Getaway Gone Wrong (Team Northwest Sweet Romance Book 2)

by Lia London

  “No way. Not ever going to happen.” She sucked in a sharp breath as he rounded the first hairpin turn. “His breath smells like minty onions.”

  Guy wondered how close she’d gotten to Slick Patton. “Onions?” he prompted.

  “And beer. Never kissing the creep.” She fell silent for a moment, and Guy took another turn.

  “Parker?”

  “But you can kiss. For the love of lipstick, where’d you learn to kiss like that?”

  Guy flushed and hit the accelerator. “Uh.”

  “Booster?”

  With an explosion of laughter, Guy took another turn. “Now come on. I didn’t lick you even once.”

  “Or bite. Ow!”

  “You okay?”

  “I’m sorry, Guy.

  “What? Why?”

  “I was so mean to—ugh, I think you need to pull over!”

  “You going to be sick?”

  “Now!”

  Guy skidded to a stop on the shoulder and jumped out to open the side door. Parker sat up and leaned out the door, just missing his shoes when she spewed. Side-stepping the mess, he held her hair back from her face and murmured soothing words to her through gritted teeth. If his stupid date idea landed her in the hospital, he would never forgive himself.

  “I actually know a retired doctor right here, off Olga Road, if you want something faster,” said Guy, gripping the steering wheel. “It’s closer than the clinic, and there’s no waiting room paperwork.”

  “How do you know he’s home?” asked Parker, hoarse with a mixture of guilt and fear. Her hip throbbed and her arm was ablaze, but anger at herself hurt more. She’d been horrible to Guy, and handyman or not, he deserved better.

  “He’s the installation I did earlier.” Guy jerked a thumb towards the back. “Remember the dryer?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Anyway, he lives right up here.” Guy cranked the wheel and bounced over a fallen branch on his way up a steep driveway. He pulled up beside a two-story home constructed of dark wood and glass, so it blended into the surrounding trees, reflecting the forest in the enormous window panes. Leaving Parker in the van, Guy bounded up the front steps.

  Parker focused for the first time on Guy’s pale but strong upper body. With his blood-stained shirt still wrapped around her arm, she rolled the window down to call him back, worried his lack of attire would alarm the doctor.

  Too late. A portly man in a button-down shirt answered.

  “Dr. Braden!”

  “Guy, what’s wrong?”

  “My friend had an accident coming down Constitution.” He gestured back to the van.

  “Oh dear, how bad?” The doctor jogged down the steps, and Parker could see he came in stockinged feet.

  “Oh, for the love of …” She covered her face with her good hand, embarrassed at all the fuss.

  The doctor pulled open the door and extended a hand. “Larry Braden, at your service.”

  “Thanks, Doctor. I’m … Daisy Parker.”

  Behind Dr. Braden, Guy’s eyes widened. “She took a spill, Doc. I think it’s just a bunch of scrapes, but she said the hip hurts bad. I’m pretty sure she’s in shock. She barfed once.”

  “So I smell!” Dr. Braden’s nostrils flared, but he showed no disgust. “Can you walk, Miss?”

  “Not comfortably,” admitted Parker.

  “But you put weight on your foot?”

  “Yeah. It just really aches up here.” She patted her hip.

  Dr. Braden clapped his hands once. “All right, then. You’re not broken. Come on, little lady. Let’s get you inside. Guy, come here. You take this side.” He directed Guy into position, and the two men carried her with minimal jostling up the stairs, through a plush living room, and into a pristine kitchen.

  “Oh my gosh, I don’t want to bleed all over your—”

  “Nonsense. It’s all washable. Let’s see what we’ve mortally injured here.” They set her down on a kitchen chair with her legs propped on another, and Dr. Braden pointed towards an adjoining hallway. “Grab my kit in the closet, Guy.” He eyed the makeshift bandage on her arm. “I like your tourniquet. Mind if I peek at it?”

  Guy returned with a first-aid kit the size of Parker’s carry-on luggage. Unzipping the sides, he pulled it open. “What do you need?”

  Dr. Braden held out a palm. “Scalpel.”

  Guy gurgled with surprise, and Parker yelped.

