"My God,” she said on a shaky laugh.
He chuckled. “What time? I'll bring supper."
The man was hard again, his thick, solid dick practically begging for her mouth. With a sigh, she forced her gaze from his body and picked up her bag and purse. “I'll try for six, but I can't promise."
"Good enough."
She grabbed the travel mug of coffee from the counter, and Steve walked with her to the door. “Lock up before you leave?” she asked.
"Of course."
"Bye.” She reached for the doorknob.
"Hey."
She stopped, turned her head toward him.
He caught her lips in a tender kiss. “Drive careful. The temperature came up and it rained last night. Morning news says the roads are bad."
She nodded. “Okay."
He kissed her again, lightly traced her lips with his tongue. “Think about me."
She laughed and shoved her shoulder against his chest. “Bye."
Heading to her car, she noticed he'd been right. The temperature was hovering right above freezing, and even her front driveway was covered in a sheet of ice. She threw her bags on the passenger seat and slipped behind the wheel of her car. Her baby, she thought with pride as it started up with a purr.
After buckling her seatbelt, she carefully backed out onto the road, but her front wheels still spun on the ice a bit. Damn, it was going to take forever to get across town to the high school. She drove to the second red stoplight and dug her cell phone out of her bag. She dialed the school.
"Hey, Marg,” she said when the attendance secretary answered. “It's Gracie. I'm running late and the roads are hell."
"You're not the only one,” Marg said. “Half the teachers are calling in late and only some of the buses have made it in. Bob decided to have the kids gather in the auditorium until there are enough teachers."
"Great. Be there as soon as I can."
"Take it easy. Don't hurry."
"I won't,” Gracie promised as the light turned green. “Bye.” She turned off the phone and slowly raised her foot off the clutch.
Glancing in her rearview mirror, her eyes widened in horror. A huge truck came barreling at her. She pressed the gas, but her tires spun on the icy blacktop.
The truck's headlights shining through her back window was the last thing she saw before the world crumbled around her and everything faded to black.
Chapter Six
Steve paced from the picture window overlooking the driveway to his kitchen, then back. He still couldn't get over it. He'd risked life and limb on the icy roads to go to the market to get the fresh veggies for his famous spaghetti sauce. And she fucking stood him up!
He glanced at the clock over the stove. Where the hell was she, anyway? It was after eleven. She never stayed out this late. He knew because he heard the purr of her souped-up engine every night when she got home. Never after ten. Never.
He shook his head and made another pass through the kitchen. The noodles were overcooked. The sauce had a skin over the top, and the garlic bread was stone dry from sitting in a warm oven for five hours.
As he headed for the living room, ready to turn on the late night news, he saw the flash of headlights as a car pulled into the driveway.
Clenching his jaw he stormed out the front door, ready to blast her for being totally and completely inconsiderate. She could have at the very least had the decency to pick up the phone.
The car in the drive wasn't Gracie's. And the woman stepping out from the driver's side sure as hell wasn't Gracie.
Steve stopped in his tracks and shivered—not from anger he told himself, but because of the cold night air. His breath formed a white cloud in front of his face.
The woman rounded the back of the car and opened the passenger-side door. He'd seen the woman before. What was her name? She visited Gracie. Often. He'd met her once.
"Come on, honey,” the woman said. “We're home."
Steve jogged down the steps toward the car.
"Let go of me,” Gracie grumbled. “I can get out myself."
Steve's heart stuttered as he rounded the car and saw Gracie pulling herself out, leaning heavily on the door.
"Gracie?"
"Go away,” she said, her back to him.
She wasn't wearing the clothes she'd left in. The down jacket was huge on her, and it looked like she wore hospital scrub pants.
"Gracie?” he said again, stepping closer.
Her teeth were chattering, her shoulders hunched. She didn't turn around, but she said, “Go away,” again.
He turned to the other woman. “What happened?"
She pushed her thick glasses up her nose and frowned at him. “She was in a car accident."
