by Nola Cross
He was just about to come clean when his imaginary friend exhaled and then evaporated like a mirage into the smoke.
Hawk opened his eyes again warily, amazed at how real the conversation had seemed. Beside him, Desiree sat in the driver’s seat, humming something under her breath as she negotiated the wet city streets like an expert. They were just a few blocks from home now, and he hadn’t even had to give her directions.
She was smart as well as beautiful. Competent as well as sexy. Determined, stubborn, affectionate, loyal.
It hit him hard then. Maybe he did love her. Not just in the brotherly way he’d described to Walt. And not just in the crazy-lustful way he’d been trying to ignore these last three months. There was more to it, maybe a lot more. And it scared the shit out of him.
Was Walt right that he had something real to offer Desiree? Or would he just end up hurting her?
He studied her profile, his heart pounding at the implications of those thoughts. He’d considered himself crippled beyond hope in the relationship department ever since he could remember, ever since he’d accepted that his biological father knew something he didn’t and was right to leave them. Failing his mom the way he had cemented that belief. And hell, he’d always gone with women who expected nothing more than a night or two together.
It had never occurred to him that he might be capable of a long-term commitment. Had he been wrong all this time? He turned the new idea over and over in his mind.
Desi must have sensed his eyes on her. She glanced at him again. “If I make a big pot of spaghetti with meat sauce tonight, we can have it for leftovers on Wednesday or Thursday. I can break the pasta into small pieces so it’s easier to eat.”
“Sounds delicious.” His belly rumbled, punctuating his words.
“I think we have everything I need to make the sauce. Should we stop at the store for anything else?”
“Beer? Wine? Something stronger?” he suggested hopefully. Something to deaden the pain, make all the confusion disappear.
“You know you can’t.” She threw him a scowl. “Get real, Hawk.”
Get real.
Her words echoed in his skull. He’d always known himself to have both feet planted in reality. Was he losing it? Maybe the unrelenting ache in his hands and being trapped in the house was making him just a little bit crazy. Why else would he have daydreamed that whole conversation with Walt just now?
It had to be a daydream. What other explanation could there be?
Which meant that all that crap about being worthy of love and capable of a long-term relationship was probably nothing more than his own wishful thinking.
* * * *
They spent the afternoon watching movies on HBO, Desi on the couch and Hawk in his recliner. About four she got up and went into the kitchen. She took some ground beef from the fridge and began browning it, adding lots of garlic and onions the way Dovie had taught her. Then she stirred in tomato sauce and some dried Italian herbs and put it on the back burner to let it simmer for the next hour.
When she came back into the living room Hawk grinned at her. “That smells good enough to eat.”
She smiled back, relieved that the earlier tension she’d sensed from him seemed to be easing as the day went on. She flopped down on the couch. “Thanks. I hope it will be. It’s Dovie’s old recipe.”
“She’d be proud of you.”
“You think so?”
“I do. Hey, speaking of family, did your dad tell you where he and his new wife plan to live?”
“No. Tracy asked me the same question.” Worry tugged at her again. “Do you remember much about Seville? She’s a bank manager, very put together. Wears suits and heels every day. I can’t picture her moving into Dovie’s little old house.”
“What’s her place like?”
“I have no idea. I don’t even know what part of town it’s in.”
He frowned. “Would you want to move in with them, or can you afford to live on your own at Dovie’s?”
She tried to joke the worry away. “If I don’t eat ever again, I can swing it on my own. The house is paid for, but of course there are taxes and utility bills to pay.” She shrugged. “I guess I could quit school and get a full-time job.” Just saying the words filled her belly with a hard knot of dread. Would she have to give up her dreams of a nursing career?
“No!” His adamant tone startled her. He jumped from his chair and paced to the other end of the living room, his jaw working. “You can’t do that. I won’t let you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you should finish college and get your nursing degree. It’s what you’ve always wanted, and I can always help you out.”
For a brief moment she actually considered it. Then she shook her head. How would she ever prove to him—or herself—that she was an adult if she kept letting him bail her out? “You’ve done enough for me, Hawk.”
His shoulders went rigid as he faced her, brows drawn. “But you’re my—”
“If you call me your sister again, I’m going to scream,” she broke in.
Her blood raced as she stood, fists clenched, and glared at him. At that moment, she was caught between wanting to punch him and wishing she could throw her arms around those tense shoulders and lift her mouth to his. He wanted to go back to being her brother? She’d show him just how un-sisterly her feelings were.
But that would just complicate the present situation and make things even more uncomfortable between them, wouldn’t it?
No, she’d finish out the week taking care of him, the way she’d promised. She had this Nice Nancy Nurse thing down now. On Friday she’d go help get ready for the engagement party. After that, she’d just have to figure things out on her own, one challenge at a time. But one thing she knew for sure, she wasn’t going to keep leaning on Hawk.
He scowled at her from across the room. “What’s your plan then? Moving in with your dad and his new wife? I’m sure they’d just love that.”
“Maybe I can stay where I am and get a couple of roommates or something,” she blurted, then stomped past him back into the kitchen.
