Tears stung her eyes.
Oh, no. Sarah didn’t want him to see her like this. She was independent and strong, not needy and emotional. Except, the only thing she felt like doing right now was crying.
She blinked. She looked up. Drops still fell. She dabbed her eyes with the napkin.
Time to get out of here.
Without Cullen’s help.
Using her left hand, she pushed against the table. Mantling had always been a favorite climbing move, but this took more effort than she was used to exerting. Her muscles protested. Her abdomen ached. Still she managed to stand, scooting the chair back in the process.
Cullen looked at her. Forks clattered into the sink. He rushed to her side. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t need to be rolled or carried.” Her voice cracked. “I can do it myself.”
Except she couldn’t. All she wanted to do was sit. Pride kept her standing.
“I was kidding.” He didn’t sound amused. His dark eyes looked annoyed. “Like old times.”
She raised her chin, but that didn’t make up the difference in height. The top of her head came to his nose. She reminded herself that in every other way they were equals. And an underground city of elves lived inside Mount Shasta, too. “The old times weren’t that great.”
He flinched. “They weren’t that bad.”
She shrugged, hoping the gesture hid the hurt she was feeling. “I’m used to taking care of myself. I can do this.”
But if she didn’t get moving she would be flat on her butt in about ten seconds.
“Tomorrow—” he scooped her into his arms “—not tonight. Time to get you into your jammies and into bed.”
Cradled against his strong, wide chest, she struggled to breathe. Her muscles tensed. Her senses reeled.
What was happening to her?
Sarah wanted to be strong, but she also wanted to collapse against him and forget everything in the past and what would happen in the future. But she couldn’t. Not when the feel of his heartbeat sent hers into a frenetic rhythm. Or when the musky scent of him made her want to take another sniff.
“You don’t have to do this.” She tried to keep the panic out of her voice. “I’m okay.”
Or would be once she was out of his arms and into bed.
Alone.
With the door locked.
Sarah’s gaze locked on his lips. Heat exploded inside her. She looked away.
“You’re not okay.” He carried her down the hallway. “It doesn’t take a medical degree to see you’re exhausted.”
She opened her mouth to deny it, but couldn’t. “I’ll feel better in the morning.”
“I’d rather you feel better now.”
Maybe if she had a good cry or if he kissed her...
He kicked open the bathroom door with his foot and flipped on the light with his elbow. He set her on her feet in the bathroom, keeping his hands on her. “Let’s get you ready for bed.”
Her heart beat a rapid tattoo. She leaned against the sink counter for support. “My toiletry kit is in my suitcase.”
A coworker had packed a bag for Sarah and driven it to the hospital yesterday.
Cullen opened a drawer and pulled out a new toothbrush. He unwrapped the plastic covering. “Use this.”
“You have spare toothbrushes?”
“People sack out here if they don’t want to drive home.”
People? Or women? Sarah didn’t want to know.
He squirted toothpaste on it. “Here you go.”
She took the toothbrush. One minute he seemed upset at her, the next he was concerned. The flip-flopping made her dizzy. Or maybe it was the pain medication. That could explain her crying.
“I’ll brush your teeth for you,” he said.
She shoved the toothbrush into her mouth. “Got it.”
“Be right back.”
Sarah took advantage of the moment of privacy. Then after brushing her teeth, she washed her face and combed the tangles out of her hair. The effort wiped her out. She released a frustrated breath.
Cullen stood in the doorway. “Finished?”
Sarah nodded. He followed her to the guest room.
A queen-size bed with a headboard made of twigs dominated the room. He’d straightened the bedding and pulled back the covers for her, something he’d done for her when he worked graveyard shifts. Her chest tightened with memories and regrets.
A full glass of water sat on the knotty-pine nightstand. A cookie lay on a paper towel. Tears returned to her eyes. “I don’t deserve—”
He placed his finger at her lips. “Shhh.”
The slight touch sent chills down her spine. She couldn’t have said anything if she’d wanted to.
Cullen tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t take good care of you earlier.”
Her heart stilled. She knew he meant today, but a part of her wished he’d meant during their marriage.
“I’m making up for this afternoon,” he continued.
Sarah released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her disappointment was a not-so-subtle reminder of how stupid she became around Cullen. “You’re not my manservant.”
Mischief did the tango in his eyes. “I could be if that’s what you want.”
She wanted...him.
No, that was the pain medication talking. More tears filled her eyes. She wiped her face with the back of her hand.
He embraced her. “It’s going to be okay.”
Not with her breasts pressed against his broad, muscular chest and her heart thudding in her chest. “I’m sorry. I’m all loopy.”
“You’re cute when you’re all loopy.”
He pulled her closer and she sank against him, too tired to keep fighting herself. He felt so good. Warm. And strong. “You’re cute when I’m all loopy.”
