by Lorenz Font
This man is giving me whiplash!
Blake hummed a tune the entire time it took for him to prepare their breakfast. He even found a moment to play with Drew while the bacon sizzled in the skillet. He had to check himself several times to keep from grinning and making a fool of himself in front of Jennifer.
Jennifer must think he was an idiot, but he didn’t care. She had agreed to stay with him, and stay off her foot. Even if he knew last night’s drinking debacle could not happen again, it was a price he was willing to pay. He still had no idea how she ended up in his bed and in his arms, but all he needed were better details from Sam. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he’d never hear the end of the man’s teasing. Regardless, he was happy that she was safe with him.
Is she?
“Drew!” Blake summoned and Drew raced back into the kitchen. “Good boy.” He patted the dog’s head and directed him to his water dish. “I bet you’re thirsty after that long exercise.” After washing his hands, he poured their coffee and filled their plates with food.
“Jennifer?”
She didn’t answer.
He stepped around the corner and saw the steady rise and fall of her chest and realized that she must’ve dozed off while he was preparing breakfast.
Her arm rested on her forehead, and he had to control the urge to tangle through her glorious hair that was splayed out like a fan of feathers.
This woman was a ball of kindness, spunk, beauty, and perfection rolled into one. It was no wonder Trent had been head over heels in love with her. It didn’t hurt that she had a mouth on her, too. She was one of the few people he knew who spoke their mind without the need to apologize for being frank.
Blake continued to watch her, debating whether or not to rouse her. After several minutes, he leaned forward and gave her shoulder a gentle shake. “Hey, breakfast is ready.”
It took several more nudges before she surfaced from a rather deep sleep. The hand that had rested on her forehead brushed his arm, and electric currents jolted him in spite of the cotton sleeves covering his arms.
Get a grip, Connor.
“Mmm … that smells so good.” Her eyes fluttered open. Those bright hazel eyes that could light up the room looked lazily up at him.
Concealing the tenderness that washed through him, he tried to appear distracted by the task of picking her up. He didn’t trust himself to say a word while they ate in silence.
For a change, the lack of conversation was not due to tension. It was comfortable and neither one of them seemed compelled to say anything until they were already nursing their second cup.
Jennifer broke the silence. “Tell me, how long have you been staying in this house?” Her eyes widened almost immediately, and she looked as though she regretted asking the question. “I-I-I mean, I was surprised when Captain Norwalk gave me your address.”
Blake felt his mood darkening and sensed Jennifer bracing for an onslaught of his anger. He took a deep breath, resigned to keep his end of their deal. “After I was discharged from the hospital, I came here so I could keep an eye on you, just like Trent wanted.” He looked away. This bargain was going to cost him a lot more than he had anticipated.
“Why?” Her question sounded so innocent.
He swung his gaze back to her. “Because I’m a man of my word.”
Jennifer’s lips thinning didn’t escape his notice. She raised the cup to her mouth and took a quick sip, set it down, and smiled. “You’re a real good friend to Trent,” she said, sounding wistful.
Admit it, already. It is more than that.
He wasn’t ready to accept that Trent had been right all along. He wasn’t ready to concede that his obsession for Jennifer was the reason his relationship with Katrina had been doomed all along. He had managed to prevent a meaningful relationship from blossoming. Instead, he’d repeatedly accused her of pitying him. That’s why it hadn’t come as a surprise when Katrina had left him for another man. It had been clear back then that she was better off without him, but placing the blame on her had been a way to take the focus away from his affection for another woman.
Jennifer’s palm closed on his. “Hey, what’s on your mind?” she asked.
He shook his head and forced a tight smile. “Another cup?”
“Are you going to have the energy to keep carrying me to the bathroom?”
He answered with an indulgent grin and refilled her cup.
Chapter 16
The deep rumbling sound of a helicopter passing by on its way to Edwards Air Force Base roused Blake from his sleep.
He glanced at the clock and groaned.
Same shit, different day. Too damn early.
He’d been stuck in this schedule for what felt like forever. As usual, he’d beaten the alarm clock yet again.
Out of habit he reached for the eye patch and fitted it onto his face. Remembering that his appointment was coming soon, he felt a familiar sense of dread at the idea of another trip to the doctor’s office. Though this one would be painless, the apprehension and discomfort of the upcoming consultation left him feeling sick to his stomach.
He recalled the unending trips to the hospital for skin grafts, debridement, and therapy. Those had been the ensuing hell that had followed the nightmare of Afghanistan. His distaste for anything doctor-related had led to an insistence that he could do without all of them and foregoing therapy far longer than he should have.
It had been irresponsible of him, but back then, he hadn’t seen the point. He had already been in a tremendous amount of pain, and the additional exercises had left him physically tired and emotionally drained. If he wanted to punish himself even more, all he’d had to do was look at his pre-accident pictures. That was enough to send him shuddering.
By choice, he had been postponing the trip to the eye doctor for the same reason. He didn’t understand the point of wearing a prosthetic eye to replace the unsalvageable one. With Sam and his parents’ prodding, he had conceded and made an appointment.
