I didn’t think it was chilly at all, but then I was used to real cold, which they never had in San Diego to my knowledge. “No, I’m fine.” He placed the phone in my hand, and then to my surprise, he went back inside. I was sure he’d be curious to see what his mother wanted to speak to me about. I knew I was.
“Hello, Mrs. Booker.”
“Hi there, Karen. How are you doing, dear?”
“I’m still pretty sore, but your son is taking great care of me.” I hated answering the ‘how are you doing’ question. I knew people meant well, but the honest answer was “Horrible. I feel like crap.” But really, who said that to someone who was trying to be nice by asking?
“I’m glad to hear that. I’m sure you’re a little more than just pretty sore though, aren’t you?”
“Well, I’m not ready to go dancing, that’s for sure.”
“And how is Cage—really? He told me he has a couple of bruises and that he’s fine. I was going to send the kids out in a couple of weeks as usual, but he says they can’t come this summer. So how bad off is he?”
Oh no! I knew he was telling her to not send the kids because he thought I’d still be here, needing him to take care of me.
“Of course they can! Mrs. Booker, Cage is sore with some cracked ribs and he’s still recovering from a nasty concussion, but having the kids out here will be good for him. I’m sure of it. Please send them and don’t even talk about it with him anymore. Just tell me when they’re arriving and I’ll make sure everything is ready. My brother and his wife can help with that.”
“Oh, I don’t know if I could do that. Just send them without telling him. It doesn’t seem right.”
She was wavering. I could hear it in her voice, and if I knew Cage at all, having those boys out here was exactly what he needed. He didn’t talk about it, but I knew it was killing him to watch his teammates play in the finals without him. It would take some of his intense focus off of me, too. Not that I wasn’t appreciative of his care, I was, but he was getting too single-minded about taking care of me.
“There are still a few weeks left before they’re out of school, aren’t there?”
“Yes. We always plan for them to come after the Stanley Cup is over, just in case. They usually come out at the end of June.”
I had a hard time thinking about Cage’s run being over. From what I’d picked up from hearing him talking on the phone earlier, the team wasn’t looking good. They were only down one game, but from what I gathered, the backup goalie wasn’t handling the pressure too well. It wasn’t a good sign.
“That’ll be plenty of time. Keep that schedule. I’ll talk to Cage, okay? I’ll tell him the plans when he can see I’m totally capable of taking care of myself. He’ll be fine, then. He’ll regret it if the boys don’t come out.”
“Thank you, dear. If anything changes, you let me know. And please take care. You may not want to hear this, especially from Dalton’s mother, but you’re really special to him. He hates that you were hurt so badly, and I’m sorry for your injuries. If you ever need another ear to listen, I’m only a phone call away, whether you’re with Dalton or not.”
Her words were touching, and I knew they were sincere. It was no wonder why Cage was as sweet as he was with me. It was obvious that his mother’s love and compassion had touched him deep.
“Thank you, Mrs. Booker. I’ll make sure Cage gives me your number to put in my phone. I look forward to meeting Jaden and Ethan in June.”
I called Cage back out to give him the phone back. “Checking up on me, was she?”
“She’s just worried you won’t tell her how you really are. I’m sure her worries aren’t unfounded. How are you, anyway?”
He took a seat across from me and gingerly touched his ribs. “I’m really fucking sore. I’ve never been this sore before. Cracked ribs are a bitch, but what good does it do to tell my mom that? She’ll just worry, and it’s not like she can fix them, you know?” He waved a hand in the air and shook his head. “Forget about me. How are you feeling today, any better? At all?”
“No, not really. It was nice having a real meal, though. Thank you for that.” I was getting sleepy, but sitting there talking to Cage was soothing. It was kind of ironic. With most people, Cage tended to be a big fiery mass of unpredictability. It was almost as if the people around him were always on edge, waiting to see which way the wind was blowing with him. And to a point, I got it. If he got angry, watch out, and it was as if he was always ready to spring into action at any moment, but not with me. With me, he was just Cage. He was careful and gentle. He even spoke softer. He was starting to give me the warm fuzzies, you know? And I loved his voice. He had such a deep, guttural voice. It was sexy as hell.
