by Kris Norris
“Sit down, Finley.”
“Once I have it under control. I need—”
“You need to not give yourself a concussion when you pass out from the pain. So sit your ass down before I decide I need to tie you to the chair. Or maybe I’ll just use your set of handcuffs.”
Her head snapped up, her pupils dilating as she took in a full sweep of his body. A hint of pink warmed her cheeks, a noticeable hitch in her breath escaping before she clamped her lips together, slowly easing into the chair. He smiled at the irritated huff as her butt slid into place, her injured hand resting on the table.
“Better. Now, to answer your first question, all I did was clean the wound. But seeing as that trap had nicked your damn bone… You should have gone to the hospital.”
Her back stiffened at the word, and he couldn’t help but wonder why.
“I told you. I don’t like hospitals.”
“Actually, Jonah told me. And it’s not about liking or disliking, sweetheart. It’s about making wise choices.”
She twisted to look at him over her shoulder. “As much as you don’t want to hear this…sometimes, choices are about what you can live with. Right or wrong.”
Fuck. Hard to argue with that. “Meds should kick in soon. Until then, you need to take your mind off the pain.”
She snickered, the playful sound dimmed by low groan. “Great idea. I’ll get right on that.”
He laughed. He couldn’t help it. She glanced at him again, her glare impossible to miss.
He let a smile curve his lips. “You are, without a doubt, unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”
“You make that sound like a bad thing.”
“Not bad. Not sure what, actually, but you’re unique.”
She cursed softly, clenching her other hand into a fist. “Is this typical of your bedside manner? Because I’m thinking you might want to work on it.”
“No. Usually, I’m not so nice.” He moved to the chair beside her, sliding into it. “Give me your other hand.”
She arched her brow. “Why? You gonna poke the needle around in it, too? Even things out?”
“No, smartass. Though I might just consider it, if you keep giving me that attitude.” He sighed. “I’m not going to hurt you. Trust me.”
Her shoulders visibly drooped, pain shadowing her eyes as she offered him her hand. Wariness gleamed in her eyes, as if she wasn’t quite sure if trusting him was one of those wise choices he’d mentioned.
He cupped her hand in his, drawing his fingers along her palm before starting a slow circular motion with his thumbs, gently massaging certain areas of her hand.
Finley inhaled, seemingly holding her breath before exhaling, the tension in her muscles easing. “You know about pressure points? Who are you?”
The hint of awe made his smile return. “Just the asshole who’s renting the cabin next door.”
The blush on her neck and cheeks deepened. She opened her mouth then closed it, a rough sigh fluttering her hair. “I’d apologize, but…”
“But, I’m an ass.”
“There are worse things you could be.” She tilted her head to one side, studying him. “Surely, this isn’t surprising.”
“Not particularly. I’m just wondering how you came to this conclusion when we haven’t really talked before.”
“Oh, we’ve talked. It just involved you demanding I move my Jeep. I believe your exact words were, ‘Your damn junk heap is blocking the walkway’, though you might have added in a few more…expletives. My head’s still a bit foggy.”
He groaned inwardly. Again. Fuck. He had been an ass. But after his last tour…patience and pleasantries had been hard to come by. “You were blocking the pathway.”
“True. And god forbid one of your dates got her designer pumps dirty.” She inhaled. “Christ, they could have broken a nail. What was I thinking?”
“I revise my previous statement. You’re incorrigible.”
“And perhaps a bit hasty to judge—at least where you’re concerned.” She closed her eyes, a soft moan humming free when he moved his thumbs to her wrist. “Did I ruin your dinner plans tonight?”
He shrugged. “Don’t sweat it. Comes with the territory.”
“Your date didn’t look too impressed.”
“Date?”
“Young. Blonde. I think you called her Rachael.”
He chuckled. “Not my date, sweetheart, though I’m flattered you think someone half my age would want to go to dinner with me.”
Finley scrunched up her nose. “Maybe the meds are kicking in because I didn’t follow that logic at all.”
“Rachael’s my niece. And, if you must know, she couldn’t ditch me soon enough. She was supposed to stay the week, go hiking and shit, but I ended up meeting my brother halfway to Spokane to drop her off. That’s why I’m so late.”
