by Laura Scott
“Go ahead,” she taunted. “Tell me what’s going on in your mind. I work with arrogant surgeons all day. I can take it.”
Jonas’s brown gaze clashed with hers, and she could see the spark of anger shimmering there. Without another word, he reached for the crutches and stood on his good leg. She tucked the first aid kit under her arm and followed him inside the B&B.
They barely made it inside the great room when Jemma rushed forward, her brow furrowed with concern. “Jonas! Are you okay?”
“I patched him up, nothing to worry about.” Again, she wasn’t sure why she was inserting herself into the McNally family drama.
Jonas glanced at her—was that a speck of gratitude she saw there?—Before making his way toward the staircase. He didn’t respond to his sister, navigating the stairs easily. No doubt, his pride was hurt more than anything else.
“Thanks, Bella,” Jemma whispered once Jonas disappeared inside his room. “I heard he took a bad fall.”
“Yeah, but trust me, he’s fine.” Bella turned to face Jemma. “Word of advice?” When the woman nodded, she went on, “The more you fuss over him, the harder he’ll try to push you away.”
Jemma winced. “I know. But it’s difficult not to hover when someone you love is going through a difficult time.”
Bella nodded. “I get it, but I think he’s on the brink of bolting already. I’ve taken care of wounded soldiers before, so I recognize the signs. Just trust me on this, okay?”
Jemma’s troubled gaze was focused on the top of the staircase. “He never bothered to tell us about the injury. Just showed up with his foot missing. It kills me to know how long he must have suffered in the hospital without any of us being there for him.”
Bella didn’t have a response to that. If Jonas wouldn’t confide in his family, she wasn’t sure who he’d confide in. Finally, she said, “He doesn’t want sympathy. He wants to find a way to get back to normal. Or whatever his new normal is.”
“You’re right.” Jemma tipped her head to the side, regarding her thoughtfully. “Bella, would you mind joining us for dinner?”
“Um, dinner?” She was fairly certain she’d read on The McNallys’ B&B website that breakfast was the only meal that was provided along with the room.
“Yes, dinner.” Jemma smiled. “You won’t be disappointed. I’m a decent cook.”
Bella hesitated, certain there was an ulterior motive for Jemma’s spontaneous invitation.
If she were smart, she’d decline and leave the McNallys to themselves. The last thing she wanted to do was spend more time with the surly, silent, and stubborn Jonas.
“I’d like that, thanks.” The words popped out of her mouth before she could call them back.
Inwardly railing at herself for being a fool, Bella carried the first aid kit up the grand staircase. Instead of leaving it outside the door of Jonas’s room, she took it to hers. If he wanted it, he’d have to come ask for it.
Yep, she was a glutton for punishment all right. Somehow, despite all the warning signs, Bella was looking forward to the next verbal tussle with Jonas McNally.
3
Jonas felt better after a hot shower. Sure, the entire left side of his body still ached, especially his lower leg, but he figured he may as well get used to it. The situation wasn’t going to change any time soon.
This was his new reality.
The puncture wounds were bleeding again, so he stuffed a wad of tissue over them and tried to hold it in place with his elbow. When that didn’t work, he used some of the tape from the old dressing to keep it in place. With a towel cinched around his waist, he crutched to the doorway and opened it a crack to see if Bella had left the first aid kit for him.
She hadn’t. Despite his annoyance, he felt the corner of his mouth twitch with amusement. Bella was a feisty one and had no doubt taken the kit to her room on purpose. Just to piss him off.
For some odd reason, he liked that about her.
Her smart mouth probably drove the surgeons crazy. The image abruptly made him frown. Yeah, he needed to remember that while he might enjoy sparring with her, there could be nothing more serious between them. Bella was beautiful and funny, but she was a nurse who worked with doctors all day long. No reason she’d be interested in a deformed former special ops soldier with an uncertain future.
Rhonda, his girlfriend, had taken one look at him in the hospital and had left in a hurry. So much for sticking around through sickness and in health.
