by Laura Scott
“Go ahead. I’ll catch up.” His tone was terse, and beads of sweat dotted his brow. For all his insistence on her being checked out, she knew the roles should have been reversed. He’d taken a bad fall the day before and now this. She had no doubt the wound on his torso was bleeding again, although it was difficult to tell since he was wearing a black T-shirt.
And based on the grimace etched on his features, she knew his left leg was killing him.
“Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything about Hackbarth and our patient sooner. I don’t formally have an attorney, but my friend who is a lawyer advised me not to talk about it.”
Jonas grunted, and she took that to mean he understood.
They walked in silence for a few minutes when the tip of his crutch slid off a rock. He lurched sideways toward her, and she caught him with her body, holding him steady.
He stopped for a moment, his head down as if he were glaring at the rock that dared trip him up. When he finally lifted his gaze, she could see the way he had his jaw clenched with barely restrained frustration and anger.
“Hey, it’s a farmer’s field. The rock didn’t jump into your path on purpose.” She strove for a light tone, hoping to ease the tension. “But if you want me to stomp on it for you, I will.”
He blew out a heavy breath, and she thought his jaw relaxed a bit. “I’m fine.”
“I know. So am I.”
That made him shake his head as if unsure what to think. She could relate. He knocked her off balance just by being in close proximity and breathing the same air.
Jonas resumed the laborious task of crutching over the ruts. She kept close to his left side, silently supporting him. She took it as a positive sign that Jonas didn’t tell her to go on ahead.
Garth was on the phone waiting for them by the time they reached the road. Jonas leaned against the vehicle, setting the crutches aside and resting his arms.
“Don’t tell me you already blabbed to my sister,” Jonas said, glaring at his future brother-in-law.
“Yep. And if you think I’m sorry, I’m not.” Garth opened the back of the police vehicle. “I love Jemma, and she deserves to know what happened here. By the way, she’s thankful you’re both okay.”
“Now she’ll hover worse than ever,” Jonas muttered as he slid into the back seat.
“Yes, she will, but only because she loves you.” Bella placed the crutches along the floor, then took a seat beside him.
Jonas didn’t respond but relaxed into the seat. He lifted the hem of his T-shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, providing a glimpse of his taut six-pack abs and the blood-stained dressing on his left side.
A part of her wanted to reach out toward the dressing, but her gaze fixated for a moment on his abs. She forced herself to look away. The man was far too attractive for his own good. Too bad he was lugging around more baggage than your average 747.
As soon as the thought formed, she felt ashamed. Because it wasn’t true. Granted, Jonas was struggling to adapt to life with one good leg, but she was fairly certain he’d use a prosthetic device and work through his issues without a problem.
Greg had died six months ago, and it had been another seven months since she’d last seen him. Still, they’d been engaged. She’d promised to love him, to marry him. She shouldn’t be interested in a guy. Any guy.
Especially a wounded warrior like Jonas.
Jemma was waiting at the door when Garth pulled into the B&B parking lot. Bella expected Jonas to make some sort of comment about his sister’s penchant for hovering, but when she glanced at him, his head was tipped back and his eyes were closed.
Sleeping? A glance at his fingers curled into fists convinced her he was attempting to internalize his pain rather than resting.
“Jonas! Bella! Are you all right?”
At the sound of Jemma’s voice, Jonas opened his eyes. She was impressed that he managed not to grimace or scowl at his sister.
“We’re fine.” His tone was gruff and didn’t invite further conversation.
“I let Jazz and Dalton know to add more to the lunch order of Chinese.” Jemma’s gaze bounced between them, as if searching for signs of injury. “You two should go up and get some rest. I’ll let you know when lunch arrives.”
“I’m sorry we couldn’t get your art supplies, Jonas.” Bella slid out of the vehicle first, then pulled out the crutches, holding them ready for Jonas. “We can try again later in your car if you’d like.”
“Art supplies?” Jemma echoed. “You should have told me. I found some of Grandma’s art supplies in the attic. The paint isn’t any good after all these years, but I found two sketch pads, a broken easel, a package of charcoal sticks, and colored pencils.”
There was a flicker of interest in Jonas’s eyes as he took the crutches. “I wouldn’t mind taking a look at what you found.”
“I’ll get them right away.” If Jemma could have beamed herself into the attic in an instant, Bella was sure she would have. Anything to please her brother.
“It’s no rush.” Jonas looked tired, as if picking up a colored pencil would take too much energy.
“I have ibuprofen in my room,” Bella offered as they headed inside.
“Me, too. I’ll be fine.” He didn’t look at her, and she wondered if his desire to paint her had vanished in the wake of the crash.
She couldn’t necessarily blame him for wanting distance. After all, he’d almost gotten killed simply by being in the same car with her.
At the top of the stairs, they moved away toward their respective rooms. Bella was planning to take another shower. At the rate she was going through clothes she’d need to find a laundromat in town. Once she was cleaned up, she’d head outside with her latest thriller.
Her gaze landed on her first aid kit. Knowing Jonas needed to replace the blood-stained dressing on his torso, she carried it to his room. She listened to make sure he wasn’t showering, then knocked.
