He set down his cup. “Gimme a minute and I’ll go with you.”
“To the ladies room?” she asked, bemused.
He hailed Brandi, who was carrying a tray full of plates heaped with food to the next booth over. “Brandi, tell your dad to wait until we come out of the bathroom before he starts to cook our breakfast, okay?”
“Sure, Simon.”
He laughed. “Just figured out which one I am, huh?”
She just grinned.
“When you’re through deliverin’ that order, could you bring a chair back to the ladies room?”
“Sure.”
“Simon, what are you thinking?” Kylie asked, aghast. “Are you crazy? You’re not coming to the ladies room with me.”
CHAPTER TWO
“Look at me, Kylie.” His command was quiet.
For some unfathomable reason, she did as she was told.
“You drove all the way from Philly in a rust bucket of a car that’s so old it’s pre-historic. You slept in it last night. You must need to pee somethin’ fierce. And I bet you’re dyin’ to brush your teeth, too. If it’s been as long as I think it has, they must feel like they’re covered with fur. You have two bags from Walmart. One has maybe three changes of clothes. The other has some basic toiletries, the kind most people already have and don’t have to go out and buy all at the same time—toothpaste, tooth brush, shampoo, deodorant, body wash. Aside from your laptop and purse, the contents of those two bags seem to be the only things you possess in the world.
“I also saw a tube of antibiotic cream, and Band aids, which means that despite your protestations to the contrary, you did a hell of a lot more than just step on a piece of broken glass. I’m sure you were hopin’ I’d forget. Do you think I didn’t notice you limpin’ on the way in here? Or that I didn’t hear your little hisses of pain?” He reached across the table and took both her hands in his, his touch gentle and strangely comforting. “Yes, I am goin’ into the ladies room with you. I’m gonna sit you on the chair Brandi’s gettin’ for you and I am gonna look at the bottoms of your feet to make sure your cuts aren’t infected. And you’re gonna let me because, whether you want to admit it or not, you’re in trouble and you need help. So, please, Kylie, let me help.”
She just stared at him, dumbfounded. He sounded so sincere, so concerned, as if he really cared about her. And he’d said please! It was very seductive. And very dangerous. “Simon, I—”
“I put the chair where you told me to, Simon,” Brandi reported perkily. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Yeah.” He stretched upward, fishing his truck keys out of his jeans pocket and handing them to her. “In my truck, on the floor behind the passenger seat, are two Walmart bags. Could you bring them to me please?”
“You got it.”
“Simon…”
“No arguments, Kylie. If you leave now, you can go ahead and pee while I’m waitin’ for Brandi to come back with the bags. Otherwise, I will be in there with you for that, too.”
Omigod, he means it!
As if she’d been shot from a cannon, Kylie slid across the booth and jumped up, wincing when she put her full weight on her feet. Instantly, Simon was there beside her, his arm around her shoulders, head bent close enough to hers to murmur in her ear, “Here, darlin’, let me help you.”
She compressed her lips between her teeth. “Really, Simon, I can manage. Honestly. Just let me walk to the restroom under my own steam, and I-I’ll let you look at my feet, okay?”
He released her. “Then go.” He nodded toward the plate glass window. “Brandi’s already on her way back in here.”
Still biting her lips, she felt everyone’s eyes on her as she limped her way around tables, heading toward the restrooms at the back of the diner. She had just finished peeing in one of the two stalls and was washing her hands at the sink when Simon knocked on the door.
“I’m comin’ in,” he announced, even as he pushed the door open and walked in carrying the chair in one hand and the plastic bags in the other. “Sit.” He patted the seat and again, inexplicably, she did as she was told, wondering where her backbone had gone. Wasn’t she the same woman who, not two hours ago, had vowed to take charge of her own life?
Simon hunkered down in front of her and lifted her right foot onto his thigh. She watched as he untied her tennis shoe and removed it. Rolling her sock down around her ankle, he eased it over her heel and off her foot. Using great care, he pried the adhesive from her skin and removed the various Band aids she’d used to cover the worst of the cuts. Two were still oozing sluggishly. “God damn it, woman. No wonder you’re limpin’.” He repeated the process with her left foot, to reveal even more oozing cuts. Releasing her feet, he stood up. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
True to his word, he was back mere seconds after leaving the room. Another man entered right behind him, this one with brown hair, eyes the color of milk chocolate, and the lean, muscular build of an athlete. He was carrying a black medical bag.
