by Lila Munro
“Why do you have to be so stubborn?”
“Why do you?”
Outside the curtain Dr. Stevens and Julia were huddled together listening.
“How long have they been dating?” Dr. Stevens looked at Julia.
“They aren’t.”
“Oh.” He shook his head and drew the curtain back. “So, the x-rays showed no indication of a fracture. I’m sure you have a mild concussion, but I’m going to let you go home as long as there is someone competent to stay with you. You need to be awakened every few hours throughout the night to make sure you’re still making sense.”
“Mama?”
“Oh, no, dear, I’m busy tonight. Carl and I are going for drinks after his shift is over.” Julia patted the doctor’s arm.
“What did I tell you?” Madi rolled her eyes at Rafe. “Well, call Meredith.”
“She’s busy too.” Julia turned to Rafe. “You can stay with her, can’t you?”
“You cannot be serious.” Madi pushed herself up and took the ice off her head. “He’s not competent; he’s the one who put me here to begin with.”
“Well, young lady, either he stays with you, or you stay here for the night.” Dr. Stevens again wrote on her chart.
She glared at Rafe. “Don’t think this means you’ve won anything with your club-wielding attitude. And don’t try anything sneaky while I’m incapacitated.” Defeated, she knew this was one time she was going to have to take his help.
Dr. Stevens grinned as he finished scribbling on his prescription pad and handed the sheet to Rafe. “Pick this up for her downstairs. It isn’t something you have to sign for so there won’t be a problem. Madi, you can take that every four hours for the headache. If you don’t get better by morning come back, and take it easy for a few days. No more climbing under pianos and sanding walls for a while.”
Forty-five minutes later, when they were on their way home, Rafe realized he’d left the groceries on the porch. Steaks were now out of the question. With Madi having hardly touched her lunch at the deli, she was probably starved. He knew he was.
“So, what would you like to eat?” he asked, turning right out of the hospital parking lot.
“I’m not hungry.” She tucked her arms across her belly and stared out the window.
Rafe took a deep breath. “You’re insufferable, you know that? I think you should eat something before you take your pills.”
She feigned her best melodramatic soap opera heroine voice. “Yes, Dr. McCarthy. I suppose you’re right. The military’s acetaminophen cure could be too harsh on my innards.”
Rafe shook his head and snickered. “So, name it, I’m buying.”
She suddenly realized her stomach was growling and she did want to eat. “Do you like Chinese? I haven’t had chicken mei fun in a long time, and I want some steamed dumplings…and get some of those little donut things with the sugar on them.”
“Now, was that so difficult?”
After a quick stop at Sing Lei’s, Rafe went to the video store. If he was going to have to stay up all night, he might as well have something good to watch. Madi hadn’t put in a satellite, and cable didn’t reach as far out as they lived.
“Do you have a preference?” he asked before getting out.
“No war movies or love stories. The human condition is overrated. Other than that, I’ll watch anything.” She was munching on one of the donuts with sugar crystals shining all over her lips.
Rafe determined she was going to inadvertently make this as difficult as possible. He could plainly see she was unaware as to what her cuteness was doing to him and, really wanting to avoid making her angry again, he stuffed the thought of licking the sugar from her lips in the bad idea bin in the back of his mind. Holding out hope they could somehow manage to get along, he selfishly wondered if her little accident could possibly serve as the catalyst he needed, to make her see they could have more than a one-night stand and make it work.
“So, you’ll do scary?”
“The bloodier the better. I like vamps, werewolves, and all things that go bump in the night.”
“Hmph. My kind of girl.”
“Keep in mind, this isn’t a date, it’s a situation born of necessity. I won’t be clutching your arm in the dark, or anything.” She scowled to reinforce her point.
Maybe not tonight, but someday.
Armed with six horror movies, a few buckets of microwave popcorn, and a few packages of red licorice, Rafe returned to the truck to find Madi resting her head on the door.
“You okay over there?”
