by Laura Scott
“Also dead.”
She flinched and winced. She hadn’t considered the possibility that they had that much in common. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. For you and for me.” Jonas didn’t meet her gaze but remained intent on his sketch. Despite her initial aversion to being the subject of a drawing or painting, she found she was curious about what the sketch might look like.
“How long have you worked at the VA in Battle Creek?”
“Three years. I took a job there after Greg and Ryan were sent overseas. I thought it would help me feel closer to them in some way.”
Jonas didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Who’s Greg?”
“My fiancé.” Her gaze dropped to her ringless left hand. Greg had asked her to marry him prior to his deployment and she’d agreed, but he hadn’t given her an engagement ring. At the time, the lack hadn’t made her feel any less committed, but now she couldn’t help wondering if they would have survived the long-distance relationship.
Greg’s death made it a moot point. Yet these were the thoughts she tortured herself with late at night when sleep refused to come.
“I see.” Jonas stopped sketching, and he stared at her with a grim frown. “You should have said something earlier.”
“Like what?” It took a moment for his reaction to sink in. “I would have said something, but Greg died in Afghanistan, too. Just a few months after Ryan.”
He picked up the sketch pad again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been such a jerk to you when we first met.”
“No, you shouldn’t have been,” she agreed. They met for the first time yesterday, but for some reason, it seemed more like several weeks ago.
Freaky.
“My girlfriend dumped me the moment she found out about my amputation.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that, but she’s obviously not worth your time.”
His eyebrow lifted. “Why is that?”
“Some soldiers come back with physical injuries, some come back with psychological injuries, and others with both. Love isn’t always easy. What happened to staying together in sickness and in health?”
“But we hadn’t exchanged those vows.” He still didn’t look up at her but appeared to be concentrating on his sketch.
The one she was dying to see.
“I know, and that’s why she wasn’t worth your time.” She hesitated, then added, “When did you propose?”
“I didn’t.” He shrugged. “Looking back, it was probably for the best.”
“What’s the female version of a slime-bucket?” She pretended to think. “Slima-buckatee?”
He chuckled. “You’re goofy.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot.” She smiled, glad she was able to make him laugh. It wasn’t a full from-the-gut belly laugh, but it was a start.
She shifted in her seat again. The plastic deck chairs were practical for sitting out in the weather but not exactly comfortable. “Are you almost finished? I can’t sit here for much longer.”
“Then why did you bring a book out with you?”
Her gaze dropped to the book she’d completely forgotten about. “I don’t know. Reading usually helps me relax but not today. My headache is bothering me more than I anticipated.”
“You should have gone to the hospital.”
“You didn’t go either.”
“I guess that makes us both stubborn, huh?” Jonas made a few more sweeping marks, then abruptly turned the sketch pad so she could see what he’d drawn. “What do you think?”
Bella gaped in surprise. The likeness Jonas had done of her was uncanny. For one thing, he made her look amazing, far better than the face she normally saw every morning in the mirror. But the way he’d drawn her face was incredible. He’d captured her smile, yet there was a shadow of sadness in her eyes. As if she were thinking bittersweet thoughts.
Of Greg and Ryan.
“Oh, Jonas. I had no idea you were so talented!” She couldn’t tear her gaze from his sketch.
The corner of his mouth quirked in a smile. “Does that mean you like it?”
“I do, very much. It’s amazing. You were far too kind to me, but I love it.”
“I only draw what I see.” Jonas carefully tore the sketch from the pad and handed it to her. “Now you can understand why I’d like to paint you.”
“Didn’t we already ascertain that I’m not good at sitting still?” She stood and set the sketch carefully on the seat of the chair, placing her book on top of it so it wouldn’t blow away in the breeze. “Stand up.”
“Why?” Jonas gave her a wary look as he slowly rose, balancing on his right leg.
“Because I want to hug you.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and warmly embraced him. “This is the best present I’ve ever received.”
