Hawk's Promise

by Nola Cross

  Her lips parted as she continued to stare, and his gaze was drawn there, to the ripe contours and rosy color. How soft, how luscious was that mouth? He was dying to know.

  * * * *

  Desi swallowed hard as she looked into Hawk’s face. Her tummy did a belly flop off the high dive at the same time her heart rate kicked into fifth gear. Were hearts designed to pound this hard? Would she ever remember how to breathe normally again?

  Ever since she’d come back downstairs, she’d been struggling to keep her self-possession. She’d gone in the living room to ask Hawk what he wanted for dinner, and there he’d stood looking out the front window, naked to the waist, just as Nurse Sarah had instructed. It had seemed a logical suggestion when Sarah had made it, but Desi wasn’t prepared for the sight of his broad, tanned shoulders and smooth, tapered back.

  He’d turned when he heard her, and her agitation doubled. His chest was wide, magnificent, so very different from her dad’s bony torso. His sculpted abs and pecs reminded her of the statue of Michelangelo’s David they had studied in art class her freshman year. At the time, she’d thought the statue unreal in its perfection, but Hawk’s body rivaled David’s in every way. At least in every way she could see. Luckily, the lower half of him was still covered by the blue sweatpants.

  When she’d discovered the pot of soup in the fridge, she was grateful to busy herself in the kitchen, using the next half hour to make their sandwiches and attempt to regain her composure. She turned the situation over and over in her mind, strengthening her resolve. She owed him so much. Now she had the chance to make it up to him. If she hoped to convince him to let her stay, she couldn’t let on how he affected her. A grown man like Hawk would just be amused if he knew about her silly schoolgirl crush. No doubt he’d give a fond chuckle and tease her about it, ruffle her hair like he always used to do, making her sorry she had ever let him know the truth.

  He would never take her seriously after that, and she was serious. She was determined to repay all his kindnesses, to be mature and strong for him when he needed her.

  Yet there she sat, caught in his gaze, her heart thundering out of her chest. Couldn’t he hear its wild tattoo?

  “Dez.”

  That one whispered word almost made her swoon. She gulped again, trying to find her voice. “Yes?”

  One side of his mouth cocked up. His eyes darkened, twinkling with a devilish gleam. “Another bite of sandwich please.”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m still starving. Are you going to help me eat the rest of my dinner or what?”

  “Oh, sure. Sure. Here.” She almost stuffed the next quarter of sandwich into his mouth as she fought to gather her wits. It was as if he knew how flustered he was making her and was enjoying her discomfiture.

  Next she spooned in a few more bites of his soup, trying not to notice how his hard, warm bicep bunched as her upper arm slid across it. She kept her eyes averted from his, anxious for the meal to be over. She had just picked up the last piece of sandwich when his cellphone buzzed from across the room.

  He frowned. “Can you get that for me?”

  She crossed the room and answered. “Hello.”

  “Hello. Is this Hawk’s cellphone?”

  She recognized the thick accent. “Yes. Is this Mr. Sanchez? This is Desiree Taylor. I’m here at Hawk’s.”

  “Oh, that’s good. Bueno. I just wanted to make sure he was not there alone.”

  “Nope. I’m planning to stay until his bandages can come off.” From the corner of her eye, she registered Hawk’s reaction, an adamant shaking of his head as he half-rose from his chair.

  “That’s very good. Please tell him everything is fine here. We got five new jobs in today. Me and the guys can handle things no problem. No reason for him to worry about the shop.”

  “I’ll tell him. Any other message?”

  “Oh, si. Tell him I have his necklace. I’ll drop it by later this evening if that’s okay.”

  “I’ll let him know. What time will you be by?”

  “In an hour or so.”

  “We’ll watch for you. Goodbye.”

  “Adios.”

  She turned and faced him. He rose from the chair. The teasing light had left his eyes; his face was closed and dark.

  “I told you, Desiree, you can’t stay. I’m good. Nurse Sarah will be here to check on me every day.”