“Yes, I’m just getting tired.”
“Well, let’s get you home then.”
After setting her up on the couch with Neowolf playing, and her little white container of noodles, he went over to clean up the mess he’d left on the porch and feed his horses. He hurried through the task, not wanting to leave her alone too long, but by the time he got back, the movie was still playing, the carton of noodles was empty, and she was lying on her stomach on the couch with her eyes shut.
The only problem Rafe had for the next three hours was trying to keep up with the slasher movie he was trying to watch. Having become a constant preoccupation, Madi was getting more of his attention than the television was. He’d come to the stark reality that he wanted something more from her than just straight-up sex, although he wasn’t even sure what that was, or what it meant. He’d never really looked beyond the physical with women before and knew he was waist-deep in uncharted waters.
Meredith had given him her abbreviated life history in between sandwiches and desert. Some of it he knew from CeCe chattering about her constantly, but what he didn’t know was that Madi held a Master’s Degree in music and taught piano and violin. She also played several other instruments. That explained the smattering of eighth and quarter notes on her back. She liked every kind of music possible, but was particularly fond of alternative rock and pop as far as mainstream was concerned. She also loved jazz and, of course, classical. Not particularly fond of TV, she loved those smutty love novels. At one time she’d owned a thoroughbred racing stallion named Casanova, which she’d been forced to forfeit to the breeder he came from, because of the financial mess Gage had left her in. He’d also learned that ten years ago she was the queen of the dance floor in clubs all over Clarksville and Hopkinsville until Gage put a stop to her going. The dancing part he knew to be true firsthand. If she hadn’t been so damn good at it, they might not have this awkward situation to deal with now.
At midnight, he decided it was time to see if she was still making sense, as Dr. Stevens had put it. He sat on the coffee table in front of her and leaned down to whisper. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her again.
“Madi?” He gently shook her shoulder. “Hey, you need to get up now, honey.”
She pulled her arm up and rubbed one eye. “I heard what you called me.”
“Well, that’s a relief, your concussion hasn’t affected your hearing.” It took all his strength not to reach out and run the back of his fingers along her cheek.
“What was that? Your conduction affected your steering?”
“Okay, smarty pants, so, tell me who you are.”
“Why sir, I’m Betty Boop, and you are Popeye. Arghh—ha-ha-ha-ha.” She opened both eyes and started to get up.
Rafe couldn’t help laughing at her as he took her arm and helped her sit up. “You know you’re pretty funny when you aren’t pissed off.”
“And you aren’t so bad yourself when you aren’t allowing the compass between your legs to steer the way.”
Leaving the couch, she wandered down the hallway and, after a few minutes, Rafe heard water running. She came back clean, dressed in a pair of baggy shorts and a t-shirt, and toting a pillow and a blanket. Laying the pillow against his leg, she plopped down and curled up under the blanket. Soon her breath was coming out in short bursts again, tickling the arm he dared to wrap around her after she dozed off.
She woke up
the next morning to the smell of fresh brewed coffee mingled with bacon and eggs. The coffee table was void of any evidence of their Chinese buffet from the night before and the movies were all stacked neatly on top of the entertainment center. And, her piano was parked behind the loveseat, facing the window. Her head had quit hurting, but it was still wickedly sore. After sitting for a moment, making sure she didn’t feel dizzy or sick, she wandered around the house until she located Rafe in the music room. He was intently spreading a coat of primer on one wall.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping. You need this done, and I need to make up for causing you bodily harm, so don’t argue.”
“Okay.” She shrugged her shoulders and rubbed the end of her nose.
Shocked at her compliance, he stopped painting and looked at her. The dark circles had eased a bit and her hair was sticking straight up on one side. He wondered if she looked so adorable every morning, and if, after a passionate night of making love, she looked any different. If she hadn’t bolted on him, he would already know.
“How do you feel?”
“I feel okay; my head’s sore, but no headache, no dizziness, no queasy stomach.”