Jonas’s arms snaked around her waist, drawing her close. The heat of his body ignited a simmering awareness. Unable to pull away, she tipped her head to look up at him.
“I’m glad you’re not engaged,” Jonas said in a low husky voice before lowering his mouth to hers.
Me, too, she thought as his kiss shot her pulse skyrocketing into orbit. She clung to his shoulders, reveling in the heat of his kiss.
“Mommy! Uncle Jonas is kissing Bella!”
Trey’s voice was like a blast of cold water. She broke off from Jonas’s kiss, gulping oxygen in an attempt to clear the cloud of passion that had engulfed them.
“Gee, thanks, Trey,” Jonas said in a wry voice.
“I need to go.” Bella took a quick step backward, belatedly realizing she’d knocked him off balance. Thankfully, he dropped back into his seat rather than falling ungainly to the floor of the gazebo.
Before he could do or say anything more, she scooped her book and the sketch in one hand, then rushed away from the gazebo.
Yet even as she went back inside to seek refuge in her room, she knew it wasn’t Jonas she was running away from.
It was her own growing feelings for the wounded warrior she’d come to care about, far too much.
7
The impact of Bella’s kiss haunted him for hours, making a mockery of the feelings he’d claimed to have for Rhonda. Bella’s kiss had packed a punch, and he longed to draw her into his arms, picking up where they’d left off. It bothered him that she’d run away, even though he knew it was for the best. What did a legless former soldier have to offer a woman like Bella?
Nothing.
The following morning as Jonas showered and changed, he belatedly remembered his doctor’s appointment scheduled for later that afternoon. Today was the day he’d be given his prosthesis. He was looking forward to ditching the crutches, although he was told that getting used to using the fake leg would take time, so he’d need to keep the crutches for a few weeks.
Since his appointment was for fifteen hundred hours, there was no reason he and Bella couldn’t paint the bedrooms for a few hours after breakfast.
If she came down for breakfast. As he made his way through the great room and into the dining area, he hoped to find Bella already seated at one of the tables.
She wasn’t.
He frowned, propped his crutches against the wall, and dropped into a chair overlooking Lake Michigan. Bella hadn’t come down for dinner the night before either. According to Jemma, Bella’s headache was bothering her so she’d decided to rest.
Believable, especially since he’d noticed her sitting in the gazebo with her eyes closed that afternoon. But skipping two meals? Not acceptable.
“Good morning, Jonas.” Jazz flashed a warm smile as she filled his coffee mug. “Did you sleep okay?”
“I did.” Surprisingly, the nightmares hadn’t plagued him since coming to the B&B. Maybe being close to his siblings had helped keep them at bay. “Have you seen Bella yet?”
“Yep. You missed her, she was up super early this morning.” Jazz eyed him curiously. “I heard about the kiss on the gazebo.”
He sighed. “Figures Jemma blabbed.”<
br />
“Actually, Trey did.”
“Great. Outed by a three-year-old.”
“He’s almost four,” Jazz corrected. “But yeah, he told anyone who would listen how Uncle Jonas was kissing Bella.”
“I’m sure Bella was thrilled to hear that.” Was that why she was avoiding him? Because his nephew had opened his big mouth?
“Bella didn’t seem upset this morning. In fact, she said she felt much better. Claims her headache is gone.”
He nodded, glad to hear it. “Any idea what her plans are for the day?”
Jazz grinned and shook her head. “Gotta tell you, Jonas, you have it bad, don’t you? Did you forget her offer to help paint the apartment? Dalton is putting her to work as we speak.”
It surprised him how anxious he was to get up into the garage apartment to see her. “Don’t read anything into one kiss, Jazz. I’m sure Bella isn’t interested in pursuing a relationship with an unemployed and handicapped ex-soldier. I’ll have the full Irish breakfast, thanks.”
