It was probably a good thing. I needed to keep to my no men policy, even if his kisses could be a contender for a natural wonder of the world.
Aidan was back within the hour. I wondered what was taking so long. I figured he might have changed his mind and gone home, but no, it was much worse. His hands were full of canvas bags from the market in town. Of course he used recyclable bags.
He walked right in, knowing I was in no shape to get up and answer the door. “Sorry it took so long, I thought your refrigerator could use some tenants.” He held up the bags.
“You didn’t have to do that. I told you I don’t cook.”
“But I do.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re going to need some help.”
“I have friends.”
“Now you have one more.” He headed for the kitchen.
“Wait.”
He turned my way.
“What’s your angle?”
He lowered the bags. “Angle?”
“All of a sudden you’re Prince Charming and you like me after months and months of despising me. I don’t buy it, and I don’t have friends of the opposite sex variety.”
The bags landed on the floor in a soft thud. His lips pressed together as he thought about what to say. “I’ve never despised you. I maybe despised myself for being attracted to you, but only because I was seeing you wrong at first. I didn’t want to make the same mistake I made with Portia. But the more I’ve watched you, the more I see that you aren’t like her at all. You care more about others than yourself.”
I laughed. “Your vision is cloudy if that’s what you think.”
“That’s what I know.”
“You don’t know me.”
“Maybe not, but I know that every time I find you in my arms, I don’t want to let go.”
I felt the same way, but I still hesitated. “I’ll think about us being friends, but that’s it.”
“It’s not a bad jumping off point.” He picked up the grocery bags and headed for the kitchen.
“But I don’t need your help.”
His laughter rang through my house.
~*~
I stared at Aidan on the other end of my couch as we ate. He made a good call getting cheeseburgers and fries. The night demanded it. He didn’t look out of place on my zebra-striped couch. I thought for sure he would, especially since he made fun of it. Maybe it was the athletic shorts and tank that showed off how in shape he was, or maybe it was how relaxed he looked. Either way, I didn’t like it. He wasn’t supposed to fit in here. He read the Bible after all.
I switched the view to my propped-up leg covered in ice bags. The pain was beginning to subside, though it still wasn’t letting me forget that it was there.
“Thanks for dinner.” I begrudgingly felt the need to express the sentiment. I wasn’t used to thanking men verbally or at all.
“You’re welcome. I bought healthier fare for the rest of the week.”
“Are you planning on coming over every night to cook for me?”
“For us.”
“Uh, no.”
He set his cheeseburger down on his plate. I’d forgot I even owned plates. “Why not?”
“First of all, there is no ‘us’, and by tomorrow I’ll be as good as new.”
He eyed my leg. “Did your doctor clear you for high-impact workouts?”
I shoved a fry in my mouth.
“That’s what I thought.”
I took my time savoring the hand-cut fry before swallowing. “My physical therapist is an idiot.”
“Because he said no exercise?”
I became interested in the dotted pattern on my black plate. “No. I was cleared for certain activities, but . . . You know? Never mind.”
He leaned over and stole a fry off my plate. He had already inhaled his own. He was feeling way too comfortable around me. “That bad, huh?”
I took my fry out of his hand and popped it in my mouth.
He stole another one and this time didn’t waste a moment eating it.
If it were under different circumstances I would have enjoyed the playfulness, and maybe I did anyway. It, unfortunately, made words fall out of my mouth. “He recommended swimming.”
“That’s not so . . .” The light went on before he could finish his thought. He edged closer. “He probably wasn’t thinking, or maybe he didn’t know what happened.”
I shrugged and turned from his gaze. “It doesn’t matter.” And of course the physical therapist knew. Everyone in this town knew what happened to me.
He braved moving right next to me. “Is there anything else you can do?”
“A stationary bike. Lame. I don’t even consider that a workout.”
“But doing the tango qualifies?”
I turned and met his penetrating focus on me. “Why were you watching me?”
“I would think that was obvious. You dance well.”
“Do you dance?”
“Not in a long time.”
“But you can?”
“Nowhere near as good as you or your partner tonight.”
“He was fantastic.”
“Is he your type? Or do you just like famous athletes?”
“Permanent hiatus, remember?”
“Say you weren’t on a break from men.”
He was much more tenacious than I gave him credit for. He was surprising me left and right. “All right.” I decided to play along. “When it comes to looks, I don’t have a particular type per se, as long as I find them attractive. I’m looking, or at least I was, for a certain attitude. And of course the usual, they have to be well employed and worship me.”
He stole another fry and grinned. “What attitude are you talking about?”
“An independent man. Someone who is only in it for fun. Someone who knows it’s all going to come to an end. They have to be able to walk away when I say so.”
He leaned back and studied me. “What about Paxton?”
I could feel the disgust in my facial features. “He was a lapse in judgment. For a brief but stupid moment, I thought I wanted something different, but he reminded me of exactly why that was a horrible idea. So, I can at least thank him for that.”
