by Stacy Eaton
Last night was the first time that I had dreamed of the incident, and I could still remember the dream as clear as day. Luckily, I hadn’t dreamed of it a second time, although if I had, I was probably so out of it with pain meds that it didn’t matter.
“You’re awake,” Josey said cheerfully as she entered. “Do you drink coffee?”
“I do,” I replied as I let my eyes roam over her. She had taken a shower, I could tell by her slightly-damp hair, and she was wearing jeans and a peach blouse, with bare feet. Damn, she looked freaking incredible.
“What do you like in it?” she asked as she picked up my bottle of urine.
“Not that,” I remarked.
She laughed as she looked at the side of the bottle to check the level and then disappeared into the bathroom. I heard the toilet flush and then the water run for a few minutes.
“Cream, sugar, or both?” she asked as she returned with a clean bottle.
“Today, I’ll take both.”
She disappeared out the door. She seemed to be in a better mood this morning, although a bit aloof.
She was carrying a tray when she returned and set it on the bedside table. There was a plate of muffins on it that smelled deliciously like they had just come out of the oven.
“Did you bake those?”
“What? No,” she laughed. “Marge made them. I ran into her in the kitchen, and she sent them back with me.”
“What were you doing in the kitchen?”
“Looking for your father,” she answered matter-of-factly and picked up her mug and a plate with a muffin on it and went to her chair on the other side of the room.
“What did you need my father for?” I asked.
“Nothing you need to worry about. He gave me something last night, and I needed to speak to him about it.”
Aren’t we being a little evasive today? “What did he give you?”
She glared at me. “I just told you, it is nothing for you to worry about. Now eat your breakfast. We need to get you showered and ready to go soon. You have an appointment with a neurologist this morning, and then we are meeting with physical therapists this afternoon to get you started. You’ll see a general surgeon tomorrow to have the abdomen wound looked at, and then the orthopedist right afterward, and then you have therapy again tomorrow.”
“Damn, aren’t you a slave driver?” I joked, but the only thing I got back in return was a raised brow. “I was kidding.”
She went about eating one of the blueberry muffins, and I bit into mine—not quite as heavenly as the cobbler, but still damned good.
“What time did you get up?” I asked a few moments later.
“About five. I got antsy. I’m used to working out every morning, feels weird not to at least get a run in.”
“You’re welcome to go running when you want.”
“I will, later. I don’t want to leave you alone quite yet. When you are a little stronger and not in as much pain, I’ll start running early.” I watched her pop the last of her muffin into her mouth.
“So am I going to get my sponge bath today?” I smirked at her.
For the first time today, she chuckled. “Don’t you wish? Nope, you’re taking a shower.”
I stared at her. “And how the hell am I supposed to do that? I can’t stand up, and I still have stitches, did you forget that?”
“Ever hear of a shower chair? You sit your butt on it and shower while you’re sitting there, and I have special waterproof bandages to go over your incisions. I can help you clean whatever you can’t reach yourself.”
I grinned, “So you’re taking one with me?”
“Nice try, Tuck,” she stood and sipped from her mug, “but no. Finish eating, and then I’ll show you how it works.”
Damn, I’d gotten a little excited about taking a shower with her, but she had to ruin the fantasy. As she left the room, I wondered what business she had with my father. Whatever it was, she wasn’t happy about it.
Chapter 19
Josey
Whoa! What the hell was I thinking sitting that close to Tucker and letting the whole eating dessert become foreplay? Crap! I wiped up the mess as quickly as I could and disappeared from the room before I made a bigger fool of myself in front of his father. His father! Gah!
I was wiping down the clean counter trying to stay out of the way when Theo exited the bedroom. “Hey, Josey, is everything alright here? You have everything you need?”
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Wheatcraft, I have everything I need to help your son.” Yep, good reminder of what I was supposed to be doing here which was not playing footsie with his son.
He slipped an envelope out of his slacks pocket and set it on the counter. “My wife and I thought you should have this, for everything you are doing for our son.”
“What’s this?” I picked it up.
“Just a thank you for your services.” He tipped his head and walked out the door without another word.
I tore open the envelope and pulled out a check for fifty thousand dollars. My jaw dropped. No. Way. I shoved the check back in the envelope. There was no way I could accept that. They did not hire me, I volunteered to help Tucker. There had never been any discussion about compensation, and I felt dirty even touching the money. I slapped the envelope down on the counter and went to make sure Tucker was alright.
Once I got him to bed, I tossed and turned. I was irritated that they had given me money, and the implications of it weighed heavily on me. I’d taken four weeks of paid vacation. I earned a decent salary. Sure, I would love to have extra money, but I didn’t need it.
I’d only just fallen asleep when the sound of Tucker crying out reached me from my open door. I jumped out of bed and raced to him. His body was drenched in sweat and almost in a convulsive state. I gave him a shot as quickly as I could and waited while his body relaxed muscle by muscle and sleep claimed him again.