“You’re welcome. I wish I could do more.” He shook his sneakers off and ran his foot over mine. “I wish you were here under different circumstances. It’s hard for me to see you in pain.” His foot kept running over mine.
The mood was too somber for my taste. “Are you playing footsie with me, Mr. Booker? Cause I have to tell you, you’re doing it wrong.”
“What? No way. There’s no wrong way to play footsie.” He continued to run his foot back and forth over the top of mine in the same manner he had been. “See? This is footsie.”
“No. You’re supposed to go in circles around the foot and then, if you’re really interested in the girl, you run your foot up her calf.”
Cage’s foot made a slow but steady path up my calf and back down again. “I’m definitely really interested in the girl.”
His words were sweet, but I was so tired that instead of a smile, a huge yawn came out. “I’m sorry, Cage. I’m exhausted. Do you mind if I go in and try to get some sleep?”
He jumped up quickly enough to wince as he jarred his own injuries. “Of course not. Come on, I’ll help you in.”
“I can get there. If you could just get the door for me?” By the time I got back into the chair I’d been sleeping in, I could barely keep my eyes open. I slept for a good three hours before I woke up again. Cage, who was sleeping on the couch next to me, heard me shift in the chair.
“Hey there. What do you need?”
“Nothing. I’m just going to run to the bathroom and get another pain pill.” I hated taking those things. They made me woozy and lethargic, but I wasn’t ready to go it alone quite yet. Maybe in another day or so I might be.
“Okay, let’s go.”
“Cage, we’ve been through this. I can make it up those few stairs by myself.” I wasn’t sure why I bothered talking. He always agreed with me and then did what he wanted anyway. For the sake of my own sanity, I gave in and let him follow me up the stairs to the bathroom door. “That’s far enough. If you want to help me, please get me a glass of water and a pain pill. I’ll be right back down.”
“Sure.” That translated into I’ll wait right here to make sure you don’t fall down the stairs and then get your water and pill.
When I was settled back in my chair, I waited patiently for the pain pill to kick in and Cage to fall back to sleep. It didn’t take long at all for both our eyes to grow heavy once more. The next time I woke up, I woke to a glorious sunrise which was accompanied by cool breezes coming off the ocean through the window Cage must have cracked open.
He was already up and had coffee made when I struggled to a more upright sitting position. I noticed that it didn’t hurt quite as much as the day before. It was minute, but it was progress. I slowly made it up to a slightly stooped over stand and hobbled into the kitchen.
“Good morning.”
“Karen! What are you doing up?” Before I knew it, Cage had a chair pulled out and was making his way toward me.
My raised hand stopped him just short of his goal. “No. Please. I’m tired of sitting. I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to go get a shower.” My incision still hurt, of course, but I was getting stronger and the doctor said I could shower when I felt up to it. Let me tell you, I needed a shower badly. Sponge bathi
ng only went so far, and my hair could easily be likened to a rat’s home. “And no, you can’t help me.” I smiled at the disappointment on his face.
“You sure? I’ll scrub your back for you. Or your front. Your choice.” His playful wink was so darn cute. If I wasn’t half torn up with stitches and staples holding me together, I think I would have taken him up on his offer.
“I think I’ll risk going it alone.”
“Okay, but please call me if you need anything. Don’t hurt yourself just because you’re being stubborn.”
I nodded my head in agreement, knowing that I was absolutely not going to call Cage into the bathroom with me—for any reason. My progress was slow, but I made my way upstairs. For the first time, Cage didn’t follow me.
The lock on the door didn’t work, which left me the tiniest bit nervous, but I needed that shower in the worst way, so I took my chances. Cage’s shower was about the only thing in his house that was big. There was no bathtub, but the shower had dual shower heads and a rain shower to boot. It was wonderful.
