by Nola Cross
He stepped back and allowed her to pass, even as his frown deepened. “I don’t understand why Miguel would call you.”
“He said you were asking for me.”
“I was asking for you? Are you sure?” He looked skeptical.
She nodded. “That’s what he said. He told me you got burned and I needed to come right away.”
Relief flooded her as she set both pieces of her luggage off to one side and unbuttoned her coat. She hadn’t known what to expect, how badly he’d been injured. Seeing him up and around banished the long list of horrific scenarios she’d been imagining on the two-hour drive.
She laid her purse on top of the larger suitcase and let her eyes skim her surroundings. The house was just as she remembered, cozy and warm. She could hear the TV going in the living room, and Hawk’s big striped cat, Norman, sat staring at her from the end of the entry hall.
“I see.” It was almost a growl. Why didn’t Hawk look happy to see her?
“So here I am. Ready to help.” She smiled, trying to appear competent and self-assured. To tell the truth, she wasn’t certain what would be required. How extensive were the burns? How severe? What did he expect from her?
“Help?” he croaked.
“Sure. It’s not like you can do anything for yourself, right?” She gestured toward his paws. “Is it just your hands and chest? How long will you be bandaged like that?”
“A week or two.” His voice softened and his shoulders relaxed some. “But I don’t need you here, Dez. I have a home health nurse who will be coming every afternoon.”
Whew! A wave of relief washed clear through her. There would be a trained professional here to back her up every day. She had excellent first-aid skills, and a willingness to learn, but she didn’t know much about burn care yet. They’d be studying that next semester.
“That’s great. You must have good health insurance.”
“State worker’s comp coverage. It’s required when you operate a business like mine.” His brows drew low again. “My business hasn’t had a claim in two years,” he muttered. “Now I suppose my rates will be going sky-high.”
They still stood in the entry. Desi shifted from one foot to the other, not knowing what to say, and looked down at her shoes. She had worn her white leather cross-trainers, the same ones she wore to work, her most sensible shoes for her first real ‘nursing job’. She felt a little silly about that now.
She let her gaze lift again to Hawk’s face. She hadn’t seen him like this—so surly—since her childhood, when he and her dad would tangle.
What did you expect? The red carpet treatment? Well, yes, maybe so. After all, she’d come there under the impression that she was wanted. Maybe he just didn’t realize yet how much he needed her. It would be easy to make herself indispensable to someone who didn’t have the use of his hands.
She took a deep breath and met his eyes. “Should I put my stuff in that little guest room upstairs?”
He didn’t speak for several seconds, but the furrows between his brows seemed to smooth a bit. He glanced down at his hands and back at her face. The beginnings of a smile softened his lips. At last he nodded. “Okay. Yeah, the guest room. But just for tonight, okay? Maybe you can help me figure out how to arrange things so I can manage a little better here on my own. Like open my pill bottle lid, that kind of thing.”
For the first time she realized that his cheeks had kind of a gray cast to them. “Are you in pain right now?”
He winced and nodded. “I’m overdue for my medication. I can’t seem to get the damn bottle open.” He gave her a sheepish grin, and a hint of the twinkle she was used to seeing danced in his dark eyes, making her tummy do one of those odd 360-degree spins.
She patted his arm. “Then it’s a good thing I’m here.”
She followed him to the kitchen, studied the label on the orange pill bottle for a moment then popped open the top. “You need to take this with plenty of water. Do you have a sports bottle with a straw? I think that will be easier to use.”
He pointed her toward a top shelf in one of the cupboards. She filled the aluminum bottle and flipped up the short straw. He managed to cup the bottle between his two hands.
“Open wide.” She placed the pill on his tongue and watched as he brought the straw to his mouth and took several swigs.
He lowered the bottle and gave a deep sigh. “That works great. Thank you, Desi.”