“Don’t underestimate her,” Jazz warned. “I’m pretty sure she can hold her own, especially with a surly ex-soldier turned artist. And you’re crazy if you think you have nothing to offer.”
Without giving him a chance to respond, Jazz returned to the kitchen, no doubt giving Jemma his breakfast order.
Watching the boats on the lake, Jonas sipped his coffee. His sister was trying to make him feel better, but he knew the truth. The sailboat skimming across the surface was a painful reminder of the physical limitations he was stuck with. Okay, yeah, maybe he’d never sailed before, but now it was just one more thing to add to the list of things he’d never be able to do.
Sensing he was growing morose, he gave himself a mental shake. He was here. Alive. Unlike many others he’d served with. Time to focus on what he could accomplish, not on what he couldn’t.
When Jazz brought him a plate of raspberry muffins, he took a big bite, savoring the tartness. He eyed his watch, hoping Jemma would hurry up with his breakfast so that he could head up to the apartment garage to help paint. A job he normally hated yet sounded fun as long as he was working alongside Bella.
Jazz was right. He had it bad.
Thirty minutes later, he stumped his way up the staircase to the garage apartment. Eighties music blared, making him wince. Why on earth Jazz enjoyed that era was beyond him.
The construction appeared to be moving at a rapid pace. He and Bella hadn’t helped yesterday afternoon, but it was clear Jazz and Dalton had worked their fingers to the bone. The drywall mudding was completely finished, and Jazz was already adding the spackle and primer in the open-concept kitchen and living room.
Hence the awful music. “It looks amazing.” He had to shout the compliment to be heard over the noise.
Jazz glanced over at him and smiled. “Thanks. Dalton is anxious to get this place finished so we can go back to working on our house.”
He admired how Dalton and Jazz put Jemma’s and Trey’s needs before their own. “You still owe me a tour.”
“Plenty of time. Dalton is picking up the cabinets from the hardware store. If you’re looking for Bella, she’s painting Jemma’s room.”
With a quick nod, he made his way through the construction area to the furthest of the two bedrooms. Bella was indeed painting the walls a pale yellow color, his sister’s favorite, while tapping her foot to the beat of Jazz’s eighties tunes.
“I thought you preferred rock and roll?”
He must have startled her because she fumbled with the roller in her hand as she spun around to face him. “I do. But Jazz’s music is better than Dalton’s.”
Raking his gaze over her face, he was forced to admit she looked well rested. Maybe it was the headache that had kept her locked in her room, rather than their heated kiss.
But then she quickly turned and resumed painting, concentrating on the task in a way that made him suspect she was bothered by his presence.
Feeling grim, he crossed over and picked up another roller brush. “I’ll start on this end, and we’ll meet in the middle.”
“Okay.”
For all his talk about being able to help, it soon became evident that painting while using crutches was awkward and laborious. After bending and straightening and almost falling twice, he filled another container with paint and slid it on the ladder.
“New plan. I’ll do the upper half while you do the lower.” Balancing his weight on his good leg, he was able to brace himself against the ladder enough to roll paint on the upper half of the wall.
“Sounds good.” Bella’s noncommittal responses were beginning to annoy him.
She was acting as if the kiss had never happened. Or worse, would never happen again.
They painted in silence for a good ten minutes until he couldn’t stand it a second longer. “I have a doctor’s appointment at the VA this afternoon to get my prosthesis.”
“You do?” That caught her attention. “That’s wonderful news.”
“Yeah, as long as I can figure out how to use it.” He’d been warned it was no easy task learning to walk on a fake leg. “I wouldn’t mind some company on the three-hour drive.”
There was a long pause before she nodded. “I’m happy to ride along.”
“Thanks.” He shouldn’t be so thrilled that she’d agreed to accompany him on the long ride to Battle Creek and back. “I’m hoping to stop and pick up some oil paints and canvasses while we’re there.”
She sent him a sidelong glance. “Do you only draw people? Or do you do landscapes, too?”