Or a missing foot.
Right. So that’s that. He grimaced as he rifled through his duffel, searching for clean clothes. He wanted to pull on a pair of shorts in deference to the June summer heat, but that would leave his amputated limb hanging out for anyone to see. Instead, he opted for a set of army green cargo pants. The long pants leg would hide his injury. He couldn’t bear the thought of people staring at what was left of his lower leg. Shirtless, the makeshift dressing hanging precariously from a bit of tape stuck to the left side of his chest, he made his way out of the room to knock on Bella’s door.
“Shocker,” she said in lieu of a greeting. Her gaze lingered a moment too long on his bare chest, and he felt his body tighten with awareness. “Macho man that you are, I would have bet money you would decide against borrowing my first aid kit.”
“And you’d have lost,” he countered. “No blood in Jemma’s house, remember?”
“That’s right. You do have a heart, at least where your sister is concerned.” Bella turned and crossed over to the bed. The first aid kit was already open. She peeled apart a new dressing and glanced back, frowning when she noted he was still hovering in the doorway. “What? Are you afraid I’ll try to ravage you if you cross the threshold?”
Frankly, he was more concerned about what she’d goad him into doing, like kissing her senseless, but of course he didn’t say that. Shaking his head at his foolishness, he crutched into the room. “I can put the dressing on myself.”
“Easier for me to do it.” She pulled off his field dressing and peered at the injury. “Not bad. I’ll put antibiotic ointment on those wounds, too.” As she spoke, she used a dab of the ointment, then smoothed a fresh layer of gauze over the wounds.
He didn’t say anything, wishing she’d hurry as he liked the feel of her hands on his skin far too much. This close he was hyperaware of her strawberry scent, and he wondered why on earth his senses had come alive for this woman.
Wrong place, wrong time. Wrong everything.
“That looks good.” She dropped the roll of adhesive tape into the kit and stepped back. “I’ll pick up some waterproof dressings after dinner, if you’d like.”
“No need.” His voice was low and gruff, and he avoided her gaze. He used the crutches to move away from her, heading toward the door. “I can get my own supplies.”
“Yes, I’m sure you can.” Her dry tone was laced with sarcasm. “Okay, I’ll see you later, then. Sounds as if your sister will have dinner ready soon.”
Her words stopped him at the door, and he craned his neck around to stare at her. “Since when are B and B guests invited to dinner?”
“Since your sister seems to think she has to thank me for providing first aid to you.” Bella’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Besides, if her cooking is half as good as her baking, why wouldn’t I jump at the chance of a free home-cooked meal? Especially since I’m hungry.”
Jonas glared at her, knowing full well the real reason Jemma had invited her to dine with them was because she was attempting to play matchmaker. A futile and ridiculous effort on his behalf.
The better question was why Bella had agreed to Jemma’s rather transparent ploy? Especially when she didn’t look particularly happy about it?
Not for a free meal, that was for sure.
He wasn’t quick enough to come up with a response, so he hobbled back down the hall to his room. He pulled a clean white T-shirt over his head, then lowered himself to the edge of the bed.
He hadn’t even been there for twenty-f
our hours and he already seriously regretted his decision to stay here while he finished recuperating. Obviously, he hadn’t thought things through. Now that he was here, he couldn’t tolerate the idea of Jemma and Jazz worrying about him, and he’d already made a fool of himself in front of his future brother-in-law while attempting to prove himself useful.
For a long moment he seriously considered heading downstairs, getting into his car, and driving away. Jazz’s wedding wasn’t until the following weekend, he could always come back for the ceremony.
“Jonas? You coming?” Jemma’s voice drifted up to his room, and he heard the hint of concern in her tone.
“Yeah.” Swallowing a groan, he pushed himself upward and grabbed the despised crutches. After using them for the past seven weeks, he was forced to acknowledge that having a prosthetic device would be better than this.
After navigating the stairs, he found his way to the kitchen. Something smelled delicious, and the first pang of hunger in weeks stirred in his belly.