As she stood at the stove, fuming, her pulse began to slow. Roommates? Where had that idea come from?
She picked up the spoon and stirred the sauce, her gaze unfocused as she considered the real possibility of having other people move into Dovie’s house with her. Assuming of course that her dad didn’t intend to sell the place out from under her, she might be able to make it work. There were three bedrooms, so she could get two roommates. Even if she charged them just a modest rent, she ought to be able to cover her food and utility costs.
The more she thought about it, the more excited she got. This could turn out to be a fun new experience, especially if she recruited people she already knew. Maybe Tracy would want to move in! Her bestie was always complaining about having to live with her folks. Between the two of them, they were bound to know a third person who would be compatible.
Her good spirits returned as she imagined the scenario. She was half-tempted to call her dad right now and ask him about his intentions for the house, then she thought better of it. She would need to catch him in just the right mood and be prepared to present her case in an organized way. And she needed to run it by Tracy. It would be better to wait until she could get home and gather some information about the actual costs she’d be dealing with.
Humming a happy tune, she put a big pot of water on to boil and began breaking the spaghetti noodles into short pieces.
“Desi?”
She was so intent on her cooking, she hadn’t heard Hawk’s approach. Hands still full of pasta, she half-turned. He was standing just inside the archway.
“Yes?”
“Sorry.”
She shrugged and sent him a smile. “For what?”
“For trying to run your life. That’s what’s pissing you off, right?”
She turned away and went back to breaking the noodles. “That’s one way to put it,�
�� she said after a moment. “I appreciate you caring, Hawk, and I’ll always be grateful for everything you’ve done for me. But this is something I have to figure out on my own.”
“I get it,” he said. “From now on, it’s all you.”
She heard him shuffle back to his chair, and the soft squeak of leather as he settled into it.
Chapter 15
On Tuesday afternoon Desi drove Hawk to his appointment with Dr. Evan Hunter, a burn specialist. After removing his bandages, the doctor spent a good fifteen minutes examining Hawk’s injuries, asking questions, and having Hawk move his fingers this way and that.
“I’m going to refer you to an occupational therapist. My staff will schedule the first appointment for you and let you know the day and time. Should be later this week. Your hands are healing well, and we don’t want to wait to get them back in action.” The doctor began typing at a nearby computer while his pretty blonde nurse redressed Hawk’s hands. After a moment the man turned back and smiled at Hawk. “The bandages have protected the burned skin, but they also restrict movement. If we don’t start physical therapy soon, you could develop scar tissue that might permanently limit your reach and grip.”
“So with this therapy I should be able to do everything I did before?”
“Eventually, yes, I would expect a return to full function.”
As Hawk left the exam room minutes later he breathed a sigh of relief. He had half-expected the doctor to somehow discern that he’d screwed things up on Saturday in the shower debacle, but no permanent damage had been done. It was great to hear the man pronounce him well on the way to a full recovery, with no sign of infection. He chuckled to himself. So much for Nurse Sarah’s dire predictions.
He entered the waiting room in a celebratory mood. At the far end of the room Desi sat beneath a window, engrossed in the magazine open on her lap. Pale sunlight streamed in, falling on her shoulders and ebony hair. The halo effect struck him as more than a coincidence. She was like his personal angel. Without her there these past few days he wasn’t sure how he would have managed. The idea that she would sacrifice her spring break and risk the wrath of her father to come to his rescue put an unfamiliar tightness in his throat.
She glanced up and saw him, and in that unguarded moment the smile she gave him was so open and full of affection that it brought him to a dead stop. They stared at each other across the space separating them, and then the expression on her face morphed to one of concern. She came to her feet, the magazine sliding unheeded to the floor.
“Is everything okay?”
His heart gave a strange little thump before resuming its normal rhythm, and in that moment he realized again how mutinous his feelings for her had become. Just when he thought he had a handle on them, his emotions had once again jumped their familiar boundaries, creating a shifting landscape of overwhelming elation mixed with fear.
He conjured what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he sauntered toward her. “Yep, great news. I’m almost good as new.”
“Really?” Relief washed over her face, and he hated that he’d been the source of her worry. She deserved so much better than to spend her time and attention on someone as screwed up as he was.
* * * *
During the next two days he and Desi settled into a routine of sorts. Nurse Sarah would stop by right after breakfast to change his bandages, then Desi would help him get ready for the day. They found that a sponge bath of sorts was almost as efficient as a full shower, hitting his critical areas with a warm washcloth and deodorant. Much to Hawk’s relief, the process was much quicker and less fraught with sexual minefields.
On Wednesday he was drawn back to South Bay Classics, unable to stay away. He spent two hours hovering over the other guys’ shoulders, helpless and frustrated. Miguel wisely kept his mouth shut about Desiree, who passed the time reading in the customer waiting area. Then they’d grabbed some lunch and spent the afternoon at the Woodland Park Zoo.