Ever notice how a nice hot shower can make you feel like a new person? That was how I felt as soon as that water started raining down on me. Even through the pain of movement, I felt the rebirth of cleanliness.
Shampooing was my biggest challenge. Cage would be delighted when I asked him to brush my hair, I was sure. Honestly, I could barely lift the towel long enough to even dry my hair. No way was I going to be able to brush it. I was going to be going with the natural, air-dried look for a while.
By the time I got back downstairs, I was exhausted again. Being so tired over nothing more than moving around was frustrating, and I sure didn’t feel like sitting back in that damn chair again so soon. Instead of heading into the living room, I made my way into the kitchen where I could hear Cage rummaging around.
“How was the shower?”
He looked adorable standing there, spatula in hand. Bacon sizzled in one pan, eggs in another. I could also see thick cut bread sitting in the toaster just waiting for someone to push it down.
“Wonderful, but I wonder if you could do me a favor.”
“Sure. Anything. Name it.”
All of the sudden I felt shy. Heck, Cage had been helping me get to the bathroom and now I was bashful about asking him to brush my hair? It was kind of an intimate act, though, you know? I thought it was anyway. I loved to have my hair played with.
“Well, I can’t brush my hair very well. I can almost do it, but I’m so stiff. Would you mind brushing my hair? I know it’s a girlie thing to ask, but—what are you doing?” Quick as a fox, he threw the spatula in the sink and turned off the burners.
“I’d love to.”
He stalked toward me with such purpose in his eyes it was unsettling.
“Are you okay, Cage?”
“Ignore me. I’ve had fantasies about getting my hands in your hair and—you know what? I’m not going to finish that. Let’s go.”
He gently took my hand and started in the direction of the living room. “Can we sit outside and do it? I’m tired of sitting in that chair.”
“Anything you want. Wait here for a sec.”
When he reappeared, he had a tall, padded, zebra patterned stool in his hands that I’d seen earlier standing in the corner of the kitchen. “You can sit on this. It’s taller so it should be more comfortable for you to sit on than the other deck chairs. I’ll stand behind you and brush your hair.”
I was all in. I loved the idea of him brushing my hair outside. Think about it. Cage’s hands running through my hair, the waves crashing on the shore, the cool breezes washing over me. I wouldn’t mind hearing more about that fantasy of his either, but I sure wasn’t going to ask. Not in the condition I was presently in.
Cage’s brush strokes were gentle as he worked the tangles out. While I had some of my own personal items there, my shampoo and conditioner weren’t among them. “You smell like me,” Cage said close to my ear.
My head turned slightly toward his as he spoke. “And you smell like KitKats. Before breakfast, Cage? Really?”
Careful not to hit any of my stitches, he used one finger on my chin to face me back to the ocean. “Eyes forward. And yes, before breakfast. There is no wrong time to eat chocolate. I think that might even be written in the Constitution.”
Laughter still took a bit of a toll on my stomach muscles, but it was getting easier. “The Constitution, huh? Well, I guess it’s okay then. When did you start your love affair with chocolate?”
His hands stilled for a moment before starting again. At this point, my hair was well brushed, but I didn’t tell him to stop. “I think it was when my father left. He kept a jar of M&Ms on his bureau all the time. It’s one of the things I remember about him that doesn’t piss me off. Mom always got a kick out of his love for chocolate.” His hands continued in their soothing manner. He was only using his fingers now. I wasn’t sure he even realized it. “I ate that whole jar the day after he left. I think I felt like it was a way to get back at him for leaving us. Stupid kid thoughts. Since that day I’ve just loved chocolate. Haven’t had another M&M since, though.”
His hands finally stopped and rested on my shoulders. “You sit out here for a bit and I’ll finish breakfast. Are you warm enough?”
The sun was out in full splendor now. “I’m plenty warm.” I slowly turned and grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Thank you.”
If he knew I was thanking him for sharing something of himself and not for brushing my hair, I was unaware, but he gave me a very non-typical shy smile all the same before he walked back into the house. I’d never had a sweeter breakfast.