“Chicken pot pie?” Was it possible his sister had made his favorite just for him?
Jemma blushed and nodded. “Used Grandma’s recipe and spent all afternoon making them. Thank goodness for central air or I never would have survived. Tomorrow we’ll have to grill out, the temperature is supposed to hit ninety degrees.”
Everyone was seated at the large kitchen table, including a dark-haired stranger dressed in a brown sheriff’s deputy uniform. The way he cut up food for Trey, Jemma’s son and his three-year-old nephew, Jonas assumed he was Jemma’s fiancé.
“Garth Lewis.” The stranger paused in his task long enough to stand and offer his hand.
“Jonas McNally.” It was interesting Jemma had gotten herself engaged to a cop, despite her divorce from another cop. Rumor had it her ex had serious control issues and a hot temper. Jonas thought the ex was lucky Jonas had been deployed overseas or he would have had to rearrange his face. He focused his attention on Garth. “I understand congratulations are in order. Seems both twins have gotten themselves engaged in the past couple of months.”
“Thank you. I—we couldn’t be happier.” Garth shared a secret smile with Jemma that caused Jonas to look away. The love shimmering between them was too painful to watch.
The only vacant spot at the long picnic-style table was between the wall and Bella, no doubt manipulated by one of the twins. Swallowing a curse, he propped the crutches on the wall and lowered himself into the empty space.
Bella subtly leaned away from him, her gaze centered on Jazz and Dalton. “I’m so impressed by the work you’re doing on the apartment over the garage.”
“That’s nothing.” Jemma set an individually baked pot pie in front of each person, including him. His mouth watered with anticipation. “You should see the work they’re doing on the old Stevenson place. Dalton bought the house back in April and then used his architect skills to redesign the main level. They’re basically starting over from scratch, but it’s going to be amazing when it’s finished.”
“I’d love a tour when you have time.” Bella finally glanced at him. “Have you seen it, Jonas?”
“Not yet.” He was preoccupied with the meal in front of him. Using his fork, he poked a small hole in the top of the golden brown crust, releasing the tantalizing scent of baked chicken and veggies. “Jemma, this smells amazing.”
“I hope you like it.” His sister brought the last two pies to the table for her and Garth.
“How could I not?” He took a bite and almost moaned out loud. The flaky crust and the chicken sauce smothering the tender chicken and veggies tasted exactly like his grandmother’s. A sense of loss hit hard. He wished he’d been able to return home for his grandmother’s funeral, but he’d been deep in the mountains of Afghanistan, and by the time he’d learned about her passing, the funeral had already been over.
“I can’t believe you made these from scratch.” Bella’s voice echoed with amazement. “The only chicken pot pies I’ve had were out of the freezer at the grocery store.”
“Those are disgusting.” Jazz wrinkled her nose.
“Well, they weren’t until now,” Bella argued. “Obviously once you’ve tasted the real thing, there’s no going back.”
“You have that right.” Jonas spoke without thinking. “Nothing beats Grandma’s recipe.”
“Can’t argue, it’s delicious.” Bella’s arm lightly brushed against his, and he forced himself not to pull away from the heat of her skin.
“Bella, tell us about yourself,” Jazz invited.
“Oh, there’s nothing much to tell.” Bella waved her fork in a casual gesture, but Jonas noticed she went tense. “I’m just taking a badly needed break from work, that’s all.”
“Where do you work?” Jemma persisted.
There was a moment’s hesitation before she answered. “At the VA hospital in Battle Creek. I’m a nurse in the operating room.”
It was a small world. Too small. Jonas steered the conversation away from Bella, back to his siblings. “Jazz, do you have everything you need for the wedding?”
“Everything except finalizing the music.” She playfully elbowed Dalton in the ribs. “Not surprising we can’t seem to agree on some of the songs.”
“Hey.” Dalton rubbed his side as if injured. “It’s not my fault you have awful taste in music.”