“Not all men cheat.”
I sat up as best I could and shifted my leg. “Jury is still out on that.”
“I’ve never cheated on anyone.”
“Don’t worry, you still have time to ruin some woman’s life.”
“Do you really believe that about men?”
“As far as I can tell, it’s what you’re best at.”
Chapter Seventeen
He held out his hand for me to shake before he left.
I stared at it in disbelief. “I prefer saying goodbye our usual way.” Never had a man tried to shake my hand goodnight. What was wrong with him?
He still sat close—close enough to see the war in his eyes had returned, but the battle was different. He was trying to decide whether he should kiss me or not. I wasn’t sure which side I hoped won. I knew I couldn’t keep kissing him if I wanted to maintain any distance from him, yet I’d never wanted anything more, and I wasn’t used to denying myself or being denied.
I leaned in closer. “All you have to do is let go of the strings.” I did my best to tempt him. I knew I shouldn’t, but I did a lot of things people didn’t think I should do.
He reached up and brushed back my hair. “I like being tied up.”
“Do you now?” I held back my laughter.
The shade of fuchsia that erupted on his face said he realized how that could be taken. He placed some distance between us. “You know what I mean.”
I didn’t know men could blush. It was cute. Except I had never liked cute. But for him, it worked. “Too bad.”
He stood up in a hurry. “I’ll pick you up in the morning.”
“You don’t have to. I can call Jessie.”
He leaned down and kissed my head. “I’ll see you in the morning
.” He sounded torn about it. I could hear both the anticipation and the what-in-the-hell-am-I-doing in his voice.
I watched him walk out my door wondering the same thing.
As soon as he was gone I braved removing the ice packs. I needed to go to bed. Aidan had offered to help me upstairs, but he was hesitant. I didn’t want to throw the poor guy over the edge by showing him into my room. I didn’t need the temptation either. I never thought I would say that.
I relented and took the pain medication I was given after the accident. I hated the way the stuff made me feel, but more than anything I didn’t want to go back to the doctor. I needed my life to go back to normal, but I was having a hard time remembering what that was. I knew it involved men, a lot of them. So maybe I could never go back.
And I could never move forward with someone like Aidan even if I did allow men back in my life, which I decidedly wasn’t. Aidan was obviously the marrying type. You would think two wives was good enough.
I wanted to get more of his stories, but I couldn’t seem too eager. I wanted to know how he went from Saint Mary to Vixen Portia. I wasn’t sure she was a vixen, but I reminded him of her and her infidelity pointed in that direction, so I was rolling with it. Not that I necessarily considered myself a vixen either, but I wouldn’t call someone a liar if they categorized me that way.
I tried to put some weight on my leg, and that was a mistake. I yelped all the way upstairs, hopping on one foot. It took talent and more strength than I felt like I had, but I was so over sleeping on the couch in pain. I barely made it to my master bath. I was spent by the time I brushed my teeth, threw on a nightshirt, and washed my face. I had a sinking feeling I was going to be using my crutches tomorrow.
If only I could get over my fear of the water, I could swim. I survived, right? But I almost hadn’t.
I slid into my silk sheets, or more like painstakingly settled in. My canopy bed, though romantic, was set higher off the ground than a typical bed. I sank into my pillow and looked to my right. A vision of Aidan lying next to me popped into my head. I forced him out by picturing him reading the Bible. Did he read that in bed? I hoped not. What a mood killer.
Now that the ice had worn off, my leg felt warm and swollen. Not good. I was furious with my weakness. I let the narcotics do their thing and lull me away into a restless sleep filled with Aidan. Maybe real life Aidan wouldn’t make a move, but dream Aidan was all on board. It was great—I mean fantastic, like I wished I would never wake up—until he started talking about forever like it even existed. I woke up in pain and angry at Aidan for ruining what was a perfectly steamy dream, maybe best dream ever.
I reached for my phone to look at the time. It was only five in the morning. The drugs had worn off and I was feeling it. I knew I was going to have to admit defeat, but I refused to go back to the orthopedic center. Dr. Shannon was worthless. I’d call Easton as soon as the sun had been up for a while. I hated it, but the fear of the pain getting worse and more debilitating won out.
The seat in my shower was getting used more often than not, but it was the only way I could take one this morning. Just making it in the shower was a chore. And the medicine from the night before had made me feel nauseous. I was hating life at the moment.
I had another problem to deal with, no car . . . and Aidan.
I called Taylor—I knew she was always up early. She was one of those moms that made breakfast every morning and exercised before the crack of dawn. I couldn’t handle all those domestic overachievers. But I couldn’t deny it worked for her. She looked fab.
Taylor picked up with a laugh. “I had a feeling you would be calling this morning.”
“Why?”
“Your Zumba incident has made the rounds, not to mention who carried you off.”
I growled a sigh.
“How’s your leg? I suppose you want to talk to Easton.” There was no judgment, only motherly concern in her voice.