  “And I told you, I’m staying.” She made herself stand straighter as she faced his glare, hoping he couldn’t hear the shakiness of her voice. Now her heart was pounding for a different reason. She wasn’t used to standing up for herself around men. “You need more help than Sarah can give you during her visits.”

  “You need to get back to school.”

  “No, I don’t. I’m on spring break.”

  “What about your job?”

  “I got one of my co-workers to cover for me.”

  That stopped him for a few seconds.

  She took advantage of his silence. “I’m staying, Hawk. You can’t make me leave. You came to my rescue when Dovie died, and now I’m going to help you get through this. That’s what members of a family do for each other.”

  “Yeah? So what did your dad say when you told him you were planning on moving in with me for two weeks?”

  “He doesn’t care. His girlfriends are keeping him busy.”

  For the most part that was true. Sometimes of late, days would go by without her seeing her father. But Hawk was right of course. If Dad knew where she was, he’d come unglued. She’d left him a brief note saying she was planning to hang out at Tracy’s house for a few days, do some shopping, maybe take a day trip to the beach. She’d have to call him in a day or two and invent some reason for extending their escapade.

  As she and Hawk stared at each other, an odd assortment of expressions washed across his face. His eyes shifted. His jaw clenched and then relaxed. He let out a long sigh, and the tension seemed to gradually seep out of his shoulders. Just when she expected him to say something conciliatory, he turned and left the room, kicking the leg of his chair so hard it tipped over.

  Desi stood in the kitchen door, biting her lip. Should she follow him up the stairs, make him finish their conversation? Make him see that she was right? To tell the truth, she’d had enough confrontation for one night. Just getting the sandwich and soup down Hawk—sitting next to him, their bodies touching—had taxed her last bit of fortitude!

  She went back to the table and began clearing away the dishes, finishing her own sandwich as she filled the sink with hot water and soap. The rising steam mimicked her blood pressure as she thought again about the way his eyes had gleamed at her like chips of polished obsidian. His firm lips had been so close, his breath just a whisper on her cheek. She thought about loosening his ponytail, about how the silky strands of jet-black hair might look streaming over his shoulders. Her belly tumbled over itself for the hundredth time.

  Get your mind back to reality, girl. She glared at her reflection in the window over the sink.

  She had just picked up the dishcloth when a soft knocking came at the front door.

  Desi hesitated. Could that be Miguel Sanchez already? Should she answer it?

  She went to the foot of the stairs. “Hawk? There’s someone at the door,” she called.

  No answer.

  The visitor knocked a second time. Desi crossed to the door and peered out the peephole. A gray-haired woman stood on the porch, bundled in a puffy green coat. She looked harmless. Desi opened the door.

  Surprise turned the woman’s mouth into a puckered ‘o’.

  “Hello. Can I help you?” Desi said.

  The woman sniffed, blinking back at her from behind thick glasses. “I just stopped by to check on Hawk. I’m his next-door neighbor.”

  “Oh. Are you Mrs. Atterman?”

  “I am.”

  “We just had your soup for dinner. It was delicious.”

  The woman’s wrinkled face rearranged itself into a pleased e
xpression.

  Desi stepped back. “Would you like to come in for a minute?”

  “Why thank you.”

  Mrs. Atterman brushed past Desi and stood in the hallway. Norman appeared from nowhere and wound himself around the visitor’s ankles. She bent down and patted him on the head. “Hello, Normy. How’s my big, sweet boy today?” She glanced at Desi. “I always keep an eye on Normy when Hawk is away.”

  “That’s so nice of you. Hawk is lucky to live in such a friendly neighborhood.”

  Mrs. Atterman allowed a little smile as she peered down the hallway. “How’s he doing tonight? Any better?”

  Desi scrunched her nose. “He’s in pain of course, but the home health nurse said his burns were looking better already.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Poor boy. He’s sure up a creek without his hands. That’s why I stopped by, to see if there was anything I could do for him.” The older woman was inching her way toward the living room.