He held out his hand for her to shake. “Hi, Kylie, I’m Dr. Lucas McKay. Simon here says you might have some glass shards still embedded in your feet. Mind if I take a look?”
Kylie just shrugged, spreading her hands helplessly. “Sure, why not?” She looked up at Simon, trying to keep a smile from forming. “Anybody else out there you wanna invite to this shindig?” She glanced around the small room. “We could fit at least six more people in here if we tried really hard. Eight, if two of them stand on the toilets.”
Simon just smirked. Lucas McKay chuckled as he set his bag down on the floor. He quickly washed his hands and snapped on a pair of latex gloves before hunkering down in the place Simon had just occupied. “Give me your feet, Kylie.” He ran his index finger gently over the sole of each foot, pressing lightly around the cuts that were still oozing blood. “You’re right, Simon. There are still shards in a few of these. I think we should get you to my clinic, Kylie.”
“No.” Her refusal was adamant. “No clinic. We’ll do this right here.”
McKay just shrugged. “You’re the patient. Simon, could you please fetch me a chair? My legs are about to give out.”
She glanced at his legs. Really? They look as strong as tree trunks. These are two seriously hunky dudes.
While Simon went to get another chair, Dr. Lucas McKay reached into his medical bag and stood up, holding a couple of sterile alcohol swabs, an aerosol can, and a pair of long tweezers wrapped in paper. As soon as Simon returned, the doctor took the chair from him and placed it in front of Kylie’s. He sat facing her, lifting her feet onto his lap. Opening up one of the alcohol swabs, he gave her a commiserating look. “Sorry, Kylie. This is going to sting, I’m afraid.”
Kylie gripped the sides of her chair, closed her eyes and held her breath. The alcohol was cold and felt like a million stinging bees. In spite of the fact that her lips were clamped tightly between her teeth, she let out a little shriek. She didn’t even notice Simon texting something on his phone, then taking her picture. He came around behind her and bent over her, putting his arms around her shoulders and the side of his head against hers, whispering words of comfort in her ear.
Lucas held up an aerosol can. “This is a numbing agent. I can just spray this on your feet and try to get all the shards out. But it will hurt. A couple of them appear to be fairly deep. Or we can go to my clinic, I can give you a local anesthetic, and you won’t feel a thing.”
She shook her head. “No. Just…do what you have to.”
He aimed the can. “It’s going to tickle and feel cold,” he warned, pressing the button and spraying the bottom of her left foot. She twitched and giggled. At least that’s better than sobbing my eyes out. McKay picked up the long, bent-nose tweezers and unwrapped them, holding them in his right hand, securing her left foot on his lap. “Okay, Kylie. I’ll try to be as gentle as I can, but I might have to dig a bit.”
“Go ahead.” Without even thinking about it, she let go of the cha
ir and lifted her hands to grip Simon’s wrists, deriving enormous comfort from his heat and the feel of his arms around her.
“It’ll be okay, darlin’,” he murmured, “I’ve got you.”
Dr. Lucas McKay had a light, deft touch. She barely felt the first shard being removed.
The door opened. “Hello.” A plump older woman with salt-and-pepper hair stood on the threshold, smiling at them. A pair of reading glasses hung from a beaded chain around her neck.
Without lifting his head, Simon said, “Sorry, ma’am, I’m afraid you’ll have to use the toilet in the men’s room.”
“Actually, I’m here to help,” she said, stepping a little farther into the room, allowing the door to close behind her. “I’m a nurse. I saw this man come back here with his medical bag and I just came to offer my assistance.”
“Do you need anything, Lucas?” Simon asked.
“I could use a few clean towels and a glass or stainless steel bowl,” McKay said without looking up from Kylie’s foot. “And can you also bring me a take-out coffee cup for all these little glass pieces?”