Using the door for support, Gracie shuffled away from the car.
The breath squeezed out of his lungs when she turned toward him. “Oh, God. Babe."
Not only were her teeth chattering as if she were freezing to death, she had a black eye and a thick bandage taped to her forehead.
"I gotcha,” he said softly as he bent his knees and carefully lifted her into his arms.
She winced. Her entire body shook, a trembling that reached at least seven on his internal Richter scale.
"When was the accident? Why isn't she in the hospital? She's in shock."
Glasses lady followed him up the stairs and unlocked the door to Gracie's house. “The accident happened at about seven this morning. She's been in the hospital since then. She has a slight concussion, but she made such a fuss about wanting to go home, they released her."
Steve set Gracie down on the couch and reached for the coat lapels, but she gripped them tight.
"Go get some blankets,” he told Glasses, and he made a beeline to the kitchen and put the teakettle on to heat.
Feeling like the biggest jerk on earth, Steve mentally kicked his ass for all the horrible things he'd thought while waiting for her to come home.
He went back to the couch. Glasses lady was covering her with a thick fuzzy blanket.
Gracie huddled in the corner of the couch, her eyes squeezed shut, shaking like a scared puppy. He sat next to her, pushed the hair away from her face and examined the bandage on her forehead. “How bad are the injuries?"
Gracie's friend sat down on the coffee table. “Six stitches in her forehead, the concussion, a sprained left wrist and right ankle. And a load of bruises, the worst from the seatbelt across her chest, but I think she's pretty much covered in them."
His jaw clenched. “I'm sorry, baby."
"Go ... away."
"She's been saying that to everyone since I got to the hospital. She didn't want to see me, or the doctors or anyone."
Steve looked at the woman. “I'm sorry, I've forgotten your name."
She smiled. “Carol Haley."
"Right.” He looked back at Gracie, laid his hand over hers. “Did they give her any medication?"
Carol reached into the purse at her side. “Some pain killers, but they said she shouldn't take them tonight because of the concussion. Said she shouldn't be alone, either.” She set the brown pill bottle down on the coffee table.
"I'll stay with her,” he said softly.
The teakettle whistled, and Steve went to the kitchen. He found a box of chamomile tea in the cupboard, made a cup, and added sugar. He carried it back to Gracie.
Carol was leaning over her, listening as Gracie said something in her ear.
"He'll take care of you,” Carol said quietly.
Gracie scrunched down into the couch and pulled the jacket up over her face.
Carol looked up at him with hopelessness in her eyes.
"It'll be fine. I'll take care of her."
Carol stood up and took his arm, leading him to the other side of the room. “I don't know what is really wrong with her. I've never seen her like this. It's like, the accident affected her brain more than just a concussion. I'm scared for her."
"She's in shock,” Steve said. “I'll get some hot flu
ids into her and once she calms down, she'll sleep."
"But the doctor said—"
"Don't worry, I know what to do.” Glad Gracie had such a good friend, he touched Carol's shoulder. “I'll have her back at the hospital in an instant if I think she needs to be there. Even if I personally have to strap her to the gurney."
Carol's shoulders relaxed a bit, and she adjusted her glasses. “Good. I was so afraid ... I didn't know what to do."
"Why don't you go home and get some sleep.” He wanted to be alone with Gracie to try to calm her down. To get her to talk, or at least relax.
Carol nodded, picked up her purse from the coffee table and let herself out.
Steve went back to Gracie and sat on the edge of the couch. “Come out, come out, wherever you are."
"Go away."
"Can't do that, babe. I promised Carol I'd stay with you. And you need to drink this."
When he reached for the jacket, to pull it off her face, she slapped his hand away.
"Gracie dear, don't make me angry."
She jerked the jacket down and glared at him. Pain-etched lines bracketed her lips.
His chest constricted. Seeing Gracie like this hurt him. “Babe,” he whispered, “let me help you."
