Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Tell that to my abs.”
Leaning down, I say, “You’re going to live,” and walk back toward the living room. “But you’re probably going to need some pain meds now.”
Every step back toward the living room is a struggle for him, but he insists despite my objections. He stops short of the couch. Holding his hand over his stomach, he says, “What were you doing anyway?”
“In your room?” My voice pitches, revealing my guilt without evidence. His brows pull together as he stares at me like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or call the hospital on me again. “I packed in a rush and forgot my toothpaste.”
“So you stole my toothpaste?”
“I didn’t steal your toothpaste. I borrowed some.”
“Borrowed?” He moves to the couch and sits down, still holding his side like he was stabbed. Technically, he was. “I don’t need it back.” He takes the glass of water, taking a sip to chase the meds. He finds me standing on the other side of the coffee table, and adds, “I was expecting to get help, but this isn’t how I imagined home healthcare worked.” He’s not wrong.
I’m screwing this up. I’ve already “tackled” him as he put it, and now I’ve brought him to his knees by wounding him with a hygienic tool. Not how I prefer to bring a man to his knees. “It’s different for everyone, but I haven’t made it easy. I’m sorry for stabbing you with my toothbrush and for not making this easier on you, which is in my actual job description.”
He chuckles but winces. “Stabbing your patients with toothbrushes is in your job description?”
“More the latter part.” I laugh lightly, still feeling like a failure for how this first night has gone. “I know it doesn’t make this any better, but you’re my first as well.” A flash of that first kiss strikes like lightning in my head.
Cocking a brow, he asks, “Oh yeah?”
I roll my eyes, shaking my head with a chuckle. “Don’t even go there.”
He nods, but a roguish grin is still splitting his cheeks. “I’m probably not a good first.” You’re telling me . . . “A few injuries don’t warrant round-the-clock care.”
“Your doctors disagree, and your insurance already approved the services.” Sitting down on the couch with a cushion between us, I release a sigh and then grimace. “I know this isn’t ideal, but I’m the only nurse available in Mountain Laurel Cove. So how about we start over since you’re stuck with me?”
His eyes have fallen back to the glass he set on the table in front of him. “Until?”
I look at him, following the straight of his nose to the edge of his jawline. Scruff covers the Cliffs of Culver leading down his neck to the bandaging that doesn’t cover the entirety of his injury. “Until you’re better.”
Shifting his gaze my way, he releases his own heavy breath, his shoulders falling with it. “Let’s hope that’s sooner for both of us.”
Remembering what happened in the past didn’t sting earlier, but for some reason, that comment does. I push off the arm of the couch and raise my chin. “We can only hope. Now, let’s get you to bed.”
CHAPTER 10
BRANDON
Thoughts cobble together before I open my eyes and my vision sharpens. I clamp them shut again even though it’s still dark outside. A yawn captures my throat, and I slowly open my eyes once again, the full picture of my bedroom coming into focus.
I stare into the corner across the room from me where Autumn has fallen asleep in my reading recliner. That chair has knocked me out a few times with its well-worn cushion and the angle when the leg rest is kicked out just right. I’m sure she fell prey as I have. But why is she there at all when she has a room just down the hall?
Moonlight streams through the cracked-open blinds. Even in the lower light levels, her red hair shines like the last remaining embers of a fire.
Angling onto my good side, I watch how peaceful she sleeps, listening to the soft sound of her breathing. It’s the middle of the night, so I’m not surprised by the calm I feel, even with a stranger hanging out in my bedroom.
Her eyes flash open, and she jerks her head upright. “Are you staring at me?”
Damn, she’s a little firecracker with her ass lit up. “You do realize this is my bedroom, and when I woke up you were stalker-sleeping in here with me.”
She pushes forward, trying to shove the leg rest back down and failing. “I wasn’t stalker-sleeping.”
“Then what were you doing?”
Turning sideways, she puts her weight into lowering the rest. I know it sticks sometimes, but watching her is too entertaining to share that tidbit. She finally crawls off the side, tugging at the bottom of her scrub top to straighten it out. “Your chair is broken.” She starts for the door with heavy steps and a point to prove, and stomping is the only way to do it. “I was checking your breathing since I don’t have monitors to do it. I sat down,” she says, throwing her hand toward the offending chair, “and must have fallen asleep. It’s been a long seventy-two hours.” She looks back in the doorway, and adds, “You’re good, so I’m going to bed.”