The door swung open revealing Jonas standing in the doorway with his crutches, a black gun tucked into a belt holster on his right side.
“What are you doing with that?” she demanded, automatically taking a step backward.
He lifted a brow. “Have you forgotten that someone just tried to kill you?”
She couldn’t look away from the weapon. Despite how she’d gotten engaged to a soldier and had a brother who’d served in the armed forces, she wasn’t fond of guns.
Okay, make that she had a strong aversion to guns. To weapons of any kind. Another reason she wouldn’t have lasted long in the Army.
She forced herself to meet his gaze. “For all we know the brakes failed because the car is old or because I hit something on the highway.”
“You don’t really believe that.”
She wasn’t about to admit anything. Even if someone had tampered with her car, she wanted to believe it was a scare tactic, nothing more. “Here, take the first aid kit. You need it more than I do.” She turned to go back to her own room.
“Bella.”
The tone of his voice compelled her to look back at him. “What?”
“I won’t let anything happen to you.” His brown gaze was so serious and intense, she felt the impact sizzle through her.
Once a warrior, always a warrior.
She stared at him for a long moment. On one hand she was grateful to have his support, but the idea that she needed protection at all was unnerving.
“Thanks.” She tried to smile, then quickly escaped to her room.
This so-called vacation wasn’t turning out at all as she’d planned.
And worse? She had no desire to leave.
6
Jonas showered, changed his dressing, downed four ibuprofen, and stretched out on the bed to rest. He’d thought four hours of therapy was enough to prepare him for being out on his own, but the bone-deep exhaustion proved otherwise.
He must have slept because he woke up to an incessant tapping on his door. “What?” he asked, his voice
husky with sleep.
“Lunch is ready.” Jemma’s muffled voice came from the other side of the doorway.
He almost declined her offer, but then realized his stomach was growling, despite the large breakfast he’d shared with Bella. Interesting that his appetite had returned. “Be down in a minute.”
“Okay.”
Jonas sat on the edge of the bed and raked his hand through his scruffy hair. He hadn’t bothered to get it cut since his injury, but now felt self-conscious about his appearance. Not because of Bella, but Jazz and Dalton’s wedding was coming up and he needed to look nice for that. He made a mental note to visit one of those cheap hair-cut places when he returned to the VA on Friday to pick up his prosthesis.
He washed up in the bathroom and hesitated when it came to putting the belt holster back on. Bella’s antagonistic reaction toward the weapon had surprised him, but he’d meant what he said. No way was he going to risk anything happening to her.
After a brief internal debate, he slipped the gun into the holster, then headed downstairs. Jazz, Dalton, Jemma, Garth, Trey, and Bella were already at the table. Once again the only empty spot was next to Bella, but he didn’t really mind. Propping his crutches against the wall, he slid in beside her, appreciating the hint of strawberry he could smell on her hair and skin.
She glared momentarily at the gun but didn’t say anything.
The scent of sweet and sour chicken, soy sauce, and rice was tantalizing. He was hungry and eagerly helped himself as the white containers of Chinese takeout were passed around. The conversation revolved around the status of the garage apartment construction project.
“The drywall in the two bedrooms is ready to be spackled and painted,” Dalton was saying. “The open-concept kitchen and living room is almost ready, too.”
“Who’s putting up the new tile in the bathroom?” Jemma asked as she cut up pieces of chicken for Trey.
“Me.” Jazz raised her hand with a cheeky grin. “Now that I’ve been practicing, I’m better than Dalton.”
“Yeah, you pretend you’re better at tiling than I am, but we both know you just want me to do the heavy lifting putting in the new countertops and cabinets,” Dalton retorted.
Jazz laughed and gave him a quick kiss. “You’re so smart. That must be why I love you.”
“I can paint,” Jemma offered. “After all, it’s going to be my space.”
“We have guests arriving the day after tomorrow,” Jazz reminded her. “No need to worry, we’ll handle the painting.”
“Can I paint?” Trey asked.
Jemma and Garth exchanged a look. “How about if you draw a pretty picture for us to hang on our wall instead?” Jemma suggested. “We need pictures to decorate for when we move in.”
Trey seemed to consider this option and nodded. “Okay.”
“I’m happy to help paint the walls,” Bella offered.
“Me too,” Jonas added.
“Bella, I’m going to end up comping your room rate if you keep insisting on helping out.” Jemma’s expression mirrored exasperation.
Bella waved a hand. “Consider it payment for the meals you keep providing for me.”
Jonas still wanted a chance to draw Bella and tried not to show his disappointment. He glanced at Dalton. “Do you have all the painting supplies? We can start after lunch.”
“It won’t be ready to paint until tomorrow,” Dalton told him. “Jazz is going to spackle this afternoon, and we’ll need to wait for it to dry.”
“Perfect.” He popped a piece of broccoli in his mouth to hide his satisfaction. This afternoon he’d convince Bella to sit for him so he could get a few sketches done. It had been a long time since he’d done any drawing, for all he knew what little skill he may have once possessed was long gone.
“Bella, did you call your insurance company about your car?” Garth asked.
She nodded. “They want a copy of the police report faxed over to them. I was hoping you could help me with that.”