"I'm so cold and so tired."
"I know. You're in shock. You should be in the hospital."
"The bed was too hard. Everything hurts. It was so loud in there. They wouldn't give me anything for the pain. I want a shower. I smell bad...” Her voice trailed off and she dipped her head so half her face disappeared into the jacket.
"If you drink this, and start feeling a little warmer, I'll help you take a shower. Okay?"
"You can't see me like this,” she mumbled into the jacket.
He touched her cheek, ran his fingers over the red-purple skin under her eye. “You're still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Bruises fade."
A single tear slipped from her eye and it cut through him like a knife.
"Don't,” he whispered, wiping the tear away with his thumb. “Everything will be okay. I promise."
* * * *
If Gracie didn't move, she didn't hurt. If she lay perfectly still, not one little muscle twitch, she could pretend none of this had happened. If she blanked out her mind, she could forget the sound of twisting metal and sirens. The sound of the machine they used to pry her out of the car. The feel of an IV being shoved into her vein. She could forget how close she'd come to dying.
A tear trickled into her hair. She'd thought she was dead. For one long moment in time, she couldn't hear, couldn't see. Like floating face down in a pool at night. Nothing. And then everything had been so bright and too loud.
"Shhh,” she heard a whisper from beside her.
Steve. He hadn't left her side since Carol brought her home. Always right here next to her every time she woke up.
His lips kissed her cheek. “Do you want another pill?"
"No.” She hated how they made her feel. Even though they helped her sleep, a deep sleep where she didn't dream, they made her mouth dry and her vision fuzzy.
"Talk to me,” he whispered.
He'd been saying that since she came home. Maybe she could tell him. He'd taken care of her, helped her get in and out of bed, changed the bandage on her forehead. He even helped her shower when she was too weak to do it herself. The disgusting bruises hadn't scared him away.
"I didn't want to die,” she said, her throat tight with tears. “My mom died when she was my age. In a car crash. I didn't want to be like her."
"You didn't die, babe. You're right here."
"It happened so fast. That's all I can think. In the blink of an eye, it could all be over.” She lifted her heavy eyelids. Steve was propped up on his elbow next to her on the bed. His blue eyes were warm, full of gentle emotion.
"The accident wasn't your fault, Gracie. The guy ran into you."
"I know. That's what makes it even worse. I had no control over my own fate."
She shut her eyes again; the light still hurt her head.
She felt his lips brush hers and his hand settle on her belly.
* * * *
"Steve?"
He set the book he'd been reading on the nightstand and rolled over to face Gracie. “Yeah, babe."
Her eyes were brighter tonight. Not so glassy and shadowed. Smiling at her, he reached over and pushed a lock of silky red hair from her cheek. The bruise below her eye was fading nicely.
"What's your medical training?"
"I'm an EMT Three and First Responder. Why? Is something wrong?"
"No.” She rolled to her side, cringing when something hurt. He wanted to tell her to not move, even though he knew she needed to. She'd spent most of the last forty-eight hours in bed. “What do you know about endorphins?"
"Umm. They're a chemical in the brain that can be a natural pain reliever, usually produced by exercise."
"Or sex?” Gracie reached her hand out and laid it on his bare chest. Instantly his body reacted to her touch, to the simple fact that the word ‘sex’ left her lips. His cock lengthened and pulsed, his balls tightened with a rush, nearly knocking the breath from him.
He laid his hand over hers. “What are you getting at?"
"I think they're working."
"You're not having sex, though, Gracie dear.” He grinned. “Are you?"
"I've been lying here thinking about it for the past half hour."
His jeans became too tight, and he gently squeezed her hand. “Have you?"
She nodded, a tiny motion of her head against the pillow.
"And the pain?"
"Not so bad.” A small smile flitted over her lips. “But I could use some help."