On Thursday they visited the occupational therapist. Desiree stood nearby and watched with interest as the therapist put Hawk’s hands through a barrage of what she called range of motion exercises that were meant to prevent contracture—tightening of the burned tissue. He grimaced as the healing-but-still-tender skin was gently stretched
“You’ll want to go through this routine every four hours from now on, except of course when you’re sleeping,” the woman told him. She turned toward Desi. “Will you be assisting him with his exercises?”
A look of distress crossed Desi’s face. “I wish I could stay and help, but I have to go home to Portland tomorrow.”
The therapist patted Desi’s shoulder. “That’s all right. These are simple movements that Mr. Ironcloud can do on his own. Isn’t that right, Mr. Ironcloud?” Kind gray eyes looked into his.
“Sure,” Hawk said. “You’re going to send me home with written instructions, right?”
“Of course. And there are instructional videos for you to refer to on our private YouTube channel. The written instructions I give you will include the links and password. You do have access to a computer, don’t you?”
He grinned and wiggled his fingers in the air. “I have access as long as you don’t put bandages back on my hands. Or maybe you expect me to type with my nose?”
The woman chuckled. “Oh, we have a much better solution than that. As of today, Dr. Hunter has written orders to switch out your gauze bandages for a pair of silver ion gloves. They’re protective wear made for burn patients. They’re antimicrobial, so they’ll still promote healing of your palms while allowing you much better range of motion. And they’re open at the fingertips, which is going to help your dexterity.” She measured his hand and left the room.
The sudden change of events caught him off guard.
“Did you hear that?” Desi jumped up from the stool she’d occupied, her face alight. “You’re graduating to gloves. That’s fantastic!”
He grinned. “Yeah. It is, isn’t it? Now I might not be such a helpless wimp when you’re not around. I might even be able to give the guys at the garage a hand.”
Her smile dissolved. “Hawk! Don’t you dare. Not until the doctor gives you full release to return to work. You got off lucky so far, but don’t screw this up, okay?”
“Okay. Calm down, Nurse Nancy.” He was going to miss teasing her. She was adorable with the slight flare of her nostrils and the way she pursed her full lips.
“Do you promise?” She came close now and looked into his eyes. The delicate and tantalizing scent of her skin reached him, stripping away any remnant of humor from the moment and replacing it with unsettling changes in his body.
“Sure. I promise,” he said, swallowing hard.
He stared down at her, tempted to violate his own vows and show her just how her nearness affected him. He fought for control, just as he’d been doing since their very first kiss. Evenings were the worst. With her on the couch—usually deep in one of her beloved novels—and him just a few feet away in his recliner watching TV, it would have been so simple to get up and cross the space and put an end to all the nonsense.
Except that he’d promised himself not to act on the raging desire that burned in him.
And of course his hands were still bound in gauze and medical tape, completely unusable.
Until now.
A thrill of trepidation coursed through him. While it was a wonderful development that he would be able to take care of his own basic needs, the fingerless gloves meant there would be nothing preventing him from touching her gorgeous caramel skin. How the hell was he supposed to maintain his self-control when the silken path of her cheek begged to be stroked?
The exam room door swung open. As he turned away from Desi, the therapist walked in, followed by a medical assistant who carried dressing supplies.
The older woman frowned. “Unfortunately, Mr. Ironcloud, we’re out of stock of silver ion gloves in your size. I apologize. But I’ll have Dr. Hunter’s office call and amend you
r home health nurse’s orders. She should have those for you when she stops by tomorrow. Meanwhile, you’ll need to remove your bandages this evening in order to complete the range of motion exercises I showed you earlier.”
Hawk struggled to mask his disappointment. For a few moments there he’d been reveling in all the possibilities the relative freedom of the gloves would give him. At the same time, he was relieved to have the temptation of touching Desiree removed. Tomorrow she’d be on her way home and well out of harm’s way when Nurse Sarah fitted him with the gloves.
“Will I be able to drive?” he asked, as the assistant applied the now-familiar medicated gel to his palms and began to wrap his hands with gauze.
“Even with the gloves you’ll still need to be very careful. No lifting anything heavier than a cup of coffee. No grasping other than the specific exercises we’re having you do. Driving an automatic transmission should be all right, but use caution. And I want you to come in twice a week so we can work with you and see what progress you’re making. You can schedule your appointment times with the receptionist before you leave.”
* * * *
Once outside the clinic, Desi couldn’t keep her excitement in check. She grabbed Hawk’s arm as they crossed the parking lot. “Do you get what a big deal this is, Hawk? You’re going to be able to take care of yourself!”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “Yep.”
“Oh, come on. You have to be more excited than that! All this time I’ve been feeling so bad about having to leave tomorrow morning, but once you have these sci-fi gloves, you’ll be fine on your own. What a relief.” She gave a happy sigh as she walked along beside him.
“Uh-huh.”
She squelched the urge to punch him. “Come on, sourpuss. Let’s celebrate. Let’s go out to dinner.”
He came to a full stop. “Are you forgetting that for tonight I’m still under wraps?” He lifted his bandaged hands in an exaggerated shrug.
