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)
With her eyes catching every little reaction from the twitch of a muscle to what I’m trying hard to hide from her, she says, “I know you want a full shower after the lackluster handwashing, but I think we’re another day or two out from you having that range of motion without potentially injuring yourself further.”
“In layman’s terms?”
She moves behind me, inspecting my back again in the natural light we’ve still got before the sun sets for the night. “I can’t approve a shower for you without assistance.” Approve?
“And by assistance you mean?” I peek over my shoulder at her. Her gaze is still gliding over my skin, giving me a moment to admire her pretty face.
Holding up two fingers, she says, “You have two choices. You can sponge yourself off, or I can help you in the shower.” How she manages to give me those options with a straight face is quite the talent.
“If you want to get me naked, Nurse Season, all you have to do is ask.”
That earns me a laugh so hard that she bends over and starts coughing. Since I’m a trained EMT, I’m very close to jumping in and helping open her passageways. Fuck, why’d my mind go there? Get your head out of the gutter. She’s not choking, idiot.
She grabs her throat, her face red from blood rushing to it as she stands back up. “Oh my God, Brandon. That was hilarious. Oh my, I needed that laugh.”
I can’t say I’m laughing with her. Sure, it was funny but not that funny . . . “Yeah, hilarious.” Maybe the attraction is one-sided. Too bad because I would have loved to see where this would have gone. “I need a shower. Since you’re a professional, we can tackle it together if that’s the only way I’m getting one.”
Her chest still rattles with tremors of laughter, but she says, “Let’s eat, and then we can get you all clean before bed. How does that sound?”
“Just dandy,” I deadpan, returning to the kitchen.
“If you’d feel more comfortable, I could call your mom to—”
“No,” I snap. “My mom seeing me naked wouldn’t make me feel more comfortable. It’s fine. It’s whatever.” None of this is actually fine. I’ve been pretending that sitting around healing, like I have control over it, was doing something. I’m no closer to getting back to work. I’m not close to even taking care of myself, apparently. Her laughing so hard at the thought of me naked is just the cherry on top of this fucked-up sundae.
“Okay. Okay,” she says, holding up her hands in surrender. “Got the message.” She slips around me. “Do you want to eat at the table or on the couch? Where will you be more comfortable?”
“Couch.”
“You go on. I can serve the food.”
I’m not going to fight her on that. I’m in a mood that needs distance from people in general. Her, the cause of said mood, being here doesn’t help. I sit on the couch and turn on the TV. Hoping she gets the unsubtle hint I don’t want to talk, I turn up the volume.
I don’t bother asking what she wants to watch or if she’s okay with SportsCenter. I just leave it playing, not giving two flips about the game they’re discussing, and stew in my own bad mood.
We eat in silence, just how I want it, how I’m used to eating. My house is my sanctuary. While most locals clamor to be near the water, I wanted to be in the trees, with the rest of the world hidden by nature.
If I want to walk around naked, I can. I own two acres in every direction of this house. There’s not another home in sight, or person, which I usually prefer. It’s been the ultimate escape, something I built out of hard work and money I’ve earned through stocks.
“Brandon?” I shift my eyes to her. “Did I do something to upset you?”
She keeps reminding me this relationship is purely professional, so why would she care what I think? “No,” I lie.
“It feels like I have. You seem . . . unhappy.”
“Am I supposed to be happy that I almost died or that injuries are keeping me from doing something I love, which just happens to be my job?” I set my empty plate on the coffee table. “I’m sitting around here with nothing to do but watch my injuries heal like paint drying. It’s torturously slow.”
She sets her plate next to mine with a few bites left. “You’re healing faster than you realize. You’re resting, which is necessary, but you’re also healthy and take care of yourself. That always aids in recovery.”
I turn my attention out the windows. The last light of day illuminates the sky before it goes dark and the stars come out. Returning my gaze to her, I say, “I’d really like to take a shower on my own.”