“Sure thing.” The woman disappeared, but quickly returned carrying the requested items. Without waiting to be told what to do, she set the bowl down on the floor next to the doctor’s medical bag. Lucas lifted Kylie’s foot off his lap and the woman draped two towels over his thighs to keep the blood from staining his slacks. She draped the other two over the edge of the sink. “Here, honey,” she smiled at Kylie, holding out an open bottle of cold water. Kylie had to release her death grip on Simon’s right wrist to take it. Her nearly overwhelming reluctance to do that shocked her. This man was a complete stranger. And yet the warmth and comfort he offered her was something she wanted with desperate intensity. He seemed so…familiar, somehow. Yet, how could that be if they’d never met? She uncurled her fingers and took the bottle, draining nearly half of it in one gulp. The woman chuckled. “Thought you might like that. Hi, honey. I’m Helen Voorhees. My hubby and I are down from Boston to do a little fishing. How’re you holding up, sweetie?”
Kylie smiled back. “I’m good. I’m Kylie Ferrell. The man torturing me is Dr. Lucas McKay and the man holding me down to keep me from escaping is Simon Rafferty.”
“Gentlemen,” Mrs. Voorhees murmured.
“Mrs. Voorhees.” Lucas McKay ran his thumb up and down the bottom of Kylie’s foot until he was satisfied there were no remaining bits of glass.
“Helen. I insist.”
“Helen. I’m done with this foot.’ He wiped his bloody thumb on the towel covering his thighs. “If you would be so good as to get the peroxide out of my bag and cleanse the wounds?”
“Certainly.” Helen Voorhees moved the stainless steel bowl closer to Kylie’s chair and positioned Kylie’s foot above it. While Dr. McKay sprayed the numbing agent on Kylie’s right foot, the older woman found the peroxide and a gauze sponge. She poured a slow, steady stream over the bottom of Kylie’s foot and waited for it to stop fizzing. Then she retrieved one of the towels she’d draped over the edge of the sink and gently patted the foot dry. She picked up a roll of gauze from the medical bag and held it up so Dr. McKay could see it. At his nod, she ripped off the sterile wrapper and proceeded to wrap the gauze around Kylie’s foot and ankle.
“She has clean socks in one of those Walmart bags,” Simon said, tightening his embrace around Kylie’s shoulders as she jerked and cried out. “Christ, Lucas, what’re you doing to her?”
“This one’s in deep,” McKay replied. “I’m having trouble grabbing it.” He gave Kylie a moment to catch her breath before once again bending his head to his task. “Hang on, Kylie, we’re almost there.”
Kylie let out a low sob, snapping her head back against Simon’s shoulder as a shriek was wrenched from her throat. “Holy fuck! That hurts! Omigod!
“Got it.” Lucas dropped a shard twice as big as the others into the paper cup. “Okay, sweetheart, I’m done. You are officially glass-free.”
“Oh, thank God!” Kylie sagged forward in relief, tears streaming down her face. “Sorry to be such a baby,” she sniffled, wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands, “but that hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.” She winced as Helen poured peroxide over this foot, then patted it dry. Before she wrapped it, Dr. McKay put a couple of butterfly strips across the long cut to help hold the edges together. While the nurse wrapped, Lucas McKay stood at the sink, ripped off the latex gloves, and washed his hands.
“You’re not a baby,” he assured her. “It must have hurt like hell. If it had been me, my screams would have been heard over by the lake. How did you happen to be walking barefoot through broken glass?”
“I-my house just…sort of…blew up.”
Simon straightened abruptly, placing his hands on her shoulders.
“Oh, my God!” This from Helen Voorhees as she picked up the metal bowl. Walking it over to one of the stalls, she poured the peroxide into the toilet and flushed.
Dr. McKay frowned. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“Just some cuts and bruises on my left arm. I fell asleep on the sofa in the living room. The explosion happened in the back of the house, near my bedroom. I must’ve stepped on the glass when I walked out my front door. I-I was so dazed, I didn’t even realize it until a bit later.”
“Merciful heavens, child, an explosion!” Mrs. Voorhees came back, placed the bowl in the sink, and turned on the hot water. It’s a wonder you weren’t killed!” she exclaimed. “God was really watching out for you.”