I returned to the bathroom and grabbed a wet wash cloth and bathed his forehead to rid him of the sweat as he drifted back into a deep, drug-induced sleep. I wasn’t sure what had happened, but whatever it was, I needed to make sure he got his next round of pain medication a little earlier.
I curled up in the big recliner in the corner and fell asleep, waking briefly to check on him again and, being satisfied that he was sleeping peacefully, I returned to my bed and got a few hours of sleep.
I was up early, raring to go with no place to be. I yearned for a good run, but I’d have to settle for some simple exercise on the floor and a shower.
A little after six, I left the suite in search of Mr. Wheatcraft but, instead, found Marge in the kitchen. “Good morning, Marge. Man, it smells good in here.”
“Good morning, Josey. I hope you had a good night’s rest. You’re up early.”
“I don’t need that much sleep.” I stood beside the counter while she put muffins on a cooling rack. “Do you know if Mr. Wheatcraft is up yet?”
“He is, but he’s already gone for the day. There was a problem someplace, and he left about thirty minutes ago.” Marge began placing some of the muffins into a basket.
“Oh, okay, thanks.”
“Wait, before you go,” she handed me the basket, “take these to Mr. Tucker. He loves blueberry muffins.”
“Okay, I will.” The expression changed on her face to one of sadness. “You okay?”
She seemed to think on my words—or maybe on her own—for a moment. “Do you think Mr. Tucker is going to be alright?”
“I sure hope so, Marge. I’m going to do everything I can to help him.”
“I’m sure you will. You seem like a wonderful person. I’m just worried that if he’s like that for the rest of his life, it will cause Mrs. Wheatcraft a lot of issues.”
I set the basket down. “Why would it cause her problems?”
“She’s been in her room crying ever since he got home.” She stared at the counter for a moment. “I’m sorry. I should not have said anything to you. Please don’t tell Mr. Tuc
ker. I don’t want him to think it’s a problem for him to be here.”
I gave her a tender smile, “Don’t worry, Marge, I won’t say anything.” I patted her on the shoulder as I walked past her and pondered her words on the way back to the suite.
Was that why his mother hadn’t been in to see him? She was upset by his condition. Well, she needed to get the hell over that. Was that why they had paid me the money? Did they think that I needed compensation for dealing with their son because he was in a wheelchair?
The thought irked me so badly that I almost threw the muffins at the wall when I entered the suite. Instead, I checked on Tucker and found him just waking.
It took a lot of effort to keep the frustration out of my voice. He probably thought I was upset about last night. I wasn’t. Part of me was disappointed that we hadn’t kissed, but that was the stupid romantic fool that lived caged inside of me. The professional woman was glad that it had not happened. It would have complicated things.
I did not want Tucker to grow any more attached to me than he already was. It would just end up in heartache because I knew that the only reason he was interested in me was because I was there for him now. Someday he would realize that, and I would be pushed aside with another broken heart.
Tuck was in a playful mood this morning, and I wondered how this whole shower thing was going to work out. If I wasn’t such a chicken, I’d do a sponge bath, but to me that was a whole lot more intimate. I stared at him for a moment and thought about the fact that he needed to learn to shower on his own, not yet, but soon.
After he had eaten, he removed his shirt, and while I had seen him undressed before, the sight of his chest, even with the wound on his stomach, was quite impressive. I checked his incision with clinical interest, and then put a water-tight bandage over it. I would clean and dress it before we left.
I had to help him get the brace off his leg and his sweatpants down, but I left his boxers on while I looked over his leg and then wrapped it carefully to keep it dry. It still looked angry and swollen, and I’d need to make sure I cleaned it really well when we were done to prevent infection.
Once he was basically undressed, I put the brace back around his leg while we were moving and got him into the wheelchair. Thank god the man had a strong upper body and could help with the task.
In the bathroom, he was able to put himself into the shower chair with only a little bit of help. I grabbed a hand towel off the hanger and told him to cover himself after I took his boxers off.
“I’m not modest,” he announced.
“I don’t care. I really don’t need a front row seat to your man parts,” I joked.
“You’re just afraid I’ll turn you on too much.”
I laughed but didn’t reply because he was right. It probably would have.
After his boxers were off, I removed the brace again and bent his legs so he looked like he was sitting normal in a chair. “Can you feel anything in your legs?”
“Once in a while I get twinges, but it’s more like a tattoo gun is driving into me with a thousand pins.”
“That’s the nerves trying to come back to life. That’s good.” I shifted his soap and shampoo on the shelf so it was easier for him to reach them. “I’ll be out here. If you need anything, you let me know.”
Because of the design of the shower, he was able to reach the water dial and the handheld hose that was attached to it. I stepped out, closed the glass door, and gave him his privacy.
I heard him mutter a few times, and something dropped while he cussed up a storm, but he didn’t call out to me, and I stayed just out of sight. Ten minutes later, he said he was basically finished, and I found myself really proud of him for his accomplishment.
“You done?” I asked as I opened the door.
“I can’t reach my back, or my legs.”
“Okay, turn the hose the other way so I don’t get all wet, please.” I stepped barefoot into the shower and put soap on my hands while I stepped around him. “Do you want me to use a washcloth?”
