Five Days Grace

by Teresa Hill

  She stared at him. Waiting for him to make some kind of joke out of it? He couldn't. Just couldn't. He liked her too much already. And just look at her. Men had probably been falling for her on sight her whole life and made all sorts of outlandish promises to try to win her over.

  Now, one of them had broken her heart.

  So any hint of someone falling for her, hard and fast and for any kind of superficial reason, was not going to work with her. He knew that. He shouldn't even be trying.

  Was he really trying? He'd just met her, while hobbling around like an old man, scars all over his body, more of a mess than he'd ever been in his life.

  "Sorry," he said, trying to think of exactly what he should be sorry for, trying to laugh it off. "Just stay out from under the trees, okay?"

  She laughed, too, which is what he wanted, but she still seemed a bit wary. "Here? I'm probably under a dozen trees right now."

  "Okay, so that's not going to work. We'll have to hope none of them fall on you before you leave." That was it. That's what he had to talk to her about. "Grace, you know you probably won't get out of here today, right? I mean, it's still raining. It's been raining forever. The road's going to be a mess. Even the ambulance guys were worried about getting stuck. Do you have four-wheel drive?"

  "No."

  "I'm surprised you could get here in the first place today—"

  "It wasn't easy," she admitted. "If I hadn't been so mad, I probably would have turned back before I did."

  "Yeah. Well, it's likely you'd never make it out without getting stuck. Plus, there may well be a tree or a big branch blocking the road by now. It happens out here. No streetlights, either, so visibility sucks even when it's not storming. You probably need to spend the night. I know you really don't know me, but I would never do anything to hurt you—"

  "I know that."

  "I'll do whatever it takes to make you comfortable. I'd say I'll sleep in my car, but all I have is a motorcycle I borrowed from a friend of a friend, to use while I'm here. I guess I could sleep in your car, and you could lock yourself in here."

  "Aidan, if you can make a bomb out of peroxide, how hard could it be to get past the lock on this cabin?"

  "True," he admitted. "I just thought it might make you feel better."

  "I probably won't sleep much anyway, but it won't have anything to do with you. I just... don't sleep well these days," she admitted.

  "Yeah, me either."

  "Let me finish this, and I'll see what I can find us for dinner. I'm hungry, which is good. I also haven't been eating that well."

  "Me either," he said.

  "We're a pair, aren't we?"

  He nodded.

  "Besides, I didn't get to search the cabin the way I wanted to today. The light in here is terrible. How do you see?"

  "It's a lot better when the sun's shining."

  "Maybe we'll have sunshine tomorrow. Will you help me search then?"

  "If that's what you really want, Grace."

  "I do."

  He thought he knew, but still wanted to ask. "What are you looking for?"

  "Evidence that my husband brought another woman here," she said, looking both nervous and sad. "I just have to know."

  And didn't that sound like a pleasant task, but it was clearly what she wanted. "Okay. We'll do it. I'm even better at searching than I am at sewing people up."

  "So, finding you here, with all your special skills, was a real stroke of luck for me."

  And he thought, I would do anything for you, Grace.

  The words were right there on the tip of his tongue. How he kept from telling her that, he'd never know.

  Damn. What a woman.

  The impression of her, so fragile, delicate and beautiful, coupled with her humor, her courage, her fighting spirit... Where had she been his whole life? And why couldn't he have found her before he was such a mess? Not just scarred and limping and weak, but broken?

  He'd come here with half a dozen people worried about whether he even wanted to live any longer, himself among them.

  And she deserved so much more than that.

  She deserved... everything.

  He wished bitterly that he could be the one to give it to her.

  She bent over him, her soft hands on him, delicately working to apply those little strips of tape to his skin to hold the incision together, after this, the third time he'd pulled it open. Once in the hospital from a fall, once in rehab from simply overdoing it and now here.

  It had seemed like a sign the first two times. That he was literally falling apart, his skin no longer capable of holding all the messed up, torn up pieces of him inside. His feelings, mostly, that he was trying so hard to bury inside, that just wouldn't stay buried.