“That’s good.” He went back to painting. “If you’re hungry I left you something in the kitchen.”
* * * *
The bacon and eggs she’d smelled were waiting on the stove. He was neat and tidy, he was painting for her, and he could cook. If she could find it in herself to trust a man he might make a good boyfriend, but she couldn’t. As long as they didn’t have sex again, what could it hurt to at least allow him to help? He could have taken advantage of the situation last night and didn’t, and it was nice to be able to sleep for a change. Maybe she could let him in just an inch or two.
* * * *
Even though she didn’t need the constant vigil of being awakened, and asked repeatedly if she knew who she was and what was the current year, Rafe had insisted on staying with her another night. He took up residence on her couch and shooed her off to bed at a more than decent hour. She didn’t know whether to take his kindness as a sign they could somehow get past what had happened and manage to be friends, or if he was still volleying for the position as her personal plaything. Whatever the reason, she was grateful for the presence of another person in the next room as she lay wide-eyed awake listening to the violent cacophony of a quickly approaching storm. The thunder was so close she could feel the vibration of each rumble shimmying up the bedframe and across the mattress, and the lightning cracks set the tiny hairs on her arms on end. She’d never been fond of storms and this one was spinning up into a doozy quickly. Trying to block out the intense flashes of light and deafening bass crashes, she pulled the sheet over her head and curled into a tight ball with her eyes squeezed shut.
Humming the opening bars of Music of the Night, she heard the wind pick up, howling around the house as if trying to find a way in. The whistling was unnerving and unease circled her, reminiscent of her childhood experiences with spring tornadoes. It was late in the season, but not impossible for one to fall from the sky and wreak havoc. Then, with a thunder clap that felt as though it were right on top of the house, rain started falling in torrents, sounding like water rushing through the flood gates at the dam.
Wonderful, how much water will be on the floor in the morning?
She continued to hum, trying to will herself to ignore the raging storm and go back to sleep. When that didn’t work, she began to quietly sing the score she’d been humming. Trying to imagine herself anywhere else, she felt a cold plop on her nose, then another and another until a stream of cold wetness was dribbling off her face, all over her pillow. Wanting to cry, she got up, took the dry pillow from the other side of the bed, and made her way into the living room. Tiptoeing so as not to wake up her sentry, she felt her way to the big chair, climbed in it, and curled up, hugging the pillow to her chest.
“So, you’re awake too,” Rafe’s deep voice broke through the heavy darkness.
“Yes, I hate storms and I was getting wet. The roof leaks in my room, too.” Madi sighed and hugged the pillow harder as another clap of thunder echoed.
She heard Rafe shift and sit up on the couch, then she felt his hand run over her arm and take her hand.
“Come here,” he said quietly, tugging on her hand.
Resisting the urge to hop up, jump in his lap, and grip him instead of the pillow, she sat, not moving a muscle.
“Come on, Madi.” He tugged gently on her hand again. “There’s no need in sitting over there shaking by yourself.”
Another flash of lightning sent the room into a frenzy of blue-white flashes, reminding her of a strobe light fun house she’d been in once in high school at the fair. Without further urging, she jumped up and planted herself beside Rafe, with her knees drawn to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them. There were definite perks to not being alone.
Chapter 5
Big chunks of sunlight fell across the couch Sunday morning, warming Madi’s face and pulling her from another sound night’s sleep. She didn’t have any idea what time they had fallen asleep. All she remembered was him finally convincing her to let him lay down, too, and with his arms locked around her, he’d held her through the worst storm she’d seen in years. When the raging weather had calmed, she’d stayed in his arms and drifted away in silent bliss.
With the music room primed and the promise of having it painted by the end of the day, it was there she found him after retrieving the coffee he’d left for her in the kitchen. She sat in the middle of the floor where the sun was streaming in through the open doors and just watched him work for the longest time in the silence.