Cullen laughed. The deep sound was the best medicine of all. “Where are your pajamas?”
“In my suitcase.”
“Sit.”
She sat on the bed while he opened her suitcase.
He removed a floral-print nightshirt. “This work?”
“Yes.”
Cullen placed the nightie on the bed. He pulled on her bra band through her T-shirt. The strap unhooked.
Heat rushed up her neck. “You’ve, um, always been good at that.”
“A little rusty, but it’s like riding a bike.”
Her pulse quickened. “I haven’t ridden in a while.”
Too long. She missed it. Missed him. No, she missed the idea of him, of what they could have had together if fairy tales existed. This—what was happening right now—wasn’t real.
He brushed his hand over her hair. “You can always hop back on.”
Sarah’s mouth went dry. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
“Let’s get your shirt off you.”
Let’s not. She crossed her arm and her cast in front of her chest. “I want to see if I can do it.”
“Sure.”
She waited for him to turn around. He didn’t. Frustration grew. “Maybe you could face the other way.”
He turned to the wall.
Self-preservation helped her undress and put on the nightshirt. Thank goodness she’d taken the pain pills, or she’d be really hurting. “You can turn around.”
“I’m impressed.”
She was about to fall asleep. “Thanks.”
“Time for bed.”
Before Sarah could blink, she was horizontal with her head against the pillow. She had no idea how he’d managed to get her in this position so effortlessly, but she was beyond the point of caring.
Cullen arranged the sheet and comforter over
her.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said quietly.
He brushed his lips across her forehead with a kiss as light as a feather. “It’s been a long day, an even longer week. The least I can do is tuck you in.”
Emotion overflowed from her heart. She felt so special.
“Sweet dreams, Lavagirl,” he said.
Who needed dreams? Reality was pretty sweet right now. Sarah wanted him to stay, to hold her, until she fell asleep.
“Thank you, Dr. Gray.” She felt dreamy and a tad wistful. “For everything.”
“I’m right across the hall if you need anything.”
He turned off the light, walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.
And then it hit her.
She and Cullen had never spent a night in the same place without sleeping in the same bed. Not until tonight. Her heart panged.
A door closed out in the hallway. She heard water. The shower.
Well, there was always a first time. Sarah touched the empty space next to her. But she had to admit she’d rather there wasn’t.
Even if she knew better.
CHAPTER SIX
SOMEONE COUGHED. CULLEN bolted upright from a dead sleep. He blinked, not quite sure what was going on. Rays of sunlight peeked into the room around the edges of the window blinds. The digital clock on his nightstand read 6:45 a.m. Another cough.
Sarah.
Pulse pounding, he jumped out of bed, ran to her room and flung open the door. She lay in bed. Her hair was a tangled mess. Her face, what he could see through her hair, was pale. “Sarah?”
“I coughed.” Her voice sounded hoarse. “It hurt.”
“I’m sure it did.” He sat next to her. “Let me check your incision.”
Her eyes widened with a hint of panic. “It was the cough.”
He brushed the hair away from her face. His fingers touched her cheek. She didn’t feel warm. “I want to make sure.”
She pulled the blanket to her neck. “You don’t have to go to all this trouble.”
“It’s no trouble.” He understood Sarah’s leeriness. In spite of being a little out of it last night, she must have realized he’d been turned on. Even after a cold shower, he’d wanted to sleep in here, to hold her, to breathe in her scent. Loneliness did strange things to a man. “If you were in a SNF, someone would check you.”
“Yes, but not...”
“Me.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
Her fingers rubbed the edge of the blanket. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s the situation. I’m not sure how to feel around you. Parts of last night were nice, then awkward, then nice again. So nice I hated sleeping alone.”
A combination of relief and satisfaction radiated through him. He’d thought the same thing. He touched her shoulder.
Her muscles tensed beneath his hand.
“I get it,” he admitted. “Having you here is...”
“Weird.”
“Different,” he said at the same time. “A little weird, too.”
She blew out a puff of air. “Good. I mean, not that things are weird, but that I’m not alone or imagining things.”
“You’re not alone.” He’d been imagining things about her all night. Unfortunately. Because those fantasies would never become reality. “We’re adults. We can handle this.”
“It’s not like we have another choice.”
If only... “It is what it is until you’re ready to go back to Bellingham.”
“If things get too weird we can talk it out.”
She had wanted to talk about everything. He hated doing that. He’d been talked out after his parents had the family attend counseling and grief sessions following Blaine’s death. The intense sessions helped, but they also frustrated Cullen because no amount of counseling or rehab had been able to help his brother kick his drug addiction.
Sarah looked expectantly at him.
“Sure, we can talk.” He relented. “May I check your incision?”
She lowered the blanket. “It’s not like you haven’t seen this before.”