“I’ve done both,” he admitted. “Landscapes are easy. I prefer the challenge of painting people.”
She blushed and looked away. Bella was so beautiful, and he knew he could never really do her justice with his sketches and paints.
But that didn’t stop him from wanting to try.
They worked companionably for the next two hours. It irked him that he didn’t make nearly as much progress as Bella did, but he tried not to let his limitations depress him. At least he was doing something useful, even if it was half of what a normal person could accomplish in the same amount of time.
By eleven in the morning, when they’d finished the first coat of Jemma’s room, they quit for the day. Jazz insisted on washing the brushes, rollers, and pans while they changed their paint-speckled clothes.
“Oh, and I want you to take my truck.” Jazz tossed him the keys. “Dalton has been using it without a problem, and it’s been locked up in our garage at night. Don’t worry, it’s an automatic transmission, no clutch.”
He stared at the keys in his hand, nodding soberly. He’d examined his car for signs of tampering without seeing anything obvious. But after the near fatal crash yesterday, he wasn’t willing to take any chances. There was a slight oil leak, a good excuse to get a mechanic from town out to look at it, just to be sure.
“Do you want me to drive?” Bella asked as they approached Jazz’s cherry red truck.
“I’d rather if you don’t mind.”
Her expression mirrored relief. “Trust me, I’m happy to let you take the wheel. This thing is huge.”
“Safer,” he pointed out.
“Probably.” She settled into the passenger seat and clicked her seat belt into place. “Our seat belts saved our lives yesterday.”
“I know.” Neither one of them spoke for several long moments as he drove down the highway right past the scene of their recent crash.
The near miss was sobering. He’d been depressed after losing his lower leg, but now he realized just how much he wanted to live.
Not just exist day to day. But to really live a full life.
He glanced at Bella. Was it crazy to think Jazz was right? That he might have something to offer a woman like Bella?
Maybe it was time to find out.
Bella was acutely aware of Jonas’s musky scent. Images of their incredible kiss flashed in her mind.
Last night, she’d convinced herself tha
t she needed to stay away. To remain nothing more than friends. So why on earth had she jumped at the chance to ride along with him to his appointment? It wasn’t as if she really wanted to go back to the Battle Creek VA Hospital. The place where she likely no longer had a job.
“What made you go into surgical nursing?” Jonas asked as if reading her mind.
It was a loaded question, one she debated whether or not to answer. “I used to work on the surgical floor, where the patients came after surgery. It wasn’t until after I lost Greg and Ryan that I made the transfer to work in the operating room.”
There was a long pause. “I imagine it’s less emotionally draining working with patients who are under anesthesia.”
She winced. “Yeah, that was my goal. The soldiers recovering from surgery had every right to be upset about their injuries. Of course, they needed to go through the grieving process. But soon—I just couldn’t deal with it any longer. It all became too much.”
“I can see that.” Jonas didn’t seem put off by her answer. “I was a grizzly with a sore paw when I came out of surgery. Mad at everyone and everything.”
Remembering how he’d been during their first meeting, she nodded. “I don’t blame you, or anyone else. But for me, I would have given anything to have Ryan home even if that meant returning without one of his limbs.”
Jonas sent her a sidelong glance. “That’s easy to say, Bella, but completely different when you have to live with those limitations day after day.”
“Nothing worth having is easy.” She tried to soften the edge to her tone. “I know what you’re saying, Jonas. Do you think I haven’t noticed how you struggle? Yet when it came to the car crash, you didn’t hesitate to pull me out of the wreck. Not only were you amazing, but you supported me when I needed you. Don’t you see? That’s all that matters.”
Jonas didn’t answer but reached out to give her hand a gentle squeeze.
She didn’t pull away, enjoying the warmth of his fingers cradling hers. Holding hands with him wasn’t part of the plan, but it occurred to her that it had been a long time since she’d allowed anyone to get close.