  “Doctor humor.” Dr. Braden shook his head. “Sorry. Not so funny today.” He flicked a hand at Guy’s bare skin. “Why don’t you avail yourself of the amenities in the bathroom, Guy? There’s this thing called soap that’s good at removing the stink.”

  Guy nodded. “Right. I’ll go clean up.”

  “He does it a lot. Stink, I mean.” Parker chewed her lip, wishing the doctor would hurry. Her mind felt fuzzy.

  Dr. Braden chuckled and began peeling the shirt from her arm carefully. “So, you’re the latest victim of Mt. Constitution.” He studied her reddened skin. “It claims dozens every year.”

  “Ah. Maybe you should open shop at the bottom of the hill. Give frequent faller deals.”

  The doctor’s outburst of laughter startled Parker into a giggle of her own. “Okay, hold still. This is going to—”

  “Ow!”

  “Yeah. Ow.” He pointed at her. “Your job is to keep breathing while I clean and bandage this up.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Don’t yes sir me. I’m Larry now.”

  “Yes … Larry. Thank you so much. You’re very kind to see me.”

  “It’s the least I can do for one of Guy’s friends.” He sighed and dabbed at Parker’s arm with a cotton ball drenched in antiseptic. “Heaven knows he’s always running around helping people here.”

  “He really is this nice all the time?”

  “He really is.” The doctor paused, squinting at one of the deeper cuts. “Haven’t you known him long?”

  Shaking her head, Parker held her breath to keep in a squeal of pain.

  “Well, if I had a daughter the right age, I’d insist she marry him.” He winked and then squinted as he picked road debris from her scrapes.

  Parker swallowed her annoyance at his obvious endorsement because a part of her wondered how she could repair the damage she had done to her budding relationship with Guy. Could she call it a relationship? Most of her interactions were purely professional, so this was new territory for her. She squeezed her eyes shut, pushing away the line of thought. She was only on Orcas Island for a few more days. No need to fret about their encounter. It had just been a kiss. A stupid kiss.

  A really sweet and spicy kiss.

  She grunted as Dr. Braden dabbed her with antiseptic again. The sting in her arm and in her pride told her to move on. She’d be back in L.A. soon enough.

  The newly opened wound in her heart disagreed.

  “I’m under doctor’s orders not to do anything suicidal or heavily physical for at least a week,” said Parker as she clutched Guy’s arm going down the porch steps. “So I guess my getaway is officially defunct.” She blinked back tears as she waddled her way back to the van. Whatever painkiller Dr. Braden had given her had already taken effect, and she worried about the drowsiness setting in. As Guy opened the door for her, she cringed and gripped the sleeve of his jacket that hung open over his bare chest. “Guy, I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “How can I repay you?”

  “No charge.”

  “No, I mean …”

  He gestured with his chin for her to sit. “Don’t worry about it.”

  She sat down with her legs still hanging out of the van. “Guy, I hate to ask this, especially after all the trouble I’ve been, but …”

  “I’ll get you home, don’t worry.”

  “How did you know?”

  “You might as well be drunk. I guess it’s good that you’re a painkiller lightweight. Proves you’re not part of the opioid epidemic, right?”

 
; “Nope. That starts after all the plastic surgery. Directors don’t usually have a problem.”

  “Good. Buckle up.” He was being efficient, but distant.

  “My clean clothes are in my car.”

  “I don’t think they’ll fit me.”

  “Har har.” Was her speech slurring?

  He tucked her arm into the belt. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”

  Singing, she leaned back. “Don’t worry! Be-e-e happy!”

  Guy snorted and shut the door.

  When he came around and climbed into the driver’s seat, she slurred, “I hope that wasn’t a commentary on my singing.”

  He shook his head, smiling. “Buckle up, Sleeping Beauty. I don’t want you falling again if I take a curve too fast.”

  She closed her eyes. “I’m more trouble than I’m worth, Guy.”

  When he didn’t answer, she feigned sleep to cover the awkward silence. At some point on the way back, she fell asleep for real.