Without another thought, he mated his mouth with hers. She tasted as sweet as honey. Her lips parted without hesitation, and he swept his tongue inside, tasting, taking, not getting enough. Wrapping his arm around her, he pulled her tight against him, pressed his crotch against her hip.
When she cried out, the sound was one of pain, not pleasure.
He let go of her instantly. “Oh God, babe. I'm sorry—I'm so sorry.” Shame shot through him.
She was bruised and battered, and he was crazy to even think of sex. Okay, so she'd brought it up, but in a matter of seconds he'd been the one to lose control.
"Shh.” She smiled and placed her fingers over his lips. “I'm all right."
"I hurt you.” He couldn't stand the sweet, tender look in her eyes.
"Just my side."
He turned to leave the bed. To get away from her before he did something he'd regret. She grabbed his hand and held him in a light grip.
"Steve. I need you."
He ran his hand over his face. “I have no control where you're concerned, Gracie. I could never forgive myself if I hurt you."
"Steve,” she whispered. “You'd never hurt me."
He closed his eyes and begged for the ability to control himself. Sure, he knew how to pleasure a woman, had been doing it for over half his lifetime, but he never gave without taking. Why bother? had always been his motto. But he wanted to give to Gracie. Anything to shatter the troubling dreams she kept having. How many times in the past two days had he awakened her from a nightmare? Ten? A dozen?
He squeezed her hand. “Okay, babe.” He stood up. “I'll be right back."
Chapter Seven
Steve stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. What he saw scared the shit out of him.
He cared.
He cared more about Gracie than he'd ever cared about anyone in his life. It wasn't just because she was hurt; he'd helped plenty of injured females and not felt this. He could drag a woman out of a burning building and perform basic life support on her, he'd held weeping women in his arms when they'd lost everything they held dear, but he'd never felt as if losing one of those women would rip his guts out and leave him bleeding to death.
His knuckles whitened as he fisted his hands on the counter.
A
little over a year ago, sitting in a too-expensive restaurant with Erin, her foot fiddling with his crotch under the long tablecloth, making him hard and hungry for something other than the salmon on his plate, she'd said, “Let's get married."
At first he'd laughed. Sure they were great in bed, but should a future be based on that alone? And honestly, that's all they shared. She was a well-paid legal secretary in Cooper Valley's most exclusive law firm, and he was a blue-collar firefighter. They had nothing in common but hot sex, when they had the time to get together.
But then she'd pouted with those full lips that could suck him off in seconds, and he'd thought, “What the fuck?” He wasn't getting any younger, and they'd been dating for over a year. He hadn't seen any other long-lasting loves in his future; he was just too busy.
Gracie had asked him if Erin had really broken his heart. The answer was simple. No.
He'd been more than relieved that she'd called it off, would have done it himself after learning she'd been sleeping with another man. He still didn't know which had made him more ready to wring her neck. Her reasons for the breakup—because of his dangerous job—or the fact that she'd been fucking her boss for months.
He'd had his share of women. Probably more than his share. Lots of women went after the blue-collar guys like him. Since he joined the department after getting his Fire Science degree, all he had to do was walk into any bar on any given night of the week, wearing his Cooper Valley Fire Department T-shirt, and he had his pick.
But Gracie was different. She didn't sleep around, men didn't come and go from her house, and except for a couple short trips out of Cooper Valley, she'd never stayed away overnight. She'd never overtly hit on him or any of his team. She was ... special.
And she was a contradiction he'd never tire of. Sultry, sexy temptress. Someone who told him to fuck her hard. She made him give up the final constraints of his control when he'd never, ever done it before. But he'd seen the other part of her, too. The woman who'd sparked his interest from the day he bought his house. The warm, tenderhearted teacher who had her students over for barbeques in the summer.
He'd heard her talking to a pretty young teen last year. The girl had gotten herself in trouble with a boy and was scared to death to face her parents. Gracie had been right there with her, holding her hand, when the parents arrived. She'd defended the girl and talked some sense into the girl's irate father.
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