lips, mesmerized with the tingle still lingering there as the memory of its source replayed behind her closed eyes. She pushed off the couch and, on one good but shaky leg, hopped back into Blake’s bedroom.
The hallway light was off, and she had no idea where he’d gone.
She closed the door but left it unlocked. She took three ibuprofen pills and exhaustion claimed her after a few minutes. Her remaining thoughts were all about Blake … and the kiss.
When Jennifer awoke the next morning, her first conscious thought was of Blake. She rolled over and gazed out the window overlooking the patio, only to realize the glare streaming through the gap in the blinds meant it was late in the day, and she’d overslept.
She sat up and checked the clock. It was almost ten in the morning.
Good heavens! Must’ve been the pain pills.
As if on cue, her foot began to throb.
She searched for any sign of bleeding but saw nothing except the dried remnants that had stained the cloth. She found her crutches perched by the wall next to the nightstand, and with a few hops, she fitted the crutches in her armpits and stabilized her weight on her hands.
Thanks to Blake’s thoughtfulness, all her stuff had been packed as if she’d done it herself. She dressed in a pair of denim shorts and comfortable T-shirt.
