He put her in a living room chair. “Don’t move.” She was still holding her arm, so he couldn’t gauge the extent of her injury. “I’m only going to the kitchen. Won’t take but a minute.”
Fortunately, he and his brothers were very serious about disaster preparedness. Quin had a stash of matches and flashlights and all sorts of other necessary gear, particularly for winter. Not that the latter was any help at the moment.
He grabbed two sturdy flashlights and went back to Katie. Her head rested against the back of the chair. Her eyes were closed. When he turned on the flashlight and pointed it in her direction, his heart lurched. There was blood everywhere. All down her shirt and onto her pants.
“My God, Kat. Where are you hurt?”
She moved her protective hand. At last, he could see what had happened. When the branch crashed through the window, a piece of shattered glass had embedded itself in Katie’s forearm. Blood still oozed slowly. The shard extended outward half an inch.
He’d suffered plenty of injuries over the years. This was far worse. This was Katie.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he sat on the coffee table. “Do you want me to bring the first aid stuff in here, or can you make it to the bathroom?” Her eyes didn’t seem quite focused. He worried she was in shock.
She took a deep breath. Tried to smile. Failed. “I can walk,” she said. With his help, she stood up slowly. “Is the room supposed to be spinning?” she asked, leaning into him heavily.
“Don’t pass out on me, love.”
“I won’t.”
He wouldn’t place money on that bet. They made their way to his bedroom. Quin grabbed a small chair with his free hand and dragged it with them to the bathroom. He eased her into a seated position then folded a towel lengthwise. “Rest your head against the edge of the counter if you need to.”
“Please don’t touch my arm.”
Hell, she hated splinters, and this was a splinter on steroids. “We have to clean it, at least,” he said quietly, trying to make the tone of his voice as reassuring as possible. “I’ll use hydrogen peroxide. It won’t hurt at all. Shouldn’t even sting.” He hoped...
Katie sighed. “Okay.”
While he rummaged under the sink for a plastic basin and everything else he would need, he snatched a surreptitious glance at Katie’s wound. The piece of glass looked obscene. As far as he could tell, the cut was an inch and a half long. Depending on how deep the glass had shoved beneath her skin, she might need stitches.
He set the rectangular bowl across her lap. “Rest your wrist and forearm on the edges of the plastic.”
It was clear that she was dubious. It was also clear she was in pain. Her face was dead white, and the furrow between her brows deepened every time she moved. Gingerly, she laid her arm where he had indicated.
Quin uncapped the bottle and removed the protective foil seal. Carefully, he poured a stream of liquid over the cut. Around the edges of the glass, the wound frothed and foamed.
Katie rested her head on the towel, her eyes closed. “That should do it,” he said.
Her chin wobbled. “You have to remove the glass, don’t you?”
He stroked her hair. “Yes.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. Quiet. Devastating. “I don’t think I can do this,” she whispered.
Sixteen
Katie felt like such a baby. In her defense, she had never done well with blood.
Quin left her only long enough to return to the bedroom and find another small stool. Now he could sit beside her eye to eye. His gaze was confident and kind. “Do you trust me, Kat?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“I want you to know exactly what’s going to happen. No surprises, I promise. When you’re ready, I’m going to pull out the shard. Don’t move at all, because we can’t risk breaking the piece. The wound will start to bleed again, I’m sure. As soon as I finish...” He gulped, looking a little green around the gills himself. “As soon as I finish, I’m going to apply pressure for a few minutes. Then, I have some butterfly bandages that will hold the edges together until we can get you to a doctor.”
“Which might be tomorrow or a week from now.”
He scowled. “Whatever happens, we’ll keep it clean and put antiseptic cream on it.”
“I feel like I’m going to barf,” she muttered.
Quin stood, found a clean washcloth, wet it and wrapped it around the back of her neck. “Better?” he asked.
She waited a few seconds, breathed shallowly and finally nodded. “I’m okay.”
“The longer we wait, the more anxious you’re going to be. But I’m not going to pull on it until you’re ready. It’s your call.”
Katie wanted to burrow into a hole and never come out again. The storm still thundered on the roof. The eaves shrieked and groaned. “You could cover the broken window first,” she said.
Quin’s expression grew stern. “Procrastination is for weak-minded people. You’re a warrior, Katie. A woman people depend on. You can do this.”
He seemed so sure she was brave. But she wasn’t. Not at all. “Can I hold your hand?” she begged. She had started to shake all over. And the nausea returned.
“No. I need both hands free to do this. Either close your eyes or turn your head.”
Quin had been through so much physical trauma in his life. He’d been in a terrible car accident. He had endured multiple surgeries. Katie wasn’t going to embarrass herself. If he thought she could handle this operation, maybe she could.
She turned over the washcloth on the back of her neck, tucking the cooler side against her skin. “In the old Westerns, they used to give the person a piece of leather to bite down on. Or whiskey to drink.”
“Katie.” He stared her down, forcing her to gnaw her lip. “Fine,” she muttered. “Just do it.”
“And you swear you won’t move?”
“I’ll do my best.”