Chapter 16
Cage
I needed a minute before Karen came back in for breakfast to get a hold of myself. Just brushing her hair had me hard and hurting in an entirely different area than I’d been hurting. She was so damaged and hurt—I disgusted myself. But she was so …so beautiful. And I had my fingers in that glorious hair of hers like I’d dreamed of. I couldn’t help the way my body reacted to her.
Trying to quell those wayward thoughts, I turned all of my attention to re-heating the bacon and scrambling the eggs. I whipped those bad boys into a lather again right in the pan, splashing egg stuff all over. That was okay though, cleaning the stove would give me something else to concentrate on after breakfast.
Karen walked in just as I was setting our plates on the breakfast bar. She looked at her plate with eyes wide. “There’s enough here for two people, Cage.”
She may have been right. I wasn’t used to feeding women, so I just gave her what I’d eat. “Just eat what you want, I’ll eat the rest. Orange juice?”
“Yes, please.”
When I straightened up from pulling the OJ out of the fridge, I almost dropped the carton. Karen sat with her chin in her hand looking my way. Her dress was misbuttoned, and I could see about three quarters of a lacy covered breast. The uphill battle I’d fought to make myself flaccid again flew right out the window, and back came my raging hard-on in full force. Disgusted with myself once more, I stood there and continued to admire her lacy bra. How she even got it on, I can’t imagine. Man, my girl had a set of breasts. Damn.
“Cage? Are you okay?”
“Uh huh.” For a second, I thought about telling her she was putting on a small peep show for me, but why would I have done that? It would embarrass her and take my view away. I was nothing if not sensitive to her needs. Was I right?
I sat down next to her and sipped on my juice, still sneaking sideways glances inside her dress.
“Aren’t you hungry?” What a question for her to ask me.
“Starving.”
She pointed at my plate with her fork. “Well, aren’t you going to eat?”
“Huh?” Oh! She was talking about food. Of course she was talking about food. Shit. I picked up my fork and ate some eggs, not even tasting them. If just a hint of the curve of her breast made me this incoherent, I wasn’t even sure anymore if I reall
y even wanted to get into Karen’s bed. The way I acted around her, I’d probably make a complete ass out of myself and come on her leg or something horrific like that. Such thoughts were not helping me any, so I forced my attention to my plate and ate my damn breakfast.
***
After having Karen in my house for almost a full week, I’d decided that I might go completely out of my mind. She was turning me into a girl. I was sure of it. The problem was I didn’t hate it.
A couple of days ago, I went back to her place and picked up some more of her stuff. She wanted to go home, but it was still too soon. In just four days her mother would be here, and she could go home then. Reluctantly, she agreed to stay with me until that time. Not that I’d given her much choice.
“This stuff is great.” I stuck my finger back into her jar of skin cream to lather more on my face.
“Don’t use so much!”
“What? Isn’t this a ‘dime size’ amount? That’s what it says.” I flipped the jar to read the back of the label to her. ‘Apply a dime sized dollop (what the fuck’s a dollop?) to your T zone.’ I sat in front of Karen on the couch with my whole face covered in the creamy white lotion. It smelled like cucumbers and made my skin look great.
“First of all, that’s about the size of a quarter. Secondly, your T zone is your nose and forehead, not your entire face.” Her laugh tinkled through the room like the wind chimes that hung on the deck.
“Oh well. I’ll buy you more.” I continued to smear the stuff all over my face to her delight. It was the happiest I’d seen her since the accident.
She shook her head at me, but kept smiling, and I went back to smearing more stuff on over my eyelids. “Guess what?”
“What?” I cracked my eyes open to look at her.
She laughed some more at my expense, still looking at the goo covering me. “I can’t talk to you with that on your face.”
“Well it’s not time to wash it off yet, so you’re gonna have to try.” Before she had a chance to tell me what she was going to say, the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it. You stay put.”
Cage's Misconduct (NHL Scorpions #3) Page 14