During the phone consultation, the ocularist had given him assurances that the process was fast and painless. His first scheduled visit would consist of taking an impression of his eye socket, shaping a plastic shell and matching the color of the irises.
Painless, huh? Yeah, sure. Right.
He shoved the thoughts of the dreaded appointment aside in favor of getting breakfast ready before he had to leave for rehab. It would be a good time to extract information from Sam and shed some light on the parts he couldn’t remember from two nights before. He hoped for Jennifer’s sake that his drunkenness hadn’t made her uncomfortable.
Drew whined, no doubt anxious to get their morning routine started.
“Hey, boy. Good morning to you, too.”
The dog got up and gave a good shake, creating a considerable amount of noise as his nails scraped the bare floor.
“Keep it down, Drew. We don’t want to wake the lady this early.”
His four-legged friend seemed to understand and sat straight, ears perked up, and waited for his order.
Stretching, Blake extended his legs a fraction, just enough to release the rigidity of his limbs from the hours of inactivity. He repeated the stretches, not pushing too hard to avoid pain, and he got off the couch. He cracked his back twice, not sure sleeping on the couch was such a good idea. Then again, he wouldn’t want Jennifer sleeping anywhere but his bed.
Man, that sounds good.
Shaking the wicked picture from his mind, he opened the door with care, hoping the wood wouldn’t squeak this time.
Blake grinned when the door cooperated and he tiptoed to the bathroom across the hall. He finished his morning ritual without even glancing in the mirror. The last thing he needed was to feel the disgust. Besides, he didn’t recognize the man staring back at him. Though most of his hair had been spared from the cookout, the side of his face had retained the scarring typical of burn victims—shiny, with uneven skin. Every single day he vacillated between two sentiments—gl
ad to be alive and asking why he hadn’t died that day.
If he couldn’t bear to look at himself, how could he expect others to endure the torture?
Before he allowed that train of thought to sink his mood any further, he finished dressing. It took him several tries before he could snap the vest in place, due to the limited rotation of his shoulders. It came and went, and according to Sam, his missed appointments were bound to reflect the negative effects. True, the more therapy he attended, the better his body felt, but it didn’t change the fact that the road to normalcy would be long and arduous.
Shaking the negative emotions that started to creep back in, he padded barefoot along the hallway with Drew in tow. He went straight to the cupboard and retrieved a box of high-fiber cereal, slipped it under his arm, and balanced two bowls, spoons, and a carton of milk.
Yeah, breakfast of champions.
It made him wonder if this healthy breakfast was enough to tide him over until lunch.
After he returned to the fridge and grabbed the carton of orange juice and fresh fruits, he went to his bedroom to check on Jennifer. He stood just outside the doorway, uncertain if he should wake her, when he heard running water coming from the bathroom.
He knocked, and when he heard a muffled answer, he pushed the door open. “Are you ready for breakfast?” he asked through the bathroom door.
A gurgle sounded before Jennifer answered, “Be out in a second.”
He surveyed the area and found traces of her; a lip balm, a small spiral notebook, and a tattered picture. He walked closer to get a good look, feeling a bit guilty for invading her space, but he couldn’t stop himself.
The photo was of him and Trent leaning on a concrete wall, garbed in their camos, and holding their rifles. It had been taken in their third year of service, as evident in their sullen expressions. He remembered Trent writing on the back of the photograph—melancholic and homesick.
Blake’s chest tightened at the memory, and he was caught off guard when Jennifer spoke from behind.
“I carry it with me all the time,” she said in a quiet voice.
He turned around. There were no words. They both missed Trent, and that was the extent of what he would allow himself to admit today. “Let’s eat,” he said.
If Jennifer had wanted to say something, she seemed to have changed her mind and pressed her lips together.
Without a word, he slipped an arm around her waist and swept her off her feet.
“All this lifting is not good for you,” Jennifer said after he deposited her on the chair.
Blake took the chair opposite her and forced a weak smile. “It’s the exercise I need.”
They ate in silence but it was far from comfortable. He knew for a fact that Trent was very much in her mind. Even if he had something to offer her, his friend would always be the big, ever-present figure keeping him from giving himself to the woman he loved.
After Blake got her situated on the couch with everything he anticipated she might need, Jennifer stared at the television while her mind wandered to the whirlwind of events in the last thirty-six hours. Sure enough, thinking of Blake’s kiss still made her head spin. His touch had left her heady, breathless, and more confused than ever. She couldn’t make heads or tails of his actions and wasn’t ready to recall what had happened in the shower. Some things were better left in the dark, where they belonged. If Blake had no recollection, or refused to broach the subject, then she had no intention of bringing it up.
What does he want from me?
He had mentioned that he was a man of his word. Did that mean when his babysitting days were over, he’d walk out of her life and disappear? Or did his promise to Trent go beyond the obvious? Contradicting actions aside, one thing was clear. He was physically attracted to her and the idea scared her to the point of wanting to flee.
“The guy has enough baggage to sink the Titanic,” she muttered.
