Jesse's Hideout (Bluegrass Spirits 1)

by Kallypso Masters

  When she opened her eyes again, though, he merely gave her a smile along with a shake of his head. “You and your bourbon.”

  Feeling her spirits lift for the first time since her accident, she grinned back. “I’ll tell you a little secret. I detest the taste of straight bourbon, but when I put it into my fruitcake, bourbon balls, or cherry bounce, it’s quite tasty.”

  “I’ll bet it is.” He ascended the front steps and entered the house, and she heard Derek close the door behind them.

  “You’ll miss out on the other two bourbon treats this early in the season, but be sure to try the cherry bounce. I’d like to know what you think of it.”

  “I’d be delighted to.” He sounded less than thrilled. “First, though, we need to get you to bed. I’m not going to attempt the stairs to your room, though. I’d probably bang your foot against the wall. So I’ll put you in mine.”

  She glanced around and saw that they were upstairs already, but not on her side of the house. Had she nodded off again, or was her memory suddenly like a sieve?

  Wait! His bed?

  Oh my Lord.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Derek, would you open the door for us?” Greg could hold Tillie all night like this, not that she probably wanted him around after he’d practically abandoned her yesterday. If he’d come home on time… Well, so much water under the bridge. He’d make it up to her now by taking care of her.

  The scent of vanilla and citrus wafted to him from her, driving his body insane. His attraction to her was stronger tonight than before possibly because a sense of protectiveness had been added to the mix.

  Don’t kid yourself. You’ve been acutely aware of her for days.

  “Greg, where are you going to sleep?”

  “Derek’s room, with both doors open so I’ll hear you if you need anything.”

  He asked Derek to flip on the light switch and carried her inside, crossing the room to the side of the bed. “Derek, pull the quilt down for me.” He realized his voice sounded a little gruff. “Please.” The boy did the best he could with the heavy fabric on the high mattress and earned a “good job” from Greg, who set Tillie gently on the mattress and covered her. He hoped she didn’t want him to undress her and put her to bed properly. She might need to hire someone to see to her personal needs after all.

  “What can I get you? Glass of water?”

  “Oh no! Getting to the bathroom is going to be enough of a nightmare. I’m not going to drink a thing.”

  “You do realize that becoming dehydrated isn’t going to make you heal any faster. I should have asked before I put you in bed, but do you need to go now?” Please, no, he silently prayed.

  “No, I went at the hospital. I’m fine.”

  He must have shown visible relief because she grinned.

  “Do you have your cell phone?”

  “Right here.” She retrieved it from her purse and brandished it at him. At least she had it on her this time. He hoped she’d learned a lesson there.

  “Let me program in my number in case you need me tonight. I know I’m only a room away, but I don’t want to miss hearing you call for me.”

  She unlocked the phone and handed it to him. After programming in his contact info, he handed it back to her. “Are you sure there isn’t anything you need?”

  She wouldn’t meet his gaze, and he waited for her to answer. Her meek voice said, “Well, I’d sleep more comfortably if I was out of these slacks.”

  Yeah, maybe you will, but I sure won’t.

  When he hesitated, she added, “If they won’t come off over the boot, just cut the rest of them away.”

  He lifted her blouse and reached for the waistband. Her skin was warm against his fingers. He’d undressed Nancy before, but usually as a prelude to something carnal. He couldn’t remember being in the position of caretaker before.

  Levering herself on the good foot, she raised her hips. Careful not to take her panties with him, he felt for the other waistband but couldn’t find it. Cautiously, he lowered the band and breathed a sigh of relief when her bikini panties came into view. Normally, undressing a beautiful woman would be exciting, but the last thing he needed right now was to make her think he was turned-on.

  With the pant leg cut nearly to the hip, he had no trouble with the removal of the rest of it and looked around for what to do with them, avoiding any further view of her panties.

  As if the sight wasn’t indelibly stamped on his brain.

  “You can lay them over the bed rail.”

  “Anything else I can do? Need anything from your room?”

  She tried to stifle a yawn. “Not a thing I can think of.”

  “Well, we’ll get out of your hair. When do you need to be up tomorrow?”

  “About seven.”

  He glanced at his watch. “That’s hardly three hours of sleep.”

  “I have a feeling I’m going to have lots of time to sleep, but I have to call Beckie at a decent hour and prepare some things before she arrives.”

  “Is that like cleaning in advance for a visit from the maid?”

  “Not at all!” She cast her gaze aside, sheepishly. “Okay, maybe a little.”

  “I’ll be in here to wake you and help you get ready so you can be downstairs in the kitchen by eight.”

  “Seven-thirty.”

  “Seven-forty-five. And you can expect me to stay in the kitchen with you at least until the caterer arrives.”

  “You’re here as my guest. You will not be working in my kitchen.”

  “Try and stop me. Now, get some sleep.” He left while he still had the last word.

  * * *

  Tillie wanted to stay awake and wallow in self-pity again, but her eyelids began drooping immediately. Images of Greg bringing her breakfast in bed wearing nothing but his plaid boxers lulled her to sleep.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead.” Greg’s low voice melted her to the core. Would he kiss her awake? Wait. Why was he asking her to wake up? She was deliciously wide awake and ogling his lightly furred chest.