  Now he had an angel trying to piece him back together.

  No way in hell he deserved that, and yet, here she was, an angel if he'd ever seen one.

  Maybe he'd popped a pain pill or two today, after he'd helped pull that tree off Maeve, and this was all some drug-induced illusion, but he didn't think his imagination was this good.

  Plus, she smelled so good.

  When she'd wrapped her arms around him in the bedroom, the smell of her alone had made him never want to move. She was almost that close to him now, close enough to smell that soft, teasing, sweetness that was Grace. He hadn't once thought about the damned hospital smell in the time she'd worked on him, he realized, and that was a miracle all on its own.

  "There," she said. "You're together again."

  He laughed.

  If only it were that easy.

  Chapter 5

  Grace hadn't expected to like him so much.

  She hadn't thought to like any man again for a long time, much less trust one. But here he was, all scarred and strong, stubborn and sad-looking, when he wasn't teasing or flirting with her. It was pure deflection on his part—the teasing, the laughter. She used it herself to try to keep people from knowing how lousy she felt most of the time, so she recognized the technique. It made her like him even more and want to take care of him, soothe him, ease his pain, although she could probably be happy just sitting here looking at him.

  He looked so tough with all the scars, so solid, and she knew he couldn't be in tip-top shape right now, having been injured so badly so recently. But he still had the body of a serious athlete or a fitness nut. Or a soldier, she supposed. Not big, bulging muscles, but a lean, tight body, with all those little lines cut into his chest and abdomen from the muscles beneath still-tanned skin, despite spending what must have been a lot of time in the hospital.

  He had wide swipes of dark stubble across his face, which she found wildly attractive; dark, short hair and deep, brown eyes; whirls of curly hair fanning across his chest and down into one of those ever-so-inviting narrow lines down the middle of his abdomen, disappearing into his waistband, and she shocked herself by wanting to reach out and stroke the whole path.

  Grace hadn't had so much as one stray sexual thought in months, except those about her husband in bed with another woman. So this was a complete surprise. She really wasn't sure what to make of it, except that perhaps it was time to finish the task that required her to have her hands all over him.

  And just moments ago, she'd rushed right into that bedroom with nothing but a kid's T-shirt clutched to her breasts. Grace winced just thinking about it, something she certainly hadn't done before she'd rushed in there. She'd just been so startled to have a signal for her phone and for the call to come through, and he had to hear it, because she really wanted him to know she was exactly who she said she was. Well, maybe she was just a little bit crazier version of her normal self, a little more out of control and struggling wildly to figure out what to do, her feelings all over the place.

  She finished with the butterfly bandages, hoping they would hold. "Okay, time to cover this. I found gauze and tape."

  "I don't think that's really necessary," he argued.

  "Well, I do, and I'm in charge. You said
so, and I'm doing it."

  He sighed. "Never would have picked you for the bossy sort."

  "I want you to stay in one piece. Is that so bad? Besides, I bet if you'd had a woman around to help take care of you from the start, you wouldn't be in this shape now." She feared being hopelessly transparent, but she wanted to know. "Is there a woman in your life?"

  "Not really. I'm gone a lot, Grace. It's hard on relationships, and I was such a mess by the time I got back to the hospital in the States."

  "You pushed her away, didn't you?" she guessed.

  "I guess I did," he said.

  And the woman had let him?

  Then she didn't deserve him.

  Grace finished taping the gauze pad in place, finally satisfied she'd done all she could. "Okay. You can get up now, but only to get in the chair."

  "Honestly, I'm not that fragile, Grace."

  She frowned at him for a long moment. "We had a deal, remember? You really want me to think you can't be trusted to keep your end of a bargain? Because I do have to spend the night in a cabin in the woods with a big, strange man I don't really know—one who has a gun—and if I can't trust you, I should be scared. I shouldn't even stay here."

  "Wow. Wouldn't have expected that sort of blatantly manipulative behavior from you."