Knowing she was there, Rafe kept painting. He could feel her watching him, but didn’t want to break the pleasant quiet that fell between them. Just feeling her presence in the room was enough to satisfy him. He wished he could figure out some excuse to keep sleeping on her couch. Seeing her in the mornings brought him tremendous joy and he wasn’t looking forward to giving that up.
“Rafe, where are you from?” She sipped her coffee, admiring his biceps and the way they roped up with each even stroke of the brush in his hand.
“Montana. Just north of Great Falls, a little place called Big Sandy.” He didn’t turn or stop moving.
“What’s it like there?”
“It’s beautiful. Green fields, the mountains on the horizon, clean air. Winters there are harsh, not for the faint of heart, but they are good for snuggling in front of fires.” He put the brush down and turned to look at her then.
She was sitting cross-legged with her long t-shirt pulled down over her knees. Her green eyes glowed. He’d like to snuggle her through one winter in Montana, get her good and pregnant, and marvel at her raising their children. Snuggling? Pregnant? Children? What the hell was he thinking?
Twirling a strand of hair around her forefinger, she continued questioning him. “So, what is your family like?”
“Well, both my parents are still living, my grandmother lives with them. She’s as big a piece of work as CeCe was. She is half Shoshone, and has the answers to all life’s questions. I have four sisters and two brothers. They all live within minutes of Mom and Dad. I’m the only one who strayed from the flock.”
“Wow,” she said with one eyebrow cocked up, “That’s a lot of estrogen in one house. No wonder you aren’t married—that would be enough to scare any man into just saying no.”
“Yeah, and to think I have all the necessary training. I know enough about that time of the month to have written one of those yellow books—Everything a Man Needs To Know About Periods for Dummies.”
A giggle erupted from her, turning into a full-blown laugh, exposing all her perfectly straight teeth. “Geeze, and you clean, cook, and do manly chores. What more could a girl want?”
“I wish you would tell me so I could do it for you.” He wanted to take it back before he even finished saying it, God only knew what her reaction wo
uld be, but it was too late.
“I wish I knew. I wish I knew what would make me begin to believe I am capable of trusting again.” She got up and left him then. Even with the comfort of sleeping in his arms, without any kind of pressure, she wasn’t ready for things to get so serious.
The doctor had told Madi she needed to take it easy for a few days. Knowing she was headstrong and probably would do whatever she wanted when he wasn’t there to prevent it, Rafe wondered that afternoon what to do when he had to go back to work. Remembering Meredith was off on Mondays, he called her and arranged to have her come spend the day with her sister to make sure she didn’t do anything like climb a ladder to the roof and try to fix that alone as well.
“So, what am I supposed to do if she insists on doing something?” Meredith drilled him.
“I’ve moved the dining table, you can help her sand that room so I can prime it and paint it this week.” Rafe paced on the porch, hoping Madi didn’t catch him instituting her help. “She doesn’t know it yet, but I’ve already arranged a ‘community service day’ on Friday. A bunch of students and instructors are coming over to help me fix the roof on the house. I figure we should have it done by Saturday evening with as many guys who are coming.”
“Are you serious? You know she might have a fit if she thinks you’re trying to give her charity.”
“Well, she better get used to having help because I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” Rafe peeked in the window to see she was still dusting her piano and looking quite happy. “And one of these days I’m going to convince her I’m perfectly safe to go out with.”
“Right, good luck with that.”
* * * *
After putting a skillet to heat on the stove, Madi took a pound of sausage and a dozen eggs out of the refrigerator. She knew she was a good cook, but had never considered herself a domestic expert, and certainly never saw herself as the type to cook a man breakfast. Gage had been more a cold cereal person. But over the weekend, she’d discovered Rafe enjoyed breakfast, in fact relished it. Something about outlasting the winters in Montana on a full stomach, although she believed it probably had more to do with retaining enough energy to keep snuggling to stay warm. Whatever the reason, she’d remembered she liked it too. Particularly sausage and tomato sandwiches, like CeCe used to make her when she was a little girl on Sunday mornings.