Was physical attraction enough for her? There was no denying her feelings for him went beyond raw appeal. The man had touched her heart in the simplest ways. The gentle way he held her, providing comfort and security. Only one man had ever made her feel as safe, but she hadn’t felt the same pull as she did now.
This was definitely trouble waiting to happen. With everything he kept locked up inside him, she wasn’t sure she had what it took to chip away at his walls. Trent, bless his heart, had told her all along that his best friend needed a sensitive woman who would love and understand him.
Had Trent foreshadowed—
The shrill ringing of the house phone jerked her off the Blake train of thought. She hopped on one foot to the kitchen, hoping the call would be good news from Officer Cortez.
“Hello?”
“This is the office of Doctor Dent. Is this Mrs. Connor?”
Mrs. Conno—
“Um, no. I’m—”
“I’m calling to confirm his appointment this time.”
Her curiosity was piqued. “What kind of appointment?”
“He’s been canceling on us, and Dr. Dent is a busy man. If he misses his eye consultation again, I’m afraid I won’t be able to put him on the schedule until the end of this year.”
Oh my.
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t miss this time.”
I will?
“That would be a good idea.”
“When is the appointment and what does he need to do?”
“All he has to is show up tomorrow at nine in the morning.”
“He’ll be there,” Jennifer said, sounding so sure.
After hanging up the phone, she felt guilty for overstepping her boundaries. What made her so sure Blake would go? He was unpredictable and who knew how the man might react once he found out that she’d dipped her foot into his business again.
Rationalizing her dumb, but well-intentioned meddling, she hobbled back to the sofa and put her feet up. After all, she was just looking after his best interests.
She was figuring out the best way to tell Blake about the phone call when she realized the steady thumping was insistent knocking on the door. With clumsy movement, she hurried and hopped to the door to answer the caller.
Jennifer peeked through the peephole and saw a couple standing outside. She opened the door tentatively.
“Jennifer?” a gorgeous older woman with platinum blond hair and familiar sparkling blue eyes asked.
She smiled and opened the door wider. “Yes?”
“We’re Blake’s parents. I’m Claire and this is Jack. Is he home?”
The elderly man behind Claire dipped his head slightly. As tall as Blake with similar features, Jennifer saw who Blake took after.
“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Connor. Blake’s not home at the moment, but I’m sure he’ll be back in a bit. Would you like to come in and wait?”
“Yes, thank you. Please, call me Claire.” Blake’s mother smiled and tugged at her husband’s arm to follow.
Jennifer stepped back to give them enough room to enter. “I’m so sorry for the mess, but I’ve been camping here in the living room.” She began to clear her things on the coffee table when Blake’s mom stopped her.
“Child, go sit. I think that’s the reason why Blake wants you here with him. So you can be off your feet and resting, right?”
Jennifer had been reminded of her mother the first time she’d spoken with this woman, but here, now, in full view of Claire’s warm and cheerful personality, a lump formed in her throat.
Jennifer did what she was told. Blake’s mother sat down on the recliner and turned to her husband.
“Dear, can you get the groceries from the car?”
Groceries?
“Are you sure that you should be cooking right away? You haven’t even talked to Blake yet. We might be intruding,” Jack said, eyeing Jennifer with a cautious smile.
“Oh, pooh. The boy needs to eat something more nutritious than takeout.”
With a worried expression, Blake’s dad went to fulfill his wife’s reques
t.
Jennifer looked up to see the older woman smiling at her.
“Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”
Jennifer fidgeted.
What should I say?
“Um, I live not too far from here. I used to live in San Francisco with my aunt before she passed away. Then I relocated here after that.”
“How do you like living in a hot place like this?” Blake’s mother seemed sincere, but Jennifer had a sinking feeling that she also had aspirations of playing cupid.
“It has its charm. I like living away from the big city, for a change.”
“I think you’re right. I just never understood why Blake wanted to live here, away from us.” Claire shook her head. “How did you meet him?”
Jennifer hesitated and looked down at her hands.
Truth or make something up?
She wrung her hands together and debated her answer.
This woman is Blake’s mother, for God’s sake. She’ll catch any lie you try.
“Trent. Blake’s friend and I were engaged to be married.”
Mrs. Connor’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped slightly open. After several silent seconds, she smiled. “Well, I’m glad to meet a friend of my son.”
Their conversation was interrupted as Jack walked in with bags of groceries. “Where do you want this?”
Claire looked relieved for the distraction and patted Jennifer’s knee. “Jennifer, stay put. If you need anything, just let me know. Let me help you, dear.” She took one bag from her husband and proceeded to the kitchen.
Jennifer was left wondering about the older woman’s hesitation but let it go, and for the next hour, she tried to concentrate on work and answering her neglected e-mails while the aroma of a home cooked meal drifted around the house.
“Talk,” Blake demanded as soon as he spotted Sam behind his desk.
The place was quiet and a perfect time to grill his friend for information about the events of a couple of nights ago.
Sam glanced up from the mound of paperwork on his desk, raised an eyebrow, and chuckled. “Where do you want me to start?”