“It’s been better. Do you think Easton . . .”
“He’s already calling in orders for you at the hospital.”
I hated going there, but Easton didn’t have imaging equipment in his office. “Thank you.”
“He’s says he’ll work you in, to just come on over.”
The Coles were some of the most decent people I knew. Even if they were as sappy as they came.
“Can I do anything for you?” Her mothering side was out in full force.
“I’ve got it.”
“Hmm. Maybe it’s time you don’t.”
“I don’t need psychobabble this morning.”
She snickered. “Let Aidan help you. He’s wanted to for so long.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ever since your accident. I think he’s struggled with what to do.”
“What would he do?”
“I think the question is what wouldn’t he do? Who do you think called us last night worried about you and your leg?”
“Are we talking about the same man? Aidan? The man with contempt toward my very existence?” At least that’s how it had been until recently.
“Oh, honey.” She was obviously feeling her Southern roots this morning. “Anyone could see that he has feelings for you. But he’s a man, and they usually do a poor job of showing it.”
I didn’t need this, especially this morning. “I’ve got to go.”
“Cheyenne.” She sounded more like a mother, but in that you better listen to me kind of way. My own mother never came across that way. She wanted to be my friend more than anything. Sometimes, I wished she would have been my mom. Especially now. I was more like her mother.
I paused.
“I know about your father.”
I forgot sometimes that Taylor grew up in Merryton. That her parents lived here for years. Her father was less of a man than mine.
“You can’t let what he did keep defining who you are. I did that for far too many years and it cost me my husband, the family and children I could have had.”
You wouldn’t know it to look at the Coles now, but they were divorced for fourteen years before remarrying. “How do you know you didn’t make the right choice by leaving him?” That sounded desperate coming out of my mouth.
“We both made mistakes. But the biggest mistake I made was running. Eventually you have to stop. Maybe now is a good time for that. If you’re waiting for perfection, it doesn’t exist.”
“I’m not waiting for anyone.” I knew there was no such thing as the perfect man.
“Did you ever think that up until now you’ve never known anyone worth waiting for? Open your eyes, Cheyenne. Men like Aidan don’t come around every day. And yeah, he’s behaved like a fool, but you have to admit how intimidating you must be to any man. And what an unlikely match you are, but honestly, the more I think about it, the more I think you both need each other.”
“I don’t need a man.”
“Well, maybe he needs you.”
“Go eat some sprouts or something.”
She laughed. “I’m here if you ever want to talk.” She hung up.
Not happening. What good would talking about it do? My dad left. Nothing could ever change that. Besides, he taught me a great lesson. And as far as Aidan was concerned, there was nothing to discuss. Mister I-read-the-Bible didn’t need me, and I certainly didn’t need him.
Except when I walked in my kitchen—okay, so I hopped—I saw a Jessie Belle bag on the counter. Inside were chocolate chip cookies. Not only that, there was milk in the refrigerator and more food than it had ever seen.
I sank into my kitchen chair, since it was closest, and indulged in calories I probably couldn’t afford now that my leg wasn’t in any condition to work out. And my mind wouldn’t let me forget my time in the river.
I was getting ready to text Aidan that I wouldn’t be needing his services this morning. I wanted to get to the hospital as soon as possible. I was hoping not to have to cancel any clients today. I just needed to know that the break was still
healed. I couldn’t stand the thought of a cast again. Using crutches was going to be bad enough. I wasn’t looking forward to the stares. I only wanted to be gawked at for my looks.
In the middle of my text there was a knock on my door. If it was Barry from next door asking if I stole his morning paper again, I was going to hurt him. Did I look like someone who’d read a physical newspaper? Only retired people like him did that anymore. I had a feeling he just wanted to check me out. Dirty old man.
I hopped to the door, getting angrier with every jump.
Whoever it was pounded again and called out, “Are you all right?”
I recognized the voice and stopped near the coatrack in my entryway. “Why are you here?” I yelled through the door.
“I said I would pick you up this morning.”
“You’re early.”
“Taylor called.”
Ugh. She was always the last one of us to gossip. “So?”
“Will you please open up?”
I finished hopping over and opened the door to find him standing there with crutches. He was also looking pretty dashing in a crisp button-up and dress slacks. It was the most dressed up I’d seen him. “Did you get dressed up just to see me?” I leaned against the doorframe, making sure to keep any weight off my left leg.
He looked down at my swollen red leg first. “Not today, but if you agree to go out with me, I would be happy to.”
“I like you casual.”
“Is that your way of saying no?”
“You are smart.”
He stepped in uninvited. “And persistent.”
“More like confusing.”
He cocked his handsome head.
“I don’t understand your one-eighty.”
He handed me the crutches, trying to get out of answering.
I refused to take them. “Where did you get those?”
He lowered them and sighed. “My new roommate.”
“No thanks. I have some. So feel free to go. I’ll call Jessie or Abby.”
Cheyenne (The Women of Merryton Book 4) Page 12
