“Mmm.” She lifted her hand and touched his jaw, then stiffened. “Huh?”
“You heard me.” He nuzzled her hair. Would he ever smell vanilla again without getting an erection? “I learned a harsh lesson this year—that I should never assume someone knows how I feel.” His cousin Kallie had suffered, and he bore part of the blame. He’d bear the guilt to his grave. He’d not hesitate to speak again. “You’ll never have to guess what I feel for you. I love you, Summer.”
Her lips opened…then closed tightly. She shook her head. “No, no you don’t. It’s just because we had sex. We barely met. You can’t think you l-love me.”
His hopes started to disappear under a cold mudslide of disappointment, and then his jaw tightened. She did have a point. They didn’t know each other well, which also meant she had no idea how fucking stubborn he could be.
“Can’t I?” He rubbed his cheek against hers. “I haven’t learned everything about your past, but I know you, baby. How you react when you’re frightened or you want something, how much it means to you to help people, what you do when you get angry.” His lips curved as he remembered her punching the bastard. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I understand how much you need me, how much you care.”
“I…” Her voice shook. “It’s too soon, Virgil.”
Now look at that—she hadn’t denied either the need or the caring. “You think?”
“Okay, maybe I…care. That doesn’t matter.” She turned her face away. “I don’t see any way this could work for us.”
The exhilaration sheered through him, and it took a minute to hear the second part. “You don’t want to continue what we started?”
Her tear-filled eyes were like a lake reflecting the blue sky. “I do,” she whispered. “But…but, Virgil, there’s nothing for me here. I have a career that I can’t abandon. And I won’t be dependent on someone, not even you.”
He took a long, slow breath. He shouldn’t push her. But her plans would put her so far away. He played with the silky hair spilling over her breasts. “Do you want me to move to Gold Beach with you?”
She stared at him. “You can’t leave here. You have people who depend on you. A job. Your mountain. I… You mustn’t.”
“Mmmmh.” Back off, Masterson. He tightened his arms around her like he could force her to stay. Not happening.
He considered for a second how he’d feel about not having a job, being dependent on her. Fuck no. Especially at this point in their relationship. “I think we can figure something out, sweetheart.”
“I want… If only…” She blew out an exasperated huff. “You don’t even have a hospital here.”
She wanted to stay. Hope flickered like a candle and died. No hospital. Only one doctor in town—in the whole area within decent driving distance—and hell would freeze over before Abe’d hire a nurse. His mouth tightened.
Her hand sliding up his chest distracted him. She tried to smile for him. “So since we don’t have much time, how about some shower sex?”
A distraction? Good choice. He rose with her still in his arms. “We can do that.”
He made love to her in the shower and then his bed. Over and over. Somehow his cock kept rising as if it knew this was all the time left with her.
In the wee hours of the night, she’d finally given him the words he’d wanted to hear: “I love you, Virgil.” She fell asleep curled against him, a warm, fragrant, soft—obstinately independent—woman.
He watched, heart aching. Surely he could figure out a way to make this work.
Chapter Twelve
Morning sunlight streaming through the window and across the quilt awakened Summer. She blinked and frowned. The quilt was the wrong color. Not my bed. But the pillow held an appealing scent of mountain and man. And the whole room smelled of sex. Virgil’s room. She wiggled in pleasure and winced at her aching inner thigh muscles, sore nipples and pussy.
Her butt definitely felt abused.
Why did the memory of him taking her there, somewhere so private—so forbidden—make her want to beg for his use again? Who have I turned into? Something at her core trembled. He’d controlled her last night. Completely. Physically and emotionally. In the bed, holding her hands over her head, deep inside her, demanding that she tell him how she felt. Rumbling his satisfaction when she’d gasped out, “I love you, Virgil.” He’d made her scream it again as she came.
He’d held her so sweetly she wanted to be back in his arms. Forever.
The ache of loss threatened to grow, and she sat up. The room was empty. “Virgil?”