A hint of a smile lifted Finley’s mouth. “So only three women in six weeks. And here I thought you were a player.”
He paused for a moment, enjoying the way her pulse strummed beneath his finger. It made him want to raise her hand and taste that spot with his mouth. Feel the steady beat throb against his tongue. “Keeping score, are we?”
“Hard to miss when I’m running out to my car every time you have a new ‘friend’ over.” She met his gaze then sighed. “Sorry. Who you sleep with isn’t my business. Not sure what’s come over me. Again, maybe it’s the meds. I don’t seem to have much of a filter, right now.”
“Too soon to blame it on the drugs, and I sincerely doubt you’ve ever had much of a filter. You seem like the kind of girl who speaks her mind.”
“What did you call it before? Occupational hazard?”
“Right. Being a ranger and all.”
Her mannerisms changed immediately. Her muscles tensed again as the smile faded into a fine line.
“Sorry. Conservation officer. My mistake, but…honestly, I don’t know what the difference is.”
“That’s easy. Rangers are a whole other breed of crazy. They’re tough, smart—find their way using moss and a damn magnetized stone. They’re the Special Forces of the wilderness. Hell, some of the shit they man up to do…” Her gaze fell to the table. “Never again.”
He paused at the odd comment before trying to lighten the mood a bit. “You rescued a lynx without sedating it. Trust me, sweetheart. That’s not remotely sane.”
She gave him small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
He nudged her foot under the table. “Not that it matters, but I didn’t sleep with all of them. The three women you saw. Two were friends—people I’d served with. They just needed somewhere to crash. A getaway from the real world. The other… Not that I want to confirm my ‘player’ status, but…” He shrugged. “She was convenient. What you’d call a very temporary distraction.”
Finley’s expression softened before she nodded, breaking eye contact. She stared at where his hands held hers, following his fingers as they moved along her skin. Another grimace shaped her features before she seemed to push the pain aside.
She looked up at him again. “So. What’s your story?”
“You already know it. I’m a doctor.”
“Ex-military. How long were you in the service?”
“Twenty years. Right out of high school. Got accepted into medical school straight off. Been paying back my time ever since.”
“And, yet, you just quit. After twenty years.”
He smiled, enjoying the quizzical furrow of her brow. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“Please. Law enforcement isn’t that different. And, like officers, there’re two kinds of soldiers. Those who use it and leave as soon as they’ve paid their dues, and lifers. Twenty years isn’t paying it off, Coen.” She tilted her head. “What happened?”
“Maybe I just got tired and quit.”
The furrow deepened. “Maybe. Or maybe something ate at your soul to the point you had to leave or lose what little was left of the idealistic man who’d joined with
the hopes of making a difference.”
Her words hit him. Hard. Shit, how could she know that yet not know him? Or did she? Had she somehow seen through the hardened exterior to what he’d hidden inside—the part of him he’d had to bury before it’d been bled dry like so many of the men he’d watched die. Let die.
He closed his eyes for a moment. He’d done all he could. Saved those capable of saving. And, if that meant he had a few demons to quiet every night, so be it. He’d made his choices knowing full well he’d have to live with them.
Finley’s soft sigh drew him back, and he realized he’d been sitting there, staring at nothing with his hands cupped around her arm.
She glanced away again. “And there I go again. No filter. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
He plastered on the fake facade he’d perfected over the years, giving her a wink. “Can’t hurt stone, sweetheart.”
“Right. And you probably only bleed on the inside.”
“Now, we’re starting to understand each other.” He gave her a genuine smile. “But. Since we’re keeping track… You. Jonah.”
Finley coughed. “Excuse me?”
“Really, Finley. All that time together. Alone. Out in the middle of the woods.”
“We’re just friends.”
“Of course, you are.”
“Coen.” Finley pursed her mouth. “Let me put it this way. There’s only one person in this room Jonah might be interested in.” She leaned toward him. “And it’s not me.”
Coen cursed under his breath. Great. Now he’d insulted her partner.
She kicked him gently with her foot. “It’s fine. Besides, Jonah’s like family. He and my brother, Brad…” Her breath caught, her tone thickening. “They were together for years. Why do you think he’s so damn overprotective?”