  A gentle shake of her shoulder brought a smile to her face.

  “Tillie.” His whisper filtered through the fuzziness in her brain. “Open your eyes, or I’m going to let you sleep in.”

  She blinked awake in an instant. This was no dream. She noticed he wore a robe. Well, that bare chest had been part of a dream.

  “There you are.” He smiled. “I was about to let you sleep a little longer.”

  The preservation supper was tonight! She tossed the quilt and sheet off her legs. “I’d have never forgiven you for that.” When she moved to swing her legs over the side of the bed, an excruciating pain shot up her right leg, nearly doubling her over.

  “Oh my God!”

  “Whoa! Here.” He picked up the bottle of prescription ibuprofen from the nightstand and handed it to her. “Take one of these before you attempt to get up. I’m sure what they gave you at the hospital has worn off by now. You should try to stay on the maximum-dosage schedule at least for the first twenty-four hours.”

  While she didn’t intend to follow Dr. Greg’s instructions all day long, she removed a pill from the bottle and accepted a glass of water, downing both before handing him the bottle and empty glass. He then covered her legs again with the quilt and returned to the chair.

  At least he hadn’t watched her sleep. The mere thought of him being in here all night sent the butterflies in her stomach into a tizzy, especially after her dream, which must have been triggered by his scent on the pillow.

  After fifteen minutes of him waiting in the wingback near the window, he stood. “How do you feel now?”

  If she was going to be honest with him, she’d never get out of this bed today. He wasn’t the only one who could be less than truthful. “I’m fine.”

  “Okay, but if you feel any pain, tell me to stop. Ready for the bathroom?”

  His pained expression told her she was more ready than he was, and she grinned. “I’m sorry you’re
having to take care of me. Why don’t you hand me the crutches and let me do this alone?”

  “Have you ever walked on crutches before?”

  “I’ve never so much as stubbed my toe before.”

  “For the first two days, when you don’t want any weight on it, I’ll carry you around.”

  “You will this morning. I’ll call about hiring a home health aide for a couple of days so you and Derek can finish your vacation.”

  “Stop worrying about us. Now, I’m going to carry you in there so you can…” Greg stared down at her lap, still covered by the quilt. “…and get you seated.” He cleared his throat. “This is no time for modesty. While you’re in there, tell me what you’d like to wear today. I’ll gather up everything from your room.”

  After she described the dress she planned to wear, she instructed him to stop near her dresser and retrieve a new pair of panties and a bra from the basket of laundry she hadn’t put away yet. No way was she going to send him rummaging through her underwear drawer.

  After she was seated, having lowered her panties while he held her by her torso, he left the room. I’m not going to survive the humiliation. About ten minutes later, he knocked on the door.

  “I’m back. No rush. Let me know when you’re ready.”

  “Come in. I’m as decent as I’m going to get.”

  He entered with her dress and draped it over the tub, laying the undergarments on top of it as though eager to rid himself of them. She suffered more indignities before he lowered the seat and sat her down again. She wouldn’t tell him her ankle was throbbing unless it became unbearable. The pill ought to kick in soon.

  “You’ll need to stick to a sponge bath, per doctor’s orders. Where’s a basin for your rinse water?”

  Not only her cheeks burned, but her neck and forehead as well. She pointed toward the linen closet and waited for him to set everything within reach. When he left the room again, she removed her blouse. She’d already ditched the bra under the covers last night. Nothing worse than sleeping in one of those contraptions.

  She bathed as thoroughly as she could without standing up and donned the dress. It was a heavy fabric, and she decided to forego the panties. The less maneuvering during bathroom breaks the better. She tucked them into her pocket. No one would be the wiser.

  Heat crept up her neck to her face. No way would Greg know she was pantyless, so why was she blushing?

  Oh, Tillie. What a mess you are.

  “About ready?” he asked through the closed door.

  Glancing at her fob watch, she saw it was already half past eight. “Ready!”

  The door opened and an all-too-perky Greg entered carrying the bottle of ibuprofen. “I don’t want you to forget these.” He handed it to her, and she slipped the pills hastily into her pocket.

  He lifted her into his arms again, cocooning her in comfort and safety. “Next stop, the kitchen?”

  She nodded. “Thanks for all your help this morning.” Her voice sounded breathy.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “No, I really do appreciate it.” He walked down the stairs, careful not to hit her protruding leg and foot on either the walls or balusters. The fear of falling again caused her to wrap her arms around his neck a little too tightly. She loosened her grip somewhat. “Sorry.”

  “Hold on as tightly as you wish. But I’m not going to drop you. You’re light as a feather.”

  As soon as they reached the foot of the stairs, she loosened her hold some more.

  “Will Derek be all right upstairs?”

  “He’ll probably sleep until noon at least. Once your caterer arrives, I’ll take him out for lunch.”

  “Will you be here for the dinner meeting? Several members want to meet and talk with an architect who understands historic preservation.”