“Of course.” Garth’s expression turned serious. “I took pictures of the damage, and I’ll include them with the report. I also arranged to have your car towed to a forensic garage just outside of Chicago.”
“Forensic garage?” Jazz picked up on the term, her sharp gaze raking over him. “Why?”
There was a long moment of silence before Bella spoke. “My brakes failed. I’m sure it’s nothing, but Garth and Jonas wanted the car to be examined by experts just to be safe.”
“Does this have anything to do with that guy who showed up here wanting to talk to you?” Jemma asked.
“I think so, yes.” Jonas sent each of his future brothers-in-law a pointed look. “We need to be on alert for anything else out of the ordinary.”
“We will,” Garth and Dalton said in unison.
“I guess that explains why Jonas is armed and dangerous,” Jemma said with a sigh.
“I hope you have a permit to carry the Glock,” Garth drawled.
“I do.”
“Listen, I don’t want to put any of you in danger.” Bella abruptly jumped to her feet. “I think it might be best if I leave.”
“Using what vehicle?” Jonas asked.
She hesitated and frowned. “I’m sure I can get my insurance company to pay for a rental.”
“Oh, please don’t leave.” Jemma looked upset at the notion. “You’re safer here than off on your own.”
Jonas took Bella’s hand and gently tugged her back down. She didn’t resist but didn’t look happy about it either. “We’ll talk about your options later, okay? For now, let’s finish eating lunch.”
Bella picked at her food. When everyone else was finished, she jumped up to help clear the table. Since it was difficult to carry dishes while using crutches, Jonas stayed where he was and combined the leftovers into a few cardboard containers.
“Oh, Jonas, here are the supplies I found in the attic.” Jemma set two large sketchbooks and a container of chalk next to him. “I hope this is enough for you to get started.”
“It’s great.” He flashed her a genuine smile. “Thanks, Jemma.”
His sister gave him an impulsive hug. “I’m so happy you’re here, Jonas.”
“Me, too.” He patted her back, catching a glimpse of Bella watching them from the counter. The yearning expression on her face made him realize how much she must miss her brother. The one who’d died in Afghanistan.
He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from hers. He longed to capture that look on canvas. With oil paint, not just a charcoal sketch.
What was it about her that called to him? That had him so tuned in to her emotions? That made him yearn for something more?
He didn’t want Bella to leave the B&B. For the first time since his injury, he was looking forward to the future.
Bella finished helping Jemma in the kitchen, far too aware of Jonas lingering at the kitchen table, watching her. She tried to tell herself it was in the best interests of the McNallys, especially Jazz, Jemma, and Trey, that she should leave. Find another place to stay.
But she didn’t want to. Weirdly enough, she’d begun to feel as if she belonged here. As if she’d already become good friends with the McNallys.
Even Jonas.
Especially Jonas.
Whoa, back up. No can do. Absolutely, positively not something she should even consider.
Jonas wasn’t looking for a relationship and neither was she. End of story.
She swiped her hands on her faded jean shorts and subtly left the kitchen area, picking up her thriller from the counter. She walked through the dining room and outside to the gazebo.
The lapping waves on the shoreline were mesmerizing and soothing. She closed her eyes and focused on the sound, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. The tension eased from her body, although the nagging headache from her mild concussion still lingered.
A cool breeze off the lake washed over her.
This is why she’d come to the B&B. To find a pla
ce to relax, to explore, and to figure out what her next career move should be. But ever since Garth had brought up the forensic mechanic, she’d been troubled by the possible danger she was bringing to the McNally doorstep.
She knew Garth spent a lot of time here with Jemma and Trey, but he couldn’t be here 24/7. And his presence hadn’t prevented someone from messing with her brake line.
If anyone had tampered with it at all.
She needed to call her insurance company back to ask about getting access to a rental.
A whiff of Jonas’s spicy aftershave made her realize she wasn’t alone. She opened her eyes, blinked, and found him sitting next to her with a sketch pad on his lap. He had a dark piece of something in his hand that looked like chalk, and he was drawing lines on the page, but he was turned in a way she couldn’t see what he was doing.
How he’d managed to sneak up on her while using crutches, she had no idea.
“You look beautiful.” His husky voice sent shivers of awareness rippling over her skin.
“Thank you.” She felt her cheeks go hot at the compliment. She wasn’t used to men saying things like that to her. She and Greg had grown up together, and while she’d known he loved and cared about her, he wasn’t the type of guy to say things like that out of the blue.
“Tell me about yourself,” Jonas invited as he sketched.
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I thought I had to stay motionless.”
“I’m out of practice, so this is just doodling.”
She had a feeling his doodling was far different from hers. She could do a decent cartoon character but that was about it. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“In Dearborn, a suburb of Detroit. I attended college at Wayne State University.”
“Did you always want to be a nurse?”
She nodded. “My mom was a nurse, so yes, that was always my plan. My brother, Ryan, didn’t like school very much, so that’s what drew him to the Army.”
“Where are your parents now?” The way Jonas sidestepped the issue of her brother dying in Afghanistan irked her.
“Dead.” She didn’t try to soften her tone. “Where are yours?”