  "People never do," she said, quite satisfied, because he'd slipped back into his shirt and was in the chair, easing back, settling in. "There, that wasn't so tough, was it? Do you have any pain pills? Want one?"

  "Yes, I have them, and no, I don't need or want one."

  "Over-the-counter stuff, then?"

  "No," he insisted.

  "Something as innocuous as acetaminophen is unmanly?"

  "No, it's not unmanly."

  She just couldn't let it go. "I know what it's like to be hurting, whether emotionally or physically, and insist that I'm not to everyone around me. I bet you do, too."

  "Okay, yeah. I do."

  "How about we make a deal? I won't do that with you, and you won't do that with me?" she suggested. "I'm not saying you have to tell me everything, because... Well, I haven't told you everything, either, and I'm not ready to. In fact, I'm actually glad you don't know everything. Because people look at you differently when they know certain things, and it gets really old sometimes, you know?"

  He reached out and took her hand, holding it warmly, reassuringly in his, looking her right in the eye. "I know, Grace."

  And, oh, she liked that. The simple touch, the sincerity.

  "So, I was thinking, for things we do know about each other? Like you being seriously injured recently and reopening your incision today? Could we promise to be honest about those things?" she asked.

  "Okay. Maybe my idea of pain is skewed, because I've experienced a lot of it in the past few months. But this?" He put his other hand over the incision for a moment. "I didn't even realize I'd done it until you saw the blood. Even now, it's just not that bad, promise. But I suppose a couple of over-the-counter pills wouldn't hurt."

  "Good," she said. "Thank you."

  He kept hold of her hand when she would have gone to find those pills. "Your turn. Works both ways, remember? How are you feeling?"

  "Like I'm enjoying taking care of someone else for a change, instead of everyone trying to take care of me. Thank you for letting me do that. I know it makes you uncomfortable."

  "A little. But it's nice, too. Your hands..." He turned over the hand of hers he held and slowly stroked her palm with his fingertips. "You have such kind hands, Grace."

  Before she realized what he was up to, he raised her hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to her palm, his lips ridiculously gentle and warm. She felt the touch throughout her whole body, like a trail of tingling, sparkling awareness.

  A man was touching her in a kind of sexual way, and she liked it. She'd thought it would be a long time before that happened again, too.

  "Thank you for taking such good care of me." He stared at her with eyes that were a deep, warm brown. "I hope you'll let me return the favor some day."

  She tugged her hand free.

  "That would be the fair thing, right?" he argued. "I let you take care of me, and you let me take care of you in return?"

  "Yes."

  "What do you need, Grace?"

  "I'll... Uhh... So much." She shook her head. "I couldn't even tell you all the things I need."

  "Name one. I'd do anything for you, Grace," he said, with a funny grin, a hint of extravagance, then laughed. "Okay, that was probably too much, too fast. I mean... If I'd waited until morning?"

  "Yes, morning... Maybe by then that would have worked," she agreed, thinking she did just like him so much. "But you already said it, and I'm not letting you take it back. I just... have to think of what I need the most."

  "Deal. I'm going to sit here, as ordered, and wait for you to tell me what I can do for you."

  "Good. I'm going to cook something." She looked around what passed for the kitchen. Refrigerator, sink, a few cabinets. "Does anybody cook here? Is there anything to cook with?"

  "Gas grill on the deck. If the rain isn't bad and there's no wind, you can drag it under the overhang of the roof and use it that way, but on a night like this, you'll just get soaked. I have stuff for sandwiches and some fruit."

  So they had a very early dinner of sandwiches with grapes and sliced melon. She gave the dog food and water, built up the fire once again. The rain hadn't lessened, and the dog stuck close, obviously still uneasy about the wind and rain. They ended up battling with a deck of cards for a while, laughing and talking about nothing, because the day had been hard enough, emotional enough, without adding to it with any more big, emotional discussions.