  “Today is not one of those days I need to push him to try new things. I doubt tonight’s menu will cater to a five-year-old’s picky tastes, so I planned to stop at the pizza place next to the gas station.”

  “I planned on pigs in a blanket for him, if he likes those.”

  “Oh, he does. I’m sure he won’t go hungry then. And he did try what you put on his plate yesterday at breakfast.”

  The reminder of where they’d left things unsaid yesterday morning slammed back to the forefront of her mind. They still hadn’t had a chance to talk about why he’d withheld his identity from her. Today would be filled with meal preparation, though, so she decided not to bring it up now.

  He walked through the dining room and into the kitchen. “Oh, and I’d love to stick around for dinner, if for no other reason than to carry you around some more.”

  His smile warmed her deep inside. He hadn’t taken time to shave this morning, and an errant thought wondering what it might feel like to have his scratchy whiskers scrape her sensitive skin infused her face with heat again.

  “You can put me down now,” she whispered. The breathless quality in her voice gave away her arousal, but also snapped her out of this trance or whatever it was. She pointed to the bar stools at the island, “Either of those would be perfect.”

  Instead, he took her to the table near the window and kicked out the chair with his foot. “I’d rather have you closer to the ground and in a more stable chair, if you don’t mind. I’m sure you can oversee operations as well from right here as up there—and I can prop your foot up on this other chair.” He did so, and the pressure that had been building in her foot dissipated. “How’s that?”

  “Much better. Thanks.” She’d be grateful no matter how much his bossiness crept under her skin. “Could you hand me my apron?”

  Rather than hand it to her, he insisted on placing it on her and tying it before situating her in the chair.

  Before making her phone calls, she told him where to find a number of the ingredients she’d need to begin working. Beckie, a middle-aged black woman Tillie first met at an event in Bardstown, told her Vera had already called, and she’d be over within the hour. That she’d drop everything to help her made Tillie’s eyes sting. While she always enjoyed the woman’s company, both were so consumed by their businesses that they rarely socialized.

  While waiting on Beckie’s arrival, she and Greg cut up veggies for a relish tray. He set up his workstation on the butcher-block island, and they worked mostly in silence. Again, not the place for a deep discussion about yesterday that would be interrupted momentarily.

  Beckie arrived as scheduled, and the two women went over the menu, divvied up the remaining tasks, and caught up on their lives while working. They hadn’t seen each other since the Bourbon Festival.

  “If you ladies will excuse me, I’m going to shower and shave to get ready for the meeting, but I’ll be back down shortly.”

  When he was out of earshot, Beckie whistled under her breath. “He’s some looker.”

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

  Beckie chuckled. “Oh, you noticed all right. You barely took your eyes off him.”

  “I did not!” But she knew her words revealed she was in agreement with the astute woman. “Okay, maybe a little.” The two laughed as they worked side by side and talked about what they’d been busy with since September.

  Pleased with how well they meshed, Tillie made the woman an offer. “Beckie, I’m going to need some help to get through the holiday season here. Would you have time in your schedule to work the parties I have lined up and perhaps prepare and serve breakfasts until the doctor lets me be on my foot again? I’ll find someone else to take care of the overnight guests and housekeeping, but you’re so wonderful in the kitchen.”

  “Of course! I have a few events planned, but mostly luncheons and dinners, so nothing that would overload me.”

  “Great. You’re a godsend. Perhaps we can go over the calendar once we finish up with today’s event.”

  “Okay, put me to work.” Both women looked up to find Greg standing in the doorway wearing khakis and a light blue, button-down, long-sleeved shirt
he filled out in ways she shouldn’t be noticing.

  Beckie whispered under her breath, “See what I mean?”

  Caught red-handed, Tillie cleared her throat. “Why don’t you finish setting out the dishes and flatware on the buffet, Greg?” At least that would get him out of the kitchen momentarily. “The gold-trimmed plates in the china cabinet go at the far end of the sideboard. And the silverware chest is on the left-hand side of the china cabinet, underneath.”

  “I think I can manage that. Everything smells delicious, by the way.” He smiled as he went into the adjoining room. Tillie’s gaze remained locked on him as he walked away. He filled out the pants well, too.

  “Mm-mm-mm,” Beckie said, whether in appreciation of the sight or to bust Tillie’s chops yet again, she didn’t know.

  “Would you hand me the veggies, Beckie, and I’ll place them on the relish tray.”

  Beckie flashed a knowing smile, but brought over the bags of broccoli, peppers, and cauliflower she and Greg had cut earlier along with a bag of carrots. While Beckie worked on the dip, Tillie arranged in silence.

  Fifteen minutes passed before Greg returned. “Where can I find the napkins?”

  “In the sideboard, top right drawer,” Tillie answered. Determined not to be caught looking again, she focused intently on placing baby carrots on the tray. “How’s the chicken doing, Beckie?”

  “Marinating. The au gratin potatoes are set to go in the oven. And I’ve sliced the sugar-cured ham, for those preferring that instead of poultry. You want me to tuck the pigs in their blankets?” Tillie nodded. “I’ll put those in just before everyone gets in the buffet line.”

  “Beckie, I don’t know how to thank you for doing this on such short notice.”