“No, you don’t have to. Just use your hands.” His voice was husky and soft but still echoed off the walls of the tiny enclosure. Suddenly, it felt way smaller as I rubbed my hands over his back and down to his buttocks. “Lean forward.”
He did, and I stared at the crack below his waistline. Oh, good lord. I soaped up my hands a bit more and washed his butt, shifting him slightly side to side to get his cheeks and then rinsed.
I stepped around him and squatted down in front of him to get his legs and noticed his cheeks were pink under his heavy stubble. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” he peered at me before averting his eyes. “Just embarrassed, I guess.”
I poured soap on my hands. “For what? Because you need help washing? I’m actually glad you didn’t try to wash your buttocks without me. You might have lost your balance and fallen off if you had, but I have no doubt you will be able to do it yourself very soon.”
His cheeks turned a brighter red. “Do you know how embarrassing it is to have a sexy woman washing your ass as if you’re a two-year-old?”
I tried not to laugh, I really did, but it still burst out and before I knew it, he began laughing, too. “I’m sorry,” I said when I calmed down. “I should not have laughed, but the look on your face was so intense.”
“I was being serious,” he lightened his tone, “but, you know, Josey, you make things easier. Laughing about it just now, that made it better.”
“Good.” I winked and went about washing his feet and calves. I soaped up his right leg thoroughly but was careful with his left. When I approached his hips, I paused. The tiny towel over his groin was moving. I jerked my hands away. “I assume you were able to wash your own penis.”
He chuckled, “I was, but I’m sure it could use another round if you’re interested.”
I mock-glared at him and grabbed the hose to rinse him off before handing him one towel for his upper body and taking another one for his lower body. I was still squatting down in front of him when he rubbed the towel over his stomach, and the small hand towel fell to the floor.
He had a full erection and a quite damned impressive one if a woman were allowed to voice an opinion. He stopped moving at the same moment that I did, and I jerked my eyes from his groin and up into his face.
“You do that to me, you know that, right?”
“I think that would happen if any woman was in the shower washing you right now.”
He shook his head and reached for my hand, “No, that’s you.” He slowly pulled my hand forward. “Touch me, Josey. I need to know if I can feel it.”
Suddenly the air around me was thick and hard to inhale. I should have pulled my hand back, should not have let him do it, but the nurse in me was curious. Oh, hell, the woman in me was dying to know.
He brought my hand to his erection and paused. With our eyes still locked, I trailed my fingers up the length of him and saw his eyes flicker. Jesus, he was so hot and smooth. I brushed my thumb over the top, and he sucked in a breath, “I can feel that.”
I yanked my hand back at his words. “Good, that’s good.” I stood and spun away, mortified that I had just been sucked into that moment. I was going to hell.
“Josey.” He reached out for me as I stepped away, and my momentum pulled him off the stool. I twirled around and dropped to my knees just as he began to fall. Luckily, I took the brunt of the impact, but he still hissed in pain.
“Tuck, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
His eyes were clenched, but he nodded. “Just give me a moment.”
I did. I lay there stock still, feeling his erection throb against my hip, and the weight of his chest on mine. His heartbeat thudded against my breast, and I fought the shudder that was going through me as the adrenaline began to ebb from the shock of his fall, and a new feeling began to grow: Need.
We lay like that for a good five minutes before he opened his eyes and looked at me so intensely—demanding with his eyes that I
return his look—that my breath stopped for a few seconds. His gaze traced my face. His hand which had been beside my head, holding some of the weight off of me, cupped the side of my face.
I was about to beg for him to either roll off of me or kiss me. I wasn’t sure which one, but I needed to get away from him or sate my desire to taste him.
Since he wasn’t moving on his own, I tried to shift so I could roll him over to his back.
“Don’t.”
That one word stopped me immediately.
Slowly, he leaned down, never taking his eyes off of mine and brought our lips together. My stomach quivered deep inside as he lingered over my mouth before angling his head to fit our lips together better.
When he came down the second time, my whole body sighed, and my lips parted to let him in.
Chapter 20
Tucker
The pain was gone, but another one rose deep in my gut. Yeah, I had been able to sense the barest of feelings when she had touched me, but I’d felt it.
It gave me hope, and I really needed that, but what I needed even more was to taste the woman under me. I could smell her soft perfume as I turned my head and leaned in again; she tasted so good. Her lips were so soft and warm, more so than I had anticipated.
I wanted to kiss her for hours, but she pushed back on my shoulders after a minute. “We need to get off the floor and get you dressed, and I’m going to need to change, or we’re going to be late.”
There was something in her eyes that bothered me, but right now she was right, and I was so rocked to the core at the feelings she brought out in me that I nodded back.
Slowly, with her help, I rolled onto my back, and she got off the floor. I was able to push myself into a sitting position, and I stared at my maimed leg.
What the hell was I thinking? I might be able to feel a little something in my groin and down my right leg, but what if I never got the use of both of my legs back. Is this what I wanted to give a woman like Josey? Why would she want a worthless man?