It seemed to her like the pinched look had already begun to leave his face. At the same time she became aware that they were standing just inches apart. Beneath the strong odor of some kind of medicinal salve, she caught the smell of Hawk himself, the intriguing male scent that rose from his hair and skin. Her eyes were level with his chest. Where his robe gapped open, above the white strips of gauze, his golden skin was smooth, conforming to the rise of broad pectoral muscles and his corded, masculine neck.
She averted her gaze, her heart beginning to pound, and grabbed a second medicine bottle. She had to concentrate hard to make herself read the label.
“You’re welcome. Looks like you should take one of these antibiotics as well right about now.” She held out a tiny blue pill and he dutifully opened his mouth once more. “We should be making note of the time you take your medications. Can I use that whiteboard there by the fridge?”
“Sure.”
She crossed the room, grateful to be putting some distance between them. Her pulse was still racing, her cheeks were hot. Forcing her mind back into focus, she checked her watch and wrote down the time, then noted the two types of pills he’d taken. What kind of nurse was she going to be if she got flustered every time she was near her patient?
“I guess I’ll just go put my things away now,” she said, capping the marker and setting it back in its tray.
“I haven’t aired the room out since you were here last.”
“That’s okay. I’m sure it will be fine.”
Without looking over at him again, she headed for the front hall and gathered her luggage and purse. Then she climbed the narrow staircase and entered the small wallpapered room she remembered so well. The room was a little chilly, but the cool air soothed her warm cheeks as she unzipped her bag and began to take out her clothes.
As she unpacked, her mind raced. Hawk might think he was going to get rid of her after just one night, but he would soon find he was mistaken. It was obvious he needed her, and she was determined to pay him back for all the help and support he’d given her and Dovie over the years. Whether he liked it or not, she was planning to stay.
* * * *
An hour later, Hawk lay back on the couch, his wounded hands exposed, his head reeling. About the time the pain pills had kicked in, the home health nurse had arrived. It was perfect timing, because the process of removing the old bandages would have been even more excruciating without the numbing effect of the Oxycodone Desi had fed him. To his surprise, he’d even gotten a little light-headed when the nurse had peeled back the gauze and revealed the angry, raw blisters on his palms.
Desiree stood at the nurse’s side, watching everything. She didn’t flinch when she saw the burns, but her eyes met his with an expression of compassion so intense he had to look away.
The nurse was a middle-aged black woman who reminded him a little of Desi’s grandmother. Her nametag said Sarah Markham, R.N. Her voice was thickly buttered with a deep, southern accent.
“What did you go and do to yourself here, sugah?”
“Fell into some battery acid.” He hissed in a quick breath as she squirted an antiseptic wash over his palms. It stung for a moment, and then a wonderful numbing agent in the liquid began to take effect.
“You’re one lucky man. My work order says these are only partial thickness burns. Second degree. Sulfuric acid is nothin’ to joke about. Seems like it could’ve been a lot worse.”
“I got immediate first aid from my co-workers.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I’m happy to say these palms are lookin’ pretty
good to me. With care you’ll heal right up.”
“Should his fingers be so swollen?” Desi asked.
“A little swelling is normal. This amount isn’t anything to worry about.” Sarah applied some kind of gel to his skin and began to rewrap with clean gauze. “You might want to keep your hands elevated, sugah. Don’t let them hang down. Keep the blood movin’.”
Her dark eyes settled on Desi. “Honey, the insurance company only okayed me to come in once a day. Under ideal circumstances these bandages should be changed both morning and evening. Maybe you’d like to learn how to dress your husband’s burns?”
“Yes!” Desi’s face was avid. “It so happens I’m a nursing student. I’m just getting started in the program, but I’d love to take over one of the daily bandage changes if you think I can.”
Wait a minute! Hadn’t they agreed that she was going home in the morning? Hawk sat straighter. “I don’t think—”
“You’re lucky to have your own private nurse here, hon.” Sarah smiled and patted his knee. “Gettin’ along without the use of your hands ain’t easy. With her help, you’ll be right as rain in no time.”