He stood and leaned over her, propping the flashlight at the correct angle with a towel and adjusting the beam. “I can’t jerk it, Kat. But I’ll be as quick as I can.”
“Okay.” Her eyes swam with tears. She looked away so he wouldn’t see what a wimp she was.
What happened next was not something she ever wanted to repeat. Quin got a firm hold on the ragged edge of the glass and began to pull. Damn it. It hurt like hell. She counted to ten and then to fifty.
Suddenly it was over.
“It’s out,” Quin said. He sat down hard. Her arm gushed blood. Quin grabbed another clean washcloth—maybe she would have to buy him a dozen new ones—and held it against her arm tightly.
Even with the glass gone, the pressure hurt. She rested her forehead against his shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered. He cupped the back of her neck with his free hand and drew her closer. “Don’t ever make me go through that again, Kat. Hurting you is harder than anything I’ve had to do in my life.”
“It wasn’t so bad.”
“Liar.”
They sat there in an awkward embrace for fifteen minutes. Finally, he eased the terry cotton aside. A trickle of blood continued, but not the heavy flow from before.
“Do you think you got it all?” she asked.
“I hope so. I’m going to rinse it one more time. Then I’ll bandage it.”
The hydrogen peroxide bubbled fiercely in the open wound, removing any tiny pieces of glass that remained, she hoped. Afterward, Quin patted her arm dry with a tissue. Next, he applied two butterfly bandages that pulled the edges of the cut together.
Finally, it was done.
He sighed deeply and stood to clean up the mess. “We should go to bed,” he said. “Who knows what tomorrow will bring...”
“What about the window?”
His eyes widened. “Hell.”
“You forgot?”
�
�Yes.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I’ll cover it. Once I have you tucked into bed.”
“Oh no,” Katie said. “I’m going to sit at the bottom of the stairs and make sure you’re okay. I’d go back up there if I could, but my knees are wobbly.”
“Join the club,” he joked. He held her arm while they walked down the hall. When she was seated, he disappeared briefly and returned with a large blue tarp, sturdy electrical tape and some old rags.
He stepped into his shoes and steadily climbed the stairs. As he made it higher, she could hear glass crunch beneath his feet.
“How bad is it?” she yelled.
“Pretty bad. Maybe we’ll install a pool up here.”
The fact that he still retained his sense of humor buoyed her flagging spirits. As she listened intently, she heard him curse and mutter as he wrestled the tarp into place.
“Is it working?” she cried.
Quin’s voice drifted down the stairs, even over the sound of the rain. “I think so. The windowsills are wet, so the tape doesn’t want to stick.”
“Don’t cut yourself.”
“Don’t worry. I’m being careful.”
At last, the sound of the rain was muffled. Thank God.
Quin came down the stairs, stepping gingerly. “I don’t know if it will hold, but I did the best I could for tonight.”
He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “That arm is going to ache pretty badly once the adrenaline wears off. Can you take hydrocodone?”
“As long as I have some food with it. Crackers, maybe?”
“How about a piece of Mrs. Peterson’s famous pound cake? I was saving it for a breakfast surprise, but I think we could use a slice right now. With milk? How does that sound?”
“How fast does milk go bad?”
“Not this fast. We might as well drink it tonight.”
She perched at the kitchen island while Quin prepared their snack. “I think the wind is not as loud as it was before,” she said. “Is that wishful thinking on my part?”
He paused and cocked his head. “Maybe. But the rain will last longer, I think.”
Katie swallowed the pain pill and yawned. “Can I help you clean up anything?”
“No. Go get your jammies on. Take this other flashlight. I’ll be there in a minute.”
After brushing her teeth and taking off her blood-soaked clothes, Katie washed up as best she could. She knew that getting in the shower was not a good idea with her wound still so new.
There was nothing comfy left to wear in her suitcase. Feeling both bold and guilty, she opened one of Quin’s drawers and found a clean T-shirt. It fell to her knees and smelled of laundry detergent. She slid it over her head awkwardly. Her arm protested.
Suddenly, crippling exhaustion overtook her. It was all she could do to stumble toward the bed and fold back the covers.
* * *
Quin had to turn off Katie’s flashlight. She was already asleep. He was so tired he could barely move. The day and night had taken on a surreal quality. After a few quick ablutions in the bathroom, he stripped off his clothes and slid naked beneath the sheets.
Though he was careful not to bump Katie’s arm, he wanted to hold her while they slept. He dragged her close and spooned her, inhaling the scent of her hair. He loved her. The realization was no longer shocking.
Now all he wanted to do was get them out of this mess.
Surely, after all they had been through together these last weeks—surely Katie felt the same way. The fact that he still had doubts made his chest tight with uncertainty and dread.
His whole life had been turned upside down since the car accident. But one thing was becoming clear. Losing his skiing prowess had hurt him deeply. Losing Katie would destroy him.
The next morning, Quin faced a quandary. He wanted to stay in bed and cuddle with Katie. But the storm had passed, and he knew he had to assess the damage. He dressed rapidly and left the bedroom, hoping she would sleep longer. It was barely seven.