  “Not to worry. I’ll be staying for the next two weeks to help out.”

  That brought the woman to an abrupt halt. She turned and gave Desi another long, appraising look. “I don’t believe I caught your name,” she said at last, folding her arms over her chest.

  “Oh, I’m sorry! I’m Desiree. I’m sort of Hawk’s sister.”

  “Sister!” The woman squinted closer at her, no doubt comparing the obvious discrepancies in their ethnic backgrounds.

  Desi resisted the urge to explain the details of their relationship. “Yep. He asked for me, and I came as soon as I could get here. You’re right, he does need someone here to help out.” She smiled at Mrs. Atterman. “Hey, why don’t I give your soup pot a quick wash and you can take it with you?”

  Without waiting for a response, Desi went back to the kitchen and put the rest of the soup in a plastic container before hurrying to scrub out the kettle. She dried it and headed back to the front of the house, her dishtowel slung on her shoulder. She found that Hawk had joined his neighbor at the front door. As Desi approached the woman stared at her with speculation. What had Hawk said to her while she was in the kitchen? Had he told Mrs. Atterman that she would be leaving in the morning?

  Desi’s face warmed as she presented the clean pot to the older woman. “Here you go. All ready for your next batch. Thanks again. It was so good.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it, dear.”

  Hawk opened the door. “Thanks again, Mrs. A. You’re a lifesaver.”

  The older woman paused on the front step and turned to fix Desi with a pointed stare. “You take good care of your brother, you hear? And please feel free to call on me if you need anything. Anything.”

  “We will,” Hawk said.

  We? Was he letting her stay after all?

  * * * *

  Hawk dozed in the big comfy recliner, his eyes half-closed. A crackling fire leaped and glowed in the woodstove across the room, warming the whole first floor of the house.

  “That’s a great fire you built, Dez,” he mumbled. Half a sports bottle of wine had finally fuzzed the razor edge of pain that throbbed in his palms. He’d have to file that useful tidbit away for future reference.

  “Thanks.” She turned from the book she was reading and smiled at him. Besides the fire, the lamp on the table next to her was the single source of light in the room. It bathed half of her in gold and left her other half in shadow, defining her curves and creating a mysterious, hidden valley between her breasts.

  There I go again being a fucking poet. Must be the wine. Or the wine mixed with the Oxy. Whatever.

  She hadn’t wanted him to have any wine. The Oxycodone label warned against alcohol consumption. But when he’d managed to work the sports bottle open, then uncorked a bottle of Cabernet with his teeth and attempted to pour the wine in himself—creating a spreading puddle of purple on the kitchen counter—she’d relented and given him six ounces. Then she kept a wary eye on him, as if she expected him to collapse into a coma or something. After twenty minutes or so, she’d relaxed her vigil and curled up on the end of the couch with her novel.

  He drifted in and out of awareness, touching the edges of a hazy dream about fishing the Columbia River with Walt, and then coming back to the surface again. He opened his eyes a little wider and let them skim over Desiree once more. Then he was jolted by the realization that this scenario was pretty damn close to what he’d been yearning for since January. A glass of wine and a cozy evening by the fire with someone he cared about.

  Someone who cared about him in return…

  But not in the way he really wanted.

  Shit. What a mess. There he was, falling fast for a twenty-one-year-old girl who thought of him in a platonic way. Even if she did come to feel more for him, she was still way too young for him. She had big dreams she’d shared with him in her emails, dreams of a nursing career helping disabled kids. How could he expect her to set all that aside and move here to take care of him in some kind of selfish fantasy scenario? How did that make him any better than Jordan Taylor, for God’s sake?

  He wasn’t thinking straight, that was the problem. Damn wine. Damn Oxy.

  He dozed again and then jerked awake as a loud knocking came from the front door.

  Desi closed her book. “That must be your friend.”

  “What friend?”

  “I meant to tell you Mr. Sanchez was planning to stop by. He said he has your necklace.”