  Guy stood holding the passenger side door open, wondering what to do with the sleeping Parker. Unable to think as clearly in the post-adrenaline crash, he took the time to study her closely. Her disheveled hair clung to her pale cheeks, but her features still beguiled him. In repose, he could see the sweetness and vulnerability she tried so hard to disguise when awake.

  With a sigh, he shouldered into the task of lifting her gently into a fireman’s carry. She grumbled, but did not protest further.

  Inside the cabin, he turned up the heat and rolled her slowly onto her back.

  “Now what, Sleeping Beauty? I can’t leave you in those ripped up, sweaty clothes, but …” He frowned with uncertainty. With embarrassed resignation, he leaned over her, tucking his arms behind her and pulling her into a sitting stance. “I promise I’m not being a sick-o.” He peeked down the front of her shirt and felt a wash of relief. She wore a tank-top underneath, which he had suspected when he held her on the tower. Confident now, he removed the shirt, careful not to touch her abrasions any more than necessary.

  When her head lolled against his chin, he tilted her face up with his finger. “Parker?”

  “Mmmm?”

  He coughed and turned away. “I think I’ll call you Stinking Beauty from now on.” Between the vomit breath and sweat from her exertion, she reeked. Easing her back onto her pillow, he pondered what to do about the yoga pants. Dr. Braden had removed the zip ties at her calves already, and had said she needed to air out the abrasions.

  Guy’s eyes traced the line of her figure. Not inhumanly trim. Definitely to his liking. He ground the heels of his palms into his eye sockets and talked himself into the next step. “I’m going to take the yoga pants off, Parker, so you aren’t sleeping in grimy, wet clothes. I’ll try not to look, but please don’t kick me, okay?”

  Parker let out a rumbling burp.

  Guy shook his head. He knew other men who would completely take advantage of such situations, and it sickened him. Checking how tight her waistband fit, he gauged how hard he would need to tug, then closed his eyes, and worked to slide the cloth down over her hips and off her legs. When his fingers brushed over his toes, he opened his eyes enough to search the room for a suitable place to put the clothing. With a few more maneuvers, he got her under the covers, but wrapping his arms around her bare legs sent signals to his brain that it was time to leave. He needed not to want her. Despite the amazing kiss, she clearly had no romantic interest in him. He was just a handy man, after all. A loser. He couldn’t get his hopes up. Nothing more would develop. They had come down from the tower, leaving the magic behind.

  Disaster #8 ~ Vulnerability

  Parker rolled over in bed. Or rather, she tried to, but something blocked her way. The something groaned. Screaming, Parker bolted upright, and suddenly the room erupted in chaos. She heard loud barking.

  “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” Guy’s voice sounded desperate.

  “What in the—”

  “Booster, no!”

  The retriever bolted forward out of his arms and began licking Parker’s face until she laughed. “Ow. Make him stop. Ow.”

  At last Guy wrangled Booster to the floor, and stood grimacing with obvious embarrassment.

  “Okay, Mr. Fox. Explain yourself. Don’t think your adorable wingman here is going to get you off the hook. What the heck are you doing in my cabin at …” She blinked and yawned. “What time is it, anyway?”

  “About 5:30.”

  “Morning or night?”

  “Morning. I’m so sorry we scared you. I came by to check on you. Doc said you might be sore today, and I—”

  “And you let yourself into my cabin?”

  “I had to last night so I could put you in bed.”

  “You stayed here all night?”

  “No!” Guy’s voice pitched higher. “No! I went home and fed Booster, and …” He sagged, defeated onto the daybed that served as a couch under the front window. “I’m so sorry.”

  Parker drew a deep breath and covered her eyes. “Am I to understand you put me to bed last night while I was …”

  “Under the influence, I suppose.”

  Her hand reached under the covers to pat her leg, and she winced. She had forgotten about the bruising and surface abrasions. “Where are my pants?”

  “Your yoga pants?”

  “My yoga pants. I was wearing them yesterday. We talked about them and everything.”

  “Uh …” Guy pointed over at the kitchen chair where her soiled clothes were draped.

  “You—?”

  “I swear I did most of it with my eyes closed!”

  “I could have you arrested!”