“Me? You’re the one who likes that country stuff. I’m not walking down the aisle to ‘Mammas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys.’” Jazz added a nasal twang as she sang the title of the song that almost made him laugh.
“If you ask me, you both have terrible taste in music.” Once again, he spoke without thinking, and all the faces turned to look at him in surprise. He lifted a brow and spread his hands wide. “Are you kidding me? Rock and roll is here to stay. End of discussion.”
“I have to agree with Dalton on this one,” Garth spoke up. “Country rules.”
“No way. It’s Jazz’s big day, she should get to decide the music.” Jemma was a staunch supporter of her twin.
It occurred to Jonas that it had been a long time, over eighteen months, since he’d been stateside. And he’d missed the family banter that accompanied their occasional family meals.
“What kind of music does Jazz like?” Bella asked.
“Eighties tunes,” Garth and Dalton answered at the same time.
“Why she likes that particular decade of music when she wasn’t even born yet is beyond me,” Dalton added.
“I have to agree with Jonas on the rock and roll,” Bella announced. “You’re all a bunch of crazy people.”
“I’m not crazy,” Trey protested.
That cracked up several of the adults, and even Jonas managed to smile. He looked down at his plate, surprised to see he’d eaten every bite of Jemma’s chicken pot pie. Her cooking had succeeded in whetting his appetite when all else had failed.
“You have a nice smile, Jonas.” Bella sent him a sly wink. “You should let it out more often.”
He felt the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment that she’d noticed but couldn’t think of a snappy comeback, so let it go.
He thought about his half-baked plan to get out of Dodge after everyone was asleep. Sharing dinner together had changed his mind.
It was good to be home.
The smile transformed Jonas’s face in a way that made her heart thump erratically in her chest. If he was handsome before, Jonas was stunningly attractive when he grinned.
Wow. It was a good thing he wasn’t smiling all the time, otherwise there would be a trail of broken hearts scattered across the country.
But not hers. Bella found herself thinking about her fiancé, Greg Wallace, and her brother, Ryan. Both men had died while serving their country, leaving her with two folded flags, a handful of love letters, and her memories.
She wasn’t interested in men. They were either slime-buckets or had more baggage than she was interested in carting around.
Losing her bro
ther and her fiancé was more than enough.
After setting her fork down, she nudged her plate away, her appetite having vanished. She caught Jonas’s gaze eyeing her plate and pushed it toward him. “Finish it off,” she encouraged. “I’m full.”
He cast her a glance that called her bluff but didn’t hesitate to clean her plate.
“Anyone save room for rhubarb pie?” Jemma asked.
Bella could have sworn she heard Jonas groan. “You baked another of my favorites?”
Suddenly, she needed to get away. “None for me, thanks.” Bella carried her empty plate to the counter. “Do you want me to start washing dishes?”
“No! You’re our guest!” Jemma’s expression of horror was comical.
“A guest who was welcomed into the family meal,” Bella pointed out. Through the kitchen window she could see the rippling blue lake water beckoning her.
“I don’t need help cleaning up,” Jemma said firmly. “Are you sure you won’t try the pie?”
“I’m sure.” She could feel Jonas’s gaze boring into her but refused to look at him. The desire to get away couldn’t be ignored. “If you’ll excuse me?” She made a hasty retreat from the kitchen, heading toward the whitewashed gazebo overlooking the lakeshore.
Hearing the sloshing of the waves helped ease the tension. It wasn’t like her to wallow over events in the past, to commiserate over things she couldn’t change. As a nurse, she’d seen more than her fair share of illness and death, something that helped her to focus on the positive aspects of life.
Being physically healthy and able to work was a blessing. One she didn’t take for granted. If she was fired from her job at the Battle Creek VA, she’d find something else.
There was always a shortage of nurses. And maybe this time she’d try something other than surgery. She wasn’t feeling kindly toward surgeons these days.
Jemma had plastic chairs in the gazebo, so she took a seat and stared at the water. There were plenty of people in their boats, enjoying the beautiful summer weather. The breeze off the lake was nice.