  Relief rushed through him. He levered himself out of the chair and followed Desi to the door. She’d gotten there ahead of him and Miguel was standing on the porch, looking at Desi as if he’d just been invited to a succulent buffet. Hawk knew that hungry expression only too well. He pushed past Desi, putting his body between the two of them.

  “You got my necklace? Thanks. I was wondering what happened to it.”

  “Sorry, I meant to leave it this morning.” Miguel took the necklace from his pocket and dropped it on the little table in the entryway. He craned his neck to peer over Hawk’s shoulder. “You gonna introduce me to the pretty lady?”

  Wishing he could just shove Miguel out the door and slam it closed, Hawk stood back and attempted to put a civil tone in his voice. After all, he owed Miguel big time. Without his quick action, who knew how bad the burns might have been?

  “Desiree Taylor, meet my lead mechanic, Miguel Sanchez. Miguel, this is my sister, Desi.”

  The other man grinned, his eyes darkening as he extended his hand toward Desi. “So nice to meet you in person, Desiree. I’m glad you could be here to watch over Hawk.”

  “I’m happy to do it,” she said as her hand disappeared in Miguel’s large paw. When he didn’t release her right away, she frowned and glanced toward Hawk.

  “I’m sure he will get better very fast with such a beautiful enfermera to take care of him,” Miguel went on, putting one foot across the threshold.

  Desi’s cheeks colored and she stepped back, pulling her hand from his grasp with obvious effort.

  Hawk shouldered his way between them again. “Thanks for stopping by, Miguel. I appreciate it.”

  Miguel backed up, his grin fading a bit.

  “Sure. Sure. No problem. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

  “Yeah. I’ll try to make it in Monday.”

  “Sounds good. Take care.”

  Hawk bumped the door closed with a sigh of relief. He turned to Desi and tipped his head toward the table. “Can you help me put that on?”

  “Of course.”

  She picked up the necklace and stepped close, her breath warm on his chest. He bent his head and felt the leather cord skim across his scalp, catching on his ponytail.

  “Oops.” She gave a soft giggle as she lifted the ponytail free and the cord settled on the back of his neck.

  “Thanks.” He kept his eyes averted from hers and tried to ignore the goosebumps skittering over his skin.

  “It’s pretty,” she said, fingering the charm. More goosebumps rose at her touch.

  “It was my
mom’s.” The words came out low and husky, betraying his unwitting response to her nearness. She seemed not to notice, turning the little silver feather this way and that so that it caught the light.

  “That’s right! I remember her wearing it when you guys lived with us. Does it have some other special significance?”

  “I saved my allowance for months and gave it to her for Christmas one year. I think I was twelve.”

  Now her gaze lifted to his and it was like taking a punch to the gut. For several seconds neither of them breathed. Then her lashes fluttered down and she looked away.

  “That’s so sweet. No wonder you were worried about getting it back.” She let go of the charm and looked at her watch. “It’s about time for your pills.”

  “Okay.” Great. Let’s add another layer of strange to the devil’s brew swirling through my brain.

  He followed her to the kitchen. Like a dutiful patient, he took the medication she gave him, avoiding more eye contact, then made one final trip to the bathroom for the night. He returned to his recliner and pushed the footrest out all the way before lying back and closing his eyes again.

  “Are you planning to sleep there tonight?” Her voice came from the kitchen door.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Will you be warm enough?”

  “I think so.”

  He heard her pad across the floor, then the metallic squeal of the woodstove door opening, the chunk of another log being added, and the clank of the door closing again. Next came the whisper of nubby fabric across his shoulders and chest as Desi covered him with the old crocheted throw from the couch.

  He opened his eyes a slit. “Thank you.”

  She had already turned and was moving toward the staircase. “You’re welcome. Goodnight.”

  Chapter 8

  Hawk woke the next morning to the smell of coffee brewing. How Desi had managed to get a pot going without waking him, he wasn’t sure, but the scent had him fully alert, out of his chair and heading toward the kitchen in under two minutes. He almost didn’t notice how much his hands hurt.