Sensing that a bond had already formed between the two women, he restrained himself from further protest and settled back against the cushions. Fine. He’d pretend to go along with their plan for now, but no way would he allow Desi to hang around here after tomorrow. He needed his privacy. And the fact that she hadn’t corrected the nurse’s assumption that they were married only added to his growing sense of uneasiness.
“Now, let’s get a look at that chest of yours, sugah.”
The burns on his chest were superficial, now just tiny pricks of tenderness where the acid had spattered his shirt. The fabric had protected him from most of the caustic effect.
Sarah applied the gel there too, but left his chest bare, deciding not to rewrap the area with gauze. Then she gathered her supplies and tools. “I want you to keep this area open to the air for the next couple of days. Try not to let your robe irritate the skin. Maybe go without a shirt or robe altogether, but make sure you keep the house well heated. Your body’s busy healing those hands. It shouldn’t have to work to keep the rest of you warm as well.”
“Right. No robe.”
She grasped her scuffed black satchel, zipped it closed, and walked to the door. “I’ll be here tomorrow morning about nine-thirty. I’ll go over everything again with you, Mrs. Ironcloud. We can decide at that time if you’d like to learn how to give your man a sponge bath, or if you’d prefer to assist him in the shower.”
As the door closed behind the nurse, her words seemed to echo in the quiet house. Sponge bath? Shower? Oh, hell no!
He turned to Desi, ready to insist again that she leave this minute. Her eyes were huge, the expression on her face one of stunned panic.
“It’s okay,” he told her. “I’ll figure that part out for myself. Don’t worry about it.”
“But she’s right. You can’t shower alone.”
“I’ll figure it out,” he said again, growling like a wounded wolf.
He stalked into the kitchen, leaving her staring after him. All of a sudden he was pissed off again, wanting nothing more than to be left alone. The last thing he needed was some girl bugging him about taking his pills and washing his ass.
No way in hell was he going to let her touch him.
Especially when he wasn’t able to touch her back.
Chapter 7
Dinner took Hawk to a whole new level of hell. Desi had found the pot of soup Mrs. A had brought over, and she reheated it and made grilled cheese sandwiches to go with it. The fragrance of the melting cheese and toasty buttered bread drew him into the kitchen. He sat down at the table and watched her at the stove. She had made herself at home, standing barefoot in snug jeans and a little black t-shirt, her hair pulled back in a wavy ponytail. A knotted dishtowel graced her slim middle. She looked so comfortable, for a moment Hawk allowed himself the fantasy of imagining she belonged there.
What would it be like to come home at the end of a long day and find this soft, sexy woman in his kitchen? To have Desiree look deep into his eyes as she listened to him talk about his day? To hear her giggle when he came up behind and slipped his arms around her waist? Would she turn then and offer her lush, eager lips for his kiss?
His body wakened as he let the fantasy play out in his mind, and he shifted in the chair so she wouldn’t see. He hadn’t admitted it to himself before Dovie’s funeral, but he was sometimes lonely. Even on nights when he came home from work exhausted, it would have been nice to decompress with a glass of wine and good company instead of flopping down in front of the TV. Ever since spending those three days at Desi’s side, the solitude of his personal life was right in his face. What he’d become accustomed to the past two years—telling himself he was just too busy to make the effort to be social—now sometimes seemed unbearable.
“That smells awesome. I’m starved.” He smiled at her in what he hoped was a conciliatory way. He shouldn’t have been gruff with her before. There was no reason to be an asshole about the situation he was in. After all, she was doing her best to make things better for him. It was almost a shame he’d have to insist she go home in the morning.
“Thank you.” She smiled back, looking pleased. “This soup your neighbor made is delicious. I snuck a taste, and it kind of reminds me of that yummy gumbo Dovie used to make. Remember? The stew with the spicy sausage and shrimp?”
Sure he remembered. It had been his favorite menu item when he’d lived with Desi’s family. That and the fudge cake.