  “I couldn’t leave you in the bloody clothes!” His face grew redder with each passing moment, and he focused on ruffling Booster’s neck fur. “I’m really sorry I scared you. I just felt horrible that you got hurt on my watch.”

  Parker heard the pain in his words and took pity on him. As casually as she could, she identified her present state of dress: the tank top she had worn under her shirt the day before and … yes, the same underwear. All right. He hadn’t seen her nude or anything. She exhaled. “Thank you for bringing me home, Guy. I’m the one who’s sorry. I ruined our bike trip.” He started to object, but Parker held up her hand. “Please. This isn’t me. I don’t apologize. I don’t …” She sighed.

  “But I am sorry.” Wearing jeans and a thick sweater, Guy’s meek eyes held a plea she could not read.

  “Okay, we both are.” She swallowed, weary by the strangeness of the whole getaway. “I don’t do a lot of what I’ve done this week. I don’t make stupid mistakes. I don’t fall or do klutzy things. I don’t giggle. I don’t kiss strangers. I … just don’t.” She let her hands flop into her lap. “You’re not seeing me at my best, Guy.”

  “Maybe I am.”

  “No, Guy. Don’t be so nice …” Gingerly, she pulled back the covers enough to slide her legs out from under. “You’ve been perfect. Since the first minute. Perfect.” She shuffled her feet on the floor beside the bed, staring at her toes. “You’re walking altruism, and you are a celebrity in this world of yours for all the right reasons. For the love of Olympic moments, I should be doing a feature of you.”

  “Then why do you sound so miserable?”

  Parker blinked back a tear. “Nothing, Guy. You’re too good to be true.”

  “I’m really not. I’ve got problems like anyone else. More, maybe.”

  She gave him a heavy-lidded glare. Surely, he wasn’t fishing for more compliments with mock humility. With a flick of her finger, she warned him to look the other way, and he quickly obeyed. Taking baby steps, she made her way towards the drawers. “Where are all my clothes?”

  “Oh! The laundry bag is over here.”

  “No peeking!” she squeaked as he lunged to the other side of the bed to retrieve the mesh bag of clean laundry. “Just dump it out and find me … ugh. Never mind. Toss me a blanket, huh?”

  Guy floundered with th
e bedding for a moment and extracted the blanket under the bedspread. Holding it up to shield his view, he walked close to her and held it out.

  Parker snatched the blanket and wrapped it around her torso. “Seriously, stop acting like a puppy about to get spanked for piddling on the carpet. We’ve already got Booster.” She waddled over to the kitchen chair and sat down, careful to keep the blanket loose around her legs. Her mind wandered to the need for a shower. “Ugh. I can smell myself. Well, now you know I’m okay, I guess if you had other things you needed to do.”

  “Oh, well … I thought you’d want your car back.”

  “Ah.” She ran her thumbs over her brows, easing away a budding headache. “You’re probably waiting to drive me up to my car so I can bring it back.”

  His tight, apologetic expression answered for him.

  “Then I guess you’re staying for breakfast. Why don’t you help yourself to some Lucky Charms while I take a quick shower?”

  Taking a shower without getting the bandage on her arm wet proved impossible. “Hey, I don’t suppose your doctor friend sent along any fresh gauze or ointment?”

  “I picked some up for you,” called Guy in return.

  She turned off the water, pulled the shower curtain aside, and grabbed a towel.

  “This stinks. I walk like a little old lady, and my arm is totally useless.”

  “You can’t stand being vulnerable, can you?” His voice came right outside the door, gentle and without accusation.

  Parker hugged the towel to her body, feeling exposed physically and emotionally. After a pause, she resumed drying herself. “Who does?”

  “It doesn’t mean you aren’t strong, you know. Or any less competent.”

  Parker’s lungs seemed to evacuate all air. How had he pinpointed her innermost fears on the first try?

  “Parker … Daisy … Feeling pain, needing help, it’s part of being human. Don’t be afraid of it.” She heard him shifting outside, and she moved to put her hand on the door, as if touching him through the wood. His voice continued, even softer. “Sometimes ... sometimes I think we have those feelings so we’ll cling to each other, stay connected. Think how lonely it would be not to need someone else. Not to have them need you in return.”