The sun shone down brightly, with benevolent warmth, as if nothing bad had happened. When Quin stepped out the back door, his spirits sank. As far as the eye could see, the forest was littered and crippled. The beautiful white pines had been most vulnerable, because they were the tallest and their canopies had little protection from surrounding trees.
Inland, it wouldn’t have been so bad, but here on the beach, even without official hurricane winds, dozens of trees had fallen. The road out, the one to the main highway, was impassable without many hours of chain saw work. Going the mile and a half north to Zachary’s place would be no better.
Though Quin couldn’t see them from the house, the airstrip and helicopter pad were probably unusable, as well. He and Katie were well and truly stuck.
He decided to fire up the generator. Katie had said she needed to do laundry, and they could eat a big lunch to use up as much of the still-edible food as possible. When he finally went back inside, he found her in the bedroom. She had pulled on a pair of stretchy yoga pants, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she was wearing one of his T-shirts. She greeted him with a smile. “The power’s back on.”
He shook his head. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but it’s the generator.”
Katie nodded. “Ah. Well, then, I’d better get busy.”
“First things first.” He took her wrist and reeled her in. The kiss was long and deep and left both of them struggling to breathe. He cleared his throat. “I need to check your arm.”
“I think it’s okay.”
The cut looked raw but not infected. Hopefully, it would stay that way. “Let me know when you’re going to shower,” he said, “and I’ll wrap your arm in plastic. Just today. It’s a nasty cut. We need to be careful.”
She nodded. “Laundry first. Once I have that going, I’ll see about lunch. It will be on the early side.”
“No problem. I don’t want to run the generator too long, so that works. We’ll make it our big meal and snack for dinner.”
“How long do you think we’ll be here?”
“Honestly? I don’t know.”
The mundane conversation covered a deep vein of subtext. Quin wanted to tell her he loved her, but because of the storm, he sensed the time was not right. Not only that, but he was still coming to terms with his feelings. Love was a big four-letter word. He had to be sure. Though it was hard to wait, he decided to use this quiet time together to savor the moment. Maybe even formulate a few hazy future plans.
Protecting Katie was his first priority. Quin knew the commentary that was running in his head. Katie was less easily understood. She had dealt with the crisis like a champ. But what was she really thinking?
* * *
For Katie, the day passed slowly. She now had her original suitcase full of clean clothes. At lunch, she and Quin had feasted on spaghetti and salad and the last vestiges of two cartons of ice cream from the now-useless freezer. Afterward, she had insisted on cleaning up the kitchen herself. Quin had plenty to do outside. She knew he was trying to clear the garage and driveway in order to get a vehicle out.
At eleven thirty when the generator shut off, she grimaced. It wouldn’t be long until the house heated up again. Though Quin wouldn’t like it, she found a broom and climbed the stairs. Sweeping up the glass and tiny bits of leaves and twigs from the smashed window at least made her feel useful.
Once that was done, she used bleach wipes to clean the blood spatters. The place looked like a crime scene. Reliving last night made her feel a little sick. Even so, she and Quin had come through the disaster relatively unscathed.
She was happy to see that the rockers on the porch had survived the storm. The bungee cords had held, but the chairs had taken a beating and would need to be repainted. She wouldn’t be here to see that.
Acknowledging the coming break with Quin made her heart hurt worse
than her arm. According to the original agreement with the Stone brothers, she had two weeks and change left to fulfill her obligation.
The truth was, though, she and Quin had worked through the backlog of CEO paperwork efficiently. If she left today, Stone River Outdoors would be in good shape.
It was up to her to be smart. Athletes talked about wanting to go out on top. She and Quin were in a better place than they had ever been. He was affectionate and caring. And he had changed. He had let her in, let her get close.
But his father’s words still haunted Katie. Part of her still believed them. Quin wasn’t the kind of guy who settled down to marriage, even though he cared deeply about her. Maybe more than he had cared about any other woman.
What hurt so badly was knowing he might never reconcile himself to the huge loss he had suffered. It was one thing for Quin to decide to hang up his skis at a particular age. That wasn’t what happened, though. He had been robbed of his future. Was he using Katie to assuage his pain and loss?
In the midst of her soul-searching, Quin came and found her. “I’ve got the Jeep out,” he said. “And cleared the driveway. I’m going to see how far I can get toward the airstrip. The chain saw is gas powered. I’ll try to drag smaller trees out of the way. The bigger ones I can cut into pieces. If we can get a wide enough space cleared off for the chopper, one of my brothers will find a way to help us. You want to ride along?”
“Definitely. It will go faster with two.”
He frowned. “You’re hurt. You’ll stay in the Jeep.”
“No, I won’t.” she said firmly. “I have one good arm. I’ll do what I can to help.”
Quin scowled. “I have never met a more stubborn woman.”
“Pot. Kettle. So it’s okay for you to run the show, but I’m not supposed to get involved? Think again, Quin. I’m going with you.”
Seventeen
Quin wiped sweat from his eyes and glared up at the sun. You’d think after a hell of a storm that Mother Nature would give them a break. Today’s heat was likely record-breaking.
After Hours Seduction (The Men 0f Stone River Book 1) Page 14