Shoving her tangled hair out of her face, she looked around. A nice comfy bedroom with no clutter. More cream-colored walls, heavy, dark wood dresser and tables, rich brown carpeting. The colors matched those of his mountain, she realized. He had a store-bought quilt in deep greens and blues. Maybe I should make him a real one.
On the bedside stand, she spotted a note:
Slugger
She grinned and glanced at her bruised knuckles.
Got called in to work—hopefully will be back this morning. I left some clothes on a chair for you. Coffee is in kitchen downstairs. Use the door in the corner of the bedroom. Make yourself at home.
Love you, V
Oh God. She tried to quell the warmth engulfing her. “Love you.” How easily he used the L word. She sighed. Thank God he snored, or she might think he was perfect.
After her shower, she found clothes on the bedroom chair. One faded pair of jeans fit despite being tight in the butt. She donned a T-shirt, then pulled on a huge flannel shirt. It had to be Virgil’s. She rolled the sleeves up and felt engulfed in softness.
Must have caffeine. With single-minded need, she headed downstairs, through a rustic living room big as her apartment, and into an oversize country kitchen with brick-colored walls.
Coffeemaker, check. Coffee, check.
As the magnificent scent of brewing coffee filled the room, she considered the coming day. She had a dreary drive to get back to San Francisco, then an orgy of packing and moving. Funny how her sense of anticipation at starting a new job had diminished so much—because Virgil wouldn’t be there. The feeling of loss made an uncomfortable lump in her chest. She shook her head. Reality check, Summer. No work, can’t stay.
Boots thumped on the stairs, and Summer glanced up. He’s back. Happy excitement tingled along her nerves. Only…that sounded like more than one pair of footsteps.
“Thank fuck Virg made coffee. I might—” A man stepped into the kitchen and halted at the sight of her. Another man thumped into him. Both had shaggy brown hair, leathery tans, flannel shirts, and jeans. Big guys.
Oh hell. A thin trickle of fear slid through her. She rose and took a step back. “Um. I—”
“Hey, you must be Summer.” The man in the door stepped forward, holding out a hand. “I talked to you on the phone. I’m Wyatt, Virg’s brother.”
Virgil had brothers? He’d never mentioned anyone except a cousin. Well, I didn’t ask him about his family, now did I? She winced. No, she’d spent the time talking about herself. Pitiful, Summer. How self-centered can you get?
His brothers. Her hair still hung in wet tangles from the shower; she wore Virgil’s shirt, and had obviously spent the night. Heat flamed her cheeks. Of course, it could be worse—she could be sitting here in fetishwear.
The two men looked like Virgil. Open rugged faces. Friendly. She shook Wyatt’s hand firmly and said, “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Morgan.” The leaner one smiled. “He called, said he’s stuck in town booking some drunken bikers. We’re supposed to feed you. Then if he’s not back, I’ll run you up to the lodge.”
The sense of disappointment dulled the morning even further. She watched Morgan fill mugs with coffee and tried to find her wits. “Do you guys live here too?”
“Yep.” Morgan handed her a mug. “Me and Wyatt and Kallie run a wilderness guide business, so there’s livestock. Virgil tends the ve
ggie gardens. It’s easier to manage everything if we’re here on the property.”
Wyatt winked at her. “Downstairs is common territory; upstairs we got our own apartments.”
So her Virgil lived in a gorgeous area, had a job, a family, a community. Even a garden. She gave a silent sigh of envy. “Sounds wonderful.”
“Works pretty good.” Wyatt stuck his head in the magnet-covered refrigerator. “What’d you like for breakfast?”
“Nothing. I need to get going.” She’d run back to the lodge and pack, then swing into town. Say good-bye. The thought sliced deep, the pain arriving a second later. Good-bye.
“You sure?” Morgan frowned. “You look a little peaked. You should eat.”
She shook her head. “It’s a long drive. Where’s the police station?”
“Midway through town. On the left,” Morgan said. “Next to the medical clinic, across from the grocery.
“You have a medical clinic?” Laurette needed a prescription for some of the equipment. Summer could stop by there too. And then she had another thought, and her hands tightened on the coffee mug. “I don’t suppose they’d need a nurse?”