God. Kylie didn’t bother to hide her grimace. Right. Would that be the God who told my father that the only way to purge me of all my sins was to beat the living crap out of me? The same God who let me find my no-good boyfriend banging another woman in my bed? The God who made me a target of Mafia hit-men? The God who let my house be blown up and who ignored my constant litany of pleas to keep my car running? That God?
“I figure the back of the sofa kept me from worse injury,” was all she said, as Helen knelt again and rummaged through the Walmart bags looking for the new socks. She ripped off the card and the hang tag, tossing them in the trash. Then she eased the thick white socks over Kylie’s bandaged feet. Even though her hands were gentle, Kylie winced at every touch.
“When were you planning to tell me all of this?” Simon asked, giving her shoulders a slight squeeze.
“Well, let’s see. We have now been acquainted for”…she consulted her watch…”oh, around thirty-seven minutes. I’ll have to check my schedule, but normally I reveal this particular tidbit of information in the fifty-fifth minute of acquaintanceship.” She shrugged and gave him a pleading look. “So I jumped the gun a little bit. I hope this doesn’t mean the engagement is off.”
Everyone laughed, including Simon Rafferty. His phone beeped. He fished it out of his shirt pocket and looked at the screen.
“I’d like to have a look at your arm as well,” Dr. McKay said.
“It’s okay. I doctored the cuts myself with some antibacterial cream in the restroom at Walmart.”
“Nevertheless...” He folded his arms, leaned his hip against the sink, crossed his ankles, and stared at her until she sighed and pulled her left arm out of the sleeve of her track suit.
Thank God she was now wearing one of the bras she’d bought at Walmart. She’d put it on in their restroom. “Fine. I just want to state for the record that this particular tidbit of information wasn’t scheduled to be revealed until, well, never.”
“Duly noted.” Smiling, Lucas took her hand and turned her arm back and forth, inspecting the cuts, which by now had begun scabbing over nicely. He touched one or two, but generally seemed pleased. “Okay, I think they’re fine. Your feet, not so much. You can’t walk on them.”
“Sure I can. Once I get my shoes on, I can—”
“No. I mean you are not allowed to walk on them.”
She stared at him in horror. “But—but that’s impossible! I have to walk on them! How am I going to get anywhere?”
“Where are you staying?”
“I-I—”Flummoxed, she just stared at him helplessly. “I-I’m not. Once my car is fixed, I’m leaving.” Unless it costs too much. Or takes too long. Both of which are more than extremely likely. In which case I’m screwed. How am I supposed to get a job if I can’t get to the job?
“Lacerations on the heel or bottom of the foot take the longest to heal because the skin is so much thicker there. And they are the toughest to heal because putting weight on them keeps opening them up, risking infection. You must stay off of them.”
“Don’t worry, Luc,” Simon spoke up, not even looking up from fiddling with his phone. “She’ll be stayin’ with us.”
“Simon, no!” Kylie’s head snapped around to look at him. “That’s—I can’t possibly impose on you! No, no, no.” She shook her head on each no. “Impossible. Out of the question.”
“It’s no imposition, darlin’. My brothers can’t wait to meet you. Look.” He handed her his phone and touched the video replay button. Two drop-dead gorgeous men who looked exactly like Simon Rafferty were waving at her. “Hi, Kylie,” one of them said, “I’m Caleb and this is Ash. Simon told us about your difficulties and we’re delighted to have you as our guest. Can’t wait to meet you. And don’t worry about a thing, Lucas. We’ll make sure she stays off her feet.”
The video ended, leaving Kylie just staring blankly at the phone, not sure what to do or say. ‘You’ve been recording all this? Why would you do that?”
“Why would I do that?” Simon cleared his throat and hunkered down beside her once again. He grabbed both her hands and held her gaze with his. For some reason Lucas McKay and Helen Voorhees ceased to exist. It was just the two of them in that little bathroom. “Because you’re in trouble and you need help. Because I was drawn to you the minute I saw you sleepin’ in your car. More than I’ve ever been drawn to any other woman. Ever. My brothers and I have been looking for that one special woman all our lives. The one woman strong enough, brave enough, and generous enough to take on three alpha males. The one woman who will complete and fulfill all of us. Because I want to give us all a chance to find out if you are that woman.”
Passion's Fury (The Doms of Passion Lake Book 2) Page 4