Recalling the old memory brought his fantasizing up short, and gave him a hard mental smack. The beautiful girl at the stove thought of herself as his sister, not his lover. She had every right to feel safe with him, to dress in comfortable clothes and make herself at home. They were family, first and foremost. He’d have to keep reminding himself of that.
In a moment she carried a steaming bowl across the room and set it in front of him, then got a bowl for herself. Next came a plate of golden-toasted cheese sandwiches, cut into quarters. His stomach growled in anticipation.
She sat down across from him and spread her napkin on her lap. Then she hopped up and laid his napkin open on his lap as well before sitting down again.
He attempted to grab a piece of sandwich. No matter how he maneuvered, the snugly-wrapped gauze prevented him from closing his hand around the sandwich. After five or six tries he felt his blood pressure rising.
“Shit.”
“Let me help. The cheese is pretty hot. You don’t want to burn yourself.”
“No, that’s okay. I gotta figure this out on my own.”
He tried scooping the sandwich up between both hands, but exerted too much pressure. Hot cheese oozed out onto his bandages and plopped in yellow globs onto the table. Desi nibbled at her own sandwich as she watched his fruitless struggle, and her scrutiny just made things worse. His cheeks got warmer, his temper shorter. With a snort of exasperation he let the mangled bread and cheese drop into his soup bowl.
“You sure I can’t help?” she asked again, leaning forward to fish the sandwich out of his bowl with her spoon.
He looked across at her, ready to rage against the pity he was sure he would see in her eyes. But her gaze was wide and clear and full of good humor.
She grinned. “I promise you the sandwich tastes way better when it actually gets to your mouth.”
He found himself grinning back. He couldn’t help it. The whole situation now seemed funny as hell. Why hadn’t he seen that until this very moment? There he was, a grown man made helpless as a child, having to rely on the sexy, young woman he secretly craved. His predicament was made even more hysterical by the fact that she didn’t have a clue how he felt about her, and in fact thought of him as her big brother.
Oh yeah. This was one for the Hollywood comedy writers.
He might as well give in gracefully.
“Okay, woman,” he cha
llenged, “feed me.”
“That’s more like it.”
She scooted her chair next to his and held a section of sandwich to his lips. This time the food reached his mouth, and was just as delicious as it smelled. God, he was hungry! Next came a bite of the savory soup, laden with fat curls of shrimp and disks of chorizo. She lifted the spoon with great care, shielding any drips with her other hand. This action brought her body close to his, her shoulder and arm brushing across his upper chest. Even as his mouth was treated to the delectable, spicy bite, his other senses reveled in her nearness, the scent of her hair, the shadowed sweep of her lashes, the whisper of her breath on his naked shoulder. It was the best kind of torture to sit still in that chair and be fed his dinner, all the while knowing that Desi herself was far beyond his reach.
“Didn’t I tell you? Isn’t this soup almost as good as Dovie’s?” She dabbed a napkin at his chin, her eyes not quite meeting his, and then took a bite of her own sandwich.
“It’s fantastic. I’ll have to make sure I keep Mrs. Atterman’s lawn mowed all next summer.”
“It’s nice that you do things for each other.” She took a bite of soup from her own bowl. He averted his eyes from the sight of the spoon disappearing between her full, pink lips. It would take nothing for his mind to stray off into wild imaginings again.
“This is a great neighborhood,” he agreed. “Everyone made me feel welcome as soon as I moved in. It helped that Walt had left the house to me.” This was the first place he’d belonged, aside from the garage and his unit in Afghanistan.
“That must give you a good feeling, knowing you can count on people close by.”
“Yeah, it does.”
“Here, drink some more water. Sarah said you need to stay well hydrated.”
She held the straw to his lips and he dutifully drained the bottle. As he did so, his gaze slid over her face, and this time their eyes locked. Hers widened, the pupils expanding, and her cheeks colored. For several seconds they stared at each other. No doubt she could hear the way his heart was banging around in his chest. Hell, wasn’t his whole fucking chair vibrating?