Wyatt snorted. “Hell no. Doc hates nurses, hasn’t had one for a year or so. He hired some college guy.”
“Abe’s wife worked for him. Ugly divorce,” Morgan said. “He drove a couple nurses off after that. Good doctor, but he’s got a temper.”
Her spirits sank.
* * *
After Morgan had dropped her off at the lodge, she’d started to pack, then driven to the tiny town instead. I want Virgil. Not that seeing him would solve anything.
She drove slowly down the Main Street. Dammit, why did Bear Flat have to be so pretty? She scowled at the picturesque stores with colorful hanging signs. A nineteenth-century-style boardwalk. All surrounded by breathtaking, snow-covered mountains. She’d have liked living here. “This isn’t helping.”
After parking in front of the police department, she sat for a minute, trying to contain the pain in her chest. Virgil didn’t need to see her in tears. And she saw no point in a drawn-out good-bye. She couldn’t live on someone else’s charity. She had an occupation that she loved.
Maybe he’d come and see her. And she could visit him here—after she worked long enough to have some days off.
But why even try to draw it out? He belonged here, and unless they built a hospital in the area, she never would. They had no future.
Throat tight, eyes burning, she pulled open the door to the police station. One uniformed officer sat at a table in the center of the room, another at a desk in the corner. “Is Virgil here?” she asked when they looked over.
“Should return in a bit.” He shook his head. “Hopefully he’ll be in a better mood by then.”
Guilt hit low and deep. It was because of her.
Her thought must have shown, since the cop grinned. “He and the doc got into it. Masterson was royally piss—” He broke off with an embarrassed glance at her. “Very angry at Abe. Could hear them shouting from in here.”
The gray-haired cop in the corner barked a laugh. “Never heard Masterson yell like that afore.”
“Okay. Well, thanks.” Her unhappiness deepened as she stepped back onto the street. She’d bet that Virgil had tried to find her a job. She scowled at the next-door building, where the black window lettering proclaimed: BEAR FLAT MEDICAL CLINIC. Her next stop.
Wonderful. A doctor who hated nurses and made Virgil lose his temper. She’d just give the receptionist the list for Laurette and get the heck out of Dodge.
In the clinic, the small waiting room stood empty. No one sat at the receptionist’s desk. Summer tapped her fingers on the desk impatiently.
Noise filtered through the door leading to the exam rooms. Someone vomiting. A man shouting, “Dammit, get over here. I need—” Cursing. Sounded more like an emergency room than a clinic. An ominous amount of blood had splattered across the tile floor.
Well, it appeared Doctor Prima Donna had problems. Leave? Summer glanced at the front door, sighed, squirted handwash from the dispenser on her hands, and headed to the back.
One empty room, another, then…chaos.
A woman, dead-white, sat on the floor in a corner, shaking and crying. Across the room, a young man knelt in a pool of vomit. Lovely.
A beefy male lay on the exam table, covered in blood. Something—maybe an axe—had laid his upper chest open right down to the ribs. Probably the gory sight had toppled the woman and, at a guess, the med tech.
Standing over the patient, the gray-haired doctor was cursing—very inventively—and plainly needed another set of hands. I’d rather kick you. Really hard. Summer sighed again, tossed her coat on a chair, and grabbed a pair of gloves from a box on the counter. “You got an ambulance called?” she asked as she pulled them on.
His head jerked up. Gray hair, drawn face, sharp blue eyes behind glasses. “About an hour out,” he snapped. “I need some help if you could keep from puking and—”
Summer snorted and glanced at his supplies. The pile of four-by-four sponges he’d used for direct pressure was almost gone. Looked like he might need to tie off a spurter too. The cupboards along the wall were well stocked, and she grabbed a dressing set, absorbable sutures, more gauze four-by-fours, and set up a sterile field on the tray table.
The doctor grunted and set to work.
Summer smiled down into the patient’s dazed, pain-ridden eyes. “We’ll get some of the bleeding stopped. Then I can give you something for pain. Hang in there a little longer.”
He managed a nod.
The doc stared at her for a second. Then his attention returned to the wound. She silently assisted. Once the doc had gotten the bleeding under adequate control, he irrigated, then worked on packing the wound.
With a bare minimum of talk, Summer started an IV and gave the patient some morphine, pleased when the lines of pain on his face eased. She tucked blankets around him, reassured the woman whose color was returning, and set the med tech to cleaning up his mess and the blood.
She ignored the doctor whenever possible. Truly competent, she’d noticed, and surprisingly sweet with the patient—now that he wasn’t cursing—but the narrow-minded jerk didn’t hire nurses, and he’d made Virgil mad enough to yell. She still wanted to kick him.
After the ambulance crew finally arrived and took the patient away, Summer washed her hands and turned to see the doctor watching her.
“You’re the nurse Virgil told me about,” he muttered. “I don’t like nurses.”
God, why did she ever choose a career where she had to deal with doctors? “So I’ve heard,” she said, cold but polite. Fighting never accomplished anything…although right now, it sure sounded tempting. “I brought in a list of things Ms. Laurette needs. Virgil will see to the installation, but some equipment requires a prescription for Medicare to cover it.” She dug in her pocket and set the paper on the counter. Two points to her for not throwing it at him.
His scowl deepened. “You’re a hospital nurse. What do you know about home medical equipment?”
“I worked closely with the discharge planner.” She picked up her coat.
“Hold up,” he barked.
She glanced at her watch. She needed to find Virgil, wherever the heck he’d gone, and get her butt on the road. “You’re welcome.” She pulled open the door of the exam room.
He slapped the door shut. “Jesus, you’re as stubborn as Masterson.”
Yeah, look who’s talking. She folded her hands in front of her and assumed an I’m-being-extremely-patient expression.
He blinked as if in disbelief, then said, “I haven’t had good luck with nurses. After my… Well, after one nurse didn’t work out, I went through two more.” He eyed her, then removed his hand from the door. “One handled the patients well, but she had the judgment of a stump, and the other bawled like a baby every time I snapped at her.”
He frowned at the med tech, who still looked green. “
I thought I might train someone, but maybe not.”
Well, at least the guy could admit he made a mistake. Good for him. Nonetheless, she was running late. She gave him another long-suffering look.
To her surprise, he barked a laugh. “No wonder you impressed Masterson.”
When she edged toward the door, he wedged his foot against it and continued talking. “You’re experienced, coolheaded, and excellent with people.” He glanced at the paper on the counter where she’d listed the equipment she recommended and had starred the ones needing prescriptions. “You’re organized.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Want a job?”
* * *
From the porch swing of the lodge, Virgil waited as Summer parked her car and stepped out. Smiling a little, she arched her back and stretched, as if reaching for the sky.
Fucking-A, the woman simply took his breath away—like after a winter storm, when sunlight would spill onto the untouched white of the mountains, casting the world into brilliance. And all a man could do was thank God for the gift of that moment.
He leaned forward, elbows on knees, and watched her cross the clearing. When she spotted him, joy lit her eyes. Thanks, God.
“Virgil!” Her pace quickened.
Just the sound of her voice made him smile. Made him harden. Made him hurt to think she’d leave.
But he’d go with her. As she trotted up the steps, his resolve firmed. I can’t give her up. He’d find a job in her town up north. He could live without the Sierras.
“Logan said you hadn’t checked out, so I waited here.” Virgil rose and pulled her against him, rubbing his cheek in her hair. She responded as she always did, softening in his arms. Offering herself. Sexiest woman he’d ever known.
“You jerk. I went nuts trying to find you.” When she frowned up at him, he captured her lips for a long, gratifying kiss. He slid his hands down, discovering that the jeans he’d loaned her were well past skintight. With a hum of pleasure, he curved his fingers under her round ass and murmured, “Be very polite right now, sweetheart. After last night, you’re too tender to fuck senseless.”
Doms of Dark Haven 2: Western Night Page 31