He slowly raised the hem of her nightshirt over her thighs. The bruises were fading. He lifted the material higher, past her orange polka-dotted bikini panties that showed off the curve of her hip. He willed his hand not to tremble. He continued to the large incision on her abdomen from her emergency splenectomy.
Cullen might have seen her body before, but he liked seeing all that creamy skin again. His gaze strayed back to her panties. He swallowed.
Focus.
The skin around the sutures wasn’t any more red then it had been at the hospital. No drainage, either. He placed his fingertips on her stomach. The skin wasn’t hot, but boy did she feel nice. Soft, smooth, silky.
He dragged his hand away. “No drainage or rash. Are you hungry?”
She nodded.
“That’s a good sign.” He pulled down the hem of her nightshirt before he became more unprofessional. “Has the pain lessened since the surgery?”
“Yes, until I coughed.”
“Next time you have to cough place a pillow over your incision.” He stood. “Let’s get you up and moving. That should ease some of the pain.”
She scrunched her nose. “It’s too early for you to be up if you have to work tonight.”
Her concern brought a smile to his face. “I’ll take a nap later.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.” He cupped her elbow and helped her out of bed. “Is it hard to breathe?”
“Nope.”
“Let’s see how you feel walking.”
She moved slowly and carefully, the way she should to make sure she didn’t fall. “It helps.”
He noticed her long legs, liked the curve of her calf, the slender slope of her ankles. “You’re doing great.”
She walked out of the bedroom. “I must look pretty frightening.”
“Not frightening.” He followed her down the hall. “You look pretty good for someone recovering from a bad fall, broken bones and surgery.”
She glanced over her shoulder, her green eyes hopeful. “Any chance I could shower?”
An image of him taking off her panties flashed in his mind. He gave his head a mental shake. “Uh, sure. I’ll have to wrap your cast.”
“That’s what the nurse did at the hospital,” Sarah said with a relieved smile. “I may need you to pour the shampoo into my left hand.”
Or he could join her in the shower and wash her hair for her. He wouldn’t mind lathering her up.
Strike that. Cullen pushed the idea from his head. He found it too easy to think about her as his wife, not his soon-to-be ex-wife. She’d wanted out of the marriage. No reason to assume she wanted back in. Not that he wanted her back. He didn’t. At least most of the time, he didn’t. “Let’s get you fed, then cleaned up.”
* * *
Sarah stood in the bathroom wearing her orange robe and nothing underneath. She stared at the tile floor, not wanting to meet Cullen’s watchful eyes. She tightened the belt around her waist as best she could with one hand so the robe wouldn’t slip open.
His height and wide shoulders made the space feel cramped even though the bathroom was larger than the one at the hospital. He checked the plastic around her cast. “It should stay dry.”
“I don’t think any water is going to come close to my cast.”
He turned on the shower. Water splashed against the tub and curtain. “That’s the plan.”
Cullen had always been a planner. Too bad he hadn’t stuck to his plans instead of letting her derail them. That would have saved them both a lot of heartache. Well, at least her. “Have your life fig
ured out again?”
His gaze met hers. “Pretty much. I made a few changes.”
Like removing her from his future plans. She pinched the bridge of her nose, ignoring the hollow feeling inside her.
He checked the water temperature. “Ready?”
Not really. “Sure.”
He pulled back the shower curtain. “There’s a mat on the bottom of the tub, so you shouldn’t slip, but be careful.”
“Okay.”
She waited for him to leave. He didn’t.
“Aren’t you getting in?” he asked.
Cullen stared at her as if she had something on her face. Leftover French toast, perhaps? She rubbed the back of her hand over her mouth. “Are you staying in here?”
“Yes.”
It was as simple and as complicated as that.
“I need to hand you shampoo,” he reminded her.
Oh, yeah. She’d forgotten about that. But still she hesitated. “This is kind of awkward.”
“Only if we make it awkward.”
“I’m not trying to.”
“Neither am I.”
“But I’m the one who is naked under my robe.”
“I can undress.”
She gave him a look.
He grinned, then faced the door. “Better?”
“Yes, thank you.” Mustering her courage with a deep breath wasn’t going to work, with her incision and ribs. She settled for a slight intake of air, untied the belt, dropped her robe and stepped inside the tub. She closed the shower curtain. “You can turn around now.”
“Is the water the right temperature?”
Hot water poured over her. Steam rose toward the ceiling. She picked up a bar of soap. “Perfect.”
“I remember you like it hot.”
She remembered the showers they’d taken together. Hot water pulsating down on them. Washing each other. Kissing. Touching.
The soap slipped out of her hand and clattered to the tub.
“Sarah—”
“I dropped the soap,” she said at the same time.
“Can you reach it?” he asked.
Bending hurt. But she wasn’t about to ask him to get it for her. That would be too awkward. Too...tempting. “No, but it’s okay. I really just wanted to wash my hair.”
Winning Back His Wife Page 8