  Grace got tired early. It had been a long day, and she thought Aidan must be, too. They took turns in the bathroom, getting ready for bed, although they both ended up choosing to sleep in their clothes. The dog went in and out quickly, looking seriously aggrieved at having to go out in the rain, or maybe about being expected to go out alone. Grace stood in the doorway and watched him, encouraging him the whole way and telling him what a big, brave boy he was. Aidan laughed at her for the last part.

  Finally, there was really nothing to do but go to sleep.

  "You should stay in front of the fire. It's the warmest spot," he said. "Take the recliner, or the mattress on one of the beds. They aren't real mattresses, just thick chunks of upholstery foam. Pretty comfortable, actually, and it's easy to move them anywhere you want."

  She grabbed one of the foam mattresses, dropping it on the floor in front of the fire, along with a pillow and some blankets. He told her good night and started for his bedroom.

  "Aidan, stay here where it's warm. Take the recliner."

  "You're sure? I'll be fine in there."

  "Please, stay by the fire."

  So he did, grabbing some blankets and settling into the recliner. He turned out the light, and then it was just him, her and the dog, no light except from the fire. It crackled and hissed, a relaxing bit of white noise, Grace found.

  She was surprisingly comfortable under the blankets, on the mattress by the fire, the dog stretched out on the floor behind her, Aidan in the recliner by her feet. Sleeping alone, not having a warm body in the bed that you could reach out and touch in the night, to know you weren't alone... She missed that. It wasn't that she was scared at night in her house. She just missed that subtle comfort that came merely from someone else's presence.

  Maybe she'd get a dog.

  A really big, snuggly dog, and let him sleep in her bed with her.

  Maybe a dog would help chase away the awful loneliness.

  Aidan reached out a hand and found one of her feet through the blankets—the only part of her he could reach from his spot in the chair—and held onto it. "I swear, I can almost hear you thinking," he said. "Want to tell me about it?"

  "I'm considering getting a dog."

  He laughed softly. "Because Tink seems like such a prize?"

>   "Because I don't like being alone all the time in my house. I really don't like sleeping alone."

  He was quiet for a long time. "Surely you could do better than a dog."

  "Maybe, but I'm sure I'd have an easier time finding a dog I'd want to live with than a man."

  "Well, yeah."

  "Pathetic, isn't it?" She felt better just having him hold onto her foot. Just to have his hand on her in the smallest of ways.

  "I wasn't thinking that. I was thinking... tonight you can take your choice. You've got a big, wet, disgusting dog right beside you—"

  "He is just filthy—"

  "Or me. I'm right here, Grace. I'm not filthy, and I don't smell like a wet dog. If you want someone to just hold you for a while, I can do that. In fact, I'd enjoy the hell out of it."

  "Really?"

  "Of course. I mean, I'm not gonna lie to you. I'd love to do a whole lot more than that, but I won't. I... Shit... The thing is... I'd be shocked if I could."

  "What?" Did he mean what she thought he meant?

  "Are we really going to be the kind of friends who tell each other every damned thing? Because that just sounds like so much fun right now, telling each other everything—"

  "You don't have to. I don't want you to be uncomfortable—"

  He scoffed at that. "Did you see a shrink? When you and your husband split up?"

  "Not exactly. My sister's a therapist, and believe me, the line between older sister and therapist has never been clearly defined. Actually, they're virtually the same thing with us. She's eleven years older than I am, and mothered me a lot when I was little. She's never really stopped."

  "She tell you to talk about your problems, that it would make them better?"

  "Yes."

  "Ever try it? I mean, really open up to someone about all of it?"

  "Just you," she said. "And it did help, so thank you. But forget that. Forget what we said earlier. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."

  "No, it's... Shit, I hate this. I absolutely hate it, but if you're going to spend the night alone with a complete stranger, it'll make you feel better, so what the hell. The crash? Major trauma, especially to the pelvic area. Crush injuries mess with nerve endings and blood flow. My head's a mess, too, a little Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and some other stuff. I've had a lot of surgeries and a lot of medication in my system for a long time. The doctors claim it's not unusual, that I'll heal eventually and everything will work the way it used to. But so far, nothing. It's like I'm numb."