He didn’t miss her attempt at changing the subject. Whatever had happened, it obviously hadn’t ended well. He tsked her. “He’s not overprotective. You’re just… What was it? Right. Reckless.”
“And you’re an ass…” Her voice hummed into a low sigh as her head tilted back against the chair. “Or maybe you just have a really nice one.”
She gasped, blinking several times as she looked at him. “Oh god. Did I just say that? Out loud?”
He chuckled. “And that would be the drugs kicking in.” He stood, moving over to her chair. “And yes. Every word.”
“Damn.” She accepted his hand, swaying sharply against his chest. “Christ, Coen. What the hell did you give me?”
“Percocet.”
Her eyes widened, her pupils overly dilated. “Percocet? Do you know how long that’ll take to get out of my system?”
“If you’re smart and take more when you wake up? A couple of days.”
She shook her head, the jerking movement tripping her against him again when she tried to step away. “Can’t…poachers…”
“Poachers can wait. You need to rest.”
“No…”
She didn’t resist as he lifted her in his arms, crossing the short distance to the bed. He sat her on the mattress, smiling when her gaze lazily swept the length of his body.
“None of that. Now, let’s get you undressed.” He turned toward the small dresser. “Is there something you’d like to wear to bed?”
“You mean besides you?”
He snapped his head around, wondering if he’d actually heard her correctly. A deep blush stained her cheeks, her doe-eyed gaze confirming his suspicions.
She rasped out her next breath. “God. I need to just stop talking.”
“Percocet reacts differently with everyone. Apparently, you lose what little filter you had. Pajamas?”
“I’ll just sleep in my shirt and undies.”
“I’m a doctor, Finley. I think I can restrain myself in order to help you undress.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about.” She giggled then placed a hand over her mouth. “I really, really, need to stop talking.”
“Shirt and undies it is.” He crouched. “Boots, then pants. Then sleep.”
He reached for her laces, tugging them free before slipping off her hikers. She giggled again as he removed her socks, wiggling her toes once they were bare. He held one foot in his hand, admiring the sleek curve of her arch, the perfect symmetry of her feet before giving himself a mental shake. Now was not the time to discover he had a latent foot fetish.
Finley inhaled roughly, drawing his focus back to her face. Her expression had sobered, her lips slightly parted as she watched him, her gaze never leaving his face.
He arched a brow. “Do I even want to know what you’re thinking?”
She blew out a slow breath, her lips curving up into a dangerous smile. “That I like the view. You, on your knees between mine.”
Desire settled hot in his gut, and he leaned forward, tracing the curve of her jaw. “You’re going to hate yourself when you remember all this.”
“Will I?”
“What? Hate yourself? Or remember? The later’s unlikely. It’s the drugs talking.”
“Or maybe they’re just allowing me to say what’s really on my mind.” Her grin widened. “What I’d like to be on my tongue.”
“Fuck, Finley.” He pushed to his feet, yanking her pants open before shoving them over her hips, tossing them on the chair. Then, he arranged the pillows, helping her beneath the covers.
She grabbed his wrist as he straightened the blankets around her. “Don’t go.”
He leaned over her, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. “As much as I’d love to climb in with you…I have a strict rule about my lovers having to be conscious. Which you won’t be in about two minutes.”
She pouted, her eyes already drifting shut. “But I don’t want to be alone.” Her voice wavered out of pitch, the last few words muffled. “That’s when the nightmares start.”
Nightmares? He thumbed her cheek. “Sleep. I’ll come back tomorrow. Check on your hand.” He took a few steps away.
“My brother was a ranger.”
He stopped, turning back to face her. “What did you say?”
“I’ll never measure up. Never be worthy…umm. You’re so damn handsome.”
“Goodnight, Finley. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She didn’t answer, the steady whisper of her breath filling the silence. He made his way to the door, locking the damn thing behind him before he headed along the path. He reran everything she’d said, hating the way his body responded to nothing more than a few stolen words. Words she couldn’t possibly mean. Words that would likely keep him awake all night.
About the Author
Author, single mother, slave to chaos—she’s a jack-of-all-trades who’s constantly looking for her ever